The Traveling Tutor and the Royal Exam

by Georg

First published 4th of March, 2015

A simple test with an unexpected result sends Princess Twilight Sparkle’s life in an unexpected direction, accelerating a high-speed collision course with the young magic tutor she met and fell in love with just over a year ago.

A simple test with an unexpected result sends Princess Twilight Sparkle’s life in an unexpected direction, accelerating a high-speed collision course with the young magic tutor she met and fell in love with just over a year ago. But angry Griffons, arrogant Royals, in-laws and other mighty forces from Canterlot and beyond seek to tear the young lovers apart and enforce their own will upon their future regardless of either Twilight or Green Grass’ plans for a life together.

Too bad for them.

Thanks to my editors: Peter, Logan, Featherprop and Tek
Featured on Equestria Daily

Cover Credit to Micah Weltsch at Micahdesigns on Instagram.

Chapter 1 - Pop Quiz

It was the most important test that Twilight Sparkle had ever taken, and while she wanted so much to know the results right now, part of her wanted nothing more than to run into the library and read Spike’s entire comic book collection instead. Finding out the answer to the test right now was not a critical priority. It could wait. It was not as if the result would change if she was somewhere else at the exact moment the answer became available. Whatever it was. After all, it was just a true-false test. And not even that difficult. Ponies all across Equestria took this test every day, probably. They did not fret, or chew their mane…

Twilight spit out the piece of mane she was chewing and resumed her pacing. It was exercise, which released important endorphins to help with stress, or so several books had said, although none of the authors could possibly have gone through this amount of stress. Which was bad. She needed to calm down, but even standing in place, drawing in a breath and breathing out while arching her hoof in a precise 37 degree down angle across a 90 degree arc in a motion that was supposed to release stress did nothing more than to pack even more stress inside.

She should have waited. In three days, Green Grass would have been done with his last tutoring session as a Unicorn Magic Youth Educational Specialist in Wheaton, trotted his wagon to his accustomed parking place under the shady boughs of the Ponyville Golden Oak library, and been here to help with her stress, instead of a good day’s trot away where all she could do was attempt to transmit her worry across the air to his adorable (although thick) head. Well, technically she probably could transmit her worry that way, if the spell she had looked up in the library actually worked correctly, but then she would just worry that she was making him worry which would only make the stress that she was experiencing even worse and—

The little wind-up timer that she had brought into the bathroom dinged quietly, an abrupt sound that made her jump up and fumble for the flying appliance, catching it right before it dropped into the toilet. It was done. She could find out how she had done on the test now. All she needed to do was look and find out if she had—

Wait. There were only two results that were possible from this test, but which one was a failing grade and which one was passing? If it went the one way, she had stressed out and panicked over nothing, which was not the way a princess should act. Princess Celestia would be so disappointed in her, and might even wonder just why Twilight had taken the test, or gone so crazy over the results. Princess Luna would be similarly upset, and certain to lecture her on the necessity of keeping a proper demeanor among the populace, in particular because Twilight was in the middle of so much of the populace in the middle of Ponyville.

But what if the test went the other way? She had discussed the possibility with Green Grass extensively, although his normal response to her rational plans and pages of checklists was to kiss her gently on the nose and distract her from ‘worrying too much about Future Twilight.’ But if Future Twilight were actually Now Twilight, then what would Future Twilight look like? And Future… whoever. Or whoevers. It was not just a little thing, this was a huge thing. Or things.

The sound of a small dragon’s fist knocking on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Twilight, when are you going to be done in there? I really need to use the bathroom.”

“In a minute, Spike,” she called back automatically, and after a moment’s thought added, “Sorry. Sorry for everything, Spike. I’m sorry for not paying you much attention lately, and I’m sorry for shedding little secondary feathers in your cake mix last week, and I’m sorry for—”

“All right, all right! Twilight, can you be sorry out here, please? You’ve been in there since before dawn!”

“Sorry!” She gathered her books and test notes before slipping out of the bathroom door, dodging the fast-moving form of an anxious dragon heading in. The couch in front of the library fireplace looked like the best place to settle down and actually examine the results. There was a certain air of completeness about sitting in that place and looking at the crackling fireplace where Spike had started a tidy fire while waiting. It was late spring, but still with enough of a nip in the air to bring out his instinctual need for warmth. A nice fire substituted for his draconic tendencies of climbing into the oven on his own, which she had warned him against several times as a bad example for the little ponies who might see him and emulate their favorite dragon.

When she sat down on the edge of the couch, she could feel the familiar pattern of lumps in the cushions that she had grown accustomed to over the last year and nine months, twenty-three days, eighteen hours and thirty-seven seconds she had been living in the library. This was the same couch that she had first really gotten to know Green Grass on — although never that way. After the Running of the Leaves and her totally accidental drinking bout was over, the couch had become precious neutral ground in both their mutual recovery and in the stupid war of misunderstanding they had been waging.

The memory of that morning was one reason she had never replaced the old lumpy thing. Not Green Grass, the couch. They had both curled up on it before the fireplace while frozen into near immobility by sore muscles and hangovers, with nothing to do but talk to each other. That kind of intimate time had been repeated many times since then, although in slightly different forms and with less physical pain. It always brought a warm glow to her heart when she thought of those precious moments together that purged the stress of the world while calming her mind. She wanted that feeling so badly now as she held the results of the test, unwilling to turn it over and see what the verdict would be. She could always put the results on a high shelf out of draconic reach and ignore them for three days. He would be home by then.

Home. The word had changed definitions over the years. When she was just a little filly, home was home. The sound of mom chopping vegetables for lunch while working on her physics lecture notes would echo as counterpart to the delicious scents of onions and potatoes sizzling in vegetable oil, while wafting through the background there always seemed to be the dulcet tones of Shining Armor trying his best to master the flugelhorn for hours on end.

When she moved to the castle with Princess Celestia, home had changed. What used to be home had turned into a place to visit overnight on weekends, with short periods of family activities tucked in among her studies much like the occasional bookmark in a library. Cadance’s room was right next to the one Princess Celestia had reserved for her, and sometimes even that near proximity only allowed them to see each other once or twice a week, but still it felt a little like home too, even when Cadence had left for Cloudsdale for the last few years of Twilight’s life as a student. The last thing Twilight had expected when traveling to Ponyville was to add yet another home to her changing collection, but the dusty old library in the oak tree had grown on her, regardless of the pun, and now she could not think of leaving it and her friends to go anywhere else.

Green Grass had talked about his interpretation of home to her, describing the mansion he had grown up in as something similar to, but not quite like a home at all. Home, he had said, was ponies. His time living in the fraternity at college had supposedly given him a stronger sense of home among his fellow students than in his own house, but the amount of time he spent talking about his older brothers and bragging about how his younger sister was coming along in Celestia’s school showed a certain amount of cognitive dissonance in his logic. Even the little book-filled wagon he had pulled around behind him for over a year was not really a home, he claimed, but only a way of transporting ‘stuff.’ He had declared quite firmly that if Equestrian science ever found a way to make a vest pocket able to carry both a lumpy mattress as well as all the books he could read, he would push the heavy wagon down a cliff and toss a match into the remains.

Now in three days, he would be back as if he had never left, and the wagon would sit out under the tree quite empty except for the books. He was right, in a significant way. Home was ponies, both generally in all of the friends she had made in Ponyville, and in particular, him. It would not matter to him how this test turned out, because either way, his love for her would not diminish one iota. It might change in some ways, as they both had changed since they first met, and would undoubtedly continue to change for as long as they were together, but every change had just made his love for the bookish unicorn mare she was and the princess she had become even stronger. And in return, her love for the awkward young earth pony he had been and the rather goofy stallion he was turning into continued to blossom and bear fruit.

As if the thought had triggered her into action, Twilight turned the test over and read the results. She sat there for a long time on the couch, holding the little sliver of plastic in her magic and looking at the plus mark, unsure if it was a passing or a failing grade.

But she knew one Princess who would be able to tell her.

Chapter 2 - Popping the Question

The Canterlot train station seemed empty despite the crowds of ponies pushing and shoving to get on and off trains as Crosswind sat patiently at the edge of the station and waited on Princess Twilight Sparkle to emerge from the train. She was on the train, of all things. Instead of using her wings to fly to Canterlot, Princess Twilight Sparkle was riding the train. She could have sent a note to Canterlot by dragonfire and a Royal Guard chariot would have been in Ponyville within the hour to fly her away to wherever she wanted to go, but no. Princess Twilight Sparkle had to ride the train. How could she stand to crawl across the ground on such a beautiful day when she could be zooming through the clouds on a perfectly good set of wings? But no. She had to ride the train.

At least the Princess Twilight Sparkle Early Warning System had performed perfectly, as always. Upon watching her board the train in Ponyville and recording the event in his log, the stationmaster had raised a purple flag on top of the train station. Less than five minutes later, the Watch Guard in Canterlot had spotted the flag through his telescope and passed the news on. Five minutes after that, the Appointment Secretary to Her Royal Highness, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, Bearer of the Element of Magic, et al, had been flagged down from a particularly fun flight to put on her work saddlebags and wait at the train station.

She really could not complain. The Royal Guard had paid Crosswind’s way through medical school and her career track to becoming a Wonderbolt Medical Officer (probationary) was well underway before the Student of the Sun abruptly sprouted wings one day and the sudden need for a trained pegasus had become apparent. The Royal Guard — pushed by a very unsubtle big brother — had argued for one of their combat veterans in full armor and weapons to be at her side to defend her every moment of the day, which would have tied up at least a dozen guards in rotation due to leave requirements and such.

Not to be outdone, the various royalty in the upper house of Parliament had ‘suggested’ that one of their number — either a unicorn or a pegasus depending on which number was talking — be assigned to her side on a rather permanent fashion that had little to do with romance but much to do with marriage, children, and inheritances. Oh, and a certain amount of family access to the Royal Treasury.

And Princess Celestia, in her own special way, had simply sent a single note to Cloudsdale requesting Spitfire to inquire about Crosswind’s availability to come to Canterlot for a ‘special opportunity.’ Well, a note from Celestia carried about the same weight as either one of the heavenly bodies the Royal Sisters tossed around on a daily basis, so less than a day later, Crosswind found herself in front of two someponies she had never expected to see up close, saying words like ‘Yes, Your Highness’ and ‘Of course, Your Highness’ as they described Twilight Sparkle and her special situation. It seemed perfectly rational at the time she agreed to the job, but afterwards, Crosswind had some serious reservations.

First of all, Princess Twilight could barely fly, although that particular deficiency was being remedied by one of the hottest fliers Crosswind had ever had the pleasure of wrapping a sprain for. Secondly, Crosswind had spent her entire life in Cloudsdale, and Canterlot was just so… pointy. She had seen unicorns before, but being surrounded by so many floating objects that were not flying on their own was more than a little distracting. And thirdly was… him.

A proper princess should attract a proper prince, in particular one of the nobility of the warrior pegasus clans who could trace their lineage back to Commander Hurricane. If that was not to Princess Twilight Sparkle’s taste, the least she could have done was troll through the vast collection of pointy-headed unicorn nobility who theoretically were required to track their lineage back to Princess Platinum. Either would be a proud stallion of noble pedigree and bearing who would carry themselves in the high circles of culture, both throwing and attending parties as well as all the other things that the nobility did.

A princess should not attract a mere school teacher who had a scroungy green coat the color of a neighties couch, as well as the ugliest hat that had ever brought dishonor to the concept of formal headwear. It was the weathered hat which had almost convinced Crosswind that he was a unicorn who was suffering from premature baldness or hiding his horn for some reason. That theory held until the earth pony had hung up his hat in a restaurant, at which point she had gone outside for a quick calming flight with the excuse of giving the mismatched couple some privacy.

It was a great relief to see Princess Twilight trot out of her train car this morning without her shabby green companion, although she carried a set of stuffed saddlebags with a look of perpetual worry that was becoming familiar. Crosswind had learned that a combination of these two signs was an indication that things were about to go weird in a hurry, and it was best to help her along or the weirdness would rub off on anypony nearby, frequently in a way that involved explosions.

“Good morning, Princess Twilight,” said Crosswind with a practiced smile, landing beside her fast-moving charge on the train station platform. “Are you planning some shopping in Canterlot today, or just picking up a book order?” Crosswind pulled out Twilight’s schedule and made a show of studying it, even though she already knew there were no previous appointments in town for Equestria’s newest princess.

“No, I just need to get to Princess Celestia right away.”

“Great! Fly with me to the castle then.” Crosswind tucked away her clipboard and took to the air, pausing in hidden disgust as Twilight continued to trot at a fairly good clip in the direction of the castle. With a flick of her wings, Crosswind landed beside the still ground-bound Princess of Friendship and began trotting alongside with little suggestive glances up into the air that were supposed to remind her charge about her own wings and their ability to actually make “right away” a much shorter time. The gestures did little good other than to encourage the young alicorn to break into a fast canter, at which Crosswind winced in anticipation of just how sore her hooves were going to be at the end of the day.

The path Twilight took between the train station and the castle was a familiar comfort to her hooves, which galloped along the cobbled streets with very little input needed from her overloaded mind. Everything in the entire universe seemed to be crowded into her head at the moment and all of it yammered endlessly for her full attention. It took a calm and reasoned mind to teleport with any accuracy, and with everything stuffed into her synapses this morning, she did not even dare to make the attempt for fear of winding up back in the safe and quiet library, under her sheets, and next to her now-depleted stash of emergency chocolate.

It normally was such a pleasure to greet Crosswind at the train station and chat as they trotted along to one of Twilight’s regular appointments in the castle, but today she could only hear the derisive laughter of the Royals and the disappointed sigh of Princess Celestia as they heard the news. Engagement came before the announcement of a pregnancy, or the foal would not be considered a legitimate product of the marriage. According to her mother, the question of Shining Armor’s legitimacy had been only by a matter of minutes. It seems that when Twilight Velvet had showed up with Uncle Shining Sword carrying the family sword behind her, Night Light had whipped out the engagement ring and proposed before she could even get a single word out. Twilight’s uncle had been terribly disappointed, as he had been practicing his threatening speech all day. Maybe if she asked her uncle nicely, he would drop by Green Grass’ home and give the reluctant stallion a little nudge. Without the sword, that is. But no, that would just be forcing his hoof, and they had agreed not to push each other any farther in their relationship than each was mutually willing to go. Of course, that was before seven.

She picked up the pace a little with a flick of her tail, trying to distract her mind from that evening and most of that night, as well as part of the morning. There were an uncomfortable number of books on… procreation in the Ponyville library, and as a unicorn, Twilight had heard a lot about the… habits of earth ponies being nearly, but not quite as… active as pegasi. Some of that theoretical information had been bolstered by indirect experience long ago when she was Princess Celestia’s student, as there had been one or two rare occasions out stargazing in the middle of the night when an occupied cloud would drift in front of their observations of a particularly interesting heavenly body. While Pegasi were noted for their romantic interludes in the clouds, Nocturne pegasi lived up to their reputation and then some, being both more energetic in such nighttime activities and fairly comfortable in the inability of the ponies of the day to be able to see just exactly what was going on up in the night sky. Whatever Princess Celestia had been lecturing to her student about that evening in the Royal Observatory was lost to history, but Twilight had been glued to the telescope while taking a dozen pages of notes just as fast as she could move a quill, and kept those notes at the very bottom of her desk drawer for several years afterwards.

The number of weeks after she had returned from her trip with her friends to the Crystal Empire when they defeated King Sombra and the symptoms that had driven her to Rich’s Barnyard Bargains pharmacy department matched almost exactly against the library’s reference section, although every time the thought rotated through her mind, it tied yet another muscle into knots. She was irritable when the book said she was supposed to be overly sensitive, had cramps on exactly the same weeks it had mentioned, and she had even gotten a teensy bit… bite-y around the library over the last few weeks. Although Rainbow Dash deserved it for dropping by and trying to steal the last blueberry muffin at breakfast yesterday.

She took the twelve steps up the Septenary Entrance of the castle at a near run, her wings stuck out only a little for balance so as not to knock the two guards on duty into the rosebushes like the last time, made the sharp corner at the bottom of the staircase without sliding the rug down the hallway again, and was up the stairs two at a time. This close to her goal, she had an almost unstoppable urge to break into a frantic gallop and catch Celestia around her warm middle, crying like she did during that one thunderstorm the first night she spent at the castle as a student. But she was a princess now. She was supposed to be a model for the rest of Equestria. When the familiar castle corridor in front of her was filled with several ponies moving unusually large boxes and her route back was blocked in the same way, as much as she wanted to just scream in frustration at the workponies and Prince Blueblood, she just held herself together and took some deep—

Prince Blueblood?

“Ah, Princess Twilight. What a coincidence we both happen to be trapped in this corridor at the same time.” The prince fairly twinkled in the hallway light that cascaded in through the skylights, with his soft, white coat curried to a glossy shine, and his blonde mane thrown back in the most perfect hyperbolic curve that manespray could manage. With a glow of his golden magic, a side door opened and the prince gestured inside. “As fortune would have it, I’ve been unable to catch you during any of your other trips to Canterlot, and there’s something that I would really like to ask you in private. If you would walk this way, Princess?”

A certain non-ladylike word nearly fought its way to the surface as Twilight bit her bottom lip and trotted into the room, casting a despairing look backwards at the squabble her appointment secretary was having with the work ponies moving the boxes. Apparently Crosswind was verbalizing quite loudly the opinion that none of the workponies had parents who were married before they were born, which only churned Twilight’s nervous gut into more of a froth.

The room was one of the smaller exquisite meeting rooms off the Royal Quarter in which Princess Celestia had tea with supplicants, royalty, and on occasion the odd castle employee who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and who just happened to look like they were suffering from a lack of tea with biscuits. Celestia had explained the importance of the tea in such meetings as being the solvent into which all of the reagents of a conflict could dissolve without any unfortunate explosions or meltdowns, and although Twilight had nodded and taken note of the strange analogy, she had never really understood the reasoning behind it until now. With Prince Blueblood in the room gesturing to a soft cushion in just exactly her shade of purple, she had never felt the need for a cup of nice soothing jasmine tea more than at this exact minute, no matter what effect it might have on her… test.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, or may I just call you Twilight, between us?” Not even pausing for a response, Blueblood continued. “Over the last few years, I can’t help but think of all the times I’ve marveled at your grace and beauty, so close to my own. Why, you’ve even been elevated to the peerage like my noble ancestor, Princess Platinum, although you do have quite a bit of commoner in your bloodline. Still, I’m certain the rest of the nobility will properly recognize my decision, despite your background.

“But before I go any further, has that rather ratty little earth pony colt that has been sniffing around actually proposed to you yet?”

“No!” blurted out Twilight in a panic. If Green Grass had already asked Prince Blueblood to be a groomstallion, did that mean he was going to propose when he arrived in Ponyville in three days? If he was asking royalty to be in the wedding already, did that mean she was supposed to ask Cadence to be a bridlemaid? The wedding couldn’t be happening this soon! There were pages worth of preparations that needed to be checkmarked before this stage! Green Grass had skipped a page, no, he had skipped several pages in their planning template. Her wedding was supposed to be an organized affair, with the proposal first, then the announcements and the invitations and the planning and maybe foals later as they had rather obscurely hinted to each other every time they had recently met. This was as bad as Shining Armor sending her a bucking note about his own upcoming wedding, even if he was mind-controlled by a nasty bug. Did this mean Green Grass had been replaced by a changeling? Had one of his students Flared and turned him into something that couldn’t be fixed? Was he dying? Had he been sent to another dimension? Had she accidently reversed time somehow again? The panic and worry stirred her mind into such a blur that she barely heard Prince Blueblood’s voice as he continued.

“Good, so we won’t have to duel for the honor of your hoof. After all, a true prince deserves a princess, no matter her humble origin.” Pulling a velvet box out from under the table with his magic, he opened the top to reveal an extraordinary ring: a thick band of gold that looked more like a manacle than an ornament for a mare’s horn sparkled with hundreds of tiny diamonds and rubies crafted together in shapes that looked like repeating patterns of ‘BB,’ and topped with a diamond so garish and large it could have gagged Spike for at least a minute.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, will you accede to the honor of becoming my wife?” The golden aura of his magic floated the ring up past her nose as he stepped forward, frowning in concentration as he attempted to put the heavy object on a reluctant horn that kept darting back and forth.

Twilight was trying not to panic, but the close quarters of the room and the stress were making her breath come in short pants, and her impending panic was not reduced even the slightest by Blueblood’s clumsy attempts to cram that huge ring over her horn. Even the sight of that weighty mass of metal made the knots in her neck tie themselves into spasms. Walking around with that… thing on her horn would be like carrying Spike on her head, even without the consequences of accepting Blueblood’s offer.

Wait. His what?

The world took on a surreal aspect as all of her worries tangled together into one huge incomprehensible lump, blocking out any attempt at conscious thought or even respiration. She could see Blueblood’s lips moving, his soft, moist lips that smelled of raspberry lip gloss while saying words her ears refused to hear. His head darted from one side to another in front of her eyes like some sort of metronome every time he would attempt to push the ring onto her horn. The moment that giant lump of gold and crystallized carbon touched her horn, the world would end. He would move forward and try to kiss her as the future Princess Blueblood. It was too much for her mind to handle.

Twilight did the only thing she could think of doing.

Chapter 3 - Facing the Music

“She bit me!”

Prince Blueblood twisted in agony as the Royal Physician — who was far more used to treating his various pique related slights — dabbed a little bit of disinfectant over the battle wound. In terms of Royal Guard training injuries, the bite fell quite well into the category of “You had better get that looked at, sir,” although the angle and intensity of the vivid bruise could have been quite serious if Princess Sparkle had actually been trained in hoof-to-hoof combat, a deficiency in her upbringing that the physician made a mental note to bring up the next time Prince Consort Shining Armor was sitting in the treatment room.

“Do alicorns have any kind of venom? I’m feeling a little woozy. Or maybe she’s ill. Do you think it’s contagious?”

The Royal Physician considered his words carefully, moderating them in light of what he had learned from his nurse just a few moments before the officious ponce had come stumbling into the office, wailing as if he had been mortally wounded.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. I’m pretty sure you can’t catch what she has.”

Resisting an overwhelming urge to fill Blueblood’s mouth full of cotton swabs, the physician listened to the prince rant on about his perfectly planned marriage proposal while he took his time applying a sufficient amount of attention to the battle wounds as to reassure His Highness with his attention to detail. After all, the physician had patience and a lot of free time. Throughout his appointment to the post, the physical needs of the Princesses of Equestria had been limited to a few aspirin during tax season and a yearly exam for each one that had him wishing for a rubber stamp labelled, ‘Healthy as a Horse.’ Despite having to occasionally deal with Blueblood, the plum position of Royal Physician had always been considered sine cura, a leisurely position where a doctor could spend a few years penning their memoirs or writing a detailed treatise on some obscure ailment or disease, although with the introduction of the infant Princess Mi Amore Cadenza two decades ago, the position briefly grew to include a number of pediatric specialists in all three major pony races.

His current stint as physician in residence had run for nearly two years, starting shortly before the abrupt reappearance of Princess Luna and her interesting reaction to immunizations. Still, other than that embarrassing incident which led to the subsequent rebuilding of the Royal Physician office and quiet un-stoning of his nurse, his duties had not changed significantly, since three times nothing was just as much work as two times nothing. This was bound to change with the sudden ascension of Princess Twilight Sparkle, the only princess he had ever treated who had actually talked all the way through the examination including the gynecological portion. Which, come to think of it in hindsight, had been missing one very important test.

He would miss the position when he retired and went back to his hospital residency, but from the excited reaction of his nurse to the news she had brought, it seemed time to bring in a gynecological obstetrician and a pediatric specialist. And talkative ones too, from the number of questions Princess Sparkle would have as she worked her way through the perilous process of precocious prenuptial panic-prone princess pregnancy and proper parenthood procedures postpartum.

Still, there was something about the obnoxious prince’s posture and behavior that reminded him entirely too much of Princess Luna’s rather dramatic rejection of Blueblood’s badly-timed wedding proposal, although the physical symptoms seemed somewhat different now. After one last dab of disinfectant and a proper sized bandage, the doctor took a step back and decided to assuage his curiosity with a question.

“So other than that, My Prince, how did your proposal to Princess Twilight Sparkle go? Did she accept your ring?”

Blueblood held his hind legs together and tucked his tail tightly to his rear. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Celestia was fully aware of the common folk saying: “Rumors ride on many wings.” That was not to say pegasi were sources of gossip, but rather the means by which it spread to the farthest corners of Equestria at speeds that sometimes boggled even her ancient and extremely sharp mind. Several centuries ago on a whim, she had put the folk saying to the test by passing a particularly juicy bit of gossip to a close feathered confidant, then flying as fast as she possibly could to the other end of Equestria. The rumor beat her there by several minutes, and she still had not figured out just exactly how, or even if she wanted to know.

The Princess Twilight Sparkle Early Warning System had been implemented — with Luna’s help — to bring order to the chaos involved in an unexpected arrival of her student in the capital, or at least give the various ministers and secretaries in the bureaucracy an hour or two warning to brace themselves. It was a temporary stop-gap measure to cover for the few times that Spike did not pass along a warning of his own, but it cut down the stress on the overworked castle staff on a scale of about forty gallons of tea and a dozen packages of chocolate biscuits per visit. The Civil Service always got so worked up about such trivial things, and Celestia was more than happy to take measures to reward their loyal service.

Somehow those measures always seemed to involve tea.

The two hours worth of warning she received this morning had allowed Papercut, her Trainee Appointment Secretary, time to invite Lady Chickadee in for the informal discussion (with tea, of course) she had requested several days ago. Chickadee was a brilliant yellow and bluish-black pegasus from one of the noble pegasus houses who volunteered to escort the birds back to Canterlot every year during Winter-Wrap Up. Celestia found it quite pleasant to settle onto a cushion and talk with the middle-aged mare about her beloved tits for an hour or two, but once Chickadee had warmed to her subject, it became well-nigh impossible to get a word in edgewise between the tits. It was best to entertain her tit-loving friend only at times when she could fall back upon an ‘unexpected’ interruption to provide a needed break.

The interruption she had been expecting was unexpectedly late, and Celestia had begun to worry.

As the Princess of the Sun, Celestia did not need a clock to tell the time. Indeed, it was not unusual for either of the Royal Sisters to stop suddenly during a walk through the castle for the purpose of adjusting an incorrect timepiece, although Celestia drew the line at adjusting watches (Luna did not, much to the embarrassment of several nobles and guards). As the conversation rolled onwards, she was acutely aware that Twilight was five, no, now six minutes late for her anticipated arrival, and Celestia began seeking a small hesitation in Chickadee’s rather enthusiastic recitation about the homing instincts in mated pairs of tits, perhaps during a breath where she could politely dispatch her young appointment secretary to investigate.

Papercut had remained as a patch of dark green just on the outskirts of her vision, dealing with visitors as they came to the door and slipped him little pieces of paper to integrate into her schedule, but none of the whispers she heard belonged to her former student.

She was just on the edge of rudely interrupting Lady Chickadee’s long dissertation on the perfect aerodynamic shape of homing tits when the clatter of fast-moving hooves could be heard coming up the corridor. The doors slammed open with an explosive bang, tossing guards to either side and leaving a startled Papercut looking down the hallway with one hoof up as if he were going to stop the rapidly-moving young alicorn by force of authority alone. Celestia grabbed her appointment secretary in her magic and tossed him to safety just a split-second before Twilight Sparkle burst through the open doorway, her wings snapping open as she flung herself forward in a crushing tackle that impacted on Princess Celestia’s neck in a sobbing damp mass of despondent princess tears.

Lady Chickadee took a few moments of blinking at the scene before she stood up with a nod and a smile, sitting her teacup back down on the table which had miraculously avoided being upset during Twilight’s dive for comfort.

“Thank you, Princess Celestia. I’ll see myself out.”

Papercut closed the doors and took his place outside the room just before Crosswind came panting down the hallway. The frivolous featherbrain had that look of impending panic that pegasi always got when things did not go the way they expected, and the addition of wings to Twilight Sparkle seemed to have added that unwelcome bit of pegasus psychology to the otherwise sensible unicorn physiology during the process⁽*⁾. Crosswind skidded to a halt a mere hoofs-length away from both him and the two Royal Guards in a fashion that she knew was a constant source of irritation for him, and panted out, “Twilight been here?”
(*) Papercut had very little experience with Twilight Sparkle before she became a princess, and tended to view the stories other castle servants told about her previous behavior as scurrilous gossip. He should have at least paid attention to the occasional scorch marks on the walls, or the way that the third floor of the Royal Residence did not quite line up with the fourth floor.
—

Raising one eyebrow, Papercut took a moment to run a hoof through his impeccably-groomed brown mane before giving the shortest of nods. “Her Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle is presently in private discussion with Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia.”

A sobbing wail of pure misery filtered out from under the doors, followed by an impassioned, “I’m sorry!” that made the two door guards put on their most impassive faces, and caused Papercut to twitch his nose and take a deep breath.

“Their discussion is to be a private one. Could we travel down the corridor a short distance and resume this communication, ma’am?”

Once they had gotten out of earshot of the guards, Papercut lowered his voice. “So, Featherbrain. Is the rumor true?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Needle—” Crosswind glanced at the two unicorn guards at the end of the hallway and changed her next word “—Nose. Blueblood caught her downstairs and trapped her in one of the reception rooms for a couple of minutes, but she looked pretty upset before that. I thought you were going to keep that ponce out of her mane when she was in town?”

“Me?” hissed Papercut. “Apparently you let her get into His Royal Selfness’ bed earlier, or this disaster wouldn’t have happened.”

Crosswind blinked and waved a wing. “Wait a sec. Go back and tell me what you heard first.”

“Well…” Papercut lowered his voice even more and got very close, putting his nose almost directly against Crosswind’s wind-tossed mane despite the possibility of a tickle-induced sneeze. He never would have admitted it to anypony, but the conditioner she used was rather nice, and reminded him of spring rains for some reason. “Just a few minutes ago, I heard that Twilight Sparkle is pregnant.”

Another plaintive wail of absolute angst and depression echoed down the corridor, trailing off in a “...not on the checklist…”

“Oh!” Both of Crosswind’s fluffy eyebrows shot up, as well as her wings. “That explains the red welt on Blueblood’s neck. Pregnant mares bite when another stallion attempts to get too close. If she is displaying that symptom and she’s just noticing, that would put her at about… Hm… Two months or so, with delivery around late winter.”

“Hm.” Papercut frowned and pulled a schedule out of his chest pocket, scribbling down a few notes. “Drat. That leaves Blueblood out of the parenting picture, as he was in Manehattan chasing fashion models during the entire month of the Crystal Empire discovery. You don’t think Princess Sparkle found a special somepony there, do you?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Horny. The only unicorn up there would have been King Sombra, and from what I heard, the sexy sextet kicked his flank into the mountains. The place is wall-to-wall with earth ponies, just like Greenie, only shiny.”

Papercut winced, and a shudder rippled down his own dark forest-green hide, quite different and a very much more appropriate color for a proper gentlecolt than the rather shaggy faded green of Lord Green Grass. He always made Papercut think of an avocado for some reason, maybe because of the squishing noise he would make if the earth pony were to be ‘accidently’ bumped out of a high window someday.

“Well, perhaps this will make the princess see reason for a change. Turning up pregnant without a fiancé displays a great lack of forethought, and I’m certain the situation will be rectified shortly with an appropriate stallion of proper breeding.”

Crosswind did not look convinced. “I dunno, Princess Twilight seems to be pretty stuck to the snarky green oaf.”

Making one final mark before tucking his notes away, Papercut shook his head. “You misunderstand. Princess Twilight is not the one in charge of this matter. The real Princess is far older and wiser than her young protege. No doubt she is talking her out of her foolish decision and presenting a list of proper candidates even as we speak.”

“There, there, Twilight.” Princess Celestia repeated her compassionate words and patted her former student on the back while trying to figure out just exactly what had set her off this time. Admittedly, Celestia bore a great deal of the blame for her current stressed condition. Almost all of Twilight’s overwhelming experiences of the last year and some months could be placed squarely at her own royal hooves. After all, Starswirl had worked for years on that cursed spell, and Celestia had no idea that Twilight was going to be able to crack the secret in one single day. Then Celestia had foolishly scheduled a simple Princess Summit at the Crystal Empire with the intent of giving all six of the Elements and Spike a peaceful time to vacation while being adored for freeing the crystal ponies from King Sombra a few months earlier. Everything had been going so well that Celestia should have known that her former student was going to visit for a bit of light thievery. Papercut had even underlined the portal opening date on her schedule twice.

And the less said about her brilliant decision to rehabilitate Discord, the better.

They were all tests — in one way or another — designed to give Twilight the opportunity to grow into her full potential and then some. Now she had become the powerful and loved princess that Celestia had seen inside that shy and bookish filly. Potential of that magnitude came around so infrequently that suppressing it would be a crime against Equestria, but more than once, Celestia had feared for the worst. The feeling of tears against her chest reminded her of far too many years of her own spent away from Luna with no other princess to throw herself onto and cry like Twilight was doing now.

A lump rose in her throat at the thought of someday Twilight having to face the same tragic situation. Immortal did not mean eternal, and the constant flow of mortal lives could wear crevices into even the hardest alicorn hearts. Today it was best to simply be there for Twilight in her hour of need, for someday, Celestia might not.

A cold patch of tears and snot on her neck was beginning to dribble down her chest as Twilight continued to cry, although with smaller sobs that no longer echoed through the room and threatened to awaken Luna several stories above them in her bedroom.

“I’m p-p-p-pregnant!” sniffled Twilight, curling up in a shuddering heap against Celestia’s soggy neck and pulling one huge white wing over her head like a security blanket.

Oh, me.

Celestia’s horn lit up briefly for two quick tasks, the second of which floated a large box of tissues over for proper princess nose-blowing and tear-wiping. Applying the tissues to her student, no, to her fellow princess, was a delicate job, and she talked in soothing tones while wiping.

“Don’t worry, Twilight. I’ve called for Luna to join us so we can discuss this together. We’re both here for you.”

Princess Luna stirred under the blazing rays of the sun, throwing one foreleg over her face before groping for the curtains with her magic. “Tia, turn down thy sun. It is far too bright this—”

With a sudden dazzled blink, Luna realized the curtains she was reaching for were gone, as was the curtain rod, two chairs, a potted plant, and many panes out of her beautiful window, which now fairly blazed under the unmuted power of the sun with such intensity that sections of the bedding had begun to smolder. Although Celestia often enjoyed the little stunt of pulling back her curtains in the morning just as much as Luna enjoyed the occasional filling of her sister’s room with nighttime moths, the clatter and tinkle of her bedroom furnishings on the cobblestones far below indicated this was not in line with a simple prank, and the Princess of the Moon burst out of her damaged window in a flurry of wings to rise against whatever threat had driven her sister to use such desperate measures.

After a quick trip back inside her room for a set of much-needed sunglasses.

“So,” started Celestia once Luna had settled down at her side and Twilight had gotten back under control enough not to have her face buried in tissues. “How did this happen?”

“Well,” said Twilight with a sniffle as her voice firmed into lecture mode, although with that wavering vague tone that indicated her mind was heavily preoccupied with other thoughts. “When a mare and a stallion love each other very much—”

“No,” said Celestia quite firmly despite the sudden snort of suppressed laughter from her sister. “I mean, are you sure you’re — pregnant?”

Her magical aura formed around the purple saddlebags and Twilight floated out a little piece of plastic with a plus sign, which she placed in front of Celestia like a confession of ultimate guilt and betrayal.

“It is but one test, Twilight Sparkle,” said Luna, managing with great effort to look serious as she examined the little scrap of plastic. “As I understand, there can be what are called ‘False Positives’ that can skew—”

Luna cut off as Twilight dumped the rest of her saddlebags on the floor, and dozens of little pieces of plastic spilled out in front of them, all with the same little plus sign. “Oh. We see.”

“Ah,” said Celestia.

Then, “Yes.”

And after a while, “Um…”

Gathering her courage, she continued, “Do you know when you—” Celestia paused, trying to come up with a word that implied a mutual meeting of love and passion that led to conception, but the only words that she could think of at the moment started with ‘F.’

“When was the act of procreation that planted the blessed seeds of life in thy womb, Twilight Sparkle?” said Luna in a commanding-yet-soft tone that failed to hide a tiny thread of fascination. Her sister always did have a weakness for newborn creatures, in particular the kinds that could be played with and then given back when they became hungry/wet/dirty/cranky.

“Well,” started Twilight with a thoughtful frown, coming ever so slightly out of her preoccupied state with the need to make a verbal report, “I don’t have my notes, but it could have been when we first walked into the observatory. I got a little… carried away, probably because I hadn’t seen him in so long. Or it could have been right after that, because it had been a long time. Then there was on top of the telescope, and after we had dinner, and after the first bottle of wine. Then there was midnight when the stars were shining down and filled the entire observatory with a glow that mixed with the aurora from the Crystal Empire. It was so beautiful we couldn’t help ourselves. And last there was the sunrise with just the two of us still curled up on the blanket. I hope it was that time. That was the most special, between the darkness and the day.”

“No, Twilight,” said Celestia, fighting to keep a hoof off her forehead. “What day?”

Still lost in her memory, Twilight’s voice drifted with a musical lilt. “Oh, they were all the same day. Or night. Does it count if they’re over the whole night, or does that count as two days?”

“Ah,” said Luna with an indulgent smile. “The night after you returned from defeating King Sombra. I was feeling unusually inspired that evening.” She paused, counting. “Seven?”

“It would have been eight, but everypony was waking up and we didn’t want to take the chance of somepony walking in on us.” Twilight giggled a little before snuggling deeper into Celestia’s warm neck, taking several deep breaths as if she were going to store the air inside for later.

A small tremble traveled through Equestria’s newest princess, followed by a sharp inhalation as she closed both eyes. After a count of three and a wipe of one tissue, Twilight opened her eyes again and looked between the Royal Sisters with her usual alertness. “Now what?”

“The decision is thine,” said Luna with a nod. “We shall assist thee in thy time of need to any extent, but if I may suggest one thing, it is that you inform your paramour of your condition post haste.”

“Ahh, Luna?” said Celestia, unable to stop her sister as Twilight stiffened by her side and began to tremble.

“Certes he shall rush to be at thy side in this moment of discovery, eager to wed thee before thy blessing becomes obvious to the world.”

“Luna, can we talk a moment?” asked Celestia, waving a hoof at her sister.

“Thy wedding shall be a marvelous thing, conducted under my beautiful stars and attended by every important pony in Equestria, and all other races from beyond. Yea, they shall flock to be at thy side and share thy blessed night of joy in a riot of feasting and song that most certainly shall cause another wave of blessed events in another eleven mo—”

“LUNA!”

The Princess of the Night broke off from her reverie to glare at her sister. “Nay, dear sister. Thou hast conducted the last Royal Wedding, and tis my turn now. Besides, I can do a much better job than thou didst.”

Princess Celestia did not have to say a word. She just gave a short nod in the direction of the paralyzed pregnant princess tucked under her chin, who seemed to be silently mouthing words like ‘Mom’ and ‘Wedding’ under her breath.

“Oh.” A quick glance between sisters passed more information than an entire stack of encyclopedias, causing Luna to stand up and put a wing over Twilight, escorting her out of the room in small, steady steps and talking all the while. “Come, Twilight Sparkle. Let us be off to our upstairs common room where we shall sit and dine amidst a mountain of delicious comestibles. I would tend to believe thou forgot to eat breakfast this morn, and a few snacks from our sister’s ample stores of chocolate should improve your mood to great measure. My sister shall take care of the trivialities of the Day and be with us in short order, so that we may meet your troubles together.”

Celestia stood and watched them go before gesturing to the two ponies who peeked into the reception room as if they expected to see bloodshed and destruction, instead of the Princess of the Sun with a caked smear of snot down one side of her neck and a quill firmly in her magic as she wrote.

“Crosswind, I have a few notes that I shall need you to deliver with great haste.” A thin trail of smoke began to drift upwards from the quill, moving in a near blur as a number of written notes quickly assembled at her side. “Please use the utmost discretion, for the subject is of a sensitive nature. Now go.” Crosswind was just opening her mouth to ask a question when the entire stack of smoldering notes was shoved in her face. The mouthful of paper knocked her back through the open doors which promptly closed the moment her tail was clear, leaving only Papercut in the room with Celestia.

The sight of his princess all rumpled from physical contact and mopping her soggy neck with a clump of tissues did not faze Papercut, for it was the duty of a proper servant to rise above such trivialities. Drawing out her schedule and holding it in front of him in preparation for the changes that would certainly be forthcoming, he bent into a short bow and said, “My Princess?”

Celestia paused momentarily in the cleaning of her soggy neck as if she had been unaware of her appointment secretary’s location, magiking the last few wet tissues over to a trash can while seeming lost in her own thoughts. “Wonderful news, Papercut. We have another Royal Wedding to plan.”

“Delightful news, Princess. Does this mean you have decided to accept the Saddle Arabian ambassador’s open invitation to become his third wife?”

It always gave him a little bubble of pleasure to see that royal tranquility twitch when Celestia was faced by an unexpected response, provided the response was not too unexpected. Her twitch was almost invisible as she responded in the most pleasant tone imaginable, “Twilight.”

“Wonderful.” Papercut fairly beamed as he flipped through the schedule. “I presume one of the unicorn royal families has finally convinced you to permit one of their fine stallions to woo and wed the fair Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

“No.” Her aura of tranquility shifted slightly as Celestia took a deep breath. “Lord Green Grass.”

Papercut looked up from the schedule with a raised eyebrow. “The earth pony?”

“No, the alicorn prince without a horn or wings.” The Princess of the Sun breathed out a sigh of frustration. “Yes, he’s an earth pony.”

“Oh.” One page flipped up on the schedule as Papercut consulted his notes. “From the unicorn House Minor Chrysanthemum, I see. Are you certain one of the other unicorn royal families would not care to send one of their more respectable eligible bachelor stallions for the wedding instead? Perhaps the Pansies, or even the Butterbells could—”

“No.”

Undaunted at the blunt response, Papercut flipped a page. “There’s always the royalty among the pegasus clans. Stormfront has an extremely handsome son who seems quite—”

“No.” An idea seemed to spring to mind as she frowned slightly and looked upwards. “Perhaps it is a bit premature to plan all of their wedding for them. Although it would be perfect if she could have it at the Summer Sun Festival,” she added as her thoughtful frown grew. She shook her head after a moment and that perfect aura of tranquility returned. “It shall be Princess Twilight’s decision, but we should be prepared. Under the circumstances, I don’t believe she will wait more than two months. Block off a week on my schedule around the summer solstice, please.”

“Excellent idea, Your Highness. Shall I prepare letters to the respective royal families requesting a number of applicants for the position of…” Papercut trailed off as he noticed the look he was getting from the Princess of the Sun. It had gotten distinctly warm in the reception room, and from the glimpse he had of Celestia’s expression before that mask of tranquility dropped back over her face, he had a very good idea why. He swallowed through a suddenly dry throat and made an issue of leafing through the schedule again. “It seems quite short notice. Since Princess Cadence and Prince-Consort Shining Armor were married at the fall equinox, perhaps a winter wedding at the solstice would be more appropriate for Princess Twilight and… him?”

“No.” There was an inevitability to that word, as if it had been chiseled out of Canterlot granite, polished to a scintillating gleam, and dropped from several stories up in front of Papercut. Still, after saying it, Princess Celestia did take a contemplative breath and continue in a much calmer voice.

“Although a winter wedding would be divine, I’m afraid we don’t want the bride going into labor during the ceremony.”

Papercut stood for a brief period, attempting to gainsay an insight into the princess’ thoughts by examining her expression, an activity that generations of failed diplomats could have told him was an exercise in futility. Finally he hazarded a cautious, “I understand that to be a quaint tradition among earth pon—”

“No. Two months. No more.” Celestia paused again with the most peculiar twitch at the corner of her mouth. “And you shall not speak of her gravid nature.”

Somehow Papercut managed to make the dead silence that surrounded them into the Guilt of Unconfessed Sins instead of the respectful silence of Keeping His Big Mouth Shut that he intended. Celestia did not even have to look at him for Papercut to realize his error, and he cringed inside as the princess sighed again before speaking.

“Who else knows?”

“Well, I heard an unsubstantiated rumor from the Third Underbutler when he flew up the seating arrangements for a diplomatic dinner, and he heard it from an aide to Minister Downbottom’s office, who I believe overheard a—”

“Am I always the last to find out things in this castle?” huffed Celestia with a frown.

“Oh, no,” said Papercut. “I don’t believe the Night Guard has heard the news yet. Would you care to go speak with them?”

For a brief but somehow infinite period of time, Papercut thought the Princess had been turned to stone. She did not breathe, or blink, and even the slow cascade of colors down her ethereal mane had flowed to a halt. Finally she breathed in, and Papercut released a breath he did not realize he was holding.

That perpetual mask of tranquility slipped over the royal personage in a blink as Celestia turned to her appointment secretary and asked, “Papercut, do you believe the rest of the Canterlot nobility will be as resistant as yourself to the concept of Lord Green Grass becoming Prince Consort Green Grass?”

“Ah…” For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to stuff as many weasely ‘There exists a possibility’ and ‘Not that I would presume to know the thoughts of the peerage’ phrases into his answer as could possibly fit, but the moment quickly passed with the suspicion that the question would simply be asked again, only instead of the quiet smile the Princess was wearing now, there might be another, less pleasant expression he would have to face.

“Yes, Ma’am. In particular you might wish to speak with your nephew, Prince Blueblood, because last week he removed his ancestral engagement ring from the Department of Royal Regalia⁽¹⁾ vaults again.” As a chilling sense of enlightenment crept over him like cold tar, Papercut continued in a somewhat slower voice, “In particular, that might be the reason, or at least one of the reasons your student is so upset right now.”

“So you disapprove of the idea of my nephew wedding Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

“Ah…” Not a single muscle changed in Celestia’s tranquil expression as Papercut tried to phrase ‘Your nephew is a blithering ponce, but he’s slightly better than an earth pony’ in more diplomatic language, but apparently Celestia was able to read the answer right off his forehead as she continued.

“Do you know what your ranking was among the forty-five finalists who applied to be my appointment secretary once Kibitz announced his upcoming retirement?”

“First, I would think,” said Papercut without thinking, although once the words were out, he felt an unreasonable urge to pull them back and consider possible replacements.

“Forty-fifth,” replied Celestia. “Although the selection criteria was very tight at that point, and the difference between first and last was only a few points. Do you know why I selected you as my personal appointment secretary, Mister Papercut?”

“Ah… You appreciated my ability to cut through red tape? My personality? On advice from one of the other servants? Chance?” Papercut’s nervous babble slowed to a halt as Celestia wrote out another note. His eye was drawn to her quill, progressing across the page with swoops and flourishes, and the occasional “hmmm” before she folded the paper up and sealed it with a security spell. Almost positive that he had just seen his letter of resignation written, he was jolted out of his depression when Princess Celestia turned to him with a soft, loving smile.

“I have some small experience in recognizing untapped potential, young colt,” said Celestia while floating the note over to Papercut and tucking it into his pocket like one would with a child. “Princess Twilight Sparkle is only one example. Great potential such as hers can’t be taught, but it can be brought to the surface by adversity. Whether it’s a general who discovers their ability in the middle of a battle, or a bitless entrepreneur who finds himself with extra mouths to feed, sometimes it just takes that extra bit of bad to bring out all the good in them.

Celestia’s magic roamed over Papercut’s rumpled suit and tie, adjusting and tightening where his impromptu flight across the room had disturbed his normally well-groomed exterior. With one final stroke through his glossy brown mane, she looked him over and gave a slight nod much like his mother used to do right before sending him to Magic Kindergarten. The only thing missing was a glob of mom-spit to stick down the errant piece of mane that always stuck up on the top of his head and that he could feel ever so slowly beginning to pop up even now.

“Other times, all it takes is a little education, some exposure to experiences the individual may not normally have reason to become familiar with, or even a task that might prove more of a learning experience than expected. Please pass that note on to Lord Green Grass when he arrives, and take care that the instructions are carried out exactly, would you Papercut?”

Papercut straightened up and nodded sharply, patting the letter once as if to ensure it had not evaporated out of his pocket while he was not looking. “Yes, of course, Your Highness. Just…” He checked the schedule and looked back up. “He’s not supposed to get back to the Ponyville train station for two days.”

Celestia opened the door and trotted out, calling back over her shoulder, “I would imagine you will be able to run into him this afternoon outside the Orange Puzzle Room upstairs. There will be a number of visitors arriving there shortly, so if you would be so kind as to escort them in as they arrive while we are waiting for him.”

The silence inside the reception room was a much calmer silence once the Princess had departed, and Papercut took a moment to float the letter out of his pocket and look at it briefly before tucking it away and proceeding on his appointed task. On some level, even after a year of training under Celestia’s tutelage, he should not have been surprised at how easily the Princess of the Sun had turned his good intentions inside-out. However, not everything under her sun turned to Celestia’s will, and perhaps there was still a string or two he could pull in the months left before Princess Twilight Sparkle were to be fully committed to her poor decision.

Even if those strings were connected to Blueblood.

(1) The Department of Royal Regalia (DRR) is a branch office of the Royal Mint, which in turn is a branch of the Royal⁽²⁾ Treasury used to securely store unused crowns, tiaras, scepters, and from earth pony Royals, family potato mashers. For centuries, it has become a quiet place in the bureaucracy to stick some of the more difficult employees as to get them out of the way where they could not do any damage, although there have been some recent difficulties.

When Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was discovered, the office suffered a half-dozen heart attacks and strokes among the aged staff before it was announced that the new princess had brought her own crown. When Princess Luna returned, Princess Celestia made a special point to send the DRR immediate notification that Luna also had retained her old crown and did not need a replacement, potentially saving several lives. Princess Twilight’s ascension caused the DRR to classify the Element of Magic as a tiara, also saving the department from engaging in the job for which they had been created, although for her coronation, it took a personal visit by Princess Celestia to pry loose three ‘official’ crowns for the officiating alicorns, and even then it was rumored that she had just grabbed the first three in the vault and left.

The department had recently stated that in the event that Princess Twilight’s foal was an alicorn, that she would most likely emerge with her own regalia, no matter how unlikely the theory was considered by the rest of Equestria.
—
(2) Despite the fact that the entire Equestrian government is in effect Princess Celestia and Princess Luna’s household staff, greatly expanded, the position of the Office of Princess and the actual alicorns who hold the position are completely different legal entities. In general, while the Office of Princess can order a million bits to be expended on a public works project, Princess Celestia could not simply walk into the mint and help herself. This dichotomy has caused relatively minor issues recently, but none so severe as what the return of Princess Luna did to the Office of Correspondence. Every single form, letterhead, memo and directive in use by the Monarchy had to be revised to the new Diarchy, and ‘es’ added to ‘Princess’ in countless signs across the castle. To their credit⁽³⁾, the task was complete within one week at significant overtime expense (and enough tea to fill the Celestial Bathing Chambers twice over), although one frazzled Civil Service employee did corner Princess Luna and make her swear she was going to stay in office until after his retirement.
—
(3) Some small portion of the credit should also be given to the Office of Unexplained Contingency Planning, whose occupants were formerly criticized for churning out detailed White Papers with unlikely titles such as In The Event of Solar Luminosity Failure or Large-Scale Reintegration of Citizens Into Equestria After Centuries of Chronological Suspension. Still, the plan had assumed Princess Cadence would be elevated to the Office of Princess, and the resulting minor glitches still crop up at times, causing the two princesses to meet monthly for coffee and to swap misdelivered mail.

Chapter 4 - Testing Patience

Endless fields of wheat stretched out across the low, rolling hills as Green Grass trotted down the road with his heavy wagon full of books jolting along behind him seeming as weightless as air. Three days from their one year and six month anniversary of meeting, and it already seemed as if Twilight Sparkle had been a part of his life forever. The ring in his vest pocket had been unused for far too long as he waffled on his decision, unable to make that one last important step until he finally realized it was only one small step in a long journey which the two of them had been trotting along ever since that first day she had dropped him in the Ponyville fountain. As for the obstacles that had seemed to spring up in front of them every time they managed to have a few hours together, they had become routine to the point that even the excuse of “I’m sorry, Greenie, but the girls and I have to rehabilitate Discord this weekend” had been taken on face value, and a second weekend was scheduled that turned out to be well worth the wait.

And now the waiting for at least one part of their journey was about over. The engagement ring had sat like a lump of lead in his vest pocket for months, untouched except for one notable incident he was still trying to forget but that came roaring back every time he saw a bug. Permissions were also a thing of the past, because, after all, once you had asked permission of the bride-to-be’s parents, princesses, brothers (except Shining Armor), one cleverly disguised bug and all of her best friends, that only left one non-Royal Guard individual un-asked.

It had taken a month of careful correspondence with Gustov to arrange the events for three nights from now in Ponyville: a private table in a secluded corner of his restaurant, two bottles of most decidedly non-alcoholic sparkling cider of recent vintage, a strolling violin player who had practiced some of Twilight’s favorite pieces, and the most serious set of letters to her friends so they would just ‘happen to be in the vicinity’ afterwards, although the decision still twisted a knife in his gut every time he thought about it.

What if she says no?

His slow trudge quickened back to a sharp trot as Green Grass took a series of deep breaths, sincerely regretting that he could not simply look into the future and find his answer. It had been eighteen months — well, less three days — that he had known Twilight, now Princess Twilight Sparkle, and as much as he felt he knew the quiet bookavore, there were new things they each discovered about each other every time they spent time together. When he had vented his concern about someday running out of things to discover about each other to — of all ponies — her father, Night Light, he had patiently listened to him with the most solemn expression until he broke into laughter.

“Son,” he said with a certain look indicating the title was only a courtesy, and not to get too used to it, “mares are like having a house. Every time you walk through a room, even if you’ve been through it a hundred times before, there will always be something different about it. You will never totally figure her out, and the inverse is also true. Stallions are about as complicated as a rock, but mares keep finding little cracks and pieces of lichen on us that we never knew we had. Live with it, and enjoy it. Within reason.”

An errant breeze bumped his hat forward just a bit as the gentle wind picked up, and Green Grass carefully looked around. He was miles from Ponyville, with a cloudless sky, and not a tiny bit of pink in sight in any direction. There was a song in his heart that all of his worry could not hold back, and he might as well get it out of his system now before he made it to Wheaton for this afternoon’s final evaluation of his students, or worse, Ponyville where it would turn into some sort of town-wide musical number. He shouldered the harness of his wagon higher on his back, making one last check around before raising his voice in song as he trotted along.

Cresting the top of a low hill, Green Grass looked at the small town of Wheaton spread out across the river valley. The few scattered houses and central meeting building looked just exactly the way he had last seen them, with the exception of a Royal Guard chariot parked by the side of the road, and three individuals looking at him with the kind of expression ponies get after waiting for somepony for far too long while holding bad news.

“—Fudgesicles.”

The wind breaking over the passenger compartment of the Royal Guard chariot whipped Green Grass’ mane into a knotted mess as the two pegasi guards in the harness flapped for all they were worth and possibly even some more. His familiar hat was crumpled on the floor somewhere under his rear hooves or it certainly would have been lost in the first few minutes of their rapid flight, while Green Grass leaned over the front rail and stared at Canterlot in the distance as if his sheer force of will would somehow speed the vehicle to greater velocity.

The note had been simple.

Twilight needs you. Come to the Orange Puzzle Room at once.
—Celestia.

His response had been simpler. Grabbing his teaching notes out of the wagon and shoving them into the hooves of the startled substitute from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, he had leapt into the Royal Guard chariot with such speed that Axe and Stonehoof had barely started to strap themselves into their own harness by the time he was ready to go. Green Grass knew the guards were giving the job as much as they possibly could from the occasional frothy bit of perspiration that flew by as they panted, their wings hammering away in a near blur. Still, he leaned forward, trying not to worry and failing badly.

Luna’s side felt like a furnace against Twilight as they walked side-by-side up what had been called the Solar Processional staircase and into the princess’ private residence. The two princesses shared a large common study, which included a fireplace and a set of windows overlooking Canterlot, as well as a rambling mish-mash of bookshelves, tables and cushions.

Where the princess’ bedrooms were relatively small and tidy, there was an air of intentional clutter in the study, with half-finished puzzles on some of the tables and more than one book lying around with matching sun and moon bookmarks in it, depending on how far each of the sisters had read into the latest Daring Do novel or historical romance. To be allowed into the study was a rare and great honor for the competitive nobility, during which they always tended to drift in the direction of a large table laid out with puzzle pieces, from which the hints of a disassembled orange tree in full fruit could be seen.

It was the only orange object in the room, but many generations of frustrated nobility and the occasional servant had christened the study with the name ‘The Orange Puzzle Room’ after spending fruitless (and the pun had been commented on to exhaustive detail) hours holding onto one puzzle piece or another while searching for that gap with a tiny fleck of orange overlapping a little squiggly hanging-down bit. Twilight herself had participated in the informal contest once, feeling fairly proud of her personal record of six pieces found and connected in one day, but was a little set back when a quick back of the abacus calculation showed that if she kept that rate up for a mere twenty years, the entire outside edge would be completed and she could then start on the more difficult parts in the middle.

She was feeling much like the puzzle now, sitting at Luna’s side and nodding at the correct spots in the conversation while her component parts were strewn around Equestria in unlabeled heaps. Other ponies came into the room, walked up to her and spoke, then faded into the background with an intention of support that was supposed to be comforting but only tied the muscles in her neck and down her back into tighter knots. Even when Princess Celestia sat down at her other cold flank and contributed her body heat, she still fought to keep from shivering.

Stress was not good for the foal, and she had months of this ahead of her. Millions of mares for thousands of years had done just exactly what she was doing, sometimes without even reading the instructions, so it should have been easy. After all, the process was almost completely automatic, with no score to the test or grade at the end, just a fundamental change in her entire relationship with every single part of the universe for all eternity, that’s all.

The real difficulty in the short term would be in the socio-political implications of the birth. Equestria had four princesses now, after going through centuries with the Monodeists claiming one was all that ever was and ever would be. The sect had gone a little sparse when the young Princess Cadence had been discovered in a small forgotten abbey, making their ancient doctrine of Celestia transition from ‘The Only Perfect Alicorn’ to ‘One Of Two Alicorns, The Other Of Which Is Very Small And Quite Cute.’ Factional infighting between the two sects that resulted had eventually trailed out over a year or two into something better described as grandparents comparing pictures of their adorable grandfillies. Over the years, it gradually transitioned into a speculative contest where mares across Equestria looked at articles in glossy magazines and tried to figure out which pop star would make the best match for the growing pretty pink princess. For some reason, the magazines never featured Celestia in the same way.

Then Luna had returned, and the two factions had exploded into three major and five minor branches of True Believers ranging from ‘Nightmare Moon Has Returned to Kill Us All’ to ‘Beauty Secrets of the Lunar Princess Revealed For Only 29.99 bits plus shipping.’ Celestia had expended considerable effort in peacekeeping efforts to manage their transition into more of a multi-level marketing organization than midnight meetings between cultists in the middle of forests.

When Twilight had joined the growing ranks of the winged and horned less than two months ago, the only real shift she had noticed so far was a new library card, a polite fundraising request from the book-of-the-month club to add her picture to the mailings, and a rather stern letter from the Equestrian Library Association stating that despite her new title, her dues were still overdue, and that a fee of five bits would be added if they were not paid by the end of the month.

It made her feel a little less princess-like, but if she were to birth a little alicorn princess foal, that would stir up the pot of excitable ponies all over again. Green Grass had often teased her gently about the possibility of eloping to Las Pegasus, and she had always just laughed him off, but what if he had actually been serious? She wanted nothing more than to hide from the world for a few weeks or months, maybe just until the foal was weaned from pre-school picture books up to chapter books, but as a princess, that option was not available.

What she needed was Green Grass. He had an almost magical ability to take away the stress and make her laugh that could only be topped by Pinkie Pie. When he looked into her eyes, he couldn’t lie to save his life. He was kind when she needed it, generous with his own time for whatever projects she was working on, loyal to a fault, and could make even the most annoying little colt or filly into a studious student. She needed him right down to the tips of her hooves, to be wrapped up in his embrace and never let go, forever and ever.

As if the thought had triggered it, the sound of rapid hoofsteps on the stairs outside echoed through the room. The rest of the ponies who now filled the study had stepped softly up the stairs as if they were afraid of causing an avalanche, and spoke in low whispers if they had spoken at all. These hooves were coming up the stairs two and three at a time, and a welcome voice on the edge of panic shouted, “Twilight!”

All of her previous worries about the legitimacy of the foal came cascading back in one huge wave. The room was full of witnesses now, friends and family who all knew she was pregnant and had been as supportive as they could be, but if Green Grass were to be told she was pregnant before he proposed, the law would treat the foal as illegitimate. The nobility would never accept her, and the foal would never find friends or get into a good school or find a kind and loving colt like Green Grass until she was really, really old and living in a retirement stable somewhere. She might even become a juvenile delinquent and rebel against authority, traveling around Canterlot with a bunch of other pierced and tattooed gang members, spray-painting anarchist slogans on buildings and even misspelling the words!

She couldn’t tell him, she had to keep her mouth shut, he needed to make a proposal without knowing or everything would be wrong! The doors at the other end of the room slammed open and a green blur dashed inside as Twilight gritted her teeth and turned to face him, determined to not say a word.

Before the chariot even stopped rolling, Green Grass had jumped over the side and was galloping up the stairs to one of the castle’s side doors. He had been in the castle several times with Twilight and had most of the more common paths memorized, but those parts of his mind that would normally have carried out navigation were overwhelmed with disastrous visions of what could have possibly caused Celestia to send the letter. If it were not for the guards and servants in the castle opening doors in front of him and pointing down corridors, he would have dashed around the maze of twisty passages, all different, all day.

The ornate marble staircase leading upwards to the princess’ personal quarters had always seemed as if gravity were turned up in its vicinity, making his hooves strain to lift themselves for each step, but now he fairly flew up the stairs at a dead run, crashing through the doors at the top before the guards could even open them fully, rebounding off somepony dark green and apologetic, and knocking a table covered with puzzle pieces flying before skidding to a halt on his knees in front of a red-eyed alicorn who — as far as his panicked perceptions were concerned — was the only pony in the room.

“Twilight,” he gasped, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I’m pregnant!” she blurted out, holding a hoof over her mouth immediately afterwards.

His hooves felt like lead as they fumbled over his jacket, looking for the little box holding the engagement ring that he had been so afraid to use for far too long. He pulled it out while talking in a rush of words that cascaded out all at once, so unlike all the times he had practiced.

“Twilight Sparkle, will you—”

Twilight’s eyes flared white when she jumped to her hooves, a screech of, “No! No!” deafening all of the ponies in the room as her magic flashed, filling the room with incandescent light and the sound of two loud pops.

And when everypony could see again, Twilight and Green Grass were missing from the room.

Chapter 5 - Treading Water

There was dead silence in the study for a certain amount of time, just long enough for both alicorn princesses to look off into the distance in perfect synchronization as if the walls of the castle were made of air and there was something far away that drew their attention. Whatever they were looking at was fairly far up, and as their heads slowly turned to look down on a ballistic trajectory, they both sighed.

“Canterlot Lake,” they chorused.

“Predictable,” scoffed Luna, spreading her wings. “I shall retrieve our errant groom before he grows too waterlogged to wed. Celly, I cede thy student to you.” With a swirl of darkness, Luna vanished from the room.

“Oh, Twilight,” said Celestia with a small puff of frustrated breath, looking up and around as if she could see through the walls. “Where have you gone, my faithful student?” An exploratory pulse of locating magic sent out returned no indication of the young alicorn’s presence, much as Celestia had expected, and she turned to the room full of ponies who had been invited to witness the engagement, now blown to Tartarus.

“Pardon us, my little ponies. The expected engagement announcement I invited you here for will have to wait until we locate the participants. If you will please return to your normal schedules, I shall send notice of the next official engagement announcement once we have collected them.” Left unspoken was the desire for this meeting to have never happened, and the generalized nodding of heads showed the unspoken message was received just as clearly as the spoken one. There was one nodding pink mass of tangled mane in the back of the crowd that looked suspiciously familiar, but that was impossible, as Pinkie Pie was still in Ponyville.

“Excuse me, Your Highness?” Twilight Velvet stepped forward from the crowd and bowed. “If I may have a moment of your time. I know where my daughter is.”

The center of Canterlot was composed of many of the largest buildings in the city, but it was not near the edge of the cliffs where the Pegasi Houses tended to cluster, or closer to the mountain side where the Unicorn Houses tried to one-up their neighbors in altitude. Instead, the city center was smack in the middle of the earth pony royalty who considered this ‘House’ concept to be a frivolous waste of perfectly good time that could be spent doing productive things like making money or… well, making money. More than one ostentatious ancient feathered or horned House would send a servant once a month on a quiet trip into the middle of town on a ‘social’ visit. By chance, that visit would directly correspond to the dropping off of a substantial bag of bits at some fairly normal-looking earth pony apartment in a subdivided mansion where their landlord lived in quiet middle-class comfort off the proceeds of their ancestor. After all, there was a reason the second earth pony Royal was known as Smart Cookie.

Princess Celestia still made the occasional visit to the larger noble Houses when they would throw some horribly expensive party for one charity or another — which was the only reason she would attend — but made it a point to visit this section of the city as often as possible. Today the ponies in the street were just as friendly as ever, dropping into a brief bow when she approached with Twilight Velvet at her side and waving with a smile as they passed.

Most of the larger houses in this section of town had been subdivided into apartments or lofts, making neat little tree-lined streets bordered with large rowhouses compete with the larger distinct mansions. Each house was adorned with a multitude of tidy planters and windowboxes where the families tried to out-bloom each other while the foals played in the abundance of green parks and clean-swept sidewalks under the watchful eyes of the neighbors. Wealthy ponies who gave an enormous amount of their income to charities rubbed shoulders with castle servants and all of the employees that made the city work, from the highest to the lowest in a wonderful harmony she truly enjoyed and wished the rest of the city would emulate.

House Twinkle was a modest section of a distinguished earth pony rowhouse, marked by a set of small banner flags out front displaying the colors and cutie marks of its inhabitants, including one fairly recent addition showing a crystal heart on a background of Cadence’s soft pink. Celestia suppressed a grin as they passed underneath the flags, noticing a single unused mounting spot, and she suspected if she were to search the house there would be a matching dull green flag with Green Grass’ cutie mark just waiting for the right moment.

“I’m sorry for the mess, Your Highness,” said Twilight Velvet as she hustled through the painfully neat house on her way to the kitchen. “Just make yourself at home and watch out for the colts.”

The motherly voice seemed to trigger a cascade of tiny hooves down the stairwell in a stampeding rush that Celestia thought certainly was going to wind up in a collision, only for Twilight’s little brothers to skid to a halt at her hooves on all fours with their bright shiny faces looking up with fascination at their guest. They were some of the most different appearing twins Celestia could remember, one being a light purple with a white mane, while the other was a dark blue with a shocking red mane, although both of them had the same piercing blue eyes as their brother, Shining Armor. Normally remembering names was one of Celestia’s strengths. Even after being able to remember the tens of thousands of ponies who had served in the castle over centuries, the two little colts kept getting mixed up in her mind.

Bending down to bring her face to their level, Celestia smiled at the awestruck little colts. “Good morning, little ones. Which one of you is Dusk Shine and which one is Dawn Glimmer again?”

They each pointed to each other, and in the immutably cute way of small children everywhere, grandly proclaimed, “Dusk!”

“Missus Velvet! The colts got away from me again! Did you come home early?” A young unicorn mare galloped down the stairs, concentrating on the little troublemakers to the exclusion of all else. She rounded the corner and skidded to a halt as she saw Dusk and Dawn playing hide and seek behind a pair of very unique golden shoes. At that point, she looked up, her startled expression looking astonishingly close to her bigger brother, right down to the wide blue eyes.

“Good morning, Frost,” said Celestia with a smile. “So nice to see you again. We just dropped by for a few minutes to pick up Princess Twilight. It seems her and your brother were making an announcement when they ran into some slight difficulty.”

“She really is pregnant?” Frost blinked as a smile began to grow on her face and her blue-white tail began swishing vigorously. “I didn’t really want to believe the milkmare this morning, but this is great news, Your Highness. I get to be an aunt, and Grassy will finally quit bugging me about being his baby sister. Did you hear that, guys?” Frost swept down and scooped up the two little unicorn colts in her forelegs. “You guys are going to be uncles.”

“Unka’ Grass! Unka’ Grass!” chanted Dusk and Dawn, waving their little forelegs around in circles and cheering.

“No, not that,” said Celestia, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice as she tried to think of somepony somewhere who had not heard the pregnancy news yet. “He was going to propose.” After a brief pause, she added, “That will make you two brothers-in-law, not uncles. Yet.”

“Oh.” Frost leaned forward, sitting the little colts back down on the ground where they promptly began to chase each other around the dining room table. “That’s darned poor timing, pardon my language. I mean if he already found out she’s…” Frost sat down solidly on the floor, looking much like a slumping snowcone. “My brother is an idiot.”

Celestia could not argue with that, but decided to prompt for a better answer instead. “You don’t think that perhaps they got engaged at some earlier date and just didn’t tell us?”

An explosive snort answered her question, making both colts look over from where they had treed the family cat on top of the china cabinet. Frost shook her head, making her ice-blue mane cascade back and forth. “Not likely. He was supposed to propose the day after I helped him get the ring, but he chickened out. Said she was too stressed, but it was just after Discord returned, so I can see why. Then there was the day all of Ponyville got caught up in that Want-it-Need-it spell.”

“Hmm,” started Celestia, “I can see why that could have been a problem.”

“Then there was the day he showed up in town and the whole crew had taken off for Dodge Junction. Then there was Hearts and Hooves day when Twilight spent all day researching for any way to cure any aftereffects from a love poison. He said that just sucked all the romance right out of the day. I was so positive he was going to propose right after Princess Cadence got married, but then there was that bug thing, and he just refuses to talk about that day at all.”

“Understandable,” said Princess Celestia.

“Then there was the day the Crystal Empire returned, and the time he showed up at Ponyville only to find a big transparent bubble over it, that day she got wings, and of course the day he spent going up to the Crystal Empire a few weeks ago. I thought for absolute sure he was going propose then, but he came back all flustered. What are ‘humans’ anyway, Princess?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself about, young mare,” said Celestia with a bit too much firmness.

“Anyway, he was supposed to propose for sure this trip to Ponyville. He spent the last few weeks working himself into a frazzle making sure everything was going to be just perfect.” Frost looked up at the princess and swallowed. “Just how exactly did Grassy manage to screw up his proposal this time?”

“Ah,” started Celestia. “I’m afraid I may have helped somewhat. But I’m certain this small inconvenience can be overcome if we all behave like rational adults.

“I’m doomed!” moaned Green Grass, standing by the side of the lake in a widening puddle as water streamed off his sodden body and ruined vest. Even his hat had flattened down to a soggy mess and squelched when it fell to the wet grass at his side where Luna had dropped him after fishing him out of the lake. “Don’t bother looking for it, Your Highness. It doesn’t matter any more. I don’t deserve to be a father or a husband. My life is over, because I was too stupid to screw up my courage and step forward. Or kneel forward, I guess. Just leave it at the bottom of the lake along with my—”

“Found it!” Water fountained in all directions as the Princess of the Night burst out of the lake and curved her flight towards the despondent earth pony. Landing at his side, she opened her mouth like a Ponynesion pearl diver and levitated the small ring box out, opening it once to check on the contents before tucking it inside Green Grass’ soggy vest. After a shake of her sodden feathers that sent water flying in all directions, an indigo glow filled the area and in the blink of an eye their coats were dry.

“That was most invigorating, Lord Green Grass, but I think we should not repeat the activity until after your nuptials and the subsequent delivery of your offspring, so that Twilight can join with us for double the fun!” Luna fairly pranced around in a circle, singing quietly under her breath, “We’re going to have a wedding, a wedding…”

“Yeah. Fun.” Green Grass stood up and waited for a minute until Luna quit dancing around on the now-dry grass and tilted her head to give him a curious look. “I’m sorry, Princess Luna. I can’t marry Twilight now.”

“What!” Luna stopped in place, faint indications in her expression hinting that a volcanic anger was beginning to rise.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s the law.” Green Grass took in the change in Luna’s expression from directed anger to slightly befuddled and braced himself to explain. “A few centuries ago during a bunch of tiny wars of secession, Princess Celestia put forward a number of inheritance law changes. One of the ones that got passed wound up being dubbed the ‘Stallion Saver Law.’ It’s a little complicated, but it works out to no noble mare is permitted to use a pregnancy to force a stallion to marry her. There’s a bunch of after-the-fact laws that apply after the birth to determine parentage and fiscal responsibility, but the offspring of such a union can never be considered legitimate offspring of the stallion, inherit his titles, and so on.”

“Why, that’s barbaric,” snorted Luna, glaring in a way that made Green Grass very glad he was not the target, for fear of his flammability. “Wouldst the poor babe be thrown out into the woods to starve?”

“No! The mother has the responsibility for raising the foal to adulthood, and the father, who is determined by the parentage spell at birth, is obligated to provide an income for the mother and the offspring sufficient as to maintain them in their current social position whether or not the birth mother and the father get married afterwards.” Green Grass swallowed, thinking about his relatively small bank account. “Twilight is going to go sparse. She’s never going to want to see me again. I think I need to ask dad for a raise in my allowance, if I’m going to support two princesses from my trailer in Wheaton. A big raise.”

“Well, that law doth indeed seem to have my sister’s hoofprint upon it,” mused Luna. “However, just because she cannot use her gravid nature to enforce matrimony upon you, does not mean you cannot be clasped into the harness of thine own free will, yes?”

“Actually. No.” Green Grass twisted one hoof into the damp grass underneath him and scowled. “Unless a stallion has proposed before he discovers she’s pregnant, they can’t legally be married until after the birth. And I’ve mucked up my every opportunity in that regard. She probably will never want to talk to me again. I’m such a failure at parenthood. If only I had proposed first instead of trying to find out what was wrong…”

A warm hoof rested on his shoulder and Green Grass looked up into Luna’s soft teal eyes. There was almost none of the frightening Princess of the Night about her now. Instead, she was just a comforting friend who was concerned about both him and her fellow alicorn princess.

“You cared for her needs and your future offspring more strongly than yourself. That is not the mark of a poor mate, but rather an indicator of an exceptional one. Do not look back on events with the wisdom of hindsight and wish for a chance to do it right this time. Instead, treasure your good fortune and seize this opportunity to make your family happy together in the future.”

In the blink of an eye, the Princess Luna who had once been Nightmare Moon was back, and her voice firmed with an edge of command. “Now, we shall not mince words. If Princess Twilight will have thee as a mate, we shall move the very heavens to see that it is done before the birth of thy offspring. And, of course, we shall make thy wedding a much more organized occasion than thy in-laws. No changelings shall threaten thy joyous occasion under the protection of my glorious moon.”

He could not help but chuckle for one brief moment before Luna’s eyes narrowed and Green Grass cringed under the intense scrutiny. “Dost thou think a wedding under the stars is humorous?”

“No! I mean…” Despite his best efforts at hiding his expression by putting on his squishy hat and adjusting it, Green Grass continued to smirk slightly. His changeling encounter could be considered humorous by a pony with a twisted sense of humor, and although Luna was a prime example of the term, he had no intention of telling her about it. He took a deep breath and tried to divert attention away from his embarrassing incident. “I’ve had quite enough of changelings for any two lifetimes. I can really sympathize with Shining Armor about — never mind.”

Luna took a step forward until Green Grass could feel her breath across his nose, looking down at him with those sparkling teal eyes and her horn pressed against his damp hat. “Speak.”

Twilight Velvet’s kitchen was a spotless model of the modern Equestrian gadget-filled and heavily used food preparation room, with delightful odors wafting out as Princess Celestia dragged herself in. There were crayon marks covering her pristine white flanks, a few sticky gummy candies tangled in her ethereal mane, and she limped ever so slightly where one golden-armored shoe had found itself slightly outmatched by a small plastic building block with sharp corners that had lurked unnoticed in the carpet until just the right moment to spring its ambush.

Twilight’s mother was just pulling one tray of cookies out of the oven as Her Royal Highness entered the room, and the cookie-making process did not even pause as a wet washcloth levitated over to the disheveled princess. “I swear those darned blocks are a criminal conspiracy by the Minotaurs to hobble every adult pony in Equestria. Would you like a cookie after they’ve had a chance to cool, Princess?” Twilight Velvet turned away from the oven where the baking tray of fresh cookie dough had just been put in and looked at a suspiciously innocent alicorn who was standing next to a full tray of hot, freshly baked chocolate chip oatmeal raisin cookies.

Well, an almost full tray.

“Mo, I’m fime,” mumbled Celestia without a single cookie crumb falling to the floor, perhaps one of the most amazing accomplishments of her reign considering the size and temperature of the hot cookie missing from the tray. One quick swallow later, she asked, “So how is baking cookies going to find Twilight?”

“Oh, she’s upstairs in her room,” said Velvet, stacking the dirty dishes in the sink and running some warm water. “As soon as the cookies are done, we’ll take them up with some tea and have a little mother-daughter-princess talk.”

“I suppose I could get the tea,” said Celestia, looking around for the kettle.

“It’s in the icebox.”

The sounds of scrubbing filtered back from the sink as Celestia opened the icebox and regarded the tan plastic container with healthy skepticism. “I could make some fresh,” she volunteered.

“I just mixed up a fresh pitcher this morning,” called out Velvet over the sound of cleaning dishes. “Is it gone already?”

Celestia levitated the large pitcher of amber liquid from the icebox and took a sniff. There was the distinct odor of tea, but there were also a great number of other ingredients that did not belong anywhere around proper tea, such as the distinct tang of lime, the faintest hint of cinnamon and more sugar than water ought be able to hold.

“Don’t forget the ice cubes.” A set of four tumblers came floating over to the table in Velvet’s magic and sat themselves down next to the pitcher of tea and the cookie plate.

Celestia regarded them with a look of bland tranquility, as if they had somehow managed to insult the universe with their very presence and she was attempting to determine the correct apology. “Are you certain you don’t have a kettle, Missus Velvet? It really would not be any trouble at all to brew up some fresh.”

“Heavens, I don’t even know if I have any tea leaves. Just the instant stuff from the store,” said Twilight Velvet, scurrying over to the stove and pulling out the last hot cookie tray. It only took a few moments work with a spatula and the ice cubes before the two were headed up the stairs with four glasses of iced sweet tea and enough cookies to slow down an invading army, although Celestia still cast furtive looks around the house as if a tea service with a few leaves might possibly be concealed behind a chair or bookshelf somewhere.

“Twilight, honey?” called out Twilight Velvet with a gentle tap at an otherwise plain door sporting a thaumaturgic radiation warning sign. There was a long stretch of silence while they waited, and two more cookies vanished mysteriously from the hovering plate. Finally, the rustle of papers could be heard and the door gave a click, swinging open without a sound to reveal a room Celestia had never seen before. Admittedly, she had developed some theories on Twilight’s decoration sense from her sparsely-decorated and heavily-booked room at the castle, but until now she had never really considered that her student might have been holding back on decorating due to being in a borrowed space instead of her own.

Posters and scientific charts of all types battled for wall space with bookshelves in an all-out war of square footage that was being fought to a stalemate, although it seemed to Celestia’s eye that the books had a slight advantage in numbers, if the strategic reinforcements packed away in neatly labelled storage boxes were counted. Twilight Velvet threaded the maze of books and boxes to the bed and placed the cookie plate on top of the wrinkle-free covers before picking up one of the ice-filled glasses of tea and passing it under the bed, along with two warm cookies.

With the lightest of magical touches, Celestia slipped the nearby bookshelves and boxes up against the wall to give space for her bulk, and after a moment’s thought, a little more space for her sister whenever she showed up. She settled down at the tail end of the bed, picking a cookie and glass of ‘tea’ out of the air as Velvet floated them over to her. Out of a sense of respect for her host, and the calm reassurance that she had most certainly eaten and drank much more suspicious materials during her centuries of diplomatic dinners, Celestia touched her lips to the warm plastic of the glass and took a very small sip.

It was, she decided, a substance with distant relatives in the tea family, perhaps second cousins twice removed on their mother’s side. It had the redeeming characteristic of being sweet, somewhere between a three-lump cup and cake icing, while still maintaining a faint aftertaste of tea leaves crying out for recognition of their vain sacrifice. To prove her resilience and support for the terrified would-be bride, she took another, slightly larger sip and followed it up with a warm cookie to drown out the taste.

“Twilight,” started Celestia in the calm voice she had found evoked the best response from her student, “perhaps if we were to start over again, we could get a better grasp on our problem.”

“I thought about that, Princess,” sniffed Twilight Sparkle’s voice from under the security of the bed. “But Starswirl’s Chronal Inversion spell wouldn’t let me go back any farther than a day to warn myself, and it didn’t work out all that well the last time, plus I don’t know what effect it would have on the foal. Or foals. I could wind up being caught in a time loop and experience the same thing over and over and—”

“Another cookie, dear?” asked Velvet, floating another warm cookie under the bed where it vanished to the sound of crunching and the quick slurp of tea, most likely to quench the aftereffect of hot cookie.

“Ah,” said Celestia, “that’s not quite what I was intending.” A thought crossed her mind, and she asked, “How long have you known that Greenie had that ring?”

There was a faint sniff before Twilight Sparkle responded. “The day Discord returned. He always keeps it in his front jacket pocket with all of his smaller toys for evaluating students so it kept poking me every time we hugged, and Spike kept getting this drooly expression every time he showed up. At first I thought Greenie was just bringing him a snack, so I checked with Rarity’s gem-finding spell to make sure he wasn’t sneaking Spike opals again. Turns out it was barely one full carat in a princess cut with a thin gold band. To be honest, I was a little disappointed until…”

The musical tinkle of ice cubes broke the quiet as both Twilights took a drink and Celestia followed suit, somewhat surprised to find that the glass was halfway empty. A faint crunching and another quiet slurp later, Twilight continued, “Prince Blueblood cornered me in one of the castle reception rooms today. He had this huge lump of gold and diamonds that was some family heirloom from back from in the days when mares must have had necks like corded steel. When he tried to stuff that monstrosity onto my…” There was a pause as one purple hoof emerged from under the bed and gestured. Twilight Velvet put two cookies on it and watched with a sigh as it returned to the darkness. “By the way, your nephew is a jerk.”

“I never would have guessed, Twilight.” Celestia nibbled on a cookie with royal delicacy. “Did you know that when Luna returned, he attempted to court her in much the same crude fashion? She stuck that ring up his…”

The Princess of the Sun paused, trying not to smile, which worked fairly well until Twilight Sparkle said in a low growl, “Me too.” There was a subdued crunching from under the bed, after which Twilight added, “After his proctologist gets the ring removed, I hope he has it cleaned.”

“Twilight?” Celestia tried to peer under the dark bed. “Luna stuck Blueblood’s ring up his nose. Where did you put it?”

The silence that followed spoke volumes, and Velvet floated three more cookies down to Twilight’s hiding place.

Chapter 6 - Teas, Tests, and Trials

Green Grass was lagging behind Princess Luna, taking out his frustration by dragging his hooves as they headed towards House Twinkle. Any worries he might have had about garnering attention and being asked questions he really didn’t feel like answering were totally obliterated by the ecstatic alicorn who fairly bounded down the street in front of him. He had always wondered just what Luna looked like when she was happy, and now that she was bursting with joy, he wished he were still in the dark about it. She was more than happy, she was ebullient and effervescent and all manner of emotions that started with E, and possibly a few that started with consonants too.

As a colt, he always had felt a bit inferior about his faded green hide, which was only exacerbated whenever he caught the occasional derisive glance in his direction. Other ponies had coats in far more attractive shades of green that could be described as Mint, or Jade, glossy colors that a good conditioner or shampoo could perk up into something glorious and attractive. He had looked up his own colors in the paint section of a store one day and was somewhat disappointed to find he was not even really a Grass, but more a Kale or a Mesclun. Right now he could have been a Chartreuse with Tomato Red and Daisy Yellow polka dots, handing out bags of bits while singing the Equestrian National Anthem and he would have been just as ignored so long as he walked in Princess Luna’s sizable shadow.

“Wait right here,” said Luna with one last pirouette. She gave him a gentle kiss on one cheek before prancing into Twilight’s Canterlot home, leaving Green Grass standing between two somewhat ruffled Royal Guards of different diurnus. The familiar Day guard was a pegasus of substantial bulk with a short axe slung across his back, and whose squarish muzzle broke into a broad grin once the Princess of the Night was safely inside. His counterpart was a familiar Nocturne of similar build and stoic attitude, only instead of armor, he wore a formal uniform with a color scheme and cut that could easily have graced the most formal dance or party a serving military guard would attend. The style of the dark suit clashed starkly with dozens of healed parallel pink scars that traced themselves all over the night pony in patterns that spoke of a fierce battle that did not happen while he was in armor.

“Optio Pumpernickel,” started Green Grass, pausing as the formal ‘face’ dropped over both guards at once. “Um. Did you get into a fight with a griffon?”

“Two actually,” spoke up Axe once he determined his fellow guard was not going to respond. “Dere’s a security order out on it, so Lumpy’s not goink to tell vou about it. Congratulations on vour new son or dottor by de vay. Do vou vant us to go lookink for a romantic hiddey hole for de honeymoon?”

Luna slipped through the bedroom door and nestled up next to her sister, grabbing the last glass of tea and a cookie in her magic before whispering, “What did I miss?”

“We were just discussing how to properly deal with Twilight’s rather badly handled engagement announcement, Luna,” whispered Celestia in return.

“Twilight Sparkle, the law specifies that a stallion must propose before any pregnancy is announced, is that correct?” asked Luna bluntly before taking a dainty bite of the cookie.

“Yes,” sounded a small thready voice out from under the bed.

“And to your knowledge, did thy mate propose any method of matrimonial binding before this morning’s memorable attempt?”

“Well.” There was a long pause. “He did say quite a few times that we should just elope off to Las Pegasus and get married by an Elkvis Przewalski impersonator, but those were just silly comments to make me laugh. I think.”

“We shall save that for use in case of dire emergency then. We do not know if this impersonator pony is even a licensed professional. Thirdly, doth the law specify that he has to propose directly to you first? Or doth it only specify that he thinks he is proposing to you?”

The silence was only broken by the sound of four cookies being consumed.

“As I recall the exact wording of the law,” started Celestia, “it only specifies intent and action, not specifics of the act itself. Actually, Baron Tig the Nearsighted used that as an excuse a century ago when he proposed to Lady Nasturtium’s garden sculpture. A few of the nobles claimed that his later proposal to the owner was null and void due to his previous commitment. It broke down fairly rapidly after that when a lawyer brought a breach of contract suit against him on behalf of the statue, another lawyer countersued with a charge of alienation of affection claiming a different statue was the real fiancé, and then Parliament got involved.” Celestia shuddered. “Lawyers.”

“Wonderful,” chirped Luna, hopping to her hooves and turning to leave the room. “Problem solved. Our plan shall handle the nobles and the press, Twilight Sparkle. All that remains are the formalities.” She paused, halfway out the door. “You are going to accede to his request, correct?”

“Of course I’m going to marry him, Princess Luna! I love him! I want to spend the rest of my life with…” The silence stretched thin, and even Twilight Velvet floating a few more cookies under the bed did nothing to break it.

“Treasure your time with loved ones as if it were far greater than gold, Twilight Sparkle.” Luna looked over to her sister with a smile and blinked away a tear. “Let nothing stand in thy way, not barriers of time nor space, for the heart is the greatest of all. I forgot that once, and I shall never cast it away again.”

Luna vanished out the door with a flick of her tail, returning to poke her nose in the room and add, “Midnight wedding,” before trotting away. The sound of Luna's hooves faded into the distance, echoing through the house before coming to a sudden stop. The sound of rapid hoofsteps resumed, heading back toward their room. Every pony watched the door, causing Luna to flinch slightly when she popped her head head back inside. She rallied instantly and said, "In the Garden of Night," and retreated. This time the echo of her hooves did not stop until the front door opened and closed.

The door to Twilight’s bedroom creaked open and Green Grass poked his nose in, taking in the combined soft gaze of Princess Celestia and Twilight Velvet with one dry swallow. “I brought some more tea,” he whispered. “Luna said you were out.”

“And…” prompted Twilight Velvet, pointing with one hoof to the dark space under the bed.

“And you want me to hide under the bed while you get Twilight?” he responded with a raised eyebrow. “Ow!”

The accurately thrown cookie from under the bed caught him in the mouth and sprayed crumbs all over the floor, making Green Grass almost drop the pitcher of tea sitting on his back. Sitting down on the floor, he sat the pitcher to one side, reaching into his jacket pocket before stopping and looking at the two alert observers.

“Do you want us to leave?” asked Celestia, setting her empty glass to one side.

“No.” The word came out in perfect synchronization from both Green Grass and the darkness under the bed. He lowered himself down to his belly and removed the ring box, pushing it into the darkness as if it weighed a ton. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“You’re forgiven.” A faint sniffle came from under the bed and Twilight added, “It’s not as small as I thought it was.”

“A perfect cut of a flawless gem, just like you.” He fumbled in his pocket some more and took out two damp puzzle pieces, pushing them into the darkness under the bed. “I thought I would never find somepony I would match, and then I met you.”

“They’re wet.”

“Symbolic of the amount of time I spent treading water when we first met, I suppose. I’m just glad I learned how to swim.”

“No, I mean the puzzle pieces are wet. They’re easier to fit together wrong when they’re wet because they bend. See, their colors don’t even match.” Twilight pushed the two linked puzzle pieces out from under the bed, freezing as her purple hoof met his green one.

Green Grass coughed gently before saying, “We’re not the same ponies we were when we first met, Twilight.”

“Really?” The hoof withdrew and there was a rustle of feathers under the bed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“If you met who I was then now, would we even… No, I mean if I met who you are now as I was then… Wait, I’ve got this. If we were not who we are now—” A cookie floated out from under the bed and was rather solidly stuffed into his open mouth, forcing Green Grass to chew while listening.

“Yes. I’ll marry you. Silly.” Twilight paused to sniff, and the clink of ice cubes sounded as her nearly empty glass floated out from under the bed. Obeying his unspoken prompt, Green Grass filled it back up with tea, taking a quick sip before sliding it back under the bed for Twilight.

“Shall I go get the tickets for Las Pegasus, My Princess?” he intoned in a formal fashion, trying to hide a growing grin. “Elkvis Przewalski and the Temple of Eternal Matrimony, Open Twenty-Four Seven For Your Convenience awaits.”

The ever-so-quiet Royal throat clearing from Green Grass’ side only slightly repressed a wide bubbling of happiness that he had suppressed for far too long. Lifting one eyebrow, he glanced at the Princess of the Sun and added, “Of course, if Princess Celestia has a gold sequined jumpsuit and a guitar, that would save us twenty bits and the price of the train tickets.”

A small sliver of ice shot out from under the bed and bounced off his head. “Behave, or I’ll take you up on that.”

Twilight Velvet promptly replied, “If the both of you had behaved, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Now, since Princess Luna seems to think she has a plan to eliminate the legal barriers to your wedding, that only leaves the timing.”

Celestia cocked her head to one side and regarded Twilight Velvet. “You do know the last time Luna had a brilliant plan, she transformed into Nightmare Moon and tried to destroy the world.”

Twilight Velvet paused before responding, most probably thinking of her last child’s wedding and the rather awkward bug infestation that came with it. “I suppose eloping would solve a multitude of potential issues. Princess Celestia, are you certain you don’t have a guitar? We could steal a march on the entire circus that’s going to break out as soon as this is official.”

Taking a drink of tea to aid her thinking and finding out that the glass was empty except for a few ice cubes, Celestia passed the glass over to Green Grass for refilling and said, “No. I think not. Zenith is locked away for a very good reason. We shall not go down that path again.” Shaking her head as if to clear away a memory, she continued, “I believe the Summer Sun Festival would be an excellent day for a wedding. The date is sufficiently far away that a proper amount of organization can take place, the Royals can make their objections and distant guests will have the time to work it into their schedules.”

Celestia took the glass back from Green Grass and took a sip without thinking, pausing only to fish the slice of lemon out of her glass and drop it back in the pitcher with a forlorn splash. “As much as I love my sister, she probably has some grand and glorious plan to have the whole ceremony with guests and participants alike sky-clad at the stroke of midnight. I believe it would be much more socially acceptable to have the Rising of the Sun in the morning, the wedding fully clothed at noon in the throne room, and start the party in the evening, when she can truly ‘cut loose’ without scandalizing the entire royal line for centuries.”

“That sounds better to me,” said Twilight Velvet, floating out a schedule and a pencil while addressing the darkness under the bed. “I wanted to wear my new pearls for the occasion. How about you, dear?”

“That’s fine,” sounded a quiet voice, mixed with the sound of iced tea being swirled around in a glass.

“That’s not fine,” said a voice that Green Grass took a moment to realize was his own. Hesitating a beat at the sudden attention from two of the mares that Twilight Sparkle cared for above all else, possibly even himself, he swallowed once and continued with a shake of his head.

“No. Absolutely not. You want to take every stuffy pony in Canterlot and stuff them all into the stuffy throne room at noon on the longest day of the year while they’re all dressed in their fanciest outfits? Heatstroke will lay them out faster than Rainbow Dash can fly. And Luna wants the Royals all crammed into the Royal Gardens flank to flank naked?” Green Grass moved closer to the bed. “Tell them what you told me, dear. Or I will. And I’ll make a royal hash out of it like I always do.”

“Well…” A purple hoof extended and waited in vain for a cookie. Sensing that the need was destined never to be filled, ever so slowly, inch by inch, Twilight Sparkle pushed her nose out into the light, looking everywhere except at the three other ponies in the room.

“Before I became an alicorn, I wanted to have my wedding in Ponyville,” said Twilight with an extremely quiet sniff. “Now that I’m a princess, I understand why the wedding needs to be here. I thought we could have it on the south lawn, right where that little rise is. Princess Celestia and I had a picnic there three times while I was living in the castle, and you can see every inch of the lawn from that point. When I was at Shining Armor and Cadence’s wedding, well, the second one, there were so many of their friends who could not fit into the throne room. Everypony seemed happy, but I want to share the happiness in our hearts with everypony we possibly can without it seeming like a concert or something.”

“I suggested the coliseum,” said Green Grass, touching hooves with his new fiancé. “Between selling tickets and beer sales, it would pay for itself. A couple of bands for the warm-up act, the wedding, and one huge party concert afterwards. Pinkie Pie would explode from happiness, and then explode again.”

“I’m not Pinkie Pie,” said Twilight, giving him a brief nuzzle.

“Thank Celestia,” said Green Grass, returning the nuzzle and licking off a loose cookie crumb.

“You’re welcome,” said Celestia.

“And she told me she wanted an evening wedding,” continued Green Grass, despite the uncomfortable look Twilight was giving everything in the room that was not a pony. “At sunset, when both the sun and moon can be in the sky at the same time and not drive thousands of ponies crazy with worry.”

“Just for a few minutes,” added Twilight, looking intently at Celestia’s golden shoes, which unfortunately for her were reflective enough that she could see the growing smile on her fellow princess’ face. “Just enough for the exchange of the vows and the pronouncement. Done by both of you. With Luna. And you. Both. Together.”

“It sounds wonderful, Twilight,” said Twilight Velvet. “Very touching. Have you written your vows yet?”

Green Grass stepped into the conversation again after Twilight looked away and mumbled something incomprehensible. “Forty-seven pages, single spaced, with footnotes. For each of us. But we compromised on two paragraphs, not more than a minute each, so the clocks won’t wind up being wrong, which will throw off scheduling for the rest of the wedding and disrupt all of the ambassadors, who would take that occasion to release their hidden aggressions on each other in unceasing warfare that would break out in the middle of the reception, with a great amount of stabbing and poking with plastic cutlery and Prench bread swords that eventually will escalate and spread all across—”

“All right,” moaned Twilight Sparkle. “If I limit myself to one paragraph and one minute, will you please not repeat that any more?”

“Only to Luna,” promised Green Grass with a soft kiss to her nose. “She will love the part where you talked about the giant lake of rice pudding.”

Celestia shook her head and smiled. “Well, as long as we have a day selected, we can discuss the pertinent points of the ceremony later. I just hope Luna’s plan to distract the press doesn’t involve anything crazy.”

Unable to move from the changeling goop that glued his hooves to the bed, Shining Armor writhed in place under the touch of his torturer. Unfortunately, he was unable to escape the amorous hooves of the changeling queen, who curled up alongside his flank and ran her forked tongue up his neck. “Darling, why did you run from me last time? We had barely started when your darling sister ‘rescued’ you. I thought she was going to stay and we could… talk.”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, you twisted fiend!” snapped Shining Armor, leaning as far as he could from the queen’s exploring tongue. “My sister is pure and innocent, unable to be corrupted by your obscene desires!”

She chuckled in return, running a hoof down his pristine firm flanks before gliding across the room and opening a curtain. “That may have been true before, but I’ve always been a believer in education. Say hello to my new plaything, Shiny. I’ve been teaching her all kinds of interesting things that she’s just dying to show you.”

Shining Armor gasped at the slim purple unicorn who slunk into the room much like a stalking panther. Multiple piercings adorned Twilight Sparkle’s face and neck, with tight little knots of mane tied up in silver chasings, and long black belts buckled across her withers, holding her shortened tail nearly straight up in the air. “Hello, dear brother,” she whispered, lifting a short quirt in her magic and shaking it to make little silver sparks travel down the multiple metallic strands of the whip. “I’m looking forward to this.”

The persistent hammering of a hoof on the door made Chrysalis look up from her tattered paperback copy of Captive of the Love Hive - Part IX and consider the emotional aura of the knock-er. It was an annoying fact of life in the castle that just when she was getting comfortable, something always came up. The hammering hoof returned and the changeling queen rolled her eyes while looking for a bookmark. It had to be important for Luna to be out at this time of day, but that didn’t mean she had to leave her book immediately That’s what minions were for.

“Honey Bear, will you get the door? Mumsie’s at a good part.”

Chapter 7 - Cheating on the Test

Taking her place at the front of a large empty table which recently had been filled with puzzle pieces, Princess Celestia looked out into the warm eyes of several dozen ponies in the Orange Puzzle Room. They were friends, family, and a single pony who had rather arrogantly insisted on his right to attend the meeting when he found out about it, even though he had no idea what it was about, but they were all dear to Celestia’s heart, and would only grow closer as time went on. At her prompt, Green Grass and Twilight stepped slowly down the stairs and took their places at her side, with Greenie looking a bit like the lettuce in a squished Alicorn Sandwich as Twilight tried to edge nervously closer to Celestia.

“Friends and family, I have invited you all here today to announce an addition to my—” Celestia broke off with a short giggle. “Actually, I suppose it is two additions to my family, although the second will not be for several months yet.

“Anyway, as you all know, Lord Green Grass has been romantically pursuing my former student, Princess Twilight Sparkle, for quite some time now—”

“And she finally caught him!” cheered a voice from the back of the room. “Oopsies! Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” said Celestia. “Today, we are proud to announce the engagement of Princess Twilight Sparkle to Lord Green Grass, with the wedding to be held on the evening of the upcoming Summer Sun Festival. Also, we would like to announce the upcoming birth from our newest royal couple, due sometime after Hearth’s Warming.” She paused a minute to allow the whistling and hoof-stomping to die down before continuing.

“Please note that these two joyous events are happening in the order announced, and that the law has been satisfied regarding the timing of both the engagement request and the birth announcement. If you meet with anypony who disagrees, please refer them to me.”

“Aunt Celly, you can’t be serious!” Prince Blueblood stood up and took a step forward, moving somewhat slowly with his tail tucked against his rear. “She’s a princess. You can’t just go marrying her off to some—” Blueblood spluttered in indignant rage “—school teacher!”

“The decision is not ours to make,” said Celestia in a perfectly ordinary tone that had several of Blueblood’s nearby observers quietly scoot their chairs or cushions away from any potential impact zone. “They both have chosen of their own free will to join their lives together, and neither I nor any other pony has the right to stand in their way. Will you accept their decision, my nephew?”

Blueblood did not respond at first, but stood sputtering in place until he turned his back and stalked from the room, ruining his exit only slightly as the sound of tripping hooves on the staircase indicated a more abrupt descent from the royal residence than expected.

“Before we have any more questions,” started Celestia, “I wanted to cover the rest of the new couple’s schedule. Papercut and Crosswind, will you please come forward?”

One formal unicorn and one hesitant pegasus stepped out of the audience and arranged themselves next to the royal couple, with Crosswind to Twilight’s side and Papercut giving only an abortive attempt at wedging himself in the nearly-nonexistent space between Green Grass and Celestia before simply scooting off to one side and attempting to vanish into the background.

“There are many things that need completed properly for a Royal Wedding on such short notice,” said Celestia. “There are preparations that need to be made in both Ponyville and Canterlot. With that in mind, Princess Twilight Sparkle will be spending the next few weeks in Ponyville while her fiancé, Lord Green Grass, will be responsible for preparations in Canterlot. I have seconded two of my best appointment secretaries to assist with the planning during this difficult time, and I hope to have all of your full cooperation with their efforts in the weeks to come. Are there any questions? Yes, you in the back.” Celestia gestured at one pink hoof waving frantically above the ponies gathered into the Orange Puzzle room.

“Now?”

Extending her wings to cover the ponies on either side, Celestia nodded. “Yes, Pinkie Pie.”

There was a tremendous explosion of confetti that filled the room with a blur of sparkling bits of paper and when it cleared, the tables were all covered with neat slices of cake and party hats with the strident blare of party music filling the air.

“Happy Engagement/Birth Announcement party!” screamed Pinkie Pie, bounding up from the back of the room to catch the lucky couple in a firm yet unyielding embrace.

Two unlikely collaborators gathered together in the back of the puzzle room under the aegis of exchanging information about the schedules of their respective charges, but with the added benefit of friendly conversation about their favorite topic.

“Disgusting,” said Papercut, a subtle false smile never leaving his lips as he looked out at the half-dozen or so ponies dancing around the blaring record player with the prospective groom and the awkward bride. “What does she see in him?”

“Agreed,” said Crosswind, tipping a glass to her lips with a nod to her conversational partner. “He’s as flightless as a dodo. If he had a horn, I might be able to see some sort of redeeming quality, but an earth pony? A proper princess deserves much more.” She nibbled one of the hor dourves with an honest smile. “By the way, Horn-Head, thanks for the cream puffs. They’re my favorite.”

“You’re welcome, Featherbrain. It was in your file.” He nodded at the dancing couple and took another drink. “Pity there isn’t much in his file that could make Princess Twilight see the light about him.”

“Good afternoon, my little ponies. Are you enjoying the party?” For an alicorn of Celestia’s size, she had an ability for sneaking that many cats would envy. Both Crosswind and Papercut jumped with a sloshing of their drinks that nearly left wet spots on the ancient floorboards of the puzzle room, turning to their sovereign with an embarrassed splutter of words that she cut off with a single raised hoof.

“Papercut, I was speaking with Lord Green Grass just now, and he tells me that you have not yet delivered his note.” There were sparkles of pure mischief in her violet eyes as she gestured across the room, and the green pony who had been embarrassing himself on the dance floor came trotting over, stopping with a regal bow worthy of any of the horned Canterlot royals.

The unicorn servant fumbled with the wrinkled note for a moment, trying to get the thick crease and the single hoofprint off the front before floating it over to Green Grass with an embarrassed, “Your letter, Lord Green Grass.” The tutor unwrapped it without any sign of irritation that any of the other members of the minor nobility would have expressed either verbally or through physical slights, which was both a little comforting and more proof at how the modest earth pony just did not fit in with proper Canterlot society. After reading the letter, Green Grass glanced once at Celestia before hoofing it back over to Papercut.

Greenie,
With all of the activity involved in preparing for a wedding, you’re going to need help. I’m assigning Papercut, my personal appointment secretary, as vassal secundus to you. As his liege, I expect him to be well-treated and returned intact upon the conclusion of your nuptial vows, and as your liege, I expect you to respect my wishes and not to just have him follow after you and carry your things. He is your first responsibility as a prospective Prince Consort.

Listen to his advice, and I believe you both will learn a great deal about each other.

Sincerely,
Princess Celestia

P.S. Give him the note when you are done reading it.

“She’s got your number,” said Crosswind, reading over his shoulder once Princess Celestia had drifted off to another cluster of happy party attendees.

Still feeling a bit like he was trapped in some horrible nightmare, Papercut looked at the reprehensible pony who was the cause for his current distress. “Please tell me Her Highness is having some horrible laugh at my expense, Lord Green Grass. This must be some sort of joke.”

“If this were a joke,” began Green Grass, “it would start out ‘A unicorn, a pegasus and an earth pony walk into a party. The unicorn says—’”

“This isn’t funny!” Papercut quickly lowered his voice as a number of nearby guests looked in their direction. “This isn’t funny,” he hissed again.

Green Grass shrugged. “So it is written by the sun, so let it be done. If you really seriously think you can talk her out of it, be my guest. I wouldn’t, if I were you. You’ll only irritate her.”

“Grouchy there could irritate a rock,” said Crosswind, obviously suppressing a laugh from the wing held across her mouth. “By the time the wedding rolls around, I’ll bet one of you will wind up strangled and the other will be sitting in jail.”

Neither of the two of them laughed, but Green Grass did crack a smile. “Would you be willing to put ten bits on that?”

“Deal.” Crosswind stuck out a hoof and shook before cocking her head sideways and grinning at the tutor. “Should I start saving up your bail money?”

Green Grass shook his head and smiled back. “I think we’re both pretty safe. What cannot be cured, must be endured. What else can I do?”

“What can you do, you fortune-cookie spouting buffoon?” hissed Papercut with an additional glance to make sure Celestia was out of hearing range. “Go back and teach little foals. Leave the princess to wed a Royal. She is out of your league.” Papercut expected to see some sort of angry reaction at his unrestrained outburst, but the oaf just nodded, although his smile did fade into something more forced as he looked over at Crosswind.

“Miss Crosswind, you don’t appear to be surprised. Do you have the same low opinion of my suitability for Princess Twilight?”

She writhed a bit under his casual gaze, but after a quick look at Papercut for moral support, she stiffened her spine and held her head up as she answered, “Yes. She’s a princess and you’re just a school teacher. She deserves a far more eligible pairing for one of her social altitude. There must be dozens of royal pegasi with sons her age that—”

Using a level tone that cut off her words like a knife, Green Grass leaned forward without changing his pleasant expression one bit. “Then where were they? When she saved Princess Luna from Nightmare Moon, she was ‘just’ a low-ranking second child of a minor house. If one of the Royals of any of the three stables had set out to court her then, she would have been easy to wed. After she ascended into alicornhood, which still sounds as corny as heck, they could have beaten a path to her door in hopes of winning her hoof and her title. Where were they?”

“Prince Blueblood,” rasped Papercut, moving a little closer to the two of them as to keep his voice low. “He made it abundantly clear after Princess Twilight ascended to the crown that there was only one proper mate for a princess, and that was him. Now that his proposal has been rejected by Her Highness, there are going to be a lot of nobles with better claim on her than you coming out of the woodwork.”

“Blueblood may be a horrible prat,” added Crosswind, “and a twit and a philandering fool, but he has enough political power and funds to break any royal family who tries to buck with him. If you had the common sense of a housefly, you should just go running out that door and take a trip to Saddle Arabia for the rest of your life.”

Green Grass shook his head. “If any of the Royals actually wanted to court Twilight because of the pony that she is inside, do you really think Blueblood would have stopped them? And do you really think being married to Blueblood or any of his ilk would make Twilight happy?”

Both servants hesitated, looking at each other as if they were daring the other to go first.

“And if that’s not enough,” continued Green Grass, “do you really think that if Blueblood were the best choice for Twilight, that Princess Celestia would not have put the two of them together by now, and that I would be far, far away, probably in Zebrica?”

Both of them nodded, although with some reservations most probably involving a deep unmarked hole somewhere closer that lacked a tutor.

“Well, I’m certainly glad we got that out of the way.” Green Grass nodded at each of them. “Let’s take a look at our schedules and see what we’re up against for the next few weeks.”

Although Papercut pulled out his calendar at the same time as his counterpart, he could not help but ask, “Aren’t you going to tell Princess Celestia about this? I would think you would dismiss us from your service immediately.”

“Don’t you think she already knows?” asked Green Grass while flipping through the calendar of upcoming events. “You’ve got the job as long as you are willing to carry it out to the best of your abilities. You are willing, correct?” At Papercut’s rather short nod, Green Grass continued, “I would have to be a complete fool to dismiss Princess Celestia’s hoof-picked servant. I mean, can you think of the rumors that would fly? Not to mention that I trust Her Highness to have selected the absolute best pony for the job.”

“About that, sir.” Papercut fidgeted with a sideways glare at Crosswind that made him wish he had learned a good privacy spell. “I’m not. The best, that is. Princess Celestia informed me earlier today of my inferior ranking during the job selection process.”

“Ah. I see. Not exactly top in your class, I presume. That’s even better.”

“Beg pardon?”

“One of the side-effects of teaching is being able to recognize other teachers. Princess Celestia has this uncanny ability to look straight through a pony and see what they are going to become with a little encouragement instead of just who they are now. It doesn’t always seem to work out, and sometimes the pony in question may fight it, but in the end, they’re the better for it.” A bright purple aura formed around the tutor’s right ear and he began to stumble towards the dance floor where Twilight had somehow stuck one hoof into the wall and was gathering onlookers. “Whoops, duty calls. See if you two can work out some together time in our schedules over the next few weeks…”

After the future prince consort had vanished into the crowd surrounding Twilight, Papercut flipped his calendar back to the start and growled, “I still don’t like him.”

“He just doesn’t realize what is best for Equestria,” said Crosswind, moving shoulder to shoulder next to him so they could compare schedules. “The last Equestrian princess married a unicorn, so it’s only logical that the next one should marry a pegasus.”

“Au contraire,” said Papercut, tapping on his horn. “It only goes to show that unicorns are the proper mates for alicorns. Even—” he paused with a pained look as if he had just bitten into a green lemon “—Blueblood. In time, they will grow to be able to tolerate each other. The Blueblood estate is large, and has an enormous library. There should be no problem in finding a proper staff to look after their foals.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Princess Celestia just seemed to appear out of the nearby crowd and trotted over to the stunned servants with a crisp folded note in her magic. She floated it over to Crosswind with a wink, adding, “Please run that over to Twilight, Crosswind. She’s going to need an appointment secretary in Ponyville.”

As Her Royal Highness trotted off to her next conversational victim, Crosswind looked at the note as if it were a coiled snake. “Ponyville?”

The next day dawned with all of the pomp and fanfare that Canterlot could muster, from a positive blizzard of newspapers filled with the news (carefully pre-read by the Office of Royal Correspondence and any factual or spelling errors quietly corrected), to an early-morning cloudwriting campaign on behalf of the Canterlot Weather Patrol that spelled out their happiness at Princess Twilight Sparkle’s engagement to Lord Gleen Grass (unfortunately, the Office of Royal Correspondence had not cleared their announcement). There was even an appearance of the newest royal couple at an early morning joint session of Parliament where they each said a few words, in particular, “Where are my note cards? I had them right here! Stall them, Greenie!” and “Um. Hi, Dad. There’s something I was meaning to tell you yesterday and I forgot all about it until now.”

After an unofficial announcement brunch at the Quaternary dining room, a quiet subdued affair for just the couple and a few hundred of their closest friends, a vast majority of which they had never met before, Princess Twilight Sparkle and her fiancé, Lord Green Grass, said goodbye to each other for a few more weeks at the Canterlot train station, in one of the most photographed moments in Equestrian history. There was a brief kiss, and an even briefer pause as the new couple put out the occasional singed hair caused by so many flashbulbs igniting at the same time. Then Twilight vanished into the train while Green Grass vanished into a Royal Coach, and the two of them departed in separate directions, leaving behind only the sounds of newspaper reporters scribbling frantic notes.

“I don’t want to do it, Papercut.” Green Grass stood outside the door with one hoof on the doorknob while trying not to tremble.

“You must, sir. Princess Celestia insisted. But if you wish to call off the wedding…” The smugness fairly dripped off his appointment secretary as Green Grass took a deep breath.

“For Twilight,” he breathed, twisting the doorknob and striding inside the room with a confident trot and broad smile. Papercut could not help but notice from his perspective as he followed that the casual air was somewhat countered by the nervous twitch in the future groom’s tail.

“Good afternoon, Ladies. Gentlecolts. I understand you have some suggestions for Princess Twilight’s wedding, and if you would just form an orderly line—”

That was as far as he got before a wave of wedding planners, waving the multi-colored tools of their trade, surged forward.

The Golden Oak Library had a very strict policy on silence. Patrons were encouraged (as much as Twilight was capable of only ‘encouraging’ a pony) to a respectful whisper while within the hallowed bark of the book-filled shrine of learning. Orderly lines (single-file only) at the checkout counter in front of neat boxes of library cards (because allowing patrons to take home their cards would allow loss and chaos to slip into the process) caused the rules to bend slightly as enthusiastic voices tended to raise during comparisons of particularly good examples of the library contents.

And then there was Applejack.

“Consarn it Spike, will you get out of the way so I can talk to Twi? There’s a darned fool lie floating around town after she went and gallivanted off this morning to Canterlot, and coming back all dolled up in some frilly outfit ain’t helpin’ matters none!” Applejack brought one heavy hoof down on the library floor with a tree-shaking thud and snorted at the little dragon blocking the doorway to Twilight’s bedroom.

“I”m not moving and you can’t make me!” declared Spike with his back to the door.

Applejack narrowed her eyes.

Two minutes later, the door to the library bedroom creaked open and Applejack stuck her nose inside. “Twi? Are you… crying?”

“No,” sniffed Equestria’s newest princess as she burrowed deeper under her covers.

“So… the rumor’s true? Applejack moved closer to the bed and pulled a few tissues out of the box on the nightstand before stuffing them under the damp sheets.

“Yes!” wailed Twilight from somewhere near the center of the bedlump. “I never thought it would happen this way.”

“Well, me neither,” said Applejack. “Seems to be a little late in life to be getting a royal bun in the oven, but ah suppose bein’ a princess means age ain’t no barrier to birth.”

“Wha?” Twilight fought with the covers before giving up and simply flinging them all off the bed. “What do you mean, old? I’m not even thirty! My mother was well over forty when she gave birth to the twins! Although the possibility of foaling issues with older ponies is a concern, unicorns and earth ponies can easily have an uncomplicated pregnancy all the way up until…” She trailed off at the stunned look in Applejack’s eyes.

“So, you’re the one who’s got a pie in the oven?” Applejack took off her hat and wiped her brow. “Whew-whee, that’s a lot more sensible there. So when are you and Greenie tying the knot so I can get the farm ready for the wedding?”

“Of course, I’m the one who’s pregnant,” snapped Twilight. “Who did you think was pregnant, Celestia?”

“Well…” Applejack held her hat across her chest as if to hide behind it while talking. “You did buy out every pregnancy test in Rich’s Bargain Barn, and then took off for Canterlot like your tail was on fire. And you’re Princess Celestia’s private student, so if there was something she didn’t want anypony to know, you’d be the one to buy the pregnancy tests for her.” A look of concern briefly passed across Applejack’s face and she scowled. “Although why my idjit brother seemed so nervous when he heard the rumor, ah just don’t want to know.”

Twilight pawed the air with one hoof and gaped as if she had somehow managed to wind up trapped in a bubble of vacuum, finally managing to gasp out four words she never thought she would ever say in her life. “Celestia is not pregnant.”

“Um…”

There was a certain contemplative look on Applejack’s face that only a good friend would be able to recognize, and Twilight immediately added, “Neither is Luna. Or Cadence. Well, I don’t know about Cadence. Knowing my brother’s history with keeping me informed about his life, I won’t find out until she’s in labor.”

Applejack chuckled and put her hat back on. “Ah’ll go tell the girls and we’ll be right back. Ain’t nopony deserve to be alone in times like this. In the meantimes, you better untie Spike so you can write your brother a letter. That is, lessen you want him to find out on his own.”

The walls of the Crystal Castle rang with joyous laughter as Princess Cadence swooped and darted around the ceilings of the enormous rooms, the resulting amplification drawing Prince Consort Shining Armor out of his rather stuffy afternoon meeting with a group of rather stuffy crystal ponies who were seeking reassurance again that he had no intent to A) transform into a being of pure evil and enslave them all to work in the crystal mines or B) raise taxes on crystal berries above the rate they were a thousand years ago.

“Shiny! Shiny! Guess what?” An exuberant alicorn dropping down in a dive from the top of a tall room develops significant inertia, and the resulting impact knocked them both across the room, winding up with Cadence standing on his chest and doing a little happy dance with all four hooves.

He was still trying to catch his breath when Cadence kissed him with all the intensity that only an Alicorn of Love could muster. That didn’t help. Well, not with catching his breath.

“Twilight’s getting married! And she’s engaged! And she’s pregnant! Not necessarily in that order, but isn’t this great, Shiny? We can have the wedding right here in the Crystal Empire in the castle with all of the crystal pony traditions. Just like the Crystal Games, it will be a glorious way for Equestria to show our return to all of the visitors from every nation, and Twilight will be so happy! Isn’t this great!”

“To who?” gasped Shining Armor, still a little concussed, stunned, and suffering (well, not exactly suffering) from the aftereffects of the kiss.

“Why, Greenie, of course. It will be such a boost to the morale of the Crystal Empire ponies to have an earth pony as a Prince Consort and a little foal who could be one too.” Cadence nuzzled her husband under the chin, placing a series of kisses up his nose to the base of his horn. “You’re going to be Uncle Shiny, and I’m going to be Auntie Cadence.” She gave a little squeal and dropped down to gaze longingly into her husband’s eyes. “I want to try again.”

Darkness had settled in over the outside of the Canterlot castle by the time Green Grass had managed to shed his annoying companion and trudge up the steps to his reserved suite, only to discover one more substantial obstacle between him and blessed solitary slumber.

“Good evening, Lord Green Grass.” Princess Luna nodded while Green Grass bowed, nearly tipping over on his nose from fatigue. “We hath a gift for thee tonight. Follow.”

The Princess of the Night strode into and through Green Grass’ room, flinging open the curtains with her magic to reveal a dark wagon done entirely in shades of violet and indigo with four bat-winged ponies flapping in front of it to hold it up up at the level of the balcony. Four sets of golden eyes regarded the stallion with interest, and four feminine faces turned up in quiet smiles, five if you were to count the princess. The Nocturne mares at the harness were each dressed in the minimalistic Equestrian Postal Service uniforms, with a number of lumpy bags in the large wagon that most probably contained Overnight Postal Service things.

Expecting at any moment to have a stamp stuck on his forehead along with an address label for someplace arctic, Green Grass turned to Princess Luna and asked, in his most polite and erudite voice, “Huh?”

“The evening is made for lovers, Lord Green Grass,” said Luna, “and for the proper prompt delivery of important things. There is nothing more important than time spent with the ones you cherish. Thou shalt spend thy evenings with the love of thy life and be returned forthwith in the morrow before any within these walls are aware you were gone.”

The green tutor made a few token protests before allowing himself to be bundled into the back of the floating wagon, vanishing off into the night with the whisper of wings. And the occasional feminine giggle from the drivers.

On the roof of a building far away from the castle, a newspaper reporter paused with his hoof over the shutter of an expensive camera with an expensive telephoto lens.

“The Night Has a Thousand Lies,” murmured Blotter, gently manipulating the focus of the lens to sharpen the edges of his targets. “Catchy, but not accurate. Princess Luna aids Prince Consort Green Grass in Nighttime Romantic Rendezvous? No, the Canterlot Times is going to write the headline for the article anyway. Probably something like Equestria’s Newest Princess Cuckolded by Consort. Why in Tartarus did I get talked into doing this? They’re just a couple of young kids in love.”

He held his hoof over the shutter and remained motionless until the freight wagon had passed out of sight and the curtains over the window were closed again. Only then did he push the button, taking a perfect picture of the closed window. “Getting soft in your old age,” he muttered while starting to take the camera apart and store it.

“I think it just shows you’re learning,” said a deep voice from the shadows that nearly made him embarrass himself in a way he hadn’t done since he was a foal. Two large Night Guards came gliding out of the darkness to take their places by his sides, followed by a somewhat larger one who stopped in front of him and nodded with a wry smile on his craggy face. “Good evening, Mister Blotter.”

“G-good evening, Optio Pumpernickel,” he stammered in response, unable to control his eyes as he traced the dense patchwork of pink scars that spread all across the charcoal-grey guard in parallel lines about the width of griffon claws. “C-can I help you?”

He watched in abject terror as the big Nocturne just stood there and smiled, the night breeze trailing through his short-cropped mane to reveal even more ragged scars. Blotter had just managed to screw up the courage to ask another question when a gentle breeze behind him froze droplets of nervous sweat on the back of his neck.

“I commend thee for thy discretion, Blotter of the Canterlot Times” whispered a soft voice in his ear. “I have a need for one such as thyself. Let us talk.”

Chapter 8 - Prisoner of Love

In the pre-dawn darkness high above the picturesque countryside flew a Equestrian Postal Service delivery wagon with four new postal employees in the harness, flapping along in synchronized harmony. Behind them, wedged in between bags of Overnight Delivery mail, were three other royal employees, each passing the time in their own way.

Crosswind stood tall in her seat, casting suspicious glances to either side even as her wings would flutter open slightly in the slipstream and had to be forced back closed. It was a lot of fun to enjoy the transition between dark and dawn despite being ordered not to fly alongside the wagon. The order made sense for once. She would only distract the four inexperienced Nocturne drivers from their synchronized flapping and make their trip even bumpier, which would not help her compatriot one whit.

Papercut had turned even greener than his normal forest-green hue, despite selecting a seat as close to the middle of the vehicle as possible. He was holding an airsickness bag over his mouth and trying to stare a hole in the floorboards every time the wagon hit a pocket of air or wobbled even slightly. Crosswind was not tempted to just bounce the wagon a little at a time. Really.

A second darker-green unicorn the shade of dark jade sat casually to the nauseous stallion’s side, her rust-red mane tied up in a tight matronly bun and a small book held open in front of her. Other than introductions in the darkness of early-morning Canterlot, the three passengers had not spoken a word⁽*⁾ during the flight. Finally, Crosswind stopped playing with her wings, turning to the female unicorn and bluntly asking, “You’re a cop, aren’t you Miss Grace?”
(*) The noises Papercut was making could not be considered ‘speaking’ except in general terms among heavy drinkers and other airsick individuals.
—

The unicorn mare did not respond at once, bookmarking her crime novel and tucking it back into her bags before looking at Crosswind with an evaluating expression. “On detached duty from the Canterlot Police Department at the moment, ma’am. Our commander offered me a transfer to the Night Guard adjunct position while the investigation was in the process. It’s only a temporary position. I expect to be back on the force in a few months.”

“So why are you on leave from the police?” asked Crosswind.

“It would be improper for me to comment on an ongoing investigation. Will there be anything else?”

“You’re really a police officer?” One of the four Nocturne mares in harness looked back over her shoulder, making a bobble in the flight of the wagon that had Papercut bury his mouth back into his airsickness bag. “That’s why we took this job when Princess Luna asked us. We’re getting in shape to apply at the police academy when the new class starts in a few months. I’m Equinox, and that’s Ru, Tupelo, and Iridescence.”

The wagon lurched with every introduction, and Papercut looked up from his bag with a low moan of “Ladies!” It did little good, as the chatty Nocturne began to grill the police officer with all kinds of questions about police procedure and training, although they did try their best to keep the flight smooth. Crosswind attempted to follow along with the conversation while still feeling sympathetic towards the wretched unicorn still bent over his airsickness bag. She had seen the occasional female police officer, but never one of the night-dwelling pegasi females in that role. There was a flock of Nocturne in her home town of Cloudsdale, and several of them had been among the local police and Royal Guard units stationed there, but only the males. As a child, her fellow pegasi had all kinds of fanciful theories about the general appearance and diet of female Nocturne, but when she had bumped into several of them by accident late at night while getting groceries, their smooth bat-like wings and golden eyes had actually been somewhat attractive.

Although she drew the line at actually dating one of them.

There had been another extremely solid line that Crosswind had run into when she was young and considering a career, and it seemed like Ru was about to run into it too. The Royal Guard had been an all-stallion organization as long as anypony could remember. Generations of male guards had stood in defense of Princess Celestia in their gold and cream armor, offering their mortal lives to protect both her and the ponies of Equestria, but when Crosswind had asked her father about joining their ranks, she had received nothing except a firm ‘No’ from him and every other pony she had talked to. From what Ru and the rest of the Nocturne mares were happily discussing with Miss Grace, that thick and extremely solid line of tradition in front of the Royal Guard Academy was about to be bent into a pretzel by Princess Luna, and that Ru was determined to be one of the first to be admitted. The rest of the mares seemed content to just become police officers, but Crosswind had to admit a certain twinge of sympathy for the broad-shouldered Nocturne mare who had her sights set so high, and was still considering the rather odd idea of a female Night Guard when the wagon descended into Ponyville airspace amidst the first rays of sunrise.

“Finally,” croaked Papercut as he staggered up from the floor of the wagon. “We’re three minutes late. The sun’s already up. Pull us alongside the library balcony so His Future Highness can just slither in.”

“I don’t believe—” started Miss Grace before being viciously cut off by Papercut.

“Pull us up to the balcony,” snapped Papercut. “That’s an order. We have an extremely tight schedule today. If that—” Papercut’s mouth moved in short twitches as he self-censored several possibly incandescent adjectives “—earth pony thinks he can sleep in this morning, he’s got another think coming.” Miss Grace stepped back as Papercut staggered to the edge of the wagon, Crosswind having taken the path of least pegasus resistance and flapped up where she could get the best view without being in the way.

It was fairly obvious that the four female Nocturne in the harness were inexperienced in handling a vehicle of this size from the stops and starts as they tried to match the level of the floating platform with the tree-library’s balcony, but eventually they managed to make a rough match. Papercut stepped one hoof onto the library balcony, throwing back the curtains with his magic and opening his mouth to announce their presence.

And froze in that position.

After a brief moment, Miss Grace lit her chipped horn, sliding the library bedroom curtains closed with her magic and floating Papercut back into the wagon.

“Ibbia,” said Papercut, gesturing in the general direction of the balcony with his eyes crossed.

“Early honeymoon?” suggested Ru. All four of the Nocturne mares perked up their ears and turned to look at the balcony before sitting the wagon down very carefully in the library yard and waiting patiently in their harnesses.

“It would appear that an additional private activity needs to be entered into your calendars this morning,” announced Miss Grace, delicately floating Papercut’s airsickness bag over to the library trash can and disposing of it. “I suggest the three of us take a brief break at Sugarcube Corner to update schedules and get breakfast while the wagon is over at the post office being reloaded.”

“Good morning, ladies.” Somehow even that perky morning greeting from the green goober managed to set Crosswind’s mane on edge as Green Grass trotted out of the library tree, taking an extra minute out of their already delayed schedule to nuzzle the purple princess in full sight of everypony already out on the dawn streets of the tiny town. Crosswind was just getting a good case of resentment going when he proceeded to greet each one of the nearly-identical Nocturne postal employees by name, inquire about the health of their ‘little’ brother Pumpernickel (when Crosswind had not even realized they were all sisters), thank Miss Grace for bringing him a breakfast muffin for the trip back, and give the queasy Papercut one of his anti-nausea pills. He managed to top the whole cheesy performance off by waving goodbye from the back of the wagon all the while it ascended into the brilliant morning sky until it was lost from view.

“Isn’t he just perfect?” sighed Twilight Sparkle with a dreamy look in her eyes as Crosswind landed next to her and tried to keep her breakfast down at the nauseating display of puppy love.

“Nopony is that perfect,” she growled in response.

“Despite his academic records, Lord Green Grass is a respectable organizer,” said Miss Grace, pulling a pencil out of her mane and flipping a page over on her clipboard with her magic. “He has been keeping a running conversation by mail with the Night office regarding Princess Luna’s ‘postal plan’ including copies of their employee dossiers, schedules, and training records. I believe he even requested a copy of your records, Miss Crosswind.”

“My records?” Crosswind glared up into the morning sky and tried to figure out just how long it would take her to chase down the Postal Service wagon and buck the green nitwit upside the head. Green Grass, not Papercut.

“Since you are the closest personal servant to Her Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle, and he has made it quite clear that he cares about her deeply, one should not be surprised by his certain level of interest.” Miss Grace flipped over another page on her clipboard and pushed her red spectacles up on her nose before looking over at Crosswind. “Were you unaware of the amount of scrutiny that went into your level of security? Your folder is only fractionally smaller than that of Mister Papercut. Very impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“And you are?” asked Twilight Sparkle, breaking into the conversation with a bright smile and a certain glint to her eyes that indicated a deep and lengthy line of questions stacked up behind them.

“Pardon me, Princess Twilight Sparkle.” The unicorn mare dropped to one knee, tucking her pencil back into the tight bun that her mane was tied up into and lowering her head. There was a certain elegant flourish to a bowing unicorn that Crosswind had never really considered as she noticed the middle-aged mare was very careful not to let her chipped horn point directly at Twilight during the entire procedure, and had stopped her levitation of the clipboard and pencil as not to be casting a spell either. “I am Lieutenant Commander Grace, Office of Special Investigation in the Canterlot Police Department, on temporary assignment as adjunct staff to Commander Buttercup of the Royal Guard, Night Division. I have been tasked with a preliminary evaluation of security for your residence as well as coordination of your future security force with local law enforcement.”

“Security force?” Twilight wrinkled up her nose. “This is a small town. I don’t need a bunch of armored ponies standing around outside the library and scaring away the patrons. We don’t get enough of them anyway.”

Miss Grace picked up her clipboard and presented it to Twilight. “I have my orders, Your Highness. I’m scheduled to be done by noon and return to Canterlot by train to consult with the rest of the security personnel. After that, a number of guards will be flown out tomorrow for your personal examination to allow you to select which ones you want for your security force.”

Twilight spluttered in indignation as she looked over the orders. “This sounds like some sort of a harem! I won’t do it. I’m perfectly fine here in Ponyville. After you finish your evaluation, go back to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and tell them that under no circumstances will I accept anypony guarding me.”

Miss Grace accepted the clipboard back and pulled the pencil back out of her mane. “Very well, Your Highness. May I be excused? I’m somewhat behind schedule.”

“Yes, and don’t call me Your Highness. Just Twilight. And don’t step on the begonias outside. Spike just planted them last week.” Twilight scowled and stomped back into the library tree. “Now, Crosswind. Let’s take a look at that schedule. I’ve got some changes that need made…”

The Royal Equestrian Postal Service hangar had not been on Papercut’s schedule yesterday or today, but it was starting to feel a little like home with this second visit as the mail wagon dropped them both off in the early morning sunshine. It was a much cheerier place with morning sunlight shining down through the skylights, and even though the cloud floor was supposedly only about a hoof thick over a solid stone base, allowing earth ponies or unicorns to wade about ankle-deep in the cool clouds instead of plummeting down to wherever, Papercut still felt more comfortable with a cloudwalking spell on all four hooves, and after a moment of thought, made sure his ward was properly bespelled too.

The first two scheduled social visits had already been missed, comfortably wealthy socialites who had requested the presence of the aspiring Royal at breakfast and an early brunch, and Green Grass stopped while being herded out the hangar door and down the corridor for a late brunch.

“I’m starting to suspect my mother put together this schedule. Does every meeting that I’m scheduled for involve food?”

“Of course not,” said Papercut, pulling out the schedule and leafing through it. “There’s a… Well, you have a… I suppose the ladies quilting society meeting doesn’t involve…” Papercut regarded the scheduled box with an indication of betrayal. “They’re having a potluck.”

“I thought so.” Green Grass took the schedule and flipped through it briefly before hoofing it back. “I’m going to need thirty minutes in the morning set aside for jogging, or they’ll have to roll me down the aisle at the wedding. Better make it forty, so I have time for a shower.”

“Excellent, sir. You would not want to show up at any of the Royal’s houses reeking of sweat.”

Green Grass grimaced. “Yeah, they might think I’m one of the groundskeepers. Better bring my schedule along while we run. I’m going to need every minute I can to stay up-to-date.”

“We?” Papercut stopped scratching on the schedule with his pencil and fixed his employer with a very dry look. “I do not run.”

“You do now, unless you have a medical condition that wasn’t in your file. I’ll start you off slow by cranking up my jogging weights, and when you get in better shape, we’ll see about inviting my future father-in-law.”

“You’re kidding, aren’t you, sir?” As a response, his employer picked up the pace to a rapid trot and Papercut hurried to keep up.

Calling back over his shoulder, Green Grass added, “By the way, extend an invitation to a member of the Night Guard named Pumpernickel. He’s in recovery for some injuries, so he might be able to keep up with our relatively pokey pace for a few weeks, as well as keep our security detachment advised on which jogging paths we’re going to take.”

The Ponyville Jail was an impressively solid edifice for a town that seemed to sport so many plaster walls and thatch roofs. Its original purpose had been an emergency weather shelter for when dangerous storms would roar out of the Everfree Forest, but recent modifications in the last few decades had added small barred windows to the thick dressed limestone walls and a half-dozen offices, as well as two small cells. There was talk of also declaring it a Ursa Minor shelter, but since everypony agreed that the event had (hopefully) been a unique disaster, it seemed silly to spend the twenty bits to add a new name to the steel front door.

Miss Grace spent a considerable time inventorying the spotless interior, taking into account the strong cell doors, all locked in the open position so as to avoid accidents, and the well-provisioned office that included a sign-out sheet for prisoners doing community service as well as a series of locked cabinets that were labelled as containing copious disaster and medical supplies. After spending so much time in the much larger and considerably dirtier police department in Canterlot, the clean and tidy building felt more like a theater stage than a real prison. The one thing it seemed to lack was a staff.

“Hello? May I help you?” The rather skinny earth pony stallion looking in the front door of the jail had some takeout boxes of Neighpon food on his head and a rather frightened expression on his face as he considered the intruder into what he obviously thought of as his private space.

“Yes, my name is Miss Grace. I’m looking for the sheriff.” She could not help but frown slightly at the stallion, who sidled in the door sideways to a small empty table, putting his lunch down before creeping up to the main desk and scribbling his name on the sign-out sheet. He practically fled back to the little table and took up a position on the other side of it from her before opening up the top of the largest takeout container.

“He’s not here. He quit six months ago for a less stressful job in Appleloosa.” The skinny stallion dug into his noodles with such speed it seemed he was afraid some bigger pony was going to come along and take them away from him at any moment.

“Well, are you his replacement?” She blinked as the stallion shook his head with little splatters of noodle juice. “Is there a deputy, perhaps? A guard? A truant officer? Somepony with a sharp, pointed stick?” Finally she let out a heavy sigh of frustration. “Well, who runs this place, then?”

“The mayor, I suppose. But she hasn’t been in here since the sheriff left.” The noodle container having been emptied, the stallion popped the top on a smaller container and dug out some small pastries. “My name’s Jailbird, by the way.”

She blinked and looked at the set of vertical lines on his flank. “You’re a prisoner?”

“Yes, ma’am. I only have five years left in my sentence, but if I keep picking up trash and such for my community service, the mayor says she would be willing to extend that to six.”

“Extend?”

“Oh, yes.” Jailbird scurried across the spotless floor, seeming much like a cockroach as he pointed to a gleaming cell. “I keep the jail clean and have a different task for each day. Somedays I clean the park, or help out with construction around town. Trash day is my favorite. Everypony always picks up their own trash in town, but sometimes we have tourists, and they’re messy. I get a food stipend, and have to keep checked in and out all day. Then at night, I sleep here.” He scurried inside the cell and unlocked the door so it would roll shut, reaching out through the bars after locking it to hang the keys on a convenient hook. “It’s very nice.”

“Princess Luna insisted on blocking out several hours this morning for this meeting, but she would not tell me what it was about or even who was invited,” said Papercut in a huffy voice just one notch short of a snit.

Perhaps the rapid pace of their stride through the corridors of the Canterlot castle was at fault, or the fact that he was constantly looking at that pale green flank adorned with Green Grass’ cutie mark whenever they were moving. It was a unicorn cutie mark, showing a unicorn horn with very much unicorn magic sparks coming from it sitting plainly on his very earth pony butt, and it served as an uncomfortable reminder of every time he had been following along after Princess Celestia and looked at her shapely firm flanks with just the slightest bit of unprofessionalism. Over his time in training, he had even gotten somewhat used to Her Highness’ wings and the tiny little cues that she would project through them indicating her wish for an interruption to end an unpleasant meeting or fascination with a topic being discussed that indicated an unspoken desire to modify the schedule somewhat.

The infuriating earth pony seemed well aware of his ‘tells’ and under control of most of them, except for a certain twitch to his tail when stress levels peaked, much as they did just now. He slammed to an abrupt halt in the corridor and was nearly trampled by Papercut, but the sharp retort he earned was cut off unsaid as the reason for the interruption became apparent.

“Princess Luna!” Although Green Grass tried to pull off an air of disconnected calm upon meeting the Princess of the Night, there was a tremble that traveled down his tail as a long continuous shiver, making the dusky brown hairs almost shimmer as a liquid. It was distracting, and he did not really realize how much so until the Princess and the Peon vanished behind the door for their private meeting, leaving him out in the hallway to wait. There was a mischievous twinkle in Luna’s eye when, just before the door shut, she looked at him, looked at the tutor’s green flanks, and shook her head with a quiet smile.

His blush lasted through their entire meeting, and he was still slightly pink when they emerged.

Green Grass was beginning to think that the universe had a very twisted sense of humor, and it tended to rub off on any pony who spent most of their lives touching large portions of that universe, in particular the sun and moon. Any humor tends to have days where certain things were more funny than others, and today’s Humor Flavor of the Day seemed to be Irony, served with a topping of nuts.

That one memorable afternoon he had spent during Shining Armor and Not-Cadence’s wedding while being ‘responsible’ for several young unicorn guests had stuck in his mind, despite every effort to the contrary. After all, he had proposed to a bug, and that does not happen every day. It had been a perfectly understandable mistake, so understandable in fact that he had never mentioned it to Twilight, or any other living creature. Well, other than the bug. And his sworn-to-secrecy students. And Luna, although that was under duress.

He had been in a full-blown panic after Twilight had vanished on the day of her brother’s wedding, and had dragged his four little unicorn students all over the castle in a futile search with the engagement ring seeming to burn a hole in his jacket pocket. The wedding had started without her, and he had just come out of one last pass through the Archives with his students in tow when the sky had filled with diving changelings. After that, things got a little fuzzy. He could remember shouting her name and running towards the throne room, followed by the pounding of little hooves as his students pelted along with him. There were blurred memories of dark changelings lunging up in front of him, a dampness on his hooves, the occasional victorious cry as one of his students used their magic against the attackers.

Then there she was, standing on the balcony overlooking the throne room, a blur of perfect purple in his sight. He had collapsed on his knees in front of her, babbling as he pulled out the ring. Lifted it up. Almost placed it on her horn—

Until a wrapped-up bundle of antique armor swinging on a rope smashed into her side and knocked her over the balcony. His students cheered. Shining Armor and Princess Cadence rose up into the air at the front end of the room.

And the world went pink.

Later, his students were all so happy that he had managed to distract the changeling long enough for their trap to work that they wanted to tell everypony in the castle, but he had managed by way of implied threats and enormous piles of ice cream to get their cooperation, as well as four Pinkie Promises.

Now, every memory he had blocked away came cascading back as Princess Luna brought him into the Badlands Ambassadorial chambers and introduced him to the ambassador.

Who was very much a changeling.

He managed not to squeak in fear, bowing in the appropriate spots as Luna introduced him to Ambassador Honey Bear and her young son, Peep Sprout. In fact, a sense of confidence flickered into life as they talked. The ambassador was friendly, and not nearly as frightening as his previous experience with changelings, while her son was at that special age of most of his beginning unicorn students. In fact, the little changeling was even a fan of Shining Armor, and was so full of childish curiosity and energy that he almost wanted to introduce them both to Twilight to see what she would think of Peep Sprout’s Shining Armor disguise at that small size.

Things were definitely looking up, and he was starting to think he could handle about anything.

Until the ambassador introduced her aunt, who was visiting the castle for a few weeks.

Queen Chrysalis.

Author’s Note : The Traveling Tutor and the Changeling Queen’s Nephew (A short story for the EqD Writer Training Grounds)

There were so many things to do in the Ponyville library that even a princess could use some help. Twilight had gotten so used to having Spike take notes and organize her schedule over the years that she found herself constantly calling Crosswind by his name. In Canterlot once she had even — to her acute embarrassment — passed her a note that needed to go to Princess Celestia and almost panicked as what she was thinking of as a baby dragon darted out of a nearby window and flew away. She had recovered by the time the pegasus had returned, but she found it much more comfortable to keep the windows closed in tall buildings from that point on.

Due to her upcoming wedding, this had become an epic time of schedule rescheduling, comparing the rough outline of events that Princess Celestia had included against Luna’s plans, as well as four different Offices and Bureaus that had sent their own ideas on what a proper royal wedding entailed. Her own rough schedule of events was going to need significant modification to cut the preparatory time down if they were going to meet the Summer Sun Festival deadline, but then again, her original schedule had covered most of two years in order to get everything possible included. As much as she did not want to admit it, having less than two months to plan and execute a wedding would probably be much less stressful than living through two years of the chaos.

Greenie had been up with her for a considerable portion of the night while working on a dependency diagram of the various critical social points that would have to be covered over the next few short weeks, before they had fallen asleep under a pile of long scrolls. Still, they had not gotten that much sleep, due to certain hormonal changes that she was still trying to adapt to. Since yesterday, she barely had managed to read through three books on the topic of pregnancy, which put her far behind schedule, even though she had promised Green Grass that she would not panic over all the changes that a few scant grams of new tissue was causing in her body.

A sharp rapping at the library door despite the ‘Open’ sign made her send Spike to answer it even while Other-Spike was scribbling away at the changes that would need to be made in the Bridle Party in order to accommodate the rather strange flower filly that Greenie wanted to include. She had just gotten to specifying Green Grass’ brother Graphite’s placement as a Groomstallion in order to provide any needed translation services when a tall and rather fragrant pony swept into the room with the flutter of primary feathers.

“Ah, Princess Twilight Sparkle. You are even more beautiful than I expected.” The tall aristocratic pegasus swept down into a bow that rather obviously expected a polite purple hoof to be raised and kissed in the process, not the sudden excited bounding away that she did as Twilight ran to the bookshelf and retrieved an annotated (i.e. with included little sticky notes by her future husband) copy of Twerps Peerage, flipping through it in a blur of motion.

“Hold on, hold on, I know I’ve seen you in here. Storm cloud cutie mark, white feathers, orange mane, hazel eyes, hang on for just a second—”

“Lord Stormwind.”

“Ah, HA!” said Twilight, jabbing a hoof down into the open book. “There you are. Father is Duke Stormwind, divorced twice, owns a majority share of the Rainbow Works in Cloudsdale and is skimming off just enough of the profits to support his gambling habit but not enough to prosecute. You’re Swirling Typhoon Stormwind, the son he hired as Quality Control Supervisor who’s never been seen at the factory because you spend most of your time in Las Pegasus with—” Twilight looked up from the notes in the book. “Griffon dancers? How cosmarepolitan of you.”

“Ah… Yes. Um.” The handsome pegasus shifted position in some discomfort, glancing backwards through the open door until an obvious subordinate trotted forward with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of candied daffodils. “Yes. Princess Twilight Sparkle, I just wanted to—”

“Pursue me in a romantic fashion so that you could woo me away from my fiancé?” asked Twilight in a tone that indicated it was less of a question than it appeared. “How thoughtful of you. And I don’t even have a beak.”

“Ah… Perhaps this isn’t the best of times.” The pegasus began to back slowly toward the open door only to have it slam shut and make a small click as the lock engaged.

“Quite the contrary, Stormy. I may call you Stormy, correct?” At the stallion’s rather abrupt nodding, she continued, “This is not the best time. When I was Princess Celestia’s student would have been an excellent time. I would have been flattered that a Duke’s son was interested in me, and we might have even been compatible. Green Grass’ notes compliment your intelligence and your knowledge of foreign cultures, as well as a certain interest in books. Even after I became a princess, you might have had a chance, albeit very, very small one, provided that you had descended from your cloud to speak with me. But now? What makes you think I would choose you over Green Grass?”

“But he’s just an earth pony,” protested Lord Stormwind, with his tail pressed firmly against the door.

The small collection of ponies who had gathered around the Ponyville plaza fountain all took a step backwards as a magenta ball of magic appeared above it and a perfectly-groomed pegasus stallion shot out of it in a downwards direction at great speed, meeting the water in an explosive splash that damped several of the closer observers.

“Time?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“One minute, twelve seconds,” said Pinkie Pie, poking the top on her stopwatch.

After a quick review of her clipboard, Rainbow Dash announced to the crowd, “Looks like the fountain pool goes to Crosswind, with side bets on splash diameter going to Ditzy. Congratulations to the winners and we’ll be taking bets on how long the second royal takes to arrive and his time to the fountain just as soon as we get Stormy here pulled out and dried off.”

A bedraggled and grumpy pegasus dragged himself to the edge of the fountain and permitted himself to be pulled out by Rainbow Dash. His immaculate spats were covered in green freshwater weeds, the formal suit coat sagged and bulged with water, and one of the pockets held a frantic goldfish, which Rainbow tossed back in the fountain.

“Welcome to Ponyville, Lord Stormwind. If you’ll follow me to the spa to get cleaned up, Rarity has volunteered to clean and dry⁽*⁾ any clothing that you might have ruined. Then we’ll head over to Sugarcube Corner for your welcoming party.”

There was a distant bang from the library door and a loud voice calling out, “And if I catch you talking to my friends Rainbow Dash or Fluttershy, there won’t be enough feathers left on you to stuff a pillow!”

“Aaand I think I’ll just let somepony else escort you that way. See you at the party.” With a flick of her multicolored tail, Rainbow Dash zipped off into the sky.
(*) After they had returned to their estates, most prospective suitors found that their surviving outfits had not only been cleaned and dried, but several fashionable additions had been included. Only a few fortunate (or unfortunate) Royals were presented with completely replaced clothing, mostly because their original outfits⁽¹⁾ had caught fire while being cleaned.
(1) Purely due to spontaneous combustion. Still, it was somewhat coincidental that only the clothes that really deserved to burn had been given to the Cutie Mark Crusaders to dry. Unfortunately no cutie marks were gained in the process, but there was ice cream afterward.
—

There was a light breeze from the south sweeping over the open balcony, making Green Grass uncomfortably aware of the significant drop to either side that had not seemed quite that important the last time he had been up here. The Royal Throne Room below was completely empty this afternoon, except for his small group of ponies — well, mostly ponies — and a significant amount of stage direction provided by Luna.

“So my tower is over there—” Luna pointed with one hoof, which made Green Grass look and promptly back up a step at the sight of so much unsupported air between the throne room observation balcony and the ground “—and the flagpole that thy students tied the bundle of armor to is up there—” The pointing hoof swung skywards, and Green Grass could not help but follow it, backing up yet another step at the sight of so much blue sky “—so the changeling who was disguised as Twilight Sparkle was standing somewhere around there.”

“Actually I think I was standing right here,” said the changeling ambassador, striding over to the balcony looking down into the throne room and resting her hooves on the railing. Her disguise was perfect, and if Green Grass had not been positive that Twilight was back in Ponyville, and had wings, he might have believed the changeling really was Twilight Sparkle. Even the voice was a near-perfect match, and only the smallest of behavioral idiosyncrasies betrayed her changeling background, such as her carnivorous smile or the way she flicked her tail at him when Luna wasn’t looking. Although the blur of thoughts whirling around in his mind were distracting, it was not enough for him to miss one simple word she had let slip.

“You?”

‘Twilight Sparkle’ looked back over her shoulder from the shaded balcony and licked her lips. “Yes, me. I was up here watching my aunt and the prisoners when you came galloping up like a herd of stampeding buffalo. If you hadn’t distracted me, I might have been able to warn Aunt Chrysalis about your marefriend getting loose.” She sauntered over to Green Grass and slid one hoof up his lumpy jacket, leaning in close and whispering, “I was going to be a princess. You’d like to marry a princess who can fulfill all of your dreams, wouldn’t you?”

From across the balcony, Chrysalis smiled at her niece in a broad grin that exposed sharp teeth but had nothing to do with humor. “Honey Bear, what did we discuss?”

The younger changeling stopped running her hoof up and down Green Grass’ chest before looking away and scowling. “Don’t taunt the pony princesses.”

“And?”

Honey sighed. “Don’t mess with the minds of her subjects unless you really like the idea of trying to suck sustenance out of cacti and lizards again.” Green Grass gave a little jolt and a step backwards as the compulsion that she had been projecting cut off.

“Good girl!” Chrysalis beamed and stepped forward the few paces it took to give her niece a hug and a quick ruffle along her streaked mane. “If you can keep your urges under control, we won’t ever have to worry about… What was that you said after the wedding, Princess Luna? Something about having used up my one chance and if I ever were to do that again, you would hunt our race to extinction even if you had to burn the planet down to the molten core over ten thousand years?”

Luna shrugged. “I was upset.”

Chrysalis released her niece and stuck out her tongue. “Don’t remind me.” She dug into a bag and measured out a hefty spoonful of medicine from a dark bottle, swallowing it with a bitter grimace. “Princess Lovey-Dovey and Shining Studmuffin gave me such a stomachache. Now, what exactly is your plan?

“You’ll love it,” said Luna, drawing out a sheet of paper with a map drawn on it.

Five minutes later…

“I hate this idea,” groused Green Grass.

The changeling disguised as Twilight Sparkle grinned in response, tossing her mane back and shifting positions. “Well, if you would hurry up, we can get this over with quickly and you can get back to your meetings with the wedding planners.”

“That’s not much better.” Green Grass scowled and looked around. “Where was I?”

The changeling ambassador waved one purple hoof and traced events to the present. “I was over here leaning up against the balcony rail when my handsome prince came galloping along the catwalk, spotted me right there, gave out this absolutely delicious burst of love that almost knocked me off my hooves and came running over to where we are now. We kissed—”

“I’m pretty sure we didn’t kiss,” said Green Grass, torn between revulsion and attraction at the disappointment that ‘Twilight Sparkle’ displayed. He swallowed and continued, “I came running right to about here and dropped down on one knee like this. Got out the ring. Blathered something incoherent.”

The ambassador giggled. “I’m not quite sure what you said either. You were putting out so much love, I was almost blind and deaf.”

“I didn’t hear anything either,” sounded a voice from far below in the throne room. Queen Chrysalis waved as they looked down. “I was right over here, looking out over the city and singing.”

“Singing?” asked Green Grass. “Seriously?”

The ambassador booped Green Grass on the nose in response. “Focus, lovercolt. You got out your ring…”

“Oh, yeah.” A quick search of pockets turned up nothing. “Oh, I gave it to my Twilight already.”

“Here. It’s a copy.” The ambassador slipped a familiar gold ring with a diamond over to Green Grass, who regarded it with a great deal of skepticism.

“You weren’t planning on impersonating Twilight later, were you Ambassador Honey Bear?”

“No! Of course not.” Honey tossed her head back and parted a section of mane around her horn. “Now finish your proposal.”

Green Grass hesitated on the balcony, listening to the wind whistle by and the idle humming of the changeling queen below. Luna was supposed to be at her bedroom window, comparing the distant scene she was watching to the brief glimpse she had gotten during the original wedding so that she would be able to tell the newspaper reporters the exact details they certainly would demand, but he was starting to think it was more likely she was just rolling on the floor, laughing her head off.

“I think I said, ‘Twilight Sparkle, will you marry me?’ before holding the ring up like this—”

‘Twilight’ ducked her head and stuck her horn through the ring faster than he could blink. “And then we kissed?”

“No! Queen Chrysalis, can you tell your niece to stick with the script?”

“I can’t hear you,” she called back in a distant voice from the floor of the throne room. “I’m singing, remember? Besides, you’re going to have to deal with a lot worse than Honey before and after you trade vows with Little Miss Purplesmart.”

Green Grass huffed a breath out in exasperation. “Ambassador Honey Bear, I agreed to tutor your son in exchange for your cooperation in this. Are you going back on your end of the deal? If so, Peep Sprout is going to be awfully upset.”

“Oh, bother.” The changeling ambassador stopped puckering up and blew out a breath in an upwards direction that made her mane bounce just exactly the way Twilight would do when she was frustrated. “A deal’s a deal. Do you at least have an older brother?”

There was a gust of cool air that seemed to freeze little droplets of perspiration across Green Grass’ flank, and a quiet voice said, “That would be an exceedingly poor decision, Ambassador.” Princess Luna stepped out from behind him with a critical look, then a rather exasperated glance down into the Royal Throne Room at the changeling queen, who had found a comfortable place to rest her royal rump, as well as a somewhat familiar form to do it in.

“Queen Chrysalis, please vacate my new throne at once. And my flank is not that fat!”

Evening tinted the sky over Canterlot in shades of red and gold as Celestia and Luna strode to the Solarium, a glass-enclosed balcony that looked out over the city and the paths of both moon and sun. Officially, it was the Sunrise Solarium but since the return of Luna, there was somewhat of a backlog of name changes that were working their way through the system. A single middle-aged unicorn mare stood looking out at the upcoming sunset, seeming almost crimson in the tints that the Canterlot weather ponies were imbuing into the clouds this evening. She gave no reaction to the two alicorns walking up behind her until Celestia quietly cleared her throat, and the unicorn nearly jumped over the balustrade in startled reaction.

“Your Highnesses! I apologize. I was lost in thought.”

“Be at ease, Miss Grace,” said Luna stepping forward. “You are among friends.”

The low green glow that had sprung up around Grace’s horn went out like an extinguished candle, and the policemare shuddered to a halt before going down in a slow but deliberate bow. “My apologies again, Princess Luna. Allow me to report on my assigned task.”

“No.” Luna’s silver shoes made little clicking noises as she walked around the kneeling mare, stopping after one slow circle to address her again. “First, I must speak with you. The dreams you have been having as of late trouble me.”

“I will increase the dosage on my medication, Your Highness. May I present my report now?” The kneeling mare had not moved, with her eyes still fixed on the floor until one silver-clad hoof lifted her chin up. Luna’s eyes were limpid pools of teal, reflecting hints of the reddish clouds like memories, and Grace found she could not look away.

“I shall not force thee to reveal thy pain if thou truly wishes to hold it within.” The Solarium was silent with only the sound of an evening breeze whistling through the bumps and ledges of the stonework, but the unsaid ‘however’ seemed to drift on the wind in an endless repetition.

Finally Luna looked away, staring at the banks of sculpted clouds in the distance glowing a soft gold and red. Her sister stepped forward to her side, lighting her horn in a soft golden glow that brought a twitch of sympathetic piloerection to all of the hairs along Grace’s back as her chipped horn vibrated in harmony with Celestia’s titanic power being released at such close range. The sun slid below the horizon in a smooth arc, neater than even the most talented unicorn could move a small object, and as it vanished from sight, Luna’s moon rose up into the sky. The low thrum of power coursing through all of Grace’s nerves shifted somehow as the golden glow gave way to a indigo magic both similar and so different to Celestia’s. Silver light poured over the Solarium and the high clouds, transforming both into shining creations of glass and ice that reflected the twinkling of uncounted stars.

Luna remained with head held high and horn glowing even after the moon had risen, and Grace was just starting to wonder when the first flicker of yellow appeared across the town. Then another, and another, until the faint flutter of wings could be heard, and the yellow glows turned into the golden eyes of the Night Guard, settling into their positions on the towers and tall structures all around before vanishing into the shadows. If not for the fact that Grace had seen them land, she would have sworn each rooftop and tower was still as empty as they had appeared a few minutes ago.

“Do you know the history of my creations, Miss Grace?”

Struck dumb for a moment, Grace fumbled with her pencil and opened up her clipboard to buy time, only to have an inexorable force pluck them from her magic and place them to Luna’s side. “I… Yes. Yes, Your Highness,” she finally managed to stammer out.

“Recite it.” Luna had not moved from her position, still staring out over the silver-traced city as if entranced, although Grace felt certain that the Princess of the Night was still watching her intently.

“S-summarized, when you r-raised in revolt against P-princess Celestia—” Grace paused and took a quick breath “—you took your followers with you and transformed them into t-that form. After Nightmare Moon was banished to the moon, the survivors pledged loyalty to Princess Celestia, and since then, have been the most loyal supporters of the Crown. The bats — I mean Nocturne in the Canterlot Police Department are extremely good officers, very effective and quite hard-working, even if they are a little stand-offish.”

“Dost thou know the age of the eldest of my followers who survived my folly?”

There was a hint of frost in Luna’s voice, and a horrible realization began to soak in. “This is about my suspension from the police force, isn’t—”

“Ten.” Luna turned to face her with an expression as cold as space. “The same age as the colt whom you saved. I have read the report that the municipal guard hath written on your actions, so filled with qualifications and weasel-words that it is nearly another language. The truth of the matter is that you acted properly. The pony who took that colt hostage was a murderer many times over, and would have slain—”

“I could have saved them both!” hissed Grace, tearing her gaze away from the Princess of the Night. “There were a dozen ways I could have stunned him and saved the child. I see it over and over in my head every night whenever I close my eyes. I could have rammed a knife into his leg, I could have knocked him unconscious with a spell or even just hit him over the head, but no! I knew he was going to be at that shopping center, picking out his next victim. I had read all of the preliminary reports and I convinced my partner it was just a hunch, but I knew. When my partner spotted him and he grabbed the kid, I could have done anything!”

There was a low green glow around Grace’s chipped horn, and a market scene appeared in front of her in miniature. It jolted with her movement, filled with young ponies out buying treats while older ponies tried to keep them under control. A middle-aged earth pony seemed to hold center in the illusionary scene, growing larger as Grace slipped through the crowd in her memory until he looked away and grabbed a nearby colt, holding a slim blade across his throat while shouting something. The image blurred with movement, the stallion growing larger in the illusion as she galloped at full tilt across the intervening space—

Until she lowered her horn and slammed into his side in a splash of blood.

“He was blind to me, turned just enough to see my partner and hold the knife to that colt’s neck, and…” Grace trailed off with tears dripping down her face.

“If killing one pony makes you a murderer, then what of ten, or a hundred, or thousands?” Luna moved up to her side and placed a warm wing over the sobbing mare, mirrored by her sister on the other side. “You seek a way to make the pain of taking a life go away. All you can do is endure, and in time, it shall become less of a burden upon your soul. Such is the way of mortals. Every evening I am forced to face the blood of my decision in the faces of my Nocturne. They each take their names from one who followed my call on that dreadful night, as to honor their departed ancestors, but what I see when I hear their names are the faces of those whose trust I violated. I envy your situation, for your actions saved a life, and brought justice to his other victims, while I was but a petty and vindictive mare seeking glory for my own selfish reasons.”

The two Princesses of Equestria remained standing with the crying mare between them for some time. There was no rush by either of them to attend to any Royal Duties or interruptions from outside, only the silent stars above and the occasional glint of yellow eyes in the darkness. The tears slowed after some time, the unicorn mare seeming to gather strength until she could stand on her own hooves, although she shivered with regret as the covering wings slowly furled back onto the flanks of the princess sisters and the cool breeze from the night air stirred the damp fur of her cheeks.

Finally, after blowing her nose on a kerchief provided by Celestia, Grace straightened up and picked up her clipboard in her magic, but before she could say a word, Luna nuzzled her behind the ear like one would a foal. “Do not fear. I shall guard thy dreams tonight, if thou wilt permit it.”

“I will.” Grace arranged her clipboard and took a deep breath. “And thank you, Princess.”

After a few more breaths and a totally unnecessary ruffling of the clipboard, Grace’s horn glowed and an illusion of the Ponyville Golden Oak Library appeared with several icons highlighting certain points. “Anyway, Princess Twilight Sparkle’s residence is reasonably secure, and I would anticipate a rotation of less than two platoons of visible security ponies and one undercover unit would suffice to protect her against any reasonable level of threat. That would work out to four Royal Guard and two Special Forces on duty at any one time, but it may be wise to add an additional platoon of security for newspaper reporters. Also, I would highly advise that a constable of some sort be appointed for the town. Their current police force consists of one prisoner.”

“How is Jailbird doing?” asked Celestia.

“Um. Fine, Your Highness?” Grace shook her head and returned to the presentation. “However, there is one problem with any actual deployment. Princess Twilight Sparkle stated quite firmly that she did not want a security force.”

A green-tinged young alicorn appeared out of Grace’s magic and said, “I’m perfectly fine here in Ponyville. After you finish your evaluation, go back to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and tell them that under no circumstances will I accept anypony guarding me.”

As Grace dismissed the illusionary princess, she continued, “So as you can see, without an agreement from Princess Sparkle, my trip seems to have been for nothing.”

Both royal alicorns were slowly shaking their heads as Grace finished, and she could not help but wonder what they were thinking while she stood and waited for new orders.

“Return to thy bed, Miss Grace,” announced Luna with a subdued chuckle. “You shall need your rest if you are to return to Ponyville on the morrow and ensure the proper placement of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s security force.”

“I thought she clearly stated she didn’t want anypony guarding her?” asked Grace in the hesitant tones of somepony who has found themselves between the irresistible forces of sun and moon, and the immobile object of a pregnant alicorn with mood swings.

Princess Celestia smiled and motioned Grace towards the door. “Even though she was my student, as a princess, she has much to learn. She always did have problems with qualifiers. My sister and I shall abide precisely by her request. Get a good night’s rest, Miss Grace, and please pass on our decision to Twilight tomorrow morning, along with both of our best wishes.”

Chapter 9 - Things Are Shaping Up

The printing presses of the Canterlot Times made low rumbling noises in the background as News Flash flipped through the final galleys headed for publication. It gave him a warm feeling in his chest to see the lines of carefully lined type and framed photographs, even if the hottest story at the moment was ‘Royal Couple Continue Wedding Planning - No Honeymoon Destination Set Yet.’ That had not stopped the copywriters from producing nearly a full page of senseless blather and supposition about the legitimacy of the foal to occupy space on the front page, along with matching pictures of the couple at the train station, kissing. That kiss had sold tens of thousands of newspapers, but that was yesterday, and today he was going to need more fuel for the fire. Artists were scratching out just what they thought the new Royal Foal was going to look like, what frills the wedding dress would include, how the capitol would look decked out in purple and green, and even the health page was getting in on the act by preparing a whole section on ‘Nutrition During Foaling’ by an entire set of writers who had never eaten anything cooked with their own hooves in their life, let alone suffered through the pangs of parenthood.

“Good evening, Flash.” A certain disreputable photographer strode into his office just as News Flash sent the approved galleys off to the presses. Blotter had once been a respected copywriter, then a gossip writer, then a lowly photographer, and now was on the way out even though he did not realize it. News Flash had the pink slip all written out and ready to be signed just as soon as he had squeezed the last drop of productivity out of the burned-out stallion, but for now, he smiled a tight little smile and tried to ignore the way Blotter propped his hooves up on the desk.

“Hello, Blotter. What are you doing here? We’re running your photo of the new prince on page A4, so you’ve earned your oats for the week, I suppose.”

“Got something better.” The old newspaper pony floated a thick envelope over to the editor, who left it to sit on the side of the desk like some damp piece of paper that had been used to pick up a little doggie present at the side of the street.

“Another picture of an empty window? Wow. We should stop the presses right now.” Flash rolled his eyes and tossed the envelope into his overflowing inbox.

“A little better than that. You see, I had to get one of my old cameras out for the photo shoot with Lord Green Grass yesterday evening, one that I hadn’t used since the changeling invasion.” Blotter grinned. “You know, the time you hired that eager young sprout to replace me, and he turned out to be a love-sucking bug that glued down every one of our reporters in green goop during the most important news event of the century. Good thing he fainted from hunger before he managed to do anything serious.”

“I know, I know,” moaned Flash. “I bought your story that evening, remember?”

“Well, I remembered something else when I was in the darkroom. I didn’t get all of the film used up out of one cartridge, and it still had a bunch of shots from the invasion.”

Dismissing the comment with a waved hoof, Flash yawned. “Changelings falling from the sky, changelings gluing good, honest citizens to the ground. We have thousands of those. But I suppose it can’t hurt.” He opened up the package and leafed through them, pausing at one particularly colorful one. “No…”

“Yes.” Blotter grinned and lit his horn in a soft green aura. “I checked it out with Zofoz’s Transcending Tracer. What you see there is one familiar green earth stallion, somewhat out of breath, presenting a golden engagement ring to what appears to be Twilight Sparkle, and if you look up just a bit, you can see Queen Chrysalis. I had stuck the camera out of a castle window and fired off a dozen or so frames just to check the autofocus and hoped to catch a changeling in the shot. But the tracer spell confirms it. That is Lord Green Grass, no two ways about it, and that is a changeling who looks exactly like Princess Twilight Sparkle before she got wings.”

The editor panted a little as he flipped through several pictures, each showing the production of the ring, the presentation of the ring, and the last one with the little glitter of gold at the base of Twilight Sparkle’s horn while she leaned forward with her lips pursed up in obvious expectation of a kiss from her fiancé. A single word managed to work its way up through all the dreams of awards and scoops that filled Flash’s head, and he rounded on the photographer with an abrupt question. “Changeling? You mean that’s not really Twilight Sparkle in the picture?”

Blotter only grinned wider. “Yep. Authenticated it twice. Of course Zofoz’s Tracer doesn’t work on duplicated photos, only the original negatives, so it’s really up to you how to run the photos. This would sell a ton of papers.” The photographer floated a film cartridge out of his bags and placed it in the center of the editor’s desk. “All I care about is getting paid.”

The dull red of a upcoming sunrise lit the Golden Oak Library with crimson fire and brought the red out in Miss Grace’s tied-up mane as she stood outside in front of the Royal Postal Service wagon. A sudden rattle of hooves preceded Green Grass as he bolted out the library’s front door, looking much thinner than yesterday, when he had his afternoon appointment with the most prestigious manecutter in Canterlot. His normally shaggy pale green coat was trimmed perfectly even, with tidy fetlock lines and perfect curves that must have taken hours in the barber’s chair, as well as a permanent wave to his mane that made it look somewhat respectable, despite the inattention from a brush that it received this morning. Even his short tail had been shortened ever so slightly in the pruning process, as well as given a permanent wave of its own that made it bounce when he ran, and it bounced quite well in her opinion as he caught the bag of pastries that Grace was holding out for him and vaulted into the chariot.

“Only fifteen minutes late, m’lord.” Grace tucked away the stopwatch and stood to one side patiently while the chariot shot into the sky on its way back to Canterlot, only turning to greet the Princess of the Library once it had vanished from sight. “Good morning, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

“Good morning, Lieutenant Commander Grace,” she responded, her lips drawn into a thin line. “I said I didn’t want a security force hanging around the library.”

“My apologies, Your Highness. May we continue this discussion inside? I have some books to return.” She floated a pair of crime novels out of her bags and followed Twilight Sparkle inside, placing them on the check-in table. It only took a few minutes of card-checking and stamping to get the paperbacks back on the correct shelf while Twilight twitched with a suppressed question all the way through it. Afterwards, Miss Grace casually stood at the library bookshelf, considering the meager selection of current detective novels until Twilight lost her patience.

“Well?”

“I’m torn between the W. B. Griffon novel and the—”

“Not the books!” snapped Twilight. “Well, they’re important too, but what did Princess Celestia and Princess Luna say when you told them that I didn’t want anypony guarding me?”

Grace raised one eyebrow. “Why, they agreed with you, of course.” With a soft glow of her green magic, an image of Celestia and Luna appeared, with Celestia saying, “My sister and I shall abide precisely by her request. Get a good night’s rest, Miss Grace, and please pass on our decision to Twilight tomorrow morning, along with both of our best wishes.”

“Oh.” Twilight Sparkle sat back and blinked a few times. “That was easier than I thought.”

A firm knocking at the front door of the library distracted Twilight as she called out, “It’s open — oh, wait a second. I forgot to flip the sign.” The Open/Closed For Cleanup sign flipped and the door swung open with a startled “Eep!” from Twilight as a tall female griffon poked her beak inside.

The female griffon nudged her male counterpart, and they both swept into a deep synchronized bow on the library steps. They looked a lot like Gilda to Twilight, only each of them was wearing a golden helmet with a pair of goggles pushed up on their forehead, as well as a white armband with a series of tally marks on them. Shining Armor had worn a legband like that one weekend when he had gotten a day’s leave from the Academy. His only had two simple marks on it, but each of these griffons had enough marks to go all the way around the band in a circle that showed a certain shrinkage as they were drawn in, as if the draw-er were afraid of running out of space. They both rose to sharp salutes, their forelegs, or more correctly talons gently touching on the sides of their helmets.

“Cadet Candidate Radiant Dawn Touching The Mountains With Golden Light and Cadet Candidate Brilliant Lightning Stabbing Through The Clouds To Ignite The Trees reporting, Your Highness. We would like to request a favor.” Both of them stood there in such perfect rigidity that if Twilight had not seen them move, she could have easily mistaken them for perfectly detailed statues.

“Ah… At ease?” Both griffons promptly relaxed, the female reaching out to shake Twilight’s hoof.

“Thank you, Princess Twilight. When Stabby and I heard that you lived in a library, we rushed right over, didn’t we?”

“Yes indeed, Dawn.” The smaller male griffon pulled a sheet of paper out and handed it over to Twilight, who picked it up in her magical field with no small hesitation. “We fell so far behind in our studies in the Academy that we were worried that we might be kicked out. That really worried us, didn’t it Dawn?”

“You aren’t kidding, Stabby. But when we were talking about it in class one night, somepony told us that we could get permission to skip out for one semester if we wanted to catch up on our studies. Well, since we both were so far ahead in the rest of our training—”

“Particularly sparring.” The male griffon nodded so enthusiastically that the little pom-poms of fluff on the top of his head bobbed in a nearly hypnotic pattern. “Sparring with ponies is fun.” His nodding slowed slightly as he added, “Except for one of them.”

“But studying is where we were falling behind, and we asked, ‘If we were to take off for one semester to catch up on our studying, where could we go?’ Well, one of our teachers—”

“Definitely a teacher,” agreed the male griffon. “Not a princess.”

“—suggested that we find a place with all the books we would need to be studying for class, but without the distraction of a bunch of guards to spar with.”

“Break a few dozen noses and the teachers get so peeved,” said the male griffon.

“And we thought about going to the Crystal Empire—”

“Except the books would be about a thousand years out of date.”

“And the other libraries don’t have the range of books that Ponyville has.”

“So in a totally spontaneous, completely unrehearsed fashion we came here so we can do some studying in a nice, quiet town, far away from the trouble and distractions of Canterlot.” Both griffons sat on the library steps with such intense expressions of pure innocence and bliss that Twilight was fairly sure they had once crusaded for whatever the Griffon equivalent of cutie marks were in their home town. Or nest. Or whatever.

“I’d like to help, but—” Twilight glanced at the list “—I don’t think we have a copy of Equestrian Military Expeditions of the Third Era anywhere in the library.

“I’ve got it,” called out Spike from inside the library, the pitter-patter of fast moving dragon behind her coming to a halt. “It came in yesterday’s shipment and I filed it under History. What else?”

“Aerial Combat by Wing Splice, now that one I’m sure—”

“Found it! A little dust, but—”

“Spike!” Her eyes roamed down the sheet until she came to a line. “Ah, HA! I know we don’t have a copy of Manderhoofen’s Chronicle of the Thousand-Hoof March”

“It’s in the box that Green Grass was planning on returning to his father’s library in Canterlot, but he said we could use anything out of there. Come on in, guys. I’ll see if I can find you a couple of cushions.” Twilight fumed silently as the two griffons trooped by, each giving her a respectful bob of the head and a ruffle of wing feathers as they passed. Once they had been seated, their Canterlot Library Cards dutifully entered into the Ponyville register, and a collection of their reading list arranged within easy reach, she turned on Miss Grace.

“I thought you said Princess Celestia and Princess Luna agreed not to send anypony to guard me.”

“True,” said the unicorn mare, checking out her two books and putting them in her bag. “And, as promised, you don’t have anypony guarding you.”

“No pony at all,” agreed Stabby, lifting his beak over the top of his book.

“And certainly not guards yet,” said Dawn in almost exactly the same pose. “Cadet members of the Royal Guard, on indefinite training leave. Of course, we’re sworn to protect the Princesses of Equestria. We took that oath before the class started.”

“And it’s still in force,” said Stabby. “We’re the first griffons in the Royal Guard Academy. We mate for life, we take oaths for life, and we don’t take either lightly. You’re going to need somegriffon around once that newspaper headline hits the streets. We already caught a newspaper reporter trying to sneak into the library. She’s tied up outside.”

“What newspaper headline? What reporter? And where’s Crosswind? She should have been here before the rest of you showed up.” Twilight glared at the suddenly guilty-looking griffons.

“Sky-blue pegasus mare?” said Dawn. “Dark blue tail with a white stripe down it a little like a skunk, and a red cross for a cutie mark?”

“She bites,” said Stabby, displaying a light scuff on his forearm.

Miss Grace pressed a hoof against her forehead and breathed in and out for a moment. “Cadets, will you please go release Twilight Sparkle’s appointment secretary while I brief her on today’s news.”

Grace’s green magic floated a newspaper over to Twilight Sparkle and unfolded it. The headline of ‘PRINCESS SPARKLE’S SECRET ENGAGEMENT REVEALED’ blared out in such huge letters that there was barely space on the front page for the photographs of Green Grass and ‘Twilight Sparkle’ formalizing their engagement in the middle of the changeling invasion.

“I would suggest that your sole conversation with any member of the press for the next few weeks be composed of two words,” said Miss Grace. “No Comment.”

Dear Princess Celestia,
Please roll this letter up and smack your sister and Green Grass on the back of the head.

Their explanation had better be good.

Your student fellow Princess,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S. On second thought, use the weekend edition of the Canterlot Times instead. It’s thicker.

Chapter 10 - Out Of The Frying Pan

The inside of the Ponyville Golden Oak library was a flurry of activity with blurs of motion traveling in all directions at rapid speed. Twilight Sparkle and Green Grass stood in the eye of the virtual hurricane, unable to move in any direction without being clocked by a flying mascara bottle or lip gloss while Rarity worked on a nervous breakdown that was truly epic in scale.

“This is terrible! I just can’t decide which shade of lipstick goes better with both of your outfits, Twilight! The Ruby Red goes perfectly with your dress highlighting, but the Passionate Pink really makes the highlighting on Green Grass’ collar pop when you’re together. Or maybe your Tango Tangerine rogue should be lightened up a shade, but that would — Oh, no! Greenie’s collar is the wrong shade of green in this lighting! I never should have volunteered for this; I’ll never be ready before Photo Finish—”

“I, Photo Finish, haff arrived!” The front door of the library slammed open and a familiar earth pony strode inside, ignoring the way the circling halo of beauty products all zipped away from Twilight while leaving the prospective bride’s lips pink on the top and red on the bottom. “Please hold applause, time we do not haff!” A dozen other ponies promptly trailed in behind the famous photographer, spreading out to deposit a tripod-equipped camera and lights around the periphery of the library lobby while several others zeroed in on the groom and bride-to-be.

“Good morning, Princess Sparkle,” said the young mare who seemed to paying special attention to her mane and the top of her head instead of looking in her eyes like normal ponies did during a conversation. “Looks like you’re just about ready to get started this morning. We’ll just tease your tips a bit and get some duller on that glossy spot and we’ll be ready to shoot.”

“Thank you, Miss Powder Rouge. Greenie and I are glad to help out in this photo shoot as much as possible. We want it to look perfect just as much as you.”

The makeup pony blinked, glancing down from the tips of Twilight’s mane to look her in the eye. “Princess Sparkle? You know my name?”

“Of course we do.” Twilight left out the part about Green Grass having gotten a list of everypony on Photo Finish’s crew and making a set of flash cards for her. It did not seem like it would help with the conversation, and sounded a little like stalking even though it was something that Princess Celestia seemed able to do at will. “Rarity says you’re an artist with the makeup brush, but I’m afraid I don’t leave you much to work with. Mom always said our family is cursed with low cheekbones.”

“Why…” Powder Rogue took a step back and another look at Twilight. “No, you’re wrong. Those cheekbones are just fabulous and I think I have just the accent to bring them out in the session. Just hold still, Princess, and we’ll make you look picture-perfect.”

As requested, Twilight held herself as still as possible while Powder applied herself to the impossible task of making a librarian into a princess, although it was difficult to keep from laughing as she watched Stella and Roxie struggle with Green Grass’ dress jacket. Rarity had spent hours with him trapped in the boutique working on every little seam and crease of that jacket to the point where the growing frustration was threatening to spill over onto Spike. She was even less happy about that, because where Rarity tended towards gourmet chocolates to combat stress, Spike had significantly more expensive tastes.

Still, despite being told just where to stand and how to look for hours on end — which seemed to be an ominous foreshadowing of her role as a princess — the photography session rolled right along, even with the unusual break for lunch. Rarity and Fluttershy had both told her how Photo Finish was a complete tyrant with regards to scheduling, and that Twilight was going to have to put her full Royal Hoof down in order to get enough time for a quick sandwich, but the moment Twilight had asked for a break, the photographer had switched modes from tyrant to mothering without even a pause. Minutes later, she had been tucked onto a comfortable cushion, various minions had been sent on trips to bring back all kinds of wholesome foods full of valuable nutrients (when all she could really think of was a double-hayburger with cheese, extra pickles, and an Ursa-sized order of hayfries) while Photo Finish pulled out a photo album stuffed with pictures of every one of her grandchildren and relatives in their infant glories, some of which even had their own little toy cameras and lights.

Then lunch was over, and ‘The Magics’ began again, with pictures of the newest Royal Couple in the natural environment of their ‘home town’ in all of its rustic glory, although Twilight was quite sure that the amount of paint and varnish that had recently been expended within a mile of the library had stripped the shelves of Hay’s Hardware Store down to the bare wood. Even the bushes and trees looked suspiciously green and brown today, but a quick inspection showed the colors to be the result of earth pony magic, not paint. The very last picture was taken in the late afternoon at the fresh “Welcome to Ponyville - Home of Princess Twilight Sparkle” sign at the edge of town, and Greenie had insisted on adding “And Prince Consort Green Grass” in tiny letters at the bottom in pencil right after the shutter was snapped.

Or at least that was supposed to be the last picture, because she could have sworn she heard the shutter click again while Green Grass was down on his knees with his rump in the air and a pencil in his teeth, writing on the bottom of the sign.

It was probably just a figment of her imagination.

Once the photographers were on their way back to Canterlot and both Twilight and Green Grass had shed their outfits, they took Spike with them for an afternoon meeting at Sugar Cube Corner (with an emergency double-hayburger and fries detour). Pinkie Pie was ecstatic, of course, and insisted on all of the details from the event, while Crosswind and Papercut were both still a little irritated about being told to ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ like some sort of pets while the photography was ongoing.

“Finally,” huffed Crosswind. “Can I fly back to Canterlot now? One more crossword puzzle question and I’ll go loopy.”

“Challenging sweetheart heartlessly action ends with—” began Papercut before being cut off by Twilight Sparkle.

“Daring Do. And crossword puzzles are a wonderful way to start out the morning.” She peeked over Papercut’s shoulder as he penciled the answer into the little boxes. “Still, I can’t believe you two spent this whole beautiful day doing nothing but sitting around with the crosswords and reading.” She tilted up the cover of Crosswind’s book and read the title off the spine. “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition. I love that book.”

“Don’t spoil the ending,” said Green Grass. “I’m not done with the library copy yet.”

“Only because you use it to hide behind when reading Spike’s comic books,” said Twilight. “As much as I’d love to just sit and work on my reading backlog with everypony today, I wanted to catch up on something important we all skipped this morning.”

Both Papercut and Crosswind looked up with a start.

Five Minutes Later

Four sweaty ponies trotted at a brisk clip down the road on the way towards Sweet Apple Acres, the prospective Royal Couple in the center being flanked by a pegasus on one side and a unicorn on the other. Spike had exchanged his normal position on top of Twilight’s back for a perch on Green Grass’ somewhat broader shoulders, handing down papers from his portfolio as Twilight requested them.

“So if we use Nasturtiums as the accent flower like Rarity suggested — Thank you, Spike, for talking with her about that — we can cut the number of trellises by four and bring the processional over to—” Twilight took the chart that a panting Crosswind pulled out of her saddle bags while trotting alongside and held it in front of Green Grass. There were detailed lines and arcs showing pony placement in little labelled tags along with fire lanes, emergency crew access, and one translator for the hearing impaired. “—over to the south just a little, but it will let us have a dozen more ponies in the wedding audience. How does that look, Greenie?”

“Hm.” Green Grass cocked his head slightly to look at the diagram while trotting. “I’ll have to cross-check it with Fancy Pants, but I think we should open the interval spacing up a little instead to give everypony a little more breathing room. It is summer, after all, and we don’t want the Royals getting all sweaty out on the grass. Isn’t that right, Papercut?”

“Slow… down… dying… help!”

Princess Celestia was well-known for conducting politics, business and casual conversation simultaneously. More than one Royal had accepted an invitation to meet with the Princess at an event only to find they had been outmaneuvered in some complex political calculation before they even managed to open their mouth. Still, she had a flair for the sport with such a practiced edge that no Royal ever turned down an invitation, even if they knew beyond a doubt just what was in store for them, because even in the middle of their shattered dreams and broken schemes, watching the Princess of the Sun shine in her natural element was a privilege they would tell their grandchildren about for years to come.

Green Grass was fully aware of his future Teacher-In-Law’s proclivities, having been the rather reluctant target of her wit on several occasions and finding the experience quite instructive. As a tutor, he was supposed to teach instead of finding himself being taught, but nopony could spend more than a few minutes in the presence of Princess Celestia without becoming a little more than they were before.

Except Blueblood, perhaps.

It had started during a quiet Princess-Groom talk regarding small trivia about the wedding over a cup of tea, which Green Grass was sipping with growing skill. Over the last few weeks, he had gotten considerable practice with the Art of Tea while attending countless teas and social gatherings with elderly mares who wanted input into the wedding process. It had been a fine line to trot between both Twilight’s wishes and his own, pitted against those of the Royals, but Celestia’s network of ‘Close Tea Friends’ had centuries of combined experience, making that fine line seem like a wide road with gravel sidings and giant marked signs.

Something seemed to be bothering the Princess of the Sun this morning, and after a few brief questions about the photo shoot yesterday and a few foal naming suggestions, she stood up abruptly and left the room, calling back, “Walk with me.”

There was even something about Celestia’s long, casual stride that was relaxing, although anypony she would talk to during a ‘walk’ was at least trotting, if not at a brisk canter. The busy halls of the castle tended to open up before her, with ponies backing out of the way to smile and nod at their princess as she passed, and then switch to guarded looks at Green Grass that veiled their actual feelings. He had been tempted to wear a sign that said ‘Stomp if you approve of me marrying Twilight’ except for the indignity of it all, and the knowledge that the resulting silence would be all the more accusatory in his wake.

They turned a corner and swept into a large, colorful hallway, where Celestia limited her pace to match Green Grass’ respectful slow stride. The brilliant sparkle of cut glass in every shade of the rainbow and then some distributed the morning sun around the hall in a dazzling counterpoint to the subjects portrayed in each stained glass window. It was one of his favorite places in the castle to go with Twilight, and he remembered teasing her on their last visit together. Every important event in her life had been immortalized in a window so far, and he was half-expecting to see a few workponies engaged in the process of making a window to be titled ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle in Labor.’ Or worse, the conception.

The empty hallway echoed back their steps as they walked until Celestia spoke in a very soft voice. “This is your last chance to back out of the wedding.”

He scoffed in return, trying not to wince at the sound his voice made echoing through the open space. “I had my chance to back away just a few weeks after we met. It didn’t work out well. I think we’re pretty much saddled with each other. Besides, I can’t think of one reason why I would want to run away this time.”

“The Royal Houses may never accept you as Prince Consort to Twilight.” Celestia gave him a telling glance. “Without a horn or wings, of course.”

He could not keep from giggling despite the solemnity of the surroundings. “Then Twilight and I shall teach them acceptance.”

“What if they do not learn?”

Memories of his students slowed his walk to a stop. “Then we will teach their children and their grandchildren, until they do learn. It is my special talent, after all.”

“I thought your special talent was teaching young unicorns how to use their first magic?”

“True.” Green Grass began walking again to catch up with Celestia, taking his place at her side in the same way somepony he was very familiar with once did. “Your Highness, can you think of anything more special than teaching a young and promising mind something that will change their life for the better?”

Celestia paused for a moment. “No. I can’t.” She stopped to pat Green Grass on the shoulder. “You’ve grown a lot since you were that young colt leaping around my school testing room, pointing at your flank and grinning. Your future with my former student shall only become more difficult with time. There will be many tests.”

Green Grass responded instantly, “We’ll pass them.”

“Considerable homework,” added Celestia.

“Twilight will be overjoyed.”

Celestia smiled from his attempt at humor, but did not laugh. “Raising a child can be thankless pain with few rewards. Many of them turn out to be obstinate little brats who do not listen to their parents.”

Realization about what the princess was alluding to crashed in around him. After fighting a scowl and losing, he turned to her and tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. “You’ve been talking to my father again, haven’t you?” Silence was his only response, other than Celestia’s constant tranquil expression that indicated she was willing to stand there however many hours or years it took until she received the correct answer from him. Finally, unable to take the silence, he looked back down the hallway and muttered, “I’ll go apologize to him.”

“Insufficient.”

He wanted to whip around and snap a response, but common sense tempered his words to a growled, “What, do you want me to go crawling back to him on my knees and thank him for trying to ruin my life?”

Celestia’s benevolent expression did not change one iota. “I expect you to respect him, as you are to respect all of your elders.”

After a long and thoughtful pause that included consideration of just what level of disrespect he was paying to who, Green Grass glared at the floor and grumbled, “I’ll get my kneepads.”

Celestia’s voice was quite clear. “Neither I nor my sister shall marry you two until you have reconciled properly with your father.”

The granite floor was proving fascinating to Green Grass in the way the little cracks and crevices sparkled in the brilliant sunshine. Unfortunately, no matter how he twisted or slumped, the gloss of a fine coat of floor wax kept the reflection of Princess Celestia in front of him. Finally, he looked up with a final appeal. “Can’t I just get some impossible labors instead? Cleaning the Augean Barracks? Slaying some fierce and undefeatable monster? Reforming the tax code?”

The faintest of smiles curled the edges of Celestia’s lips. “I can send Luna with you, if you wish.”

“No!” Green Grass hopped up off the floor like it had become white-hot. “No, don’t worry your sister about this. I’ve got it. I’ll go talk to my father.”

“With your father.”

He cast a puzzled look at Celestia before the difference soaked in. “Oh. Yeah. We’ve talked to each other for years.” Green Grass looked back at the floor. “What am I supposed to say to him?”

“What else could you say to a close family member with whom you have argued and become estranged from for such a long time?”

“Like you know anything about—” Green Grass paused, ever so slowly looking up from the floor to Princess Celestia and the large stained glass window behind her that showed the story of Nightmare Moon.

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “That’s a good place to start. Try repeating it a lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

Martel Chandler, fifteenth Baron of Chrysanthemum, looked at his son quizzically before picking up his tea from Green Grass’s outstretched hoof.

“That’s fine, boy. An extra sugar cube won’t kill your old stallion.” He stirred the sugar into the dark tea with his spoon, casting the occasional sideways glance at where Green Grass was still wrestling with the tea set. The Prench press the family had used for years was getting a little loose in the metal joints for an earth pony to properly manipulate, but through sheer determination, his son managed with teeth and hooves what seemed so simple to his magic.

Martel had not really realized until today that the disability that he and his wife had considered his son to be laboring under was actually a difference, a point that soaked in rather abruptly when Greenie had come staggering in the front door with a large bundle of books on his back. “Here, son. Let me get that.” had turned into “Oh, heavens! Are there anvils in here?” when Martel had attempted to pick up the books with his magic, eventually settling for a little under a third of the pile and still working up a fierce sweat as he followed his unusually silent son into the library to put them back on the proper shelves. It seemed as good an opportunity as any to talk with his son before the upcoming wedding — provided the Father of the Groom was going to get an invitation — and a few quiet comments to the servants got the tea service set up on a library table before they were done reshelving. The package of chocolate biscuits in the center of the table seemed a little too much like a chunk of cheese on a trap, but with as little contact as Green Grass had with his parents ever since the last monumental failure of a fiancé, the baron had almost been tempted to actually employ some sort of physical trap if it would just leave him a few minutes to speak with his son before becoming Prince Consort Green Grass and vanishing from their lives forever. He snuck an extra tea biscuit while Greenie finished prying on the press to fill his own cup, giving a sigh when his son finally sat down at on the padded cushion opposite his own.

There was a long period of silence that filled the library, reminiscent of so many of their previous arguments. His wife had always been a restraining factor in their disputes, and their previous attempts to find a proper mate for their obstinate child had all been quite a trial on her delicate physique. Where most family arguments typically involved screaming and threats, arguing with Greenie in that fashion would have been like beating a puppy. He had always seemed so fragile, just like his mother. Without a horn on his head, and despite his early-acquired habit of wearing a hat to camouflage his deficiency, he was so out of place among their friends and family. As a colt, he would just cringe when shouted at, and had been horribly picked on at school. Finding a proper mate for him and setting him up in a stable household of his own seemed like such a right idea when he became of age, but after their first two arranged marriage attempts, he had retreated so far away from them that they had become desperate enough to try one last monumentally stupid matchmaking effort that had failed in a much quieter fashion. If Lady Bee Tress’ laugh was not counted.

And now he was marrying a princess.

That same awkward colt who had been so timid and vulnerable as a foal was going to be Prince Consort Green Grass, Lord of Whatever Titles They Would Give Him, although he hoped Princess Celestia would temper his odd sense of humor when it came to naming or he would be something like Lord of the Naked Noggin and Baron of the Belly Flop.

As if the thought of Celestia had triggered it, Martel took another look at his son and shook his greying head. “So, Greenie. How did your meeting with Princess Celestia go?”

Green Grass looked up from his silent contemplation of his cooling tea. “How did you know I talked with Celestia? I mean Princess Celestia.”

A low snort escaped as he took a sip of the dark tea. “I met Princess Celestia personally once in my life before you started dating Twilight. Since then, I’ve met her and her sister dozens of times, and I’m starting to recognize the symptoms of close exposure. So…” Martel sat his tea down on the low table and tried to settle his nerves. It was a question that had to be asked, and he was afraid of getting the answer he so justly deserved. Still, it would be better to get it over with now in the privacy of the library instead of in public later. He mustered his courage and swallowed some dry biscuit crumbs before asking, “Are you going to invite your mother and myself to the wedding?”

“What?” Green Grass jerked so violently that tea sloshed out of his cup, drenching one cuff of his formal suit jacket. “Of course you’re both invited! What kind of… I mean… Yes, dad.” He sat the cup down on the table and dabbed at his damp sleeve with a napkin before adding, “I mean somepony needs to write the check for the caterer.”

It took two blinks before Martel recognized Greenie’s instinctive attempt to divert attention away from a sensitive topic with a joke, and the sly grin that crept onto his son’s face only confirmed it. Officially, he had always chided his son for taking serious things so casually, but behind his stern frown, the baron always fought back a chuckle. It always reminded him of how his own father, Evergreen, had always been a serious stick-in-the-mud no matter how much Martel had engaged in the often-futile attempt to make him break up and laugh for a change.

“Your mother and I would have to live in a tent in the park if we tried covering this circus. In fact, there are already tents in the park being set up. I suppose we could use one of those.” He tapped his chin with one hoof before adding, “Naaa, we can just go live with our son in Ponyville. Add another branch or two to the old library tree and there will be plenty of room. We can even bring some more books for your wife.”

Watching the mix of emotions that flowed over Greenie’s face was priceless, although there was a familiar quiet wariness that crept back once the chuckling had subsided. The baron allowed his son the time to settle himself back onto his slightly-damp cushion and pick up his tea again before attempting to nudge the subdued conversation along. “Son. I know you didn’t come here just to drink tea.”

“Ginger-peach black tea,” said Green Grass, taking a sip. “My favorite.”

“Actually it’s chai,” said the baron. “I’m trying something new and you’re trying to change the subject.”

“I am not.” Green Grass took another sip. “I love this tea.”

“Greenie, just tell me what you want.” The words slipped out without thinking, and Martel was rather taken aback by the irate twitch that seemed to ripple from his son’s ears down to his tail, but not as shocked as the next words he said, spoken in a low growl that he obviously did not expect to be heard.

“Now you ask.”

An indignant response was almost out of Martel’s mouth by the time he stopped, taking a moment to breathe a few deep breaths and sit back down at the table. Somehow his cup of tea had gotten spilled in the momentary loss of control, and the time he spent with a few napkins cleaning it up and refiling allowed Green Grass to settle back into his normal sullen expression, a sure indication that any attempt at serious conversation with his annoying son would be futile for a few more hours.

Still, he had to try.

“I’m sorry too, son.” Green Grass did not move in response, but continued to stare at his teacup as if it had done something horrible to him. “Is that what you want to hear? Because it’s true. I’m sorry for trying to push you into the family business. I’m sorry for pushing you into those horrible marriages. We only wanted what was best for you.”

“Don’t you mean for you?” His son turned the teacup slightly, making a wave slosh back and forth across the surface as he talked. “Every time I tried to make it on my own, you and mom did everything you could to hold me back. I know you were just trying to protect me, but—”

“But what are you going to do when your son or daughter grows up and heads out into the big dangerous world full of things that could eat him up and not even burp?” said Martel, looking down at the table.

Green Grass started to respond and trailed off with a choked cough. After a few moments of indecision, he asked, “Did you have this same discussion with grandfather?”

“Not exactly.” Martel Chandler sat back down on his cushion and picked up his cooling teacup. “I was the eldest, and heir to the family title. It was expected that I go out and learn the family business, meet our customers and suppliers, travel to exotic foreign lands with your grandfather and learn how to deal with their exotic customs. By the way, if you ever happen to travel to the Griffon lands, don’t let them serve you fish. It’s terrible.”

“Depends on how it’s prepared,” said Green Grass with a distracted look over his shoulder at the sound of a familiar small yappy dog. Cricket’s shrill barking continued in a constant stream, growing louder and more annoying every second. “Did somepony just come into the house?”

A faint tapping on the library door preceded the appearance of Friday Haystings, his topaz eyes seeming troubled as he peeked into their private meeting. For some strange reason, he was looking at Greenie instead of Martel, and his words explained the mystery in short order.

“Prince Blueblood is here to see Lord Green Grass and Baron Chrysanthemum, sir. Are you accepting visitors this afternoon?”

“Of course he is.” Blueblood brushed up against the elderly servant as he strode into the room, making Friday stumble against the doorframe and fall to his knees. It took Friday a moment to pick himself up off the floor, but after a glance at his two employers, and a gentle hoof to nudge Cricket out of the room, he left without another word.

Martel Chandler rose to his hooves first and got out in front of his son before the young troublemaker could put a hoof in his mouth. “Good afternoon, Prince Blueblood. What might I ask brings you to our humble home this fine day?”

“A fairly minor detail, sir.” The prince paused as one of the servants briskly brought out another cushion and slipped it in front of their table. After a scathing look from the prince led to a soft dusting of the spotless cushion, Blueblood settled into place and turned down a cup of tea, waiting pointedly until the servant excused herself and left the room.

“Better.” Prince Blueblood turned his attention to Martel, obviously irritated at the presence of a larger pony between him and Greenie. “But still not good enough. I wish to have a private word with your son.”

“No.” It felt a little weird to be facing down the prince in this way after trying for so many years to curry favor with any Royal who would listen to him, but Martel drew a little confidence from the presence of Greenie behind him. The baron had only dealt directly with the royal ponce once, but he had talked to enough of his peers to realize that Blueblood may have been an opinionated twit, but he was easily distracted by his temper when things did not go the way he wanted.

“Very well. The consequences will be on you as well. Sit.” Blueblood gestured at their cushions and after a few moments of resistance, both Martel and his son settled down, although with little relaxation.

“Your Highness, I presume your visit has something to do with my son’s upcoming wedding to Princess Twilight Sparkle—” began Martel, cutting off abruptly at Blueblood’s sudden scowl as he slammed a hoof down on the table.

“There will be no marriage between the princess and—” Blueblood’s eyes shifted slightly to glance at Greenie “—that thing.”

“My son,” began Martel, “is a scion of House Chrysanthemum, and as such is a viable candidate for matrimony with any of the Royals including Princess Twilight Sparkle. As I recall, you made no protests yourself when Shining Armor married Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, or when that rather scandalous false story came out last year that implied that Greenie was to wed Princess Celestia. If you had no objection to Shining Armor as a cousin, or my son as your prospective uncle, why would you protest his marriage to the beautiful Princess Sparkle?”

“That newspaper story was my aunt’s sick joke!” spluttered Blueblood, slamming a hoof down on the antique table again hard enough to leave an imprint on the cherrywood top.

Before Greenie could step in with some jibe about ‘his nephew, Blueblood,’ Martel pressed his argument. “Two years ago, before my son had even met Princess Celestia’s student, you had an opportunity to escort her to the premier event in Canterlot society at the Grand Galloping Gala. If you had wished to press forward with your suit at that time, there was nothing in your way. As I recall, you wound up escorting the bearer of the Element of Generosity at the event. How did that work out for you, My Prince?”

A muscle twitched in the prince’s cheek as he glowered. “You know well and good how that went.”

“Yes.” Martel nodded. “I believe you were chased up a tapestry by a chipmunk, if I recall correctly. Then there was the year afterwards, where you did not attend at all. I presume your romantic rendezvous with Miss Butterscotch occupied all of your time that evening?”

“That is none of your business!” thundered Blueblood.

Martel Chandler merely sat and prayed that Green Grass would continue to remain uncharacteristically silent while the prince collected himself. Goading royalty into a rage-induced mistake by continuing was tempting, if not for the negative consequences of such. The rumors about Butterscotch, that is Mister Butterscotch before his operation, had been rife around the castle corridors for months now, and he was glad to have placed at least one dart into the prince’s pristine hide during the conversation, two if rumors about Miss Rarity and her threats about what would happen the next time she saw His Highness were true. Something about dull needles or hot irons, or maybe both. It was a tidbit to ask Greenie about privately when he had a chance.

“Your son should know his place,” said Blueblood, having regained most of his composure.

“Which is at Princess Sparkle’s side,” said Martel, “where they both have determined he belongs.”

“The only reason you’re supporting this farce of a marriage is because of the money it will bring you,” snapped Blueblood. “Dealing with the father-in-law of a princess will make a lot of your griffon merchant contacts very happy, and you very rich.”

Martel shook his head in a long, slow oscillation. “Actually I doubt if it will net my House a single bit. For every transaction that heads my way, there will be at least a dozen social events that I will have to fund. Not to mention the clothes. My wife seems to think it somehow morally deficient to show up at two parties in a row in the same outfit, and she has plans for a shoe closet which will take up an entire room.”

Green Grass rested a hoof on his father’s shoulder. “Dad, I’m supposed to get a royal stipend afterwards. I could set you up an allowance out of it.”

“Peasants,” sneered Blueblood. “Dirtying your hooves with filthy money. Since you will not listen to reason, I shall lower myself to speaking in a language which you recognize.”

“<Griffon, perhaps,>” squawked Green Grass in barely-accented Griffon.

“<Hush, squab,>” squawked Martel back. “<Hold back your funnyfeather for once.>”

With a cross glare, Blueblood raised a hoof and tapped his jacket pocket. “I have brought with me today a cashier's check for five million bits. Abandon your foolish pursuit of Princess Sparkle and it will be yours.”

“Are you offering Her Highness the same sum?” asked Martel quickly before his son could respond. “Because their pursuit appears to be mutual, and I don’t think five million bits could get Greenie far enough away from Twilight to escape.”

The faintest recollection of seeing a check-sized flicker of white when Prince Blueblood had plowed into an unusually clumsy Friday rose in his memory, and out of curiosity he added, “That is, if you actually brought the money, and aren’t just blowing smoke.”

“How dare you question my word! Of course I brought—” A golden glow appeared inside Blueblood’s jacket, moving back and forth a few times before the prince looked down and opened up his jacket all of the way, hoofing through the pockets and looking around the floor. “Where’s the check? What did you do with my check!”

“What check?” It was difficult to keep his expression neutral, but this was one negotiation he dared not lose. “My son and I have just been sitting here. Perhaps you dropped it. If you ever really had it in your pocket, that is.”

The prince stopped looking in his jacket and fixed Martel with a virulent stare, a possible indication that he had been pushed too far. “Nopony makes me look like a fool, baron. Persist in this foolish venture and you will find the consequences not to your liking.”

“You may try,” said Martel. “But Celestia will keep you from doing anything too blatant, and we can weather whatever else you throw at us. My ancestor started this House with an anvil and a pile of scrap metal, and if I have to go back to the family trade, I’m willing, just as long as my son is happy. Now begone with you, and do not trouble our doorstep again.”

“You have not heard the last of this,” fumed Blueblood, shoving the table away and stomping towards the door. “You’re going to regret turning down my offer, if it’s the last thing I do.” He slammed the door as he left the room, and they could trace his path through the house by the constant yapping of Cricket and distant slamming of doors until the prince had run out of doors to slam and was trotting out of the courtyard.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself and picking up his cold cup of tea to take a sip, Martel was somewhat surprised by Green Grass, who had silently sat back on his cushion and was looking into his own cold cup with a guarded expression. Finally, without looking up, he said, “I’m sorry, dad.”

“For Blueblood?” I don’t think there’s sorry enough in Equestria for that one. Cricket should have bitten him.”

“No, for dragging you into this. For all the things I did when I was growing up. The things I said. The lies I told.” Green Grass buried his nose in his tea and took a long, noisy slurp.

“Son, let me tell you something.” Martel floated his teacup back down to the table and put a hoof on each of Green Grass’ shoulders until he looked up, although his son still held his teacup in front of his lips. “I made a lot of mistakes raising you, trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole, but one thing that I can say with absolute certainty is that you turned out far, far better than Blueblood.”

His timing was perfect. Green Grass fairly spouted tea, coughing and spluttering as his father floated a few napkins over and mopped his face, even getting him to ‘blow’ by holding one of the damp napkins over his nose, which of course made the both of them break out in laughter again. Finally, the baron sat back on his cushion and grinned at his idiotic son, who was grinning back just as broadly.

“I mean that, dad. I screwed up a lot of things when dealing with you and mom. I know all you wanted to do was keep me safe, but—”

Martel held a hoof over his son’s mouth. “Your mother and I screwed up just as badly, son. Worse, even. I’ll never know why you just didn’t run for the hills that first time we set up an arranged marriage.”

“Because we’re family, dad. As much as you and mom hurt me, I knew it was out of love, and on some level, I enjoyed ‘crossing horns’ with you. At least until lately.”

“Well. I don’t want to admit it either, but I suppose, in some small way, I kind of liked ‘crossing horns’ with you too. At first.” Martel shook his head. “I can’t believe we tried to marry you off to some of those mares. I just wasn’t thinking of the daughter-in-law that I would be getting.”

“Brace yourself then, dad. You’re getting a daughter-in-law just as goofed up as your son, so you had better be prepared. And in a few months, an adorable grandfoal that will probably put us both to shame.”

“Yeah.” Martel could not help but grin much the same as his goofy son, but after a while, the smile faded away and he added, “Son, if this goes badly…”

Green Grass patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, dad. You can always sleep in the library. Downstairs. We could use a live-in foalsiter to help Spike. Just promise me one thing.” He looked his father right in the eyes, reminding him again how much of those dangerous eyes he got from his mother. “From now on, if you’re worried about me for any reason and want to help, just tell me.”

Martel raised one eyebrow. “Sounds somewhat inefficient. What about all of our parental angst and sending little presents and trying to manipulate your life from a distance. I mean we’re still your parents. Shouldn’t we be trying to meddle in every little thing?”

“Dad…”

He held his hooves up. “I give, I surrender. No more messing with your life. Unless you really need it.” He grinned at Greenie’s concerned look before continuing, ”And in that case, we shall simply forward a letter to your new wife and let her take care of it for us. Now, are we good?”

Green Grass sat down his teacup and grabbed the last chocolate biscuit. “Yeah.” He looked up after taking a bite and chewing for a moment. “There’s just one thing, dad. Which of us is going to tell mom?”

“Son, there are few things in life that can’t be handled by two brave stallions working in harness together.” Martel looked morosely at the empty plate of biscuits. “She should be back from shopping for grandfoal’s clothes soon, but before we start, we’re going to need a lot more chocolate.”

It was a fuming prince who strode into the castle hours later, only to be met by a radiant and effervescent Sun Princess who fairly danced down the staircase to give him an unexpected kiss on the forehead.

“Bluey!” exclaimed Princess Celestia, using the hated nickname with a broad smile and a giggle. “I have the most wonderful news about the wedding. We just had an anonymous donor give a cashier’s check for five million bits to Princess Twilight Sparkle’s wedding fund! It’s amazing the depths of generosity that the event is bringing out in our subjects.” Lowering her voice, Celestia whispered into Blueblood’s ear, “Rumor has it that you withdrew five million bits from your allowance just this morning, you naughty colt. I knew you had it in your heart to be this generous, but to keep it anonymous too? Why, it makes me so proud that you’re my nephew.”

After administering an additional kiss to Blueblood’s forehead, Celestia trotted down the corridor with a secret smile, leaving a stunned prince in her wake.

Chapter 11 - And Into The Mire

“Fillies and Gentlecolts, Princess Twilight Sparkle of Ponyville.”

The thunderous announcement was still rolling over the crowd gathered around the Canterlot Castle Royal Guard Assembly Yard when the shining white chariot and four Royal Guards dropped precisely onto the indicated landing spot, each wingflap in perfect synchronization.

In an almost perfectly identical aerial ballet, a group of photographers who had been circling at high-altitude for just this opportunity swept down, each collecting a stern Royal Guard who grasped their wingtip and steered the camera-laden pegasi out of controlled airspace and over to a small out-of-sight area where they could be properly admonished for their actions. One much smaller photographer rose out of the chariot and began snapping off photographs as Princess Twilight stepped out, walked down the red carpet and strode over to where a rather understated young green stallion stood waiting.

They exchanged a chaste nuzzle, which was both ‘daww’d’ and photographed by the surrounding crowd, before trotting, shoulder to shoulder in the direction of the nearby castle entrance. Behind them, two more adult ponies climbed out of the chariot and herded a busy crowd of little ponies and one small dragon in the same direction. There was something a little strange about their small charges, each wearing a fedora and trotting (or flapping) along in a straight line with one larger pony at each end, and as one, each of the observers referenced the agenda given out by the Press Secretary.

Press Conference
Arrival open to the public at the Castle Royal Guard Assembly Yard
Followed by the Royal Guard Exhibition Troop Close Order Drill Squad
Young Ponies Welcome

Agenda:
9:00 Arrival - Princess Twilight Sparkle and Entourage⁽*⁾
9:15 Close order drill
10:00 Flyover by the Wonderbolts and Cadet Rainbow Dash
10:30 Free balloons and ice cream courtesy of the Crown
11:00 Press Conference (Closed to the public)
12:00 Luncheon at the Tertiary Dining Hall (Invitation only)
3:00 Departure of Princess Twilight Sparkle with Wonderbolt escort
—
(*) Entourage includes Spike the dragon, Rarity, the Bearer of the Element of Generosity, and various members of the press from Ponyville including the award-winning Foal Free Press and their teacher, Cheerilee⁽¹⁾.
(1) She’s single.

About the time of the invention of the Printing Press, Celestia had also discovered the merits of Assigned Seating For Reporters, as well as the legal notion of Taking Somepony’s Seat Is Not Justification For Stabbing Them In The Back With A Quill. Ironically, it was the war reporters who had the most peaceful press conferences, as apparently the knowledge of just where the knife gets inserted tended to generate a sense of comradery that gossip columnists and political hacks lacked. Still, Celestia had yet to have a violence-induced fatality at a press conference in several centuries, but after a quick look out into the press room, she ordered another pair of pegamedics to be on standby, just in case.

It was a press gaggle⁽²⁾ of unusual gaggley-ness that filled the Sunrise Briefing Room this morning. The usual royal court reporters had all taken one look at the neat and tidy press release and the attached five pages of footnotes before giving their press pass for the occasion back to their newspaper for any of the social reporters to attend in their stead. After all, the regulars had considerable experience trying to outwit the Princess of the Sun and lately the Princess of the Moon too, and this was one battle they were more than happy to watch from the sidelines while calling out encouragement to their more muck-stained peers.
(2) Commonly, a group of pegasi is called a flock, a group of unicorns is called a hedgehog⁽³⁾, and a group of earth ponies is called a herd. Different groups of professions also have their own nomenclature, such as a group of singers being called a choir, and a group of soldiers being called an army. A group of reporters used to be called a mob, but after some consideration over years of experience, it was determined that a mob had more organization than reporters, so the term gaggle was used instead.
(3) Don’t ask me why, I just write footnotes.
—

Standard procedure for a Princess Press Conference included a light buffet of crackers and hors d'oeuvres for the attending reporters, prepared by the most talented in the castle kitchens and laid out in exquisite array along a low table about an hour before the conference was due to start, thus allowing the reporters to graze into a rather somnambulant state of mind before engaging in their battle of wits somewhat disarmed. There were even rare occasions where the Princess in question would stroll among the grazing reporters before the conference started, normally on days or evenings where the news to be released was either very low-key or extremely important, or on the odd occasion when there was cake in the buffet.

The present crew of reporters were well-aware of the reputation of Celestia’s kitchens, and an astonishing array of small bags, containers, and wrapping materials had been concealed on their persons for the storage of perishable snacks, including at least one large hat with an insulated section large enough to hold a watermelon. As the reporters gathered outside the door to the waiting area, the growl of hungry stomachs was a low rumble, an indication of their impatience to begin with the buffet, and then to tear apart the next item on their agenda: Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Of course, when the doors to the buffet were opened and the reporters stampeded through, a great number of their preconceived ideas were abruptly changed.

For starters, there were a large number of very small ponies already at the buffet, loading up their plates and walking them back to various tables scattered around the room. Each of the little students was proudly wearing a fedora on their head, some tilted at a jaunty angle, but all of whom had a little pasteboard card labelled ‘Press’ tucked into the headband, something that all of the older reporters could vaguely remember as having once been the unofficial uniform for a newspaper reporter.

Secondly, the buffet was considerably different than they expected, with what could only have been non-alcoholic pink punch at one end of the table being dipped out into small paper cups by a magenta-colored mare with a flowered cutie mark, and discretely large chunks of chocolate cake being served by a snow-white unicorn mare at the other end of the table.

“Come in, please,” beamed the unicorn, who the reporters gradually began to recognize as Rarity, the Bearer of the Element of something or other, as well as ‘good friend’ to Fancy Pants, the most interesting interview in Equestria, as well as the most dangerous. She gestured to the room, and a number of small white cardboard nametags sitting on the tables. “Go ahead and get a piece of cake and some punch before you sit down. The students would like to talk with you before the press conference about their little newspaper for Career Week at the school.”

Amaryllis Quotes, the reigning queen of the society page, was only slightly taken aback at the way the rest of her peers meekly put on their nametags and fell in line instead of their normal elbows-and-hooves fight for free food. Once she had a moment, as well as a slice of cake, she sidled up to the other adult pony at the punch table and whispered, “So, I understand you’re Sun Glimmer, the pony who stole the Illamantine Literary Award away from me last year with your article on Princess Twilight’s new studmuffin. Tell me, how many times did you have to sleep with him to get that story?”

“Who, me?” The happy mare smiled as she poured a paper cup half-full of punch. “Oh, no, Miss Quotes. I’m Miss Cheerilee, the Ponyville Elementary School teacher. Sun Glimmer is one of my students. She’s a big fan of your work in the Times. Oh, Sun! She’s here!” Cheerilee waved at a cute little innocent⁽⁴⁾ unicorn filly at the other end of the room, who was sitting at a table with an alert expression and a notebook.

“Here’s your punch, Miss Quotes, and I just want to tell you something before you talk to my student.” Lowering her voice and leaning forward until her nose was almost pressing against Quotes’ ear, she continued without changing her perky smile one tiny bit. “You use the word ‘studmuffin’ when talking to my sweet little student, and I will take you outside and break every one of your legs. Got it?”

Startled into almost spilling her punch, Quotes nodded and scooted away to her assigned seat as the next reporter filed in behind her for their punch.
(4) Appearances can be deceiving, particularly in regard to young Ponyville residents. Or teachers.
—

“I’m so nervous. I’m going to goof everything up. I think I’m going to be sick. What if I do such a bad job at this that Princess Celestia never lets me into another press conference ever? What if they laugh at me? What if they call you names? What if they want to know the name of the foal? Stop mocking me. Is that about it?” Green Grass finished reading off the checklist and gave it to Spike, who double-checked his work.

“Yep,” said Spike. “She’s used them all.”

“Oh, shut up you two,” grumped Twilight, still trying to get the lumps in her soft velvet dress to all flatten down at the same time. “They’re all perfectly logical worries, that I have now verbalized in order to reduce their impact on my performance this morning. See? Everything is fine.”

“Is that why you put your dress on over the top of your mane, Twilight?” asked Spike, taking a step backwards to get out of range.

“Oh, no!” The dress flung itself off her body, twisting into a new shape as Green Grass faded back and caught the flying crown in his mouth. It was a move of pure instinct to keep the Element of Magic from bouncing off the stone floor, and certainly it was only his imagination that filled his mind with just how much raw power he had gripped between his teeth, and how it suddenly seemed to taste like ozone and supernovas.

With a subdued feral growl, Twilight stuffed herself back into the dress, making sure to keep her mane outside of the folds of cloth this time, and took the crown back from her future husband without a word.

Well, one word. “There!”

“She used to have wings,” Spike remarked to Green Grass with a look around Twilight’s somewhat-bulky midsection.

“Arrrggh!” This time the crown described a high arc during the rapid clothes change, and Green Grass had to fade back to the wall to catch it. He got the distinct impression that the impassive lump of magical gold and tourmaline did not like its trips through the air, and that a third time would not be the charm, although it would probably resolve any of his worries about getting married.

“Honey, you really need to—” The crown left Green Grass’ teeth with enough velocity that he paused to check to make sure it had not taken any enamel with it.

“If you two tell me I have to relax one more time,” growled Twilight while jamming the Element back on her head.

After a quick glance over his bride-to-be revealed little more than a little dishevelment that Spike was rapidly de-sheveling with a manecomb and brush, Green Grass took a deep breath to try again, carefully not mentioning the fact that her tail was now hidden under the dress.

“No, I’m learning not to do that anymore, dear. I just want to know what is bothering you the most about this press conference. We already sat down to break the problem into every little step, and went over each of those steps in practice. If you think there’s anything else we need to practice before you go out there, tell me now.” Green Grass rested a hoof on her shoulder and waited for the inevitable verbal flood.

“Well, there was…” Twilight launched into an in-depth analysis of their press conference preparations to the moment, including the test sessions with the Foal Free Press reporter-ettes and an entire day of Featherweight flying around her in a barrage of flashes. He had been attempting to score on the reward that Green Grass had offered of five bits for every embarrassing photo of Twilight he could catch that day, and even though the practice had cost thirty bits, it had netted several ‘keep locked in the safe’ photographs and refreshed Twilight’s training from all the years she had spent at the shoulder of Princess Celestia. Those lessons on how to walk and talk among the stuffy Royals had gotten rusty in rural Ponyville, but the practice had brought them back quickly. Finally, their test interviews with the Ponyville Foal Free Press had brought out both the skills of the young interviewers and Twilight’s control at actually stopping answering a question, which was her greatest weakness.

The discussion had just gotten into tertiary press conference question possibilities when their two appointment secretaries and Fancy Pants came trotting into the green room. Twilight wasted no time in separating out her own secretary and promptly grabbed Crosswind by one hoof.

“Crosswind, thank Celestia! Did you bring my notecards? And the outline from the Office of Griffon Relations in case there are any foreign griffon reporters in the audience?”

“Twilight, relax. There are only a few local griffons in the press conference. And two Minotaurs from Minos, and a pool reporter from the Neighpon desk,” she quickly added. “Fancy Pants and I went over your notecards. Here.”

She dropped a very small stack of cards into Twilight’s hoof, which she leafed through in a panic. “Where are they? What did you do?”

“Your brilliant young assistants and I turned a stack of cards tall enough to be used as a chair into a useful set of reference cards,” said Fancy Pants. “Now we’ve checked the room, the students are all getting seated, and the conference should start in a few minutes. Just relax and be yourselves. The two of you are going to do fine.”

“Two?” Green Grass blinked and checked his schedule.

“Minor schedule change,” said Papercut, floating over a new schedule that showed both of the Royal Couple available for questions.

There was a low glitter of amusement in Papercut’s eye that Green Grass really did not like, and that practically wrote a sign on his pointy forehead stating “Ready to bail out yet, earth pony?”

“Thank you, Papercut,” said Green Grass, lowing his head in a shallow bow that concealed the deep breath he took. “Twilight and I appreciate this far more than you realize. Dear?” Turning to Twilight and extending an elbow, he nodded towards the podium. “The music is about to play. Shall we dance?”

The faintest smile fought its way to the surface under Twilight Sparkle’s tension, and the corners of her lips turned up as she returned the bow. “It would be an honor, Lord Green Grass.”

And shoulder to shoulder, the newest Royal Couple went forth to face the lions.

Watching from the wings as the press conference went on, Fancy Pants took the time to give Papercut a long evaluating look, but did not say anything until Crosswind left the room to get some water.

“May I help you, sir?” whispered Papercut, deeply disappointed at how well both young ponies were handling the considerably subdued press, particularly after one of the society reporters had used a rather detailed profanity and Miss Cheerilee had dragged him quietly out of the room by one ear. The reporter in question was standing back at his seat now much as if he did not wish to try sitting down, scribbling across the paper in repetitive lines, most likely spelling “I will not say (censored) at a press conference” a hundred times. Afterwards, the rest of the reporters fell into line almost eagerly, each unconsciously rubbing a spot on their left hoof where a ruler would have been applied to disobedient little ponies during their early years.

“What is your game, sir?” replied Fancy Pants. “You seem to be dead set against Lord Green Grass marrying our newest princess, and he seems to be just fine with keeping you on. I would have fired you for disloyalty weeks ago.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, sir.” Papercut scratched a small note on the schedule. “I am a completely loyal servant to the Princesses.”

“Princess Celestia did not assign you to Princess Sparkle,” said Fancy Pants with an introspective look. “She assigned you to the prospective prince.”

A muscle twitched in Papercut’s cheek despite himself and Fancy Pants nodded. “Ah, that explains it. I had been wondering why Princess Celestia picked you to step into Kibbitz’s sizable shoes.”

“Explains what, sir?” Papercut looked at Fancy Pants out of the corner of his eye, and found to his surprise that a broad grin had spread across the gentlestallion’s face.

“You simply must bring Greenie by the house someday, Mister Papercut,” started Fancy Pants in a sudden change of conversational direction. “I would be honored to show you the kiln out back. It is amazing how a simple lump of clay can be turned into a beautiful vase in the hooves of a master. I am only a novice at the craft, but my wife can make the clay sit up and beg. She says that half of the magic is in the potter and half in the raw materials, but I have never been able to pick out the proper clay for a pot the way she can.”

“And this has what to do with Princess Celestia’s decision to hire me?” asked Papercut, a little set back.

“Celestia transcends pottery,” said Fancy Pants, nodding out at the podium where Twilight and Green Grass were both responding to a question. “She has an eye for clay, and an amazing skill at shaping it. She has taught other ponies for thousands of years, she was Princess Twilight Sparkle’s personal teacher, and she has blessed the union of her precious student to yet another teacher. Tell me, young lad. Do you appreciate the valuable lessons he is teaching you?”

“He’s just an earth pony,” grumbled Papercut under his breath. “He can’t teach me anything.”

The formal noon luncheon filled the Tertiary Dining Hall completely to the walls with every pony who was anypony in the Canterlot social scene, or at least that is how it looked to Papercut as he observed the collection of nobility and social climbers gathered around the tables while the waitstaff hustled and bustled among them. Of course, Appointment Secretaries were not on ‘The List’ for seating, but apparently baby dragons were, as well as many diplomatic members of Equestria’s non-pony races. Princess Celestia sat regally at the head table, surrounded by other members of the potential wedding party, including curiously enough, the little ponies from the Ponyville newspaper.

They were an odd bunch of little ponies indeed. Green Grass’ record made for an interesting read, but three of the little ponies had a file twice his size. Each. They had been flower fillies at Princess Cadence and Shining Armor’s wedding, been involved in Discord’s original escape, and somehow been responsible for a twelve point rise in insurance rates for Ponyville for each of the last two years.

Which Celestia was secretly covering out of personal funds, from her entertainment budget for some reason.

It was only a short trip from the elegant dining hall, filled with Very Important Ponies, over to the dining hall filled with Not Quite That Important But Still Associated With Important Ponies. Diplomatic adjuncts, clerks, hoofstallions, manedressers, and of course, appointment secretaries still had to eat while their betters were dining with their peers, so a buffet had been set up with much less expensive but still amazingly good cuisine and a large floor filled with a mix of tables. Minotaurs and griffons mixed in relative abandon among their pony counterparts, with tables pulled together as old friends who had been separated for months or years took this brief opportunity to renew their acquaintances. Papercut took his time going through the buffet due to certain dietary goals ‘encouraged’ by his employer, but in a note of subtle rebellion, he made sure to take the smallest piece of Germane Chocolate Cake that he could find before heading out to find a seat.

“Ahh, Miss Crosswind.” Papercut gestured to an open seat next to the slim pegasus. “Might I have the pleasure of your company at lunch today?”

Crosswind looked up from her paperback book, held to the table by the pinions of one wing. “Nopony’s stopping you.” The annoying pegasus had nearly filled her tray with various high calorie fare and then emptied it down her voluminous gullet, much unlike Papercut’s neat and practical spinach salad with a sliced egg, fat-free dressing, and a half-dozen croutons. She glanced at his tray as he sat down, giving a disparaging snort before returning to her cheap romance novel.

“From your attitude, I presume you have something critical to say about my culinary selection, Miss Featherbrain?” Picking up a fork in his magic, Papercut rolled a piece of cauliflower in the dressing before eating it all in one bite. “Perhaps you would like it better if I were to eat like a pegasus,” he added, with his mouth full and dripping little flecks of cauliflower on the table.

“I don’t see how you can eat like that, Pinhead,” snapped Crosswind, slipping a bookmark in her paperback and stuffing it back in her bag. “You’re going to starve to death with the way Greenie is running you ragged every morning.”

“Four early-morning laps around the Royal Guard training grounds while discussing our daily schedule is hardly worthy of a change of diet,” he sniffed, mopping up the few bits of cauliflower that had dripped onto the table. “Lately we have been joined on our rounds by various other functionaries, including Fancy Pants, and I scarcely think they are slugging down the quantity of food that you seem to be consuming.” He cast an eye on the scattered fruit stems and banana peels that littered her tray with an additional sniff.

“You try flying any distance and see how many calories you burn,” she snapped in return, standing up and putting one sky-blue leg up on the table. “Do you see one ounce of fat on these thighs, you blithering numbskull?”

“Well, hello there.” A quite handsome unicorn stallion slipped into the nearby seat and cast an appraising glance at the proffered limb and the rather stunned pegasus to whom it belonged. “Papercut, do introduce me to your date, please.”

There was something more irritating about Green Grass’ brother today than his normal smooth mannerisms and Papercut returned a scowl to the smiling grey unicorn stallion with the perfect manestyle. Graphite’s silky-soft grey coat always contrasted so well with his milky white mane, forming gentle waves rolling down his neck. Mares seemed to have some unconscious desire to surf in those waves, and sometimes Papercut’s own grooming felt horribly inadequate next to him. At least today there was one minor imperfection that he could see as a short indigo feather peeked out just slightly from behind one ear, most probably a sexual memento left by his most recent conquest that had been overlooked by the handsome unicorn during his morning toilet.

“Lord Graphite, Crosswind is not my date. She is the personal appointment secretary to Her Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Your future sister-in-law,” he added with a scowl.

“My apologies, beautiful mare.” Graphite gently lifted the extended leg and placed a soft kiss on her hoof, which irked Papercut for some reason. “I should have known that a mare this stunning could never be attracted to such a bitter lemon as Papercut.”

“Pardon me, sir.” An elderly unicorn stallion slipped into the seat next to Papercut with a polite nod, placing his shining bowler hat on the table. “I thought I heard my name. Good day, Miss Crosswind. Allow me to apologize for Master Graphite’s forward behavior. How are Master Green Grass and Princess Twilight’s preparations for the wedding getting along?”

There was a knowing twinkle in Friday Haysting’s topaz eyes as he glanced between Crosswind and himself, and if Papercut had not known the solemn mannerisms of the elderly stallion, he would have sworn the corners of the lips on his impassive face actually turned up in a miniscule smile.

“Very well, thank you,” replied Crosswind with a nod, after reclaiming her hoof. “In their press conference this morning, Princess Twilight announced the wedding will be financed entirely by donations. It was very well received.”

“That’s not exactly new news,” said Friday, gently tapping on the hard-boiled egg that seemed to be his entire lunch other than a small glass of prune juice. “I understand the fund was put together a few days ago with a rather dramatic donation of five million bits from an unnamed source. As a matter of fact, I’ve donated a few bits to it myself. It will be good for the lad and the young princess to embark on their new life with the friendship and generosity of others.”

“Greenie got Celestia to chip in five big ones for the wedding?” asked Graphite, digging into his own salad with gusto. “I wonder if the Griffon Emperor is going to try to top that when he shows up next week.” The handsome stallion paused, brushing back a lock of his creamy white mane and swallowing as the two appointment secretaries flipped frantically through their schedules.

“Actually, sir,” said Friday, lifting the neatly bisected eggshell off his egg and placing it to one side, “Princess Celestia has yet to allocate any funding from the privy purse to the fund. Since the fund was created, there has been a veritable flood of donations from all of the generous Royals trying to out-do each other in this regard. Rumor has it there are over twelve million bits in the fund now and rising rapidly.”

“What wonderful news, sir,” snapped Papercut, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up abruptly. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to freshen up a bit.”

He walked at a rapid pace in the direction of the bathrooms, trying to conceal the ire that boiled up inside. He was not sure which was upsetting his stomach more: the new news about Emperor Ripping Claw coming to the wedding, or the way Green Grass’ brother looked at Crosswind, with his creamy white mane cascading back along his neck in a way that Papercut had never been able to manage on his own mane. It was only a short walk down a smaller hallway to the bathrooms, and his brooding kept him from noticing the measured tread of two other ponies following him, at least until Papercut opened the bathroom door and went inside.

“‘scuse me.” The hefty dull-orange earth pony who muscled past him as he entered the bathroom took a quick look under the stalls and turned to Papercut with a toothy grin that had very little friendship in it. The thug could not have been more obviously a thug if he had been carrying a sandwich sign across his back advertising the fact and his hourly rates. From his aggressive posture to a certain degree of ‘broken’ that crooked his nose just slightly to one side, he projected a degree of menace that the Royal Guard could never attain, and Papercut knew generally what he was going to say before the thug opened his square jaw and began to speak.

“Fust of ahll, you make thaht horn glow once, ahnd ah’ll feed you yo ohn teeth. We’s just gona have ourselves a little tahk about youh employah, ahn how he’s gonna back outah this here upcomin’ wedding while mah brudder ouside de door keeps dis conversation private like.” The stallion was wearing a long ‘duster’ jacket that was cut to cover his cutie mark in a style that Papercut vaguely recognized as modern-formal for the east coast, as well as a trim hat that actually looked better than Green Grass’ well-used chapeau. He made a mental note to set an appointment at a proper milliner for the twit even as the bulky stallion tilted his fedora up a little higher on his head and glowered in a way that should have been horribly intimidating, but only made Papercut snicker.

“Really? Does Prince Blueblood have any idea how I’m supposed to go about breaking them up?” Papercut paced back and forth with little clicks of his hooves on the tile in the small room, nearly ignoring the muscular earth pony. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to show Princess Sparkle what a dud she’s shacked up with. Really! How can she even think about marrying that hopeless twit, let alone give herself to him in that fashion? I don’t know how he managed to pull the wool over her eyes and get her pregnant, but that is not the behavior of a proper prince. He’s a cad, a clod, and the worst example of proper behavior. She should have kicked him out of her home, not slept with the moron!”

“Da princess is preggers?” The stallion ran one thick hoof through his mane with a puzzled look. “Ah didn’t know dat.”

“Yes, she’s pregnant,” snapped Papercut. “Where did Blueblood pick you up, anyway?”

“Brooklin,” said the heavyset stallion. “Me and my brodder was hired threw a cut-out, so we’s don’t know our employah. Ya says it’s Blueblood? The ponce with the stuck-up nose?”

“He’s not a… well, I suppose,” said Papercut with a twitch. “Go back to your employer and tell him that… tell him you leaned on me and I’ll do… what I’ve already been doing. It’s not working worth a piss though. I mean hoot.” He grimaced. “My language is going downhill from the company I’m keeping.”

“Yeahs, I know what choo mean. When we work wit dose mooks from frilly Fillydelphia, it takes weeks to git our accents back.” A thought seemed to bang around inside the stallion’s large head until his heavily-lidded eyes opened slightly wider. “Why is you so down on yo boss, da green mook? He’s some high muckety-muck unicorn in Canterlot, right? I’d tink youse would break a horn to snug up to a knob whoze marryin’ a princess, like.”

“Because he’s a stupid earth pony, you mud-brained idiot!” exploded Papercut, only to cringe back as the huge earth pony thug walked up to him with deliberate steps.

“So what’s wrong wit dat?”

The world trickled back in on Papercut in very small increments, aided by a constant beeping in the background and the faint tickle of an anesthesia spell that he remembered from the last time he had visited the dentist. Extractions hurt, and apparently so did having a rather fat earth pony stomp up and down on oneself in the bathroom. Of the two, he was not quite sure which was the most painful, because in addition to the physical pain, there was also a rather large bruise on his ego, made worse by what he was certain to see once he opened his eyes. After procrastinating as long as he could, and having a somewhat urgent need to use the facilities, Papercut cracked open one eyelid just a tiny bit to look around.

Unfortunately, he was right.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Green Grass unfolded himself from the hospital chair at the side of Papercut’s hospital bed and poured a hospital glass full of ice water from a hospital pitcher. “You’re in the hospital,” he added, completely unnecessarily. “How are you feeling?”

“Delightful,” croaked Papercut, taking a sip of the offered water while letting his employer keep hold of it. Several sips later when the room had quit swimming in circles, he hazarded a few more words. “I shall have to recommend that chiropractor to all of my friends. How far backlogged on the schedule are we, sir?”

“Currently, I am supposed to be the evening entertainment for Baroness Hoffenstrotter for a meeting of several of her female friends and associates from Bridlehaven. Twilight is subbing for me, with a half-dozen of the most serious guards available as her companions.” As Green Grass sat the glass back on the table, Papercut could see a faint tremble to his hooves, as well as the smallest amount of encrusted tears along one side of his muzzle which only made it worse.

“Sir,” he started and then paused. The urgency of ensuring Princess Twilight Sparkle was properly wed to a member of the Royals suddenly seemed rather distant, but he shook it off. He had mucked up his chance by opening his big mouth, and the only proper thing to do was obvious. “I shall be offering my resignation on the morrow. I’m certain that Princess Celestia will be able to find a suitable replacement whom you will be more comfortable with. There are at least forty to choose from. Perhaps one of them is an earth pony, like yourself.”

“Denied.” There was no humor in Green Grass’ eyes as he looked back at the stunned unicorn. “Princess Celestia did not appoint you to this position, she gave you to me. A vassal can’t resign; he’s considered to be the responsibility of his liege lord, and that responsibility can only be transferred under certain circumstances. You really should have looked at that letter.”

“That’s illegal,” breathed Papercut. “There hasn’t been vassalage in Equestria in centuries. It was outlawed right after chattel slavery. I mean, I swore an oath to her when I took my position, but I’m positive it did not include—” Papercut hesitated minutely, trying to remember the exact wording of the oath. It had been fairly archaic, with many thees and thous, but he had been far too excited at the time to examine it closely.

Green Grass shrugged. “Perhaps it’s coming back into fashion. Please note that my name was listed too. I know it’s illegal, and you know it’s illegal, and I’m pretty sure Princess Celestia knows it’s illegal, but she wrote it on the letter, and that means something.”

After a long pause, Papercut asked, “What does it mean?”

“Trouble, for certain. If she had just assigned you the position, I might have been sorely tempted to let you wander away, but this? Green Grass shrugged again. “There’s something deadly serious going on, way above either of our heads.”

“So,” started Papercut, shifting positions in the hospital bed and taking inventory of his bruises. “If we’re in over our heads, what do we do?”

“Swim like crazy,” said Green Grass promptly. “Luna taught me that you can do amazing things if you have to. Dropped me off a waterfall into a deep lake just to teach me how to swim. I think Celestia has much the same teaching technique but tends to release her students at a much higher altitude.”

“Seems a little hard on the students,” grumbled Papercut.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” asked Green Grass. “If you survive this, you’ll be able to write your own ticket anywhere.”

“I was in training to become Her Highness’ Personal Appointment Secretary,” said Papercut with an arrogant huff that was spoiled by a wince of pain. “One can scarcely endeavor to a higher office from my stratum of society.”

“Is that who you are, or just what you did?” asked Green Grass with a peculiar quirk to the corner of his mouth. “I used to think I was just a little unicorn teacher, destined to spend my life happily instructing the young in their first precious stages of magic use. I would have been content to remain there for the rest of my life until Twilight showed me who I was, instead of just what I did.”

“I still believe Her Highness’ proclivities would be best spent enlightening another member of the Royals in that fashion,” sniffed Papercut. “And do not look at me with that smirk, sir. If I am obliged to be in your service, I shall endeavor to give you my all, but even if my body happens to be a rental, my mind is still my own.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” Green Grass rifled through a saddle bag and pulled out a familiar schedule. “Now, the doctor comes around every hour to check on your condition. She’s keeping you in here for a day for observation even after you’ve been cleared of any potential complications, just in case. Your assailant put in a few good shots to your thick head.”

“I may have referred to you as a ‘stupid earth pony’ somewhere in our discussion, sir.” Papercut leaned back in the bed and tried to pick up the water glass in his magic, getting nothing but a dull throb from his horn and a sudden luch to his stomach that took a moment to die down after he quit his foolish overexertion. After a moment to regard the flimsy hospital issue plastic magic suppressor on his horn that relegated him to the same category of magic-impaired pony as his ‘owner,’ Papercut reluctantly continued, “He seemed to have taken offense when I mentioned his disability, and chastised me extensively for my insensitivity.”

“From what the doctor told me, you should be fine after a week or two. Still, no magic until the doctors approve. I can survive a few days without a personal secretary.” At Papercut’s raised eyebrow, Green Grass continued, “You have an appointment with a nice policemare who has been waiting outside your door for an opportunity to interview you about the gentlestallion who did this to you, and then once you’re released from the hospital, a few days at home recovering. You’ll be back to tagging along behind me by the end of the week.”

“Thrilling news, sir. I shall endeavor to find you a leash and collar that best fits my neck.” This time it was Green Grass’ turn to look back with a raised eyebrow, and Papercut made a wan attempt at a smile. “That was a joke, sir. I am quite well trained, and can heel without a leash.” He shifted positions and began to pull the sheets away with clumsy hooves. “However, sir, if I do not make it to the bathroom soon, you may doubt my housetraining.”

“Don’t worry, Papercut,” said Green Grass, moving to support his servant as they shuffled towards the tiny hospital bathroom. “If you make a mess, I won’t rub your nose in it. Just…”

His bathroom-bound support quit moving, and Papercut glanced over at his employer, who had taken the opportunity to rub a hoof over his eyes. “Look. I don’t want to get sappy about this, but can you please be more careful in the future? You’re my first vassal, and hopefully my last. I would very much like to see you returned to Princess Celestia in more or less perfect condition, without any more unnecessary bumps, dents or scratches.”

“I shall endeavor to remain unbroken for your convenience, sir. It would be a shame to reduce my resale value. Now, can we please make all due haste to the bathroom? I greatly fear the consequences otherwise.”

“I assure you, Miss Crosswind, I am fully able to walk myself home with the assistance of this rather impressive Royal Guard. I may not be fully recovered from my attack, but the doctor insists that I shall be more comfortable at home recovering. We do not need your help, so please be off with you.”

Papercut tried not to limp as he walked behind the alert Night Guard whose yellow eyes were continuously darting from shadow to shadow as if expecting to find an assassin lurking in them at any moment. There was something creepy about the bat-winged pegasus that made Papercut uncomfortable with the idea of him standing outside his apartment door all night, but those were Princess Luna’s orders, and if she wanted him to take her pet Nocturne out for a walk, then he was going to walk her pet Nocturne, like it or not.

I wonder what they eat?

Shaking the idea of fitting the hefty dark pegasus for a leash, Papercut turned down the small street and plodded behind his keeper through the rather plebeian section of Canterlot he called home, the streetlights keeping their clean path well-lit and mugger-free. He turned to face his unwelcome follower when they arrived at the base of the tall building that had once housed an extended family of earth pony Royals. The mansion was still there, but the family had succumbed to their baser financial instincts and subdivided it into a few dozen small but fairly comfortable and affordable rooms.

“Here, I must bid you adieu, Miss Crosswind. The owners do not permit the residents to have visitors or pets.”

Crosswind cleared her throat and cast a rather dubious look at the Night Guard, who managed a bland expression of his own indicating quite firmly that a Royal Guard did not fit into either forbidden category.

“Really,” chided Papercut. “Shoo, or I shall be forced to get a broom and chase you off the premises.”

“I’ll go, I’m going,” grumbled Crosswind while not moving a hoof. “But only under one condition.” She leaned closer and smiled. “Let me see you unlock the lobby door.”

It took a great deal of effort not to look up at his horn and the flimsy suppressor ring that had been gently attached to it. The doctor had said in no uncertain terms that Papercut was not to remove it except back at the hospital, but the actual suppressive ability of the therapeutic ring was more of a discouragement than a block. A good, solid push would have broken it like a twig, but the ring was meant more as a reminder than for any real suppression of his magic, and he sincerely doubted his ability to manage any significant magical force anyway. He scowled and reached with a clumsy hoof for the door key tucked in his top jacket pocket, fumbling around until he sat down and tried to extract it with both hooves.

And his teeth.

Getting the key out of his jacket pocket at the cost of a few popped stitches was only half of the battle, because then he had to turn his head sideways to get the key to line up with the lock which left him blind to the actual location of the hole. Several dozen jabs and pokes later, along with some subvocalized curses and threats, the key grated into the hole, but refused to turn. Nearly chewing the brass to twist the cursed thing made no difference and he took a few minutes to jiggle it, declaring premature victory when the lock rotated a quarter-turn—

—in the wrong direction.

“Invalid,” scoffed Crosswind, nudging him to the side with a bump of her warm hips and taking the key in her teeth. A few moments later, the three of them walked into the apartment lobby and she hoofed the key back over to Papercut with a disparaging snort. “So these are your digs, huh? Swanky.”

Papercut took a moment to look around the lobby, which used to be the former greeting area of the grand old mansion before it had been portioned up into apartments. He had not really taken the time before to admire the craft that had gone into the soft golden fixtures and gleaming marble, but now that she mentioned it, there was quite a bit of ‘swank’ to his building. There was even a pattern of tiles inlaid in the ceiling that depicted tile pegasi in flight, pushing around tile clouds in the blue tile sky for the undoubtedly tile earth ponies somewhere around here that would be raising tile crops.

Maybe I should cut down the dosage on my pain medication.

“No, my apartment is upstairs, top floor, north side. It even has a balcony, so any unwanted guests can fly away.” He was a little discouraged to see her reaction to the four story climb as Crosswind zipped up the staircase without even touching any of the creamy white marble steps. After a minor struggle, he tucked the outside door key away into his pocket and licked his lips afterwards as he climbed, tasting the scented lip gloss that she had left behind. There was an appeal to the scent that he could not place, and once they got to the top of the stairs, still in pain but not out of breath for a change, the scent still lingered in his nose as if he had smelled it before.

His annoying counterpart was studying one of the paintings in the hallway while he fumbled for his inside door keys, having little better luck with them and popping yet another seam in his jacket before extracting the appropriate key. With one last lick of his lips and a tilt of his head to try and remember if the key went toothy end up or down, he looked over at Crosswind and held the key out in one hoof. “If you please, mademoiselle?”

She plucked the key out of his hoof and rattled it in the lock for a moment, apparently having the same tooth up/tooth down problem as he was. To pass the time while waiting, and as an attempt to maintain his cranky reputation, he added, “And try not to get quite so much flavored lip gloss on this one.”

“Lip gloss?” she asked with a twist of her head that unlocked the door. “What do you mean?” She dropped the key back onto his hoof before he began the ordeal of trying to get it pocketed again, holding it in his own teeth and jabbing at his pocket.

“Y’know—” mumph “—Tastes like ginger or mint I think. Got it!” He licked his lips again and looked up to see Crosswind frozen in the doorway. The Night Guard, whom he had totally forgotten about up to that moment, slipped in the door the instant it opened, undoubtedly looking for hidden nests of Neighponese Ninjas or bear traps in his rugs, but Crosswind just remained standing in place with a hoof over her mouth, making little squeaky noises like some doggie toy being squeezed. Finally, she doubled over and collapsed in the doorway, rolling around on the floor and holding her gut.

Attracted by the noise, the Night Guard popped back in to take a look, shook his head, and went back to his dangerous job of assassination prevention. Papercut was seriously tempted to just step over her, except that would result in the rather intimate exposure of his private area to her sight, something which no proper gentlecolt would do to a young mare. He gave up after a short while, sighing and saying, “Please try to keep it down. Miss Waxwood lives just down the hall, and she would like nothing more than to catch me slipping some sweet young thing into my room in violation of the rules.”

The rational words did not calm Crosswind down. In fact, they seemed to trigger even larger gales of suppressed laughter, although she did manage to roll into his entry room and stick her face in the couch to muffle the noise. He followed, kicking the door closed with a quiet thump and limping over to the balcony. “Since you seem to be having such a good laugh at my expense, I’ll give you the shortened tour before you head home. Kitchenette, living room, bedroom, den, bathroom, balcony and goodbye.”

The balcony doors were nearly as difficult to unlatch as his front door, and by the time he got them opened to the night breeze, Crosswind had beckoned the guard over and whispered something in his ear that made him blush bright red.

The Nocturne coughed once into a hoof and rustled his membranous wings before nodding at Papercut. “Excuse me, sir. I think you and the rest of the residents might find it more comfortable if I were to stay out on the balcony this evening.” The bulky guard slipped past Papercut and out onto the balcony where he nearly vanished into the shadows, appearing only for a moment as he reached back and quietly closed the glass doors behind him.

“Creepy bats,” he muttered before regarding the giggling pegasus still laying sprawled out in the middle of the floor right on top of his expensive Saddle Arabian rug. “What in the sun’s name is so funny about lip gloss?”

“You don’t know?” Crosswind rolled over on her back and flapped her wings against the floor while curled up around her trim tummy, laughing too hard to speak. He averted his eyes at the display of her trim udder along with two unmentionable bits on top normally referred to as ‘pert’ in questionable fiction. If his magic had been up to snuff, he could have just thrown her out the window, a horrific crime to do to a unicorn but probably thought of as a sport to the feathered fools. Or maybe the jingling chandelier above her would just spontaneously fall, despite the sturdy construction that marked some overprotective earth pony architect.

After briefly cursing the concept of laughter, Papercut limped over to the wet bar and morosely considered the paradox of which beverage would best fit his mood but would not interact with his pills to create some unhealthy side effects. At least the bottle of white wine in the icebox from yesterday was already opened and easy enough to pop the loose cork out before pouring himself a thin layer in the bottom half of his glass, barely sufficient to get a good taste of the excellent vintage but not enough to make him see purple elephants as it mixed with the sedative he had been prescribed. One envelope of powder with the corner ripped off by his teeth dissolved neatly into the wine, and after considering the instructions on the packet, he rummaged through the bottom of the icebox for a proper cheese that would go with opiates. Perhaps a nice Mimolette, or some of the jeune Cantel along with a plate of whole grass crackers to soothe his stomach and calm his aching head.

He grasped the filled plate in his teeth, trying to figure out how to transport both the food and the wine back to his bedroom for his medicated snack before sleeping, but when he straightened up, the wine was missing.

Unfortunately, his guest was not.

“Needle-Noggin, you’ve got a funny taste in booze,” she said, sitting the empty glass back down on the bar and reaching for the bottle. “I thought the expensive stuff was supposed to taste better than the box brands.”

“You drank it?” The heaping plate of crackers and expensive cheese fell to the floor as he lunged for the empty glass and looked inside only to see a few leftover damp drops. “That had my medicine in it!”

“Oops.” Crosswind looked somewhat cross-eyed at her forehead and smirked. “I’m not going to grow a horn, am I?”

“Yes!” he snapped, grabbing for the empty medicine package and holding it down on the bar to re-read the side effects. “Crap.”

“Language!” exclaimed Crosswind, picking up the bottle and taking a swig. “You’re right. This stuff is a lot better without your medicine in it.” She straightened up abruptly and took in his panicked expression and the spilled crackers. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m serious! I’m always serious! Now shut up while I read. Maybe you’ll grow a horn after all,” he grumbled. “It might make you smarter.”

“You had a Grade 3 concussion, dufus,” she said, putting the bottle down and sticking the cork back in it. “That means no booze for you. Even though the medical scans show no intracranial hemorrhages, you were unconscious long enough that your pathophysiological state is still somewhat indeterminate. Any long-term damage to your prefrontal thaumatological membranes or the parathaumetric nerve extensions won’t show up for several days to a week or more. Besides, you’re the one with possible brain damage. Psuedoacetyl-para-aminophenol won’t really have any additional side effects in my head when mixed with alcohol except in really large doses.”

“It doesn’t?” He looked up from the empty envelope, still a little lost with the para-this and pseudo-that’s scattered around the warning text.

“That’s what my flank says,” said Crosswind with a smirk, pointing at her red cross cutie mark. “Princess Twilight went into full panic reading mode when she heard about your injuries, and I picked a lot of this up by osmosis over the last day and night. Now, stick this bottle back in your fridge—” she shoved the half-empty bottle of white wine at him in blatant disregard for its age or character “—and get a drink out that doesn’t have booze in it. Something that you’ll be comfortable drinking for the next few weeks while your tender little brain cells recover, just like your doctor ordered and you ignored. I’m going to stay here while you take your medicine, tuck you into bed, and then go get some sleep myself.”

She yawned, a deep cavernous noise that was accompanied by the popping of several vertebrae and a wide blink. Suppressing a sympathetic yawn himself, Papercut obediently got out some orange juice to take with his second packet of painkiller and plodded off to his bedroom, somewhat put out by the yawning pegasus who followed him even into the sanctum sanctorum of his most private room.

“A four-poster,” she remarked, running one hoof down one of the posts while he hesitated at the bathroom door, momentarily unwilling to leave her alone in his bedroom while brushing his teeth. “What? Are you afraid I’m going to seduce you with my ‘lip gloss?’” she snarked, running the hoof down to the mattress and letting out a low whistle. “Soft as a cirrus.”

“Thaumopedic Ultra-Soft,” he responded. “They’re actually metastabilized clouds in a sky-silk petroglyphes lining, and what do you think you’re doing?” He goggled in shock as Crosswind twisted around to put her nose close to her tail, then flopped down on the bed and spread a wing out across the satin sheets.

“Just a feather that was bothering me,” she replied with a yawn and a giggle. “Besides, I thought you liked the flavor of my ‘lip gloss.’”

“Oh, no.” He wiped his lips with the back of his hoof and stared in shock. “That’s not…”

Princess Twilight Sparkle reclined on a mound of silken pillows, running her lips gently across the feathers of one wing as a rather dingy green earth pony stallion stomped into the bedroom, trailing little bits of sand and dirt behind him as he plodded along.

“Ugh,” he grunted, looking up with dull eyes as Princess Sparkle gestured him closer.

“I’ve been waiting for you to return for ages, you filthy animal you.” She tucked her nose back in the vicinity of her tail and nuzzled for a moment before looked back at the poor slob. “Come here and give me a kiss.”

The ugly brute of an earth pony stumbled across the floor, his attention seemingly riveted by a sheen of glossy substance across her face and lips. “I cannot resist your allure, Princess Twilight Sparkle. The preening oil made by your uropygial gland has psychotropic properties that bend the minds of weak-willed earth ponies such as myself. Allow me to kiss you and then do whatever twisted sexual favors you might desire.”

“Perfect,” she purred, wrapping her wings and limbs around the hairy beast, kissing lower and lower until…

“No!” gasped Papercut, staggering back with a rather terrified glance at Crosswind’s lips. “You didn’t… There’s a… Why would… You stuck your nose up your… fundament and rubbed it on my keys!”

Instead of being angry at being discovered, Crosswind started laughing again. “You really didn’t know? Sheesh, I thought you were just playing dumb. Haven’t you ever kissed a pegasus before?”

“No! That’s disgusting!” He frantically wiped at his lips with the back of one hoof. “Isn’t there some hygienic gel or something out of a bottle you can use instead?”

“Nothing like the natural is what my mother always used to say. Heck, in Wonderbolts training, we used to have upwards of thirty pegasi in the same room all preening at once. There’s just some spots it’s too much of a pain to preen on your own, so—”

“Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!” He vanished into the bathroom and confronted the strenuous difficulties involved with manually using a toothbrush and squeezing a toothpaste tube without spraying it all over the room. Even washing his face to get every last bit of ‘lip gloss’ cleaned off was a chore, with the soap constantly squirting out from his hooves. It seemed to take forever, but after he finished cleaning up the bathroom, and then cleaning up what he messed up while trying to clean up, Papercut limped back into his bedroom and considered his beautiful bed, which had never seen the slumber of a female.

Until now.

His four-poster bed had always seemed quite sufficient in size, but Crosswind was stretched out crosswise from one corner to another with wings outstretched and legs sprawled out in a fashion that seemed aimed at touching every single speck of his high thread count sheets. At first, he thought she was just tweaking him again, intending on jumping up and making some pornographic reference to ‘lip gloss’ when he drew near, but there was a little something about her that made him quite positive she was not faking sleep.

“Sssnnnnnzzzzzrrrrkkkkk!”

There was a certain amount of soundproofing in all of the apartments, so at least the surrounding residents would not be hammering on his door wondering just why he was engaged in a construction project in the middle of the night. He considered her expansive wing-spread pose and impressive vocal volume in thoughtful contemplation for a while before retrieving one of his loose pillows as well as a spare sheet from the linen closet and heading out to the living room to curl up on the couch.

Then, after a few minutes, he limped back into his bedroom and tucked the satin sheets over the sleeping pegasus before returning to the couch for the rest of the night.

Chapter 12 - Fill In The Blank Flank

Moonlight filled the opulent bedchamber to overflowing as Papercut stirred into wakefulness, his familiar bed seeming unusually occupied this evening by a warm blue pegasus who was snuggled up to his chest. The silver moonlight only enhanced the presence of the third occupant of the room standing nearby, an elegant dark alicorn who was looking rather irritated and shaking her head.

“Princess Luna!” Papercut hesitated, unwilling to scramble naked out of bed in the presence of his sovereign while still perplexed by the presence of Crosswind tucked up against his warm side with a wing tucked over his shoulder. It took a moment to made sense of the situation and he blinked in astonishment before nodding in respect.

“Ahem. Princess Luna. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company in my dreams this evening, Your Highness?” A little tuft of Crosswind’s dark blue mane tickled his nose as he tried to sit up but remained trapped by her strong embrace. “Do you think you could…” He gestured at the dream image of Crosswind, who had increased the strength of her grip.

“This is your Dreamscape, young colt. Your surroundings and the events within spring from your own fears and desires. Still, it is not thy dream which drives me this evening, but another.” The surroundings faded away and Papercut found himself suspended apparently in mid-air, surrounded by stars in every direction.

“This way, if you please.” There was a long quiet pause while Papercut huddled in place with his eyes tightly closed. The princess’ voice was gentle in his ears, as if she were right behind him when she continued, “If you fall, we shall catch you.”

Seeing as the alternative was to stay in this place of infinite darkness with the distant stars his only companions, Papercut was left with little choice in the matter. He cracked open one eye and regarded the patient princess standing on a tiny bit of glowing fluff that seemed insufficient to hold a baby hummingbird. After putting out one trembling hoof, he wobbled to his hooves and followed behind the Princess of the Night as she trotted down a glowing path made of wispy lights.

There seemed to be something bothering the princess, from the swishy nature of her entirely distracting tail and the way she flicked her wings, giving him a mixed sensation of nervous anticipation and nervous dread that roiled his stomach. At least it kept him from looking around at the frightening fascinating scenery of this bizarre place, but the distraction abruptly turned his blood to ice as the princess stopped in front of a flat area of perfect darkness and turned to face him.

“What price did thee set upon thy honor to sell it in this fashion?” There was no humor in Luna’s face now, and she towered over him like a thunderstorm ready to strike.

Set back on his heels, Papercut stammered, “I-I took an oath to serve the Crown, Your Highness. I am a loyal servant.”

“Yet you would fain betray thy oath to thy liege and strive to place a dagger into the heart of his upcoming nuptials.”

“Ahhh, that. You see…” He paused and for one long moment considered the dark portal to the side of Luna, and its possible use for the traceless disposal of annoying castle servants. Taking a gamble that honesty might be his best bet for eventually waking up alive, he looked up into those pitiless teal eyes and said, “Lord Green Grass knows that I disapprove of his wedding to Princess Twilight Sparkle, and certainly so does Princess Celestia.”

“Why?” She cocked her head to one side and watched him as if he were some interesting insect that needed to be properly observed and cataloged before being stuck to a display with a long steel pin through the chest.

“Princess Twilight needs to wed somepony worthy of her station, not some earth pony schoolteacher.” The words just cascaded out and vanished, but the look of anger on Luna’s face did not.

“And pray tell, what deficiency do you see in Princess Twilight’s judgement?”

Papercut spluttered despite his growing fear. “He’s an earth pony. She’s an alicorn.”

“Perchance thou hast a male alicorn tucked away in one of the royal houses?” Luna leaned uncomfortably close until Papercut could feel her warm breath across his face. “Is he handsome? Does he truly appreciate my beautiful night?”

“No!” he squeaked. “She needs a unicorn stallion of proper breeding.”

Luna fluttered her eyebrows and swept one wing up to stroke across the side of his face and neck. “Not a pegasus prince of the Hurricane bloodline? You of all ponies seem to appreciate the sensual attraction of soft wings.”

“Crosswind isn’t… I mean Princess Twilight…” He stopped and tried to gather his wits, which was not helped at all when Luna began to circle around him, keeping one soft wing brushing across his back and near his tail in short, sensual strokes.

“What matter is it to thee if a mare decides to take a lover suitable to her fancy? In days of old, it was considered immoral to mate with one not of thine own tribe, but now in this modern age, it is accepted as perfectly normal. As a Princess of Equestria, we might take a lover from any of the three tribes. Would thee oppose my choice were I to decide on, let us say for example’s sake, a unicorn lover from a lower family? Perhaps one not even a Royal?”

The strangled noises that Papercut made could not possibly have been interpreted into words.

“Let us suppose,” continued Luna with an additional brush of wing up the back of his neck, “this hypothetical mate I desired was a thoughtful and considerate stallion, with an endurance able to keep up with the limitless passions of an alicorn. One young and trainable in the art of love, who has the discretion to keep his dalliance with the Princess of the Night private, and not speak of them to even his own family. Would you dare raise your voice in objection to one such as he?”

A faint whine escaped from Papercut as Luna toyed with one ear, gently running a primary feather over and inside it.

A feather of deepest indigo.

Just like the secondary feather that had been stuck in Graphite’s mane.

Green Grass’ unicorn brother.

Relief coursed through Papercut’s body in an explosive breath out, although he clamped his mouth closed before he could blurt out something horribly embarrassing. Princess Celestia had always been so discreet and polite even in her private study during the rare nights when he would take a position to the side of her writing desk and go over the more complicated schedule revisions, more like a mother and her child than ruler and ruled. The concept of ‘lust’ and ‘princess’ had been so far apart in his mind that the lewd comments exchanged by the servants during Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s wedding had shocked him to the core, even to the point of confessing his outrage to Princess Celestia afterwards.

In a very polite and discreet way, of course.

Celestia had taken his bristling sanctimony with a great deal of humor. Deciding it would be in his best interests to ‘loosen him up’ a little, she had brought Luna into the study and requested him to judge a contest between them.

A dirty joke telling contest.

Which Celestia had narrowly won.

It had been several of the most embarrassing and educational hours of his existence. He still could not watch a duck waddle across the sidewalk without blushing. Now, looking at the sly smile on the Princess of the Night’s face, he was all too aware there was a female pony behind the mental image he had crafted for each of the princesses. A female who breathed, felt, yearned, and on occasion and despite all of his preconceived notions, lusted beyond mortal measure.

Still, Green Grass? Twilight can’t really be serious about him. But they are going to have a foal in a few months. Maybe…

Taking a few breaths to calm himself down, Papercut adjusted his dress jacket while trying to ignore just how it followed him into the Dreamscape when he had been naked in bed, then turned to Princess Luna.

“I am prepared to accept the possibility that Green Grass has sufficient positive character traits that he may, in some strange way, be a marginally acceptable mate for Her Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle. I still believe both she and the Crown can do much better, though.”

“Such as Blueblood?” The enigmatic smile on her face grew slightly as Papercut twitched. “The same pony who had you beaten by a thug?”

“I…” Papercut paused before deciding again that honesty seemed to be the best way through this. “Once I expressed my honest difficulties in procuring a different spouse for Princess Twilight Sparkle, I believe the employed gentlecolt in question decided against physical motivation. Unfortunately, I called him a rather derogatory expletive at that point, and I believe his natural nature took over.”

“Ah. We shall have to see you rectify that unseemly outburst.” Princess Luna looked suspiciously smug, almost exactly the same way Celestia would look before springing a surprise, and his suspicions only grew when she turned to the featureless black portal floating in the Dreamscape and nodded, making the darkness brighten and the interior of a train sleeper car fade into view. He followed behind Luna just as if he were a dog trained to heel while she walked into the revealed train car and opened the door, gesturing him inside before following.

Sitting rather uncomfortably on one sleeper bed was the familiar dull-orange earth pony who glanced up once with nervous green eyes before returning to staring at the floor as he had been. Sitting beside him in a nearly identical position was another bulky earth pony with a short, curly blonde mane and a somewhat lighter orange coat, who did not look up, but continued to examine his hooves as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Good evening Assault. Battery,” said Princess Luna

“Good evening, Princess,” they chorused back with little enthusiasm.

“I would like you to meet Mister Papercut, Lord Green Grass’ personal appointment secretary. He has something he would like to say to you.”

Denial surged up in Papercut’s mind while looking at the two thuggish earth ponies. Even though this was just a dream, he still had his pride. And a Princess looking over his shoulder. And an earth pony for an ‘owner.’ To apologize for getting beaten would be the cherry on the top of a humiliation sundae. Still, he was a faithful servant of the Crown, and duty called for him to respond in the fashion to which he was expected. He lifted his chin, straightened his spine, and repeated the words that he had thought would never say.

“I’m sorry for calling you stupid earth ponies.”

There, I’ve said it. Now we can leave and maybe I can get some real sleep.

“Yeah,” muttered the first thug. “We’s sorry too. It’s a one ting to beats up some mook because you gots paid, but just because ya gots mouthy with me don’t mean I gotta hammer youse face into the wall. I means da boss would get real upsets wit me fer hammerin’ ya dat way, but youse bein’ a unicorn and all, I gots a little over entheusaticated.”

“Unicorn?” asked Papercut quizzically.

“Yeah, you unicorns an yer sneaky magics are cheatin’ bastards, and youse being some high muckety-mucks prime pigeon, I tot fer sure you’se gonna turn me inta a turtle or sumptin’ if’n I lets you have a second to thinks.“

“Oh.” Papercut sat stunned for a moment. “That’s a surprisingly cognisant chain of logic.”

The somewhat lighter earth pony thug nudged the first one and said in a squeaky voice, “He says you’se smarter than you looks.”

“Ugh.” The first earth pony scowled and looked towards the back of the train car. “Sure.”

“No, I mean it,” continued Papercut. “If I had been one of Celestia’s trained operatives, letting me have a fraction of a second to start casting spells would have been a fatal mistake. And the way you checked the bathroom for other patrons before you started your intimidation showed good planning skills, and of course, keeping a lookout just outside the door was a necessity. Two ponies on the operation, both relatives so you don’t have to worry about operational security, and no loose ends. Very professional.”

“Yeah, but we still gots nabbed by the Princess.” Both earth ponies raised their eyes just enough to see Princess Luna’s silver shoes. “We gots settled down fer a snooze on the ways home, and bam!”

Papercut snorted. “Better here than back at the castle. I would imagine there are quite a few upset ponies in the guard buzzing around back in Canterlot who might take out their frustrations in a form of physical release. After all, you did attack the assistant to a Princess during a diplomatic function in the castle, and got away clean. On the positive side, evidence arcanum is not admissible in the court of law, so just because Princess Luna caught you, doesn’t mean she gets to keep you.”

The rising of optimism in the earth pony thugs was matched by the rising in ire of Princess Luna, and Papercut quickly continued, “Of course, just because this dream isn’t admissible as evidence, doesn’t mean you’re going to get away. Even if Princess Luna decides to let you go, I’ve got your names, a very good look at you, and your cutie marks memorized now. Once I wake up, the additional information that I remembered since my attack will be winging its way to Manehattan within the hour, and might even beat the train there.”

He cocked an eyebrow at Princess Luna with a twitch at the corner of his cheek, and she took the cue perfectly. “Calm thyself, young Papercut. We shall discuss things with these miscreants, and see if we may find a more useful purpose to set them against rather than prison. But now that your purpose here is fulfilled, it is time for you to depart from the Dreamscape.”

A faint tapping could be heard in the distance as the scenery began to fade, and for some reason, Papercut thought that Luna’s enigmatic smile was the last thing to fade away before he could see the fuzzy light of dawn pouring through his balcony windows and casting into silhouette the one form he least wanted to see.

It would have been a peculiar sight for any early-rising unicorn in the neighborhood this morning to see a ‘Royal Coach and Four’ around the Buttercream Mansion Apartments, let alone one being pulled by four Royal Guards, and even more strange, backed up to a balcony of the mansion while the drivers hovered in the traces. It was an impressive display of stamina and masculine wingpower, which would have made the occasional gawking observer even more impressed if they had known the five-hour flight still ahead of the drivers just as soon as the last reluctant passengers had been loaded.

Green Grass tapped on the balcony door yet again, squinting against the morning glare to peek in the silvered glass in the hopes that the Night Guard who had flown home a few minutes ago had perhaps been mistaken about Crosswind remaining in Papercut’s apartment all last night. At least when Green Grass was around, they hated his round earth pony head enough to keep from nipping at each other. If they had both been together all night without somepony to distract their natural spiteful tendencies, it had probably ended in violence. With his rotten luck, one of them might have even killed the other, although there had not been any red stains on the concrete below the window this morning.

A faint rattling clunk disturbed his musing, and a considerably mussed Papercut opened the balcony door.

Well, she didn’t kill him. Oh, wait…

“Where’s Crosswind?” The slightly accusing words just spilled out of Green Grass before he could stop them, despite the nearby hovering coach containing his wife-to-be, Spike, four Royal Guards, and Fancy Pants.

Three hastily scheduled days of ‘rest’ triggered by the incident after the press conference had been hammered into their schedules by Royal Command, and with the assistance of some small number of Substitute Princess Appearances from both Celestia and Luna. The original impromptu plan had been to pick up his recovering servant and Crosswind before being flown cross-country throughout the morning for lunch at Fancy Pants’ private ski chalet in the Pericorn mountain range, conveniently close to both the Crystal Empire and the Misty Mountain Aerie. This would mix business with pleasure by allowing an official visit to the Misty Mountain griffon aerie to request permission from their new Wingmaster to have Sunny as flowerfilly (or flowergriffon) for their rapidly-approaching wedding, as well as a long-delayed trip to the Crystal Empire to officially request Shining Armor’s presence as one of the groomstallions (instead of simply sending him a note on the day of the wedding, as Twilight wanted.)

The third day had been blocked out specifically by Green Grass as ‘nothing at all and that includes visitors’ which he had been absolutely adamant in getting scheduled and knew beyond a doubt was never going to happen. The bad part was that Twilight actually giggled every time she looked at that blank section of the calendar, and had threatened to write ‘Here Be Dragoens’ across it in big letters.

Even Spike thought it was funny.

In any event, they were a half-hour late getting out of Canterlot, which meant Twilight was about three minutes from a full-fledged alicorn-level ‘I can fix this’ moment that would probably involve teleportation, alternate dimensions, and a great deal of falling from a ridiculous height, but all of that suddenly took a back seat when Papercut replied.

“She’s still sleeping in my bed.”

There was an infinite moment of silence between the last word and the realization that swept across Papercut’s normally impassive features, causing a bright alertness that could never be created with mere mortal coffee, as well as a scrambled speech center in his brain. Green Grass actually bit his own tongue to keep from responding, and the pain was well worth it as the stiff unicorn stammered on. “I mean she fell asleep in my bed last night. Without me. I was in the bathroom, washing the preening oil off my... Toothbrushing! We didn’t… We weren’t preening! Really! Well, she did drink my medication. And some wine. And she was preening afterwards, but—”

“Stop,” gasped Green Grass. “Stop while you still can.” After a few quick breaths to calm down, he continued. “Twilight and I have scheduled three days vacation in the Pericorn mountain range. You can come along if you’re feeling up to…”

Papercut’s upper lip curled as he regarded his employer’s attempts to quit snickering. After a glance at the waiting coach and the puzzled purple princess just out of earshot, a sense of duty seemed to rise up in his eyes to overcome his aching bruises, allowing him to straighten up and give a formal nod to his employer/owner. “I shall retrieve my jacket and be prepared to depart momentarily. Shall I be needing the leash?”

“Depends,” chortled Green Grass, trying to keep his voice down. “Twilight would like to bring Crosswind along. And I am not touching that line. Please pass along our invitation to your… houseguest, and we shall await you in the coach. Oh.” One green hoof swept across Green Grass’ jacket almost effortlessly and produced a small orange motion-sickness pill, which he held out to his servant. “The mountain updrafts can get nasty.”

Apparently adding this latest indignity to his list of ‘Why I Hate Green Grass,’ Papercut fumbled the pill into his own hoof and swallowed it dry before heading back to his bedroom and his unwelcome guest.

At least I can imagine I’m throwing her off the balcony, even if there is a large Royal Guard coach there to catch her.

“Good morning, young miss,” said Papercut as he swept into his bedroom, still feeling suspiciously like he should be knocking first but determined not to give Crosswind any more verbal sparring points. “Change of schedule. Our employers apparently have decided on a bit of mountain air for the next three days, so if you would be so kind as to vacate my bed without rubbing your rump on my satin sheets. Again.”

“On this short notice?” Crosswind fairly exploded out of the bed and dove into his closet head-first. “The mountains? I don’t have a thing to wear! Can I borrow a scarf? Or a toothbrush? Do you think they can swing by my apartment?”

Papercut tutted under his breath as he tried to ignore his aching muscles and the rumpled pile of sheets on his bed that were going to need laundered upon his return, possibly even dry cleaned. Instead, he stuffed bathroom toiletries into a sidesaddle bag and attempted to be as much of a gentlecolt as possible. “I shall give you one of my spare toothbrushes, still in the package, if you will please grab a few scarves out of the closet. Her Highness looked quite impatient, so I’m presuming we are already behind schedule.” The sound of rapidly retreating hoofsteps was his only reply, so Papercut heaved the bag over his back and shrugged painfully into his jacket, meeting Crosswind as he trotted over to the balcony doors.

“I got your prescription,” she said, stuffing a few packages and the scarves into her own bag. “And I raided your pantry for some snacks. Ready?”

“Thank you, Miss Crosswind. I had forgotten about my medication.” He stepped over to the balcony door and opened it up for her, allowing the pegasus to trot through before setting the latch and following.

Unfortunately, having a Royal Guard coach and royal passengers hovering outside his window had attracted attention of the very worst sort. His next door neighbor, Miss Waxwood, was standing out on her own balcony, smirking at Crosswind as if the old biddy could hardly wait to report on his amorous indiscretion to the apartment building manager, an elderly unicorn with far too little to do.

Papercut looked at the parakeet perched on Miss Waxwood’s horn and raised an eyebrow, indicating his willingness to escalate this conflict into a full-blown social war, and if he were to be evicted over his unwilling actions, she and her unauthorized pet would be right behind him.

Her primary weapon rendered moot, Miss Waxwood returned the assault with an arrogant huff and a raised nose indicative of a retrenching of her defensive position, and a great deal of upcoming gossip featuring her next-door neighbor and his winged ‘lover.’

Ignoring the old crone for a moment, Papercut helped a yawning Crosswind into the royal chariot, giving her a faux kiss on the top of the mane as she stumbled inside, and then returning Miss Waxwood’s glare with a cheery smile and an exaggerated wink to indicate that he had been turning a blind eye to the young unicorn ‘delivery pony’ who had been making regular visits to her apartment, but might consider bringing his frequent visits to the attention of the landlord in the event rumors of Papercut’s own private life became too public.

Miss Waxwood stormed back into her apartment.

Papercut turned back to the rest of the ponies in the chariot with a knowing smile, which trickled slowly away in their mutual look of bemused crogglement.

“An amazing display of position-based contextual communication, wouldn't you say so, dear?” said Green Grass, one eyebrow crooked up in an indication that his position in a unicorn family had included training in their traditional and somewhat eclectic sign language.

“He’s got a little bit of a Manehattan accent,” said Twilight with a mixed frown and raised eyebrow that signaled ‘Very cute, dear, but we need to talk later.’

“What in Hades was that?” asked Crosswind, blinking away the last of the morning crusts on her eyes.

“Unicorn position-based contextual communication, or Gesture,” said Twilight. “There are a number of variants among the Royals, because talking in Court or using spells to communicate is considered impolite. It has parallels with pegasus wing displays, only Gesture is normally not used for mating rituals or—”

“Not that winky, eyebrow-wiggling thing. That!” Crosswind pointed to the top of her mane while glaring at Papercut.

“It appears to be a tangle of some sort, possibly a knot,” said Papercut, putting his head down and digging into his sidesaddle with clumsy teeth. “I suppose you can borrow my manecomb, if you promise not to get any ‘lip gloss’ on it.”

But when he finally managed to get the comb out, Crosswind was far ahead of the chariot, flapping so vigorously that her tail lashed back and forth. The chariot drivers took that as a signal to leave, sliding the heavy carriage sideways away from the building in a perfectly smooth maneuver before turning north and ascending up to altitude behind the aggravated pegasus.

Papercut tried to ignore the other three passengers and enjoy the flight, a much smoother glide through higher air due to their long-distance destination, but all three continued to watch him as if they expected him to say something. Eventually the silence got under his bruised hide, and he looked at Green Grass with a frown. “Woof. Bark. Yip.”

“So she broke you to the dog collar that quick, eh?” quipped Green Grass.

“No! She merely visited last night to help me with household chores since that ruffian messed up my horn.” Papercut reached up and touched the medical suppressor ring to make sure it had not slipped off during the night.

“I see. And did you request her presence?”

“Ah…” Papercut paused at the looks he was getting and scowled. “No, I did not invite her up to my apartment. She volunteered.”

“Did you thank her?” asked Princess Sparkle. “I mean it would only be polite for a friend to help when you’re ill, and the least you can do is to thank her in return.”

“I… Er…” Papercut looked up at the naked pegasus with the tangled mane still flying a good distance in front of the coach. She had dumped her bag in the middle of the coach floor before taking off, and he took a moment to scoot it under one of the seats so it would not be trampled during the trip. He vaguely remembered thanking her for remembering his pills, but that had been more of a social reflex than from any real appreciation.

After a few moments of relative silence with only the wind blowing across the coach, Fancy Pants cleared his throat. “If your situations were reversed, would you have gone to Miss Crosswind’s home to assist her in any tasks with which she would have difficulty?”

“Of course… not,” he finished weakly. “I would employ a professional nurse for the job. Pressing myself upon her private residence would be a horrible imposition. Besides, we are only business associates, not close friends.”

“I see,” said Fancy Pants, brushing his moustache back a bit where the wind was blowing it sideways. “So it would only be appropriate to visit the residence of a good friend, or one who you thought was a friend of yours.” He paused, looking up at the flying pegasus mare still keeping ahead of the chariot with long, strong strokes of her wings. “Tell me, young colt, how much do you know of Pegasus Gesture?”

“Only enough to know that it seems to involve wings entirely too much.” Papercut swallowed and took the airsickness bag that Green Grass hoofed over to him. “This is not a subject I wish to discuss while we are in the air.”

“Nonetheless, it is a subject with which you apparently are in urgent need of education. I shall endeavor to be brief, as we are in mixed company. In short, pegasi are somewhat more and less direct about their amorous approaches than unicorns. More, as in they are considerably more aggressive in their touching of other ponies even if they only view them as friends, and less, as in they tend to a specific form of gentle touching for those who they wish to become somewhat more than friends. This can include ‘displaying’ around their potential mates by spreading their wings in private, kissing them on the top of the head, or even acts of mock violence.”

Twilight Sparkle abruptly spoke up. “I knew one Nocturne mare who displayed her desire for a mate by bucking him in the head. Repeatedly. I thought it was really weird too, but they’re married now and expecting their first foal. And Rainbow Dash has been ‘displaying’ for years, but I think she’s just trying to find somepony who can outfly her.”

“That’s… frightening,” said Papercut. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that she—” he pointed up in the sky where Crosswind was maintaining her speed in front of the coach “—likes me?”

Fancy Pants nodded. “She may not even be consciously aware of it now, but she’s flying just ahead and above a desired male in order to display her attributes to their fullest effect. If she were to be any more direct, she’d have to fling herself down on your bed and offer to be preened. What did you expect?”

“A letter!” huffed Papercut. “A card even. Maybe even a bit of poetry. Flowers, perhaps?”

Looking out the window with his back turned to Green Grass, he spent the rest of the trip in sullen silence, listening to Fancy Pants and Twilight Sparkle discuss a potential ski development in the Pericorn mountain range now that the Crystal Empire had emerged and the nearby Griffon aerie had undergone a relatively pony-friendly change of Wingmasters. He intentionally avoided looking up at Crosswind, and fought back a twinge of jealousy every time one of their pegasus drivers glanced in an upward direction.

It was a long, long flight.

Chapter 13 - Wake-Up Call

Twilight Sparkle loved the mountains.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Twilight Sparkle loved wherever she was when her friends were there with her. Even on this short notice, Fancy Pants had surprised her by inviting Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash to the ski chalet on the pretext of getting their input on the proposed ski development, both for their talents in weather management and wildlife management. After all, a ski slope would be a dull place without snow, and no ponies would go skiing if they were to disturb any sleeping bears in the process. And of course Rarity had to tag along, riding in a very small cart pulled by the two pegasi and having proved her dedication to her friends by enduring the mane-ruffling wind with no complaints and only packing one small bag.

Admittedly, the contents were compressed to nearly the density of lead, but it still was only one bag.

Their late lunch had segued effortlessly into a tour of the prospective development, still a little cool despite the nearness of summer but with the snow long-gone from the slopes. Fluttershy was chatting with some squirrels to see if they would be too inconvenienced by having to move off the prospective slopes, Rainbow Dash had retrieved a small leftover snowcloud and was checking the prevailing wind patterns, and Rarity was gushing happily with Fleur de Lis about plans for a winter line of ski clothes that would theoretically harmonize with the mountain environment while still being vivid enough to allow the ski patrol to find ponies who had managed to bury themselves in a snowbank. It made for a nice afternoon of quiet digestion while poking around on the overgrown trails that wound through the sharp slopes with Green Grass at her side, alone except for the two of them.

Her future husband was being unusually quiet as they climbed and descended the trails, comparing leaves and pine cones to the genus and species in the reference book she had brought along. Greenie had always complained, in a warm way, about her ability to read him like a book, and he seemed to be stuck on one of her favorite chapters this afternoon: Teaching a Simple Lesson Isn’t Working.

“Worried about Papercut?” she finally asked while sticking a leaf in her book for later drying and pressing.

“Both of them, actually. They’re a couple of puzzle pieces that I’m not sure really belong together, but I’ll be schnooked if I’m going to get between them after all the effort they’re expending to keep us apart. I think it’s the same darned thing that Princess Celestia was trying to un-teach me about my parents controlling my life coming back to bite me in the cutie mark. My whole life I’ve tried to keep other ponies from making my decisions for me, and now those two make me just want to reach out and—” Green Grass held his front two hooves apart, and then smacked them together with a popping noise from his new HighPeaks climbing shoes.

“They’re going to have to make their own decision and mistakes,” said Twilight with a smirk as she watched Green Grass’ tail twitch.

“But what if they choose wrong? Oh, fiddlesticks.” He harrumphed and kicked a pine cone down the brushy slope they had just ascended. “I’m turning into my father.”

Twilight shrugged with a shake of her head. “A rational adult head of a stable family who attends court regularly, manages the affairs of a Barony in a competent fashion and profitably enough to maintain a huge library, and who raised a rather thick-headed child in such a way that he attracted a princess for a mate. You make it sound bad.”

His only response was a low grumbling and another pine cone kicked down the slope.

“Besides,” she chided, “I rather like your family from the brief exposure I’ve had to them so far. Even your mother. ‘Nice wide hips for foals’ indeed.” Twilight twisted around a bit and bumped Green Grass with one hip. “I’m looking forward to meeting her again. I thought that was so horrid when she said it, but now it really doesn’t seem so bad.”

“Really?” Green Grass looked up from his supposed deep concentration of another pine cone’s aerodynamic suitability. “Because if Blueblood is half as much of a… well, Blueblood, then my parents may be driven out of business and become bitless. Do you think you could appreciate her as much if she were living in the same tree?”

Twilight kissed him behind one ear. “Let’s just make sure that doesn’t happen, shall we?”

Morning dawned across the mountain chalet in a dazzling display of snow-capped mountain top reflections and a colorful riot of singing birds, encouraged in their early chorus by a certain happy yellow pegasus who was flying among them and adding her own voice to their song. Twilight bounded from bed to look out the window at the morning display, trying not to laugh at the apparent entrancement of her pegasus guards at the morning display.

“S’ere’s a window open,” mumbled Green Grass, groping with a hoof from under the blankets at the curtain pulls across the room and coming up several yards short. “S’bright. Not noon yet.”

Twilight picked up a pillow in her magic and ‘thwapped’ it solidly against the Green Grass sized lump in the bed. “Silly goose. Get up. We’re going to the Crystal Empire today.”

A small bit of green nose emerged from under the blanket. “Where your brother controls the military, and could have me thrown into prison or executed?”

“Don’t be a chicken, Greenie. Shining Armor would never throw you in prison.”

“Have a nice time, dear.” The nose vanished back under the blankets, which worked just fine until Twilight yanked the covers off and stood the bed on edge with her magic.

“Do I at least get a blindfold?” said Green Grass with a yawn as he picked himself up off the floor.

Twilight Sparkle tutted quietly to herself as she grabbed a manebrush in her magic and ran it quickly through his shortened mane. “I’m sure my brother will love having you as a brother-in-law, Greenie.”

He raised one eyebrow at the rather vigorous brushing and observed the guilty expression across Twilight’s face. “You haven’t told him yet?”

“They get newspapers in the Crystal Empire,” groused Twilight. “I’m sure he knows.”

Shining Armor dragged himself through the door to the Crystal Empire Guard quarters and accepted the tall glass of frothy liquid his adjunct hooved over to him for breakfast without complaint. The complaint came after he had downed the entire contents in one long swig and a brief swear at the end.

“Good heavens, Kernite. I thought the last glass of health food stuff you made tasted like horseapples. How in heck did you manage to make this taste worse?” He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth and made a face. “I swear, there’s sand in this one.”

“Just a little gypsum, sir. It’s good for your bones and will keep you awake at work.” The rock-solid expression on the hefty crystal pony did not change a bit when Shining Armor cast him a quick glance, but a tiny flicker of a smile snuck out when his superior officer yawned while leafing through the morning orders on his desk. “Late night, sir?”

“Late night, early morning, and some inbetween.” He yawned again and took a deep drink from the carafe of coffee at his desk, not even bothering to get out a cup. “Sergeant, do you have any idea what a pain it is to see the young colt that knocked up your baby sister featured in the newspapers every day? And now he’s going to be tromping through our castle in a couple of hours, and I’m going to have to be the one to socialize with him while my sister and my wife sneak off somewhere and talk about foals.” He took another drink of coffee and snorted in disdain.

“My heart bleeds for you, sir. Married to the Alicorn of Love and trying for a foal. Must be rough.”

Shining Armor grinned in response, leafing through a few more papers.

“I’m just surprised they haven’t dropped by Ponyville to visit since the news came out,” said Green Grass. “I know they’re busy reorganizing the whole city since King Sombra was defeated, but he’s your brother. I mean after all, my brother sent…” He trailed off and thought for a moment. “Regal sent a nice letter and a donation to the wedding fund, April Showers sent me a letter and a bottle of wine with a card from her law firm. Graphite drops by every day or two so he can give me heck about taking so long to propose, and Frost sent us this really cute animated statue she enchanted that shows us kissing under a rose trellis.”

“Really?” Twilight’s ears perked straight up. “Did she use Pocketlint’s Conditional Transformation or Abeline’s Activating Aura?”

“Probably,” he responded, poking through the collection of shoes they had packed. It was a short poke, because with only three pairs of shoes, there was not much to poke at. “So do you think the Salvidore Trottè formals again or the Le Velocidad running shoes for our trip, dear?”

“The formals, of course,” she huffed, opening up the closet and pulling out a dress. “You’re not going to outrun my brother. And you had better hurry up and get dressed. We’ve only got two hours before we’re scheduled to leave, and—”

“Done,” announced Green Grass, buttoning up the last button of his new jacket.

Twilight glared at him, still pulling out accessories that went with her ‘I’m a Pretty Princess Now’ ensemble. “Sometimes, I hate you so much.”

“I love you too, dear.” They exchanged nuzzles before Green Grass turned for the door. “I’ll just go get Rarity to help you get into your outfit.”

The opening door slammed shut so quickly that Green Grass stepped backwards and ran his tongue around his mouth to make sure he had not lost a tooth. “Are you crazy?” hissed Twilight. “She just woke up. Do you have any idea how cranky she is before putting on her makeup?”

A light tapping at the door preceded Spike’s cheery voice. “She wasn’t cranky at all this morning when I got her breakfast order. I’m starting the waffles downstairs, Twilight. How many do you want?”

“Four,” she responded instantly. “And a banana-nut muffin. And some haycon. Orange juice. Three pieces of toast with marmalade. And eggs, over easy, with some hash browns. Two bowls of oatmeal with brown sugar and maple syrup, and a grapefruit on the side. And stop looking at me like that!”

“Didn’t say a word, dear.” Rolling his eyes again, Green Grass addressed the closed door. “Just a grapefruit and some toast for me, Spike. Don’t want to go flying on a full stomach.”

“Got it. Are you sure she’s eating for just two?”

Green Grass caught his prospective wife as she lunged for the door and called out, “Run, Spike! Run for your life!”

After reducing her prospective husband to a helpless giggling puddle with a quick series of tickles, Twilight poked her nose out into the hallway, returning once she had established the wisecracking dragon had made a successful getaway with the aid of his accomplice.

“Wings. Unfair. Advantage,” gasped Green Grass after Twilight added one more tickle before returning to her dressing.

“They’re an optional accessory with this model,” quipped Twilight.

“It wasn’t a complaint, dear. It was a comment. Compliment, even.”

He remained on his back, watching as Twilight wrestled with the dress, earning him an extra good-natured glare and a pouting frown before she spoke up again. “What? I thought you were going to go help Spike with breakfast.”

“I like the view from down here. Somehow I don’t think the dressing clubs⁽*⁾ that Shining Armor is probably planning on visiting during my upcoming epic bachelor party are going have this kind of view.” He dodged a throw pillow, rolling to a more strategic spot on the floor before giving a low whistle and calling out, “Put it on. Put it all on.”
(*) The Equestrian version of a strip club. Nubile young mares strut across the stage and put on clothes to the sounds of rather suggestive music while young stallions drink overpriced and oversalted drinks. Also referred to as ‘Having Socks.’
—

Twilight paused with a particularly large pillow held in her magical field and looked towards the window, where a dark shadow had fallen across the brilliant morning sunrise. “Is that the coach already? Or is Rainbow just pulling some sort of prank?”

The two of them looked out the window, squinting into the morning sun until the obstructing object leveled out and swung gracefully to park directly above the ski chalet. Nothing that large should have moved that smoothly across the sky with only a low thrum of heavy engines and the whisper of high-altitude wings to announce itself. The zeppelin was huge, far larger than any vehicle Twilight had ever seen in the air before, with a sharp yellow protrusion on the front and a pair of giant eyes painted on the sides like some gigantic bird of prey. Surrounding the vehicle were at least a hundred soaring griffons, circling at a respectful distance away from the four huge engines that drove the lighter-than-air craft. It all made Twilight feel very much like a small rabbit looking up at a swooping hawk.

“What is it?” she gasped, trying to look from the front to the back and get a sense of scale other than ‘All of those griffons look so small.’

“The Indomitable,” said Green Grass in a very quiet and unusually calm voice. “Flagship of the Griffon Empire and personal transport for Emperor Ripping Claw. Three hundred and twenty meters from prow to tailfins, driven by a quad of rock-oil burning engines that push it to speeds that no pegasus can match over the long run. Carries a mixed crew of two hundred with a grand dining hall, a ballroom, and even a pool. Every other airship in Great Griffon is smaller or slower than it except The Imperator, which is still in the design phase. I made a little 1:144 scale model of it when I was a colt. It was a little over two meters long.” He held up two hooves and squinted. “Like I thought, I didn’t get the eyes painted on right. And they must have upgraded the engines in the last decade, because those look different.”

“You don’t sound worried,” said Twilight, fidgeting in place while looking up.

“Oh, I’m terrified beyond words. I just don’t think whatever I’ve done wrong is worth having the Emperor of all the Griffons drop down on top of my head. I wonder if Princess Sunny is up there.”

“The little griffon you wanted to be flowerfilly? Flowergriffon.” She looked up at the looming airship and gulped. “Seems a little excessive for just transportation.”

“You know, I don’t think the Griffon language has a word for excessive.” Green Grass thought for a moment before letting out a brief series of squawks and chirps.

“Wasteful violence that makes small prey inedible,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Green Grass pointed with one hoof at a small speck that had just detached from the immense airship. “I’ll bet that’s His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Ripping Claws Strip The Flesh From Enemies That Fall Beneath His Swift Vengeance coming down for a Royal Visit to meet us. Well, you. I’ll just be hiding under the bed if you need me.”

“Oh, no!” Twilight grabbed the dress and began flipping it over, looking for the entrance. “What should I wear? Will this be fancy enough? Or should I just wear the crown?”

“Griffons don’t directly associate clothes with status, dear. Inside their society, the less armor they wear, generally the higher up in the pecking order they are, so Emperor Ripping Claw will probably not wear any at all. But they view ponies wearing clothes as an essential element, probably to help them separate the eatable from the inedible species and I’m rambling again, aren’t I, dear?”

Twilight held the dress out in front of her, wadded up in a ball of magic. “Dress or not?”

“Dress,” he responded. “And crown thingie. I would suppose since he’s dropping in on us with no real notice, he won’t care about any little wrinkles or — let me help you with that sleeve, dear.” Green Grass tugged on the obstinate dress, helping smooth the wrinkles and tuck it under her wings while contributing his best effort to keep Twilight calm.

“Don’t worry, dear. Everything will go just fine as long as nopony panics and does anything stupid.”

Twilight looked up and promptly thwacked Green Grass on the back of his head with a wingtip as a rainbow-colored contrail of an ascending pegasus climbed into the sky on an interception course with the descending griffon chariot.

“You just had to say it, Greenie.”

The kitchen of the ski chalet was a warm oasis of sizzling pans and a toasty oven, with one small dragon doing his best to make them all sing a song of gastronomic glee for a particular beautiful unicorn who had mumbled her order out through a closed door, followed by a distinct “Jus fiv mor mintits.”

When the rest of the guests came downstairs for breakfast and Rarity was still up in her room, Spike would ‘spontaneously’ volunteer to bring her a breakfast tray in bed. She would be appreciative, he would be modest, the food would be perfect, and…

He blinked a bit as he craned his eyes skyward through the kitchen windows and took in the huge airship and the griffons flying around. It was a minor setback, and he muttered while grabbing more ingredients and putting a couple of extra pans on the stove.

“Looks like we’re going to need a lot more waffles.”

The scent of cooking soaked through Rarity’s sleepy mind enough to bring her out of bed and over to the door before realizing it was not the charred, carbon-covered cooking of Sweetie Belle attempting Orange Juice Flambè again, but a rich and delicious scent of high-calorie extravagance that could only be from her favorite dragon attempting to woo her heart by way of her taste buds. He was such a darling young drake, and she had to admit that something deep in her heart fluttered whenever he tried to charm her with his childish attempts at romance despite their age and species differences.

Someday, perhaps, she would have to politely inform him that their differences were too great for a romance to be properly consummated, but to be honest, she had not met a stallion yet who could even hold a small candle to the fierce roaring fire in his heart. After all, a lady could not help but be charmed by a suitor who considered her to be the perfect object of his burning desire, and there was a certain improper… giddiness that coursed through her every time she recalled being swept off her hooves and carried away to his mountaintop cave. There had even been a few dreams since that she most certainly was not going to relate to anypony at all, and that she sincerely hoped were beneath the notice of Princess Luna.

She yawned while making her way to the bathroom for her toilet, trying to determine if it would be conniving or just proper etiquette to slip beneath the covers afterwards and await what certainly was a planned romantic breakfast in bed.

Until she looked out the window.

That was the Griffon Emperor’s airship; she was quite positive, because the pictures she had gone over with Fancy Pants and Fleur on the day of their airship christening had used it for a comparison model, making his new sky-yacht seem like a tiny bow on a gigantic ballgown next to it. And if the Emperor of all Griffons was here…

Rarity flung herself into the closet and hooved frantically through her miniscule dress collection. They were all suitable for greeting royalty, but this was an emperor! She needed something more brash, more daring than these silly old frocks, something that would not clash with Twilight’s lone dress, which she was certainly putting on wrong at this very minute. She pushed the drapes to one side while looking up at the descending sky-chariot that would be here in mere moments and her eyes contracted to tiny pinpoints. The emperor was going to be here. In the chalet! Being introduced to her! She had nothing to wear! Neither did Fleur! This was going to be a fashion disaster of the century, and it would be all her fault for not planning ahead! She yanked the curtains closed on the window while panting from sheer panic before inspiration struck with the force of an avalanche.

There was only one thing to do.

Sheer frustration had caused Papercut to put his coat trimmer back into the toiletry bag, determining that even after he received approval to remove the medical horn restraining ring, he was still going to make it a specific point to visit one of the better shops in Canterlot to get a trimmer that did not require magic to operate. Until then, nopony would notice the somewhat ragged edges on his facial hairs or the few loose hairs that stuck out of his mane. Well, nopony except himself. The struggle with the toothpaste and toothbrush seemed easier at least, and he regarded the fresh toothbrush package in his bag with a subdued frown.

If she wants it, she will ask for it. The toothbrush, that is.

A gentlestallion’s morning toilet would not be complete without a brisk splash of cologne, and the fresh smell brought his heart back to a calm and solid thumping, washing away any worries about crazy princesses, irritating ‘owners,’ or unwelcome amorous advances from co-workers. A deep breath turned into a brief coughing spree at the sheer volume of cologne his clumsy hooves had splashed out of the bottle, and while opening the window for a breath of fresh mountain air, he happened to glance in an upward direction. The calm beating of his heart turned into a panicked hammering at the sight of descending griffons, dropping out of the sky.

The cologne bottle had not bounced once on the bathroom rug before Papercut was dashing out of the door and into the hallway, screaming at the top of his lungs⁽¹⁾.
(1) One of the tests Papercut took as a prospective employee of the Crown was a stress test. He reacted to it in much this same fashion, as did all of his fellow applicants, although he was the first pony to return to the testing room and ask, “Are those real spiders?”
—

Rainbow Dash was torn.

On the one hoof, the airship hovering over the ski chalet was awesomely cool, bigger and faster than anything she had seen before.

On the other hoof, she could recognize Gilda sitting upright in the big chariot dropping down from the zeppelin, and so could Fluttershy from the terrified squeak she had let out and the way she dove back into the chalet.

The airship needed to be checked out.

Gilda needed to be reminded not to scare Fluttershy like this.

Cool airship.

Not-cool griffon who scared Fluttershy.

The airship would wait.

Whatever high-feathered big griffon was sitting next to Gilda in the chariot must have been important, because he had at least four big griffons carrying pikes fly down to block Rainbow Dash’s path. The armor and helmets only slowed them down, and after a quick dart and a zig-zag between them, she poured on the speed in her climb, catching Gilda right around the midsection and knocking her clean out of the pokey vehicle.

It was just like Flight Camp all over again. Holding Gilda in a headlock while rubbing noogies on her fluffy head. Two sets of wings flapping in different directions as they plunged towards the ground and certain death. Gilda’s spluttered obscenities getting more profane as the ground rushed up. Tumbling out of the way as golden-armored griffon guards snatched at them on the way down.

Well, it wasn’t exactly like Flight Camp. The instructors had been a lot more agile.

She broke off the headlock with a vigorous boot to Gilda’s backside at least a hundred feet off the ground, just in case Gilda had gotten soft. Rainbow was actually surprised as Gilda recovered from the dive in record time, turning and darting at the pegasus with open talons and wide beak in a way she had never done before. It took dodging three murderous assaults before her friend stopped spluttering incoherently and screeched, “Rainbow Dash, you blithering idiot!”

“Hey!” Rainbow hovered and scowled. “I’m not blithering!”

“Do you have any idea who that is in the chariot? It’s the bucking Emperor of the Griffon Empire!”

“Unfair!” shouted Rainbow Dash. “You didn’t let me guess.” She scowled back at Gilda until adding a waggled wingtip, she asked, “Do you think I can get a tour of his airship? It looks really awesome!”

“Griffons!” screamed Papercut, darting down the hallway in a clatter of bare hooves. They had to be attacking while Princess Sparkle was away from most of her security. At best, there were only moments before they broke into the chalet and killed every pony here. Crosswind’s door loomed up in front of him, and he burst through it with one final shout that almost instantly turned into a screech of terror.

There was something large and amorphous lying in the middle of the room, taking up most of the floor. In the dim light of closed curtains, it looked like an enormous grey amoeba that moved independently with little whistling and rasping snores that turned into several abrupt snorts of alarm as Papercut screeched to a halt and screamed at the top of his lungs. To his shock and horror, yellow eyes began to open up in the middle of the strange beast, all of them looking at the terrified unicorn who had disturbed their slumber. Sharp teeth and fluttering bat wings appeared next as the monster gave a horrible lurch, separating out into several groggy Night Guards who stumbled away from their mutual huddle with the intent of asking the annoying appointment secretary just what in the star’s name was he thinking by breaking into their sleeping time and screaming like a little filly.

But Papercut was already gone, darting back out the door he came in with only the bouncing of a hospital magic suppressor ring on the carpet behind to show he had ever been there.

Twilight Sparkle stood by the side of her prospective mate and watched the ongoing drama in three parts. First there was Rainbow Dash and Gilda standing nose-to-beak screaming at each other, with threats of physical violence being dished out on both sides with insults as toppings and the occasional rude gesture thrown in as the sprinkles across the top.

Then there were the four chagrined griffon Imperial Guards, who were taking their embarrassing performance of being breezed past twice as a personal insult to their profession, and appeared to be holding back a few acts of physical violence themselves due to the high probability of a physical altercation breaking out at any moment between the principals of the conflict. Or maybe they just wanted to see who would emerge from the upcoming fight⁽²⁾ victorious.
(2) Griffons have a saying that roughly translates “It’s either murder or mating.” Generally in their culture, it is considered impolite to interrupt either.
—

And last, there was the gilded carriage gliding down to land nearby with four proud griffon Imperial Guards in the harness and three remaining passengers. Ambassador Sharp Feather stood tall in the back, although somewhat distracted by the upcoming fight building at ground level. And leaning over the front of the chariot just had to be Princess Sun Shines of the Misty Mountain aerie. She was much like Green Grass had described, only slightly more fledged with that awkward ragged collection of first flight feathers a young griffon acquired while the rest of her wings caught up. Both clawed talons were braced on the top edge of the chariot front, trembling with anticipation and sparkling in the morning light. As was the rest of her young body too.

There was a distinct tinge of Crystal Empire magic across the young griffon fledgeling, bringing a glitter and shine to every new feather and sharp claw. Shining Armor had written about the phenomena, and said that older ponies took longer than young ponies to ‘harmonize’ with the magical crystal aura that filled the city, and that sparkly harmonization evidently included griffons. What this was going to do for the population balance of the empire when the glitter-loving Griffons all across Equestria found out was a little scary, but despite some initial diplomatic rumblings when the Crystal Empire had first emerged, there had been peace between ponies and griffons since. A large part of that peace was directly due to the nearby Misty Mountain aerie, of which young Sunny was a member of their royal family, and what Celestia had called ‘The most dramatic change of Wingmasters that she had never seen, and hopefully would never see again.’

She had not met the previous Wingmaster Talon, but Green Grass had called him “One ton of mean compressed into a half-ton of gristle.” Still, no matter who she had asked in the diplomatic wing of the castle, she had never gotten a straight answer as to who the new Wingmaster was, other than “All diplomatic contact with the aerie is to be handled by First Heir Gilda, or Second Heir Sunny if she is not available.”

Even with the sparkling glitter, the little griffon did not act much like a ‘proper princess’ but more like a young and more impulsive — she suppressed a shudder at the thought — Rainbow Dash, pinfeathered wings open to the wind and leonine hindquarters tensed to leap off the chariot as soon as it touched down. If it were not for the huge grey griffon occupying most of the center of the chariot, Twilight was positive Sunny would have jumped out already and glided down to the ground.

Being as the third griffon was Emperor Ripping Claw, the undisputed ruler of every griffon in the entire empire and many outlying outposts such as the Misty Mountain aerie, it was understandable that she was exhibiting some form of self-control.

Twilight had gotten used to having a rather large and powerful presence around during her decade as Princess Celestia’s student, so the impressive bulk of the huge grey griffon should not have unnerved her as much as it was. True, he had a raptor’s hooked beak and a set of talons on his front claws longer than any knife she had ever seen, as well as clawed back paws the size of dinner plates, but he was the royal leader of a mighty nation, and therefore a peaceful fellow leader. That look in his golden eyes should only be appreciation for Equestria’s newest princess, not hunger, and that curious upward perk at the corners of his beak had to be an indication of good humor. Besides, Princess Celestia had made it a special point to meet with every griffon emperor soon after they were crowned and their scars from the succession fight had a chance to heal, although the knowledge that she would have warned her student if he was a danger was a cold comfort as the chariot touched the leaf-strewn ground. It still was difficult to think of him in Celestia’s place. Perhaps it was some underlying knowledge that at least Celestia would not eat her if she made a mistake in her protocol.

Papercut bounded through the hallway past Rarity, who was towing a large clump of curtains in her magic, and made a sharp left turn this time to crash through Crosswind’s bedroom door. He skidded to a halt in front of her bed and blurted out, “Griffons! Attacking! We need to — what are you doing?!”

“Nothing!” screeched Crosswind, frantically grabbing for the bedsheet and scattering tissues all over the rug. “What do you mean, griffons?”

“There’s a chariot full of griffons flying down from the airship parked over the chalet—” started Papercut, his mind slowly making sense of two different situations at the same time “—and I bet that’s the griffon emperor making a surprise visit and I’m so stupid.” He paused to facehoof solidly, and winced at the residual pain as well as the scent of cologne that was not covering up an entirely different scent that filled Crosswind’s room. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” growled Crosswind, apparently wrestling with the sheets. “Now either get out or come here and be useful.”

“Pardon?” Papercut stopped his turn halfway to the door. His co-worker was unwrapping the sheets from around her rigid wings, her tail lifted partway up in a very compromising position. The scent he had been smelling before suddenly made sense, and deep primal instincts warred with his iron control in the presence of a fertile mare in the grip of her hormones.

“I’m in heat!” snarled Crosswind. “I told you we should have stopped by my apartment for a bottle of Chill Time before we left!”

“You most certainly did not!” snapped Papercut out of reflex before abruptly backtracking. “You only asked if I thought we could stop, you didn’t say why. If I had known your… condition was coming on, I would have insisted we pick up your medication before departing.”

“Well it’s too late now,” she moaned, curling up into a twitching ball on the bed with her tail flailing back and forth. “Arghhhh! This sucks! You horn-heads have it easy. You’ve probably got a dozen spells that can put out this fire. Come on, zap me with one.”

“Madam,” he thundered, “my talents do not lie in the field of gynecology. Or pornography,” he quickly added as she turned and lifted her tail far higher than any mare he had ever been around, blatantly exposing the burning object of her ire.

“The first day is always the worst,” she snapped. “I’ve been up for hours, and it’s just getting stronger. I’m going to be bucking useless all day if I don’t get some relief, and since the griffon emperor is here, Princess Twilight is going to need my services and not in that way oh stop thinking that! Think of it as a secretarial duty like adding a position to your staff or checking out a new hire but either do something about it or get the buck out of my room!”

In the resulting quiet, the sound of hooves could be heard going over to the door. There was the faint sound of the door closing, then the hoofsteps resumed, fading down the hallway.

Chapter 14 - Diplomatic Measures

Twilight Sparkle regarded her first solo diplomatic reception as a Princess with the wan comfort that at least it could have gone worse, and that there was nothing in any of her huge collection of protocol books that she had read that could have prepared her.

For starters, Princess Sun Shines had vaulted out of the carriage the moment it touched ground, proceeding in great, long, wing-assisted bounds to launch herself at Green Grass in a stunning impact that knocked them both back onto the pine-needle covered yard. Even covered in needles and pine cones, the little griffon chattered at full speed, filling in her somewhat-less-fuzzy-since-his-trim green friend on every single thing that had happened to her in the Crystal Empire with ‘Uncle’ Shining Armor and ‘Aunty’ Cadence, but mostly Cadence.

Her father, Ambassador Sharp Feather, had stepped out of the griffon chariot next, striding to the appropriate distance in front of Twilight and making the appropriate bob of the head that signified “I’m not a subject of your kingdom but I appreciate the sun and the moon, so I’m going to give you a certain degree of respect.” However, his introduction of the griffon emperor was being drowned out by the growing volume from Gilda and Rainbow Dash, who had progressed from idle threats to promises of extreme violence.

She almost swallowed her own tongue when the huge form of the griffon emperor slipped silently up behind the two arguing idiots and ‘thwacked’ them both upside the head with a massive wingtip each.

And then when Rainbow Dash predictably pointed a hoof at Gilda and pronounced, “She started it—” he added a second, more forceful ‘thwack’ to the back of both heads again.

She made a mental note on Function Number 38 for Wings. Highly effective on Rainbow Dash. Practice frequently.

The huge griffon moved effortlessly despite his bulk, aligning himself up behind the diplomat and fixing Twilight Sparkle with enormous golden eyes that were overflowing with friendship. He maintained his warm gaze while Ambassador Sharp Feather rattled through a genealogy and lineage that tracked him back to the First Egg, as well as detailed every one of his many titles and responsibilities. It was an impressive display of the griffon’s acute memory, but Twilight was more focused on trying to make sense of the elderly griffon’s expression. It seemed to conceal something disturbing as if he were wearing a mask, but that easily could just be explained by his unfamiliar body language. She had only met a few griffons over the years, mostly at school and diplomats at the castle. When she was a little filly, many of them towered over her nearly as much as Emperor Ripping Claw did now, even if they were not this warm and welcoming.

The emperor seemed to be taking dropping out of the sky on top of Fancy Pants’ vacation house as a grand jest, worthy of thunderous belly laughs and bone-popping back slaps. It seemed to be a natural charisma effect, not forced at all, and Rarity even blushed when she was introduced and complimented on her soft silver dress that looked suspiciously new and matched the chalet curtains to a convenient degree. No gentlestallion could have kissed her proffered hoof more gently, or complimented Fancy Pants on his wife’s similar glimmering outfit with greater flair, and even Green Grass was subjected to a stunning blast of his personality. Apparently, he had been deeply impressed with the stories told by Third Heir Sunny, and extended an invitation for both him and Twilight to visit the High Nest across the ocean in Great Griffon at his personal expense for their honeymoon, first class all the way on the fastest and most luxurious airships that soared in the sky.

The sky that belonged to all griffons, of course.

Twilight’s first mention of discomfort at his abrupt unannounced arrival triggered a veritable tidal wave of apologies combined with sincerest wishes for peace between their nations and offers of recompense that included gifts of a personal airship and crew. He even offered to throw in one of his sons, who was ‘Just about Your Highness’ age.’

She quickly turned his gifts down and accepted his apology, thankful that at least he had been the first important royal of any species who had not offered to host their wedding.

Although he had been strangely sincere about the offer of one of his sons.

It was very quiet inside Crosswind’s bedroom except for the sound of frustrated rapid breathing and the rustle of bedsheets, until a very timid knocking at the door made the pegasus roll off the back of the bed and snarl, “What? I’m busy!”

The door creaked open, and a small brown bottle (with spoon) floated into the room, suspended in the silver light of Papercut’s magic. It wandered a bit blindly as if the propulsion source had his eyes closed, eventually bumping into the bed stand where Crosswind grabbed it.

“Oh, thank Celestia!” She ripped the protective film from the top of the bottle and twisted the lid off with her teeth, but stopped before drinking any of it. “Thanks, Horn-Head.”

“You’re welcome, Featherbrain. But thank Fleur de Lis instead. She was very generous.”

The door started to glide closed, but stopped as Crosswind darted across the open area and stuck a hoof in it. “Wait a second, stupid. You’re not supposed to be using your magic. Where’s your restrictor ring?”

“It fell off, but one of the guards returned it,” came the muffled reply. “I’ve got it in a pocket in case I need it.”

“You need it,” she replied instantly. “You don’t have enough spare brain function to let any of it get wasted. Come in and let me get it on… I mean I want to stick… Just get your plot in here!” She scowled as the meek green unicorn shuffled into the room, a spare shirt held over his nose and mouth with his magic. “Sit!” she commanded, still holding the bottle. “Let me take a swig to get medicated up and we’ll see about…”

She trailed off as the spoon floated over to her and Papercut looked away. “Two tablespoons, and no drinking out of the bottle. You’re supposed to only double up the dose if you’ve missed a day, not just chug it like some barmaid.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” She measured out her medicine, drinking it with a slight grimace before sitting it to one side and holding out a hoof. “Give me the ring and I’ll stick… fasten it onto your horn correctly.” After looking at the shocked expression on Papercut’s face as he regarded a somewhat sticky hoof that had last been put to a rather personal use, she darted into the bathroom, only returning after she had washed both forehooves to near scrub-room cleanliness.

“Better,” he mumbled, pulling the ring out of his pocket and hoofing it over with great care not to touch her hooves.

“Now hold still,” she muttered while sitting down. “This is a very delicate… procedure and requires a very gentle… touch and will you please stop breathing on my chest?”

“Sorry.”

The original adhesive that held the suppressor ring onto his horn had gotten a little dirty, and she picked off the lint while trying not to think of just what else his horn reminded her of, and how long it would be until the medicine took effect.

“So, what’s going on w-with the griffon e-emperor” she muttered, fighting to keep from burying her nose in his mane and nibbling her way to more interesting places.

“Emperor Ripping Claw and Princess Twilight Sparkle are currently having breakfast,” said Papercut with a flick of his ear that brushed along her cannon and nearly made her drop the ring. “They are having—” he paused, taking a deep breath through the muffling shirt still pressed against his nose “—waffles. Would you like me to bring you any, Miss Crosswind?”

Only in bed with lots of syrup and strawberries smeared over—

“No!” She rearranged the ring and slid it over his horn, carefully not-thinking about anything except her perfectly innocent action that had nothing to do with sex at all. The muscles along her belly twitched anyway in response, and she was grateful that she was sitting on her rump so that her rebellious tail was pinned to the ground. “Their schedule for the rest of the day?”

“Touring the chalet, general discussion, and examining the prospects of a commercial ski slope in this locale. Fancy Pants now has both a financial backer and political clout with the nearby Misty Mountain griffons to ensure proper snow coverage once it becomes operational. It seems well-worth moving a portion of my retirement fund into the project.” Papercut cleared his throat and rearranged the shirt across his muzzle with one awkward hoof. “I’m finding it much more conducive to proper conduct around you if I limit my thoughts to numbers, Miss Crosswind. And thank you. For both your ministrations in my time of need and your assistance with my recovery now.”

“You owe me dinner, at least,” she grumbled through gritted teeth. “Agreed?”

“Ma’am, can you ask me that question sometime when I’m not surrounded by your fertile hormones, and in your bedroom?”

She finished situating the restrictor ring and considered her position. “I’m sorry for trying to jump your bones. Well, not really. Maybe later. Now all I can think about is—” A sharp shudder went through her entire body as Papercut began to lift his head. “Don’t look up!”

“Why?”

The shudder repeated, and she found herself holding his head with both hooves until the aftershocks had died away. “You look up and I’ll kiss you, right on the lips and not stop.”

There was a fairly long silence in response, but Papercut did not lift his head as she so wanted him to do and not do at the same time. Instead, he responded with just the slightest bit of levity in his voice, “A horrible fate, I’m certain.”

“Darned straight. We wouldn’t get out of here for hours—” Another shudder swept through her body and she clutched Papercut’s head to her chest regardless of what it would look like if anypony walked in on them. When the spasm finally died down, she quickly added, “Go tell Princess Twilight I’ll assume my position—” Narrowly avoiding another shudder by the expedient of snorting in a quick breath from Papercut’s mane and sneezing at the tickling sensation inside her nose, she continued “—I mean I’ll be CALM by noon once the medication cuts in.” She kissed him right on top of his mane and let go of his head. “Now get out.”

Keeping his shirt-covered nose down, Papercut backed away and looked up through his thin eyebrows with what could have been a sparkle in his eyes. “Is the kiss part of the treatment? Because I’m fairly certain the physician failed to—”

“I mean get out now. Or else.” Behind her, she could feel her wings rise slowly as Papercut bolted for the doorway, somehow managing to escape her room without slamming the door. Once she flipped the latch closed, Crosswind turned for the bathroom and the long, cold, cold bath that would occupy her every thought for the next few hours until the medicine cut in.

Well, most of her thoughts.

The chalet kitchen was a spacious warm area filled with the magic of bubbles and clean towels as the process of turning syrup-sticky breakfast dishes into clean was interrupted by a rather agast appointment secretary. Papercut spluttered in consternation, watching Spike and Twilight Sparkle in an apron at the sink, doing servant work. Dirty dishes proceeded through wash, rinse, and dragonfired dry in her magic field before Spike tucked them away for later use, or at least until Papercut darted to the dirty dish pile and put one hoof down in the sticky center of a plate before calling out, “Your Highness, stop!”

“Oh, Papercut. Is everything all right with Crosswind? Fleur told me she forgot her—” Twilight glanced at Spike, who was stacking the last of the dry dishes “—medication.”

“She’s in heat,” said Spike, waving one clawed hand at him. “Big deal. So that’s what took you so long.”

“Spike!” Twilight picked the little dragon up in her magic and chivvied him out the kitchen door. “Go see if Fleur and Rarity need any help with Princess Sunny. Go on.” She stood and waited while the pitter-patter of little dragon feet faded into the distance. “I swear Greenie’s rubbing off on him.”

“He has a tendency to do that, Ma’am,” said Papercut, looking at his syrup-sticky hoof with disdain.

“So.” Twilight’s face lit up with a smile. “Are you and Crosswind—”

“No!” Papercut dunked his sticky hoof in the water and nearly splashed suds over the floor. “She’s taking a… different path to reducing her physical needs.”

“Ah, she’s Patting the Pink Pony, then.” At Papercut’s embarrassed blush, Twilight continued, “What, do you prefer one of the less decorative euphemisms? Rubbing One Out? Riding the Plastic Stallion? Making Hoofie Nookie? Playing a Horn Solo? Oh, that’s fairly unicorn specific.”

“There’s a spell for that?” blurted out Papercut.

Twilight scoffed. “Of course. I can understand why you didn’t know it. Female unicorns mostly use—”

Splattering soapy water over the kitchen, Papercut crammed his hooves over his ears and repeated, “Not listening! Not listening! Can we discuss something else, please?”

“If you’re going to be pursuing an intimate relationship with my friend, you’re going to need to know some of the basics. My mother provided a very effective set of instructions and reading materials to educate me when I was much younger. I’d be happy to loan them to you. Admittedly the material is biased towards female reproduction, but—”

“Schedules!” gasped Papercut.

“Mostly every thirty days,” said Twilight. “But mine have always been a little erratic, which is one reason I always carried a bottle of Chill Time with me. Well, ever since I met Greenie. Just a teaspoon a day whenever you feel that fire coming on, and it’s all better. It doesn’t work all of the time, though.”

“Oh, sweet Celestia, no,” moaned Papercut.

Twilight patted her still-trim tummy. “Princess Celestia says she uses it too, but at a higher dosage. Only to control her hormones, that is. Not that she has to worry about getting pregnant. I just wish I knew why it didn’t work for me.”

Despite both hooves over his ears, the disconcerting words still trickled through to his rebellious brain, which insisted on the traitorous task of connecting the dots. Far, far more dots that it should have connected. “Does Princess Luna use it?” he asked in a very small voice.

“I don’t know. I never asked.”

After a brief swallow to build up his nerve, Papercut swallowed again and said, “The instructions on Chill Time said to use a tablespoon a day, Your Highness. Not a teaspoon.”

“Oh,” said Princess Twilight.

There was a very long silence in the kitchen, during which Papercut dug himself out from under layers and layers of embarrassment. A small spark of courage somewhere in his head made a mental note to find some private time to speak with Princess Luna about her paramour, and to emphasise the importance of using the proper measure when administering any medication. After all, one pregnant alicorn from a scion of House Chrysanthemum was bad luck. Two would be a disaster of epic proportions that would shake the foundations of Equestria. Or three… He gritted his teeth and tried not to think about it.

“Oh,” said Princess Twilight again.

Or at least the second possible pregnancy would spell a very bad end for a castle servant who failed to inform a certain Princess of the Night after he had discovered a possible hole in her fertility planning. The phrase “Nothing left but smoking horseshoes” was a favorite among the servants for indicating the top of the scale of royal admonishment. He had a sneaky suspicion that Luna would use that as a starting place.

“I think I need to go lie down,” said Princess Twilight.

After a stern glance at the remaining sticky dishes that condemned them to the category of Other Ponies’ Problems, Papercut scurried over to the pregnant princess. “Please, allow me to escort Your Highness. You should get some rest before the guests return.”

“I suppose,” said Twilight. “But I can’t help thinking I’ve forgotten something.”

High above the green mossy carpet that covered the arctic ground, the summer winds were almost pleasant, but to the wave of Royal Guards proceeding east at their top speed, the wind barely managed to evaporate the thick film of perspiration resulting from their efforts. Prince Consort Shining Armor lay almost flat against the windscreen of the Royal Guard chariot, trying not to think of the relative few guards he had at his side and the sheer numbers of griffons his scout had reported directly over the tiny wooden vacation chalet housing his baby sister. There was supposed to be peace between the griffons and the Crystal Empire, and for the last several months while Princess Sun Shines had been a guest at their castle, it had been almost too quiet and friendly. Now he knew what they were up to: a sneak attack to capture Princess Twilight Sparkle and as many of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony as possible.

They had to be stopped.

Chapter 15 - Royal Reception

The forces of the Crystal Guard spread out across the pale blue sky in a rather thin layer when compared to the massive zeppelin and its compliment of griffons circling above it. Shining Armor’s face was a stoic mask as he stood in the hovering chariot, waiting until his scout fluttered up and saluted.

“Captain Prince Shining Armor, sir, Your Highness?” The rather scrawny pegasus fit somewhat loosely in his golden armor, a side-effect of selecting by talents instead of size for the temporary Crystal Guard, on loan from the Canterlot Royal Guard or whatever forces Princess Celestia could find who were willing to move to the crystal city. Skyflake was an expert at arctic survival, with keen vision, an aggressive attitude towards headwinds, and about two pegasi worth of body hair on about three-quarters of a regular pegasi’s body. Give him a message in a raging blizzard and he would deliver it to wherever or whoever it was supposed to go, but he still was just a little flighty for Shining Armor’s preferences.

“Corporal Skyflake, could you look over there and tell me what you see?”

Shining Armor nodded towards the griffons in the distance and winced as Skyflake saluted again and replied, “Attacking griffons, sir!”

“Wrong. Corporal, could you perhaps tell me just what they are supposed to be attacking?”

“Um…” Skyflake looked down at the peaceful ski chalet and scratched what little of his shaggy mane he could reach with the helmet in the way.

“And,” continued Shining Armor, “can you identify the name of that rather large and distinctive airship that seems parked over my sister’s summer retreat?”

“Uh…” Skyflake squinched up his face to get his long mane out of his eyes and concentrated. “It’s written on the side in Griffon⁽*⁾, I believe.”
(*) To Corporal Skyflake’s credit, any normal pony with a set of binoculars would have had problems reading the letters from this range. The Griffon Empire normally did not write the name of their airships on the outside, but relied on painting the visage and colors of the commanding griffon on the hull. The two-meter high Griffon letters were new, for the benefit of a certain member of the Equestrian Postal Service who was somewhat confused by their mobile postal code.
—

Suppressing a facehoof, Shining Armor instead took a deep breath before continuing. “Corporal, if you had ever looked through the aerial recognition cards during training, you would recognize Emperor Ripping Claw’s flagship, the Indomitable. From the number of aerie flags flying, it is on a goodwill tour through the griffon settlements, picking up various wingmasters, showing them around, and then sending them home peacefully. Do you have any idea how close you brought us to a war with the Griffon Empire, which I might point out is currently—”

Shining Armor cut off abruptly before his mouth finished the thought. Top Secret intelligence reports hoof-carried from Princess Celestia by one’s own father were not for general distribution to random members of the guard, no matter how badly they had screwed up and how close their actions had come to leading the brand-new Prince Consort into a massacre. Luna’s Stars above, he hadn’t even been able to tell Cadence about the report. His wife was a kind and loving soul who thought only the best of everpony, or in Sunny’s case, everygriffon. She would never gossip, but finding out just how few years or even months Equestrian intelligence estimated that the ailing griffon emperor had before turning his perch over to a replacement was sensitive information. Cadence could never have been able to keep that knowledge from affecting her relationship with Third Heir Princess Sun Shines on the Misty Mountains at Dawn Through Early Morning Hazy Skies, their next-mountain neighbor, particularly in light of her recent loss of her grandfather, the details of which had become gruesomely clear the longer Sunny had stayed with them.

“Corporal, I have some new orders that I want you to take to all of the squadron leaders. It is very important that they not be confused with any combat orders, and once you’ve finished distributing them, I have one more message that I need you get to Canterlot as fast as possible.”

“Yes, sir!” The pegasus saluted in a flurry of loose mane while Shining Armor scribbled away on his portable desk. “I’ll set a new record on the Crystal Empire to Canterlot run, sir!”

“I didn’t say you were going to fly there,” growled Shining Armor. “You’re going to fly down to the chalet with me and I’m going to apologize profusely to Emperor Ripping Claw for this embarrassing misunderstanding while you have Spike deliver my ‘Please disregard the previous panicked pronouncement’ to Princess Celestia so it gets to her before the courier. And you know what the worst part is going to be?”

“Postage?”

“No. I’m going to have to be social to my new brother-in-law.”

The deck of the ski chalet was a huge expanse, fully able to accommodate the tall griffon emperor and all of the other guests as they stared up into the mountain air and watched the aerial acrobatic displays put on by both the Crystal Guard and the griffons, each of which seemed determined to out-stunt the other. Rainbow Dash stood perched next to Gilda with her front hooves up on the railing, rattling off a nonstop chain of events as or slightly before they happened in the sky.

While Twilight Sparkle stood next to her friends and watched, Green Grass faded backwards into the background with a mumbled excuse of getting some drinks. Even with his supposed new status, it was trivially easy to slip through the guests. As an earth pony of relatively dull hue, all he had to do was look like he was going somewhere, and everypony or griffon would unconsciously slip to one side due to his presence registering as ‘servant’ or ‘minion’ departing on some assigned task. There was something bothering him about the aerial display, and once he saw Shining Armor nursing a drink in a back corner of the deck and watching the sky with a sour grimace, his suspicions only grew.

“Hey,” he mumbled, sitting down next to his future brother-in-law.

“Hi,” said Shining Armor, still looking up at the sky.

They both sat next to each other for a short period of time before Green Grass ventured, “You see it too?”

“Yeah,” grunted Shining Armor with a frown. After a brief pause, he added, “What do you think?”

“Makes me worried,” said Green Grass. “Next griffon succession could be a…” He trailed off and cast an evaluating look at Shining Armor. “You already knew, right?”

His only reply was a grunt while they watched a quartet of Imperial Guard griffons high in the sky perform a synchronized dive that was as much an aerial ballet as it was a vicious combat maneuver designed to eliminate a single opponent without risk to the attackers. Equestrian pegasi had perfected the synchronized maneuver of four armored guards against the tendency of griffons to engage in chaotic solo combat ever since the founding of the nation, resulting in the Griffon Empire suffering stunning losses during every conflict. Green Grass had studied the traditional forms of griffon aerial combat for his thesis, and the number of solo griffon guards wheeling and diving above was almost nonexistent, a condition he had never thought possible for the highly-independent species.

“So who do you think Ripping Claw will pick for the next Flügelüberkönig⁽¹⁾?”
(1) A uniquely Eastern Griffon title that roughly translates as The Next Poor Dodo To Inherit The Big Perch.
—

It was a tenuous verbal poke at Shining Armor, more of a guess than a question, but the sudden way his eyes flashed away from the flying griffons to glare at him made a lump of ice seem to fill Green Grass’ stomach. Shining Armor recovered almost instantly, returning to his study of the flying griffons with a fierce glare and an attempt to ignore his annoying relative-to-be, but after a long, tense silence, he said, “None of them are very friendly to Equestria. It seems the louder they squawk about us, the more popular they get.”

It was the most words in a row that Shining Armor had said to him yet, and seemed to warrant a bit of brotherly concern in return. “At least you and Princess Cadence should be fairly safe. From what I hear, the Misty Mountain aerie has a fairly pony-friendly Wingmaster now.” Getting no response, Green Grass pressed farther. “You know, I still need to ask his permission to have Princess Sun Shines at our wedding. Have you met him yet?”

“Yes.”

Disappointed at the size of his catch, Green Grass re-baited his conversational hook and threw it back into the discussion pool. “And?”

“Greenie!” It was scant warning to brace for the oncoming assault, so instead Green Grass rolled with the impact as an enthusiastic little griffon fledgeling pounced on him and knocked him backwards. “Great-great-granduncle third removed by marriage says that if I really want to be a Wonderbolt, I can! Isn’t that great?”

While the little griffon did a dance of victory on the chest of her fallen victim and Green Grass gasped for air, a little of Shining Armor’s depression seemed to lift. His future brother-in-law raised a hoof and extended it for a congratulatory high hoof-claw with his fellow Royal while suppressing most of the traditional grin that little Sunny seemed to spread onto other ponies wherever she went. “So does this mean you’re not going to be a petting zoo owner, or a crystal berry picker, or ninja pirate?”

“Nope!” declared the little griffon with her head held high. “I can be all of them, and still be a princess.”

Suppressing the urge to loan/gift Sunny an appointment secretary to keep all of her future careers separate, Green Grass managed to suck in a breath of air and say, “hhhaaawweeeeeeuuuhhhhh…”

“I’m not perfectly fluent in Equestrian,” rumbled the huge grey griffon who glided up behind Sunny, “But I believe your friend just said ‘My how you’ve grown, Sunny. Can you get off my chest so I can breathe?’” Emperor Ripping Claw scooped his distant relative off of the flattened earth pony and sat her to one side before helping Green Grass to his hooves.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” gasped Green Grass. “I think Her Highness has hit a growth spurt.” After taking a few deep breaths, he held one green hoof to the top of Sunny’s fuzzy head and gave a good-natured frown while he tousled her feathers. “I’ll bet she gets as tall as her grandfather.”

Green Grass had become more familiar than he cared to be with silence as a communication medium, both from Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, and more recently from his own Princess Wife-To-Be. Silence was an indication that something wrong had just been said, normally by him. The more silent the silence, the more wrong the wrong. In theory, a certain level of alicorn-level silence could be considered a good thing, because it means that the errant spoken phrase was bad, but not bad enough to warrant a short time-travel spell to go back before the words were spoken and plug the offending orifice with any convenient heavenly body.

Green Grass could taste moon dust in this silence.

Sunny did not seem to notice, craning her head to appear as tall as possible under Green Grass’ upraised hoof, but both Shining Armor and Emperor Ripping Claw nearly froze into statues. Their immobility only lasted a heartbeat and a quick exchange of glances between Majesty and Highness, leaving Greenness feeling more than a little left out. Deciding that the subject was best left alone, Green Grass decided to go for the self-depreciating humor distraction.

“So, Emperor Ripping Claw—” he began before being interrupted.

“Call me Rip,” said the griffon with as much of a warm smile as he could manage with a beak. “As long as we’re in private, of course.”

“Of course, Your — I mean Rip. I have to admit, I’m very glad to meet you despite your rather abrupt appearance. You’re the first older Royal I’ve met who has not brought along a young son ‘just about Twilight’s age’ for the possibility that I might suddenly lose my mind and turn her down.”

They both laughed, and even Shining Armor faked a chuckle before the emperor responded, “Actually I did bring one of my many sons with me. He’s back at Sunny’s aerie, though. He doesn’t like ponies very much.”

“He’s a jerk,” said Sunny abruptly.

“<Now, Sunny>,” admonished Green Grass in Griffon, “<It’s not polite to badbeak somegriffon behind their tail. What do we say?>”

Sunny frowned with both ears tucked back and a few feathers rising on the nape of her neck. Her tail thrashed back and forth a few times on the wooden deck before she said, “I’m sorry for calling him a jerk.”

“Good,” said Green Grass with a smile.

“He’s a bucking jerk,” snapped Sunny. “I wish I was big like Wingmaster Lumpy and could pound some sense into his beak.”

“Wingmaster Lumpy?” Green Grass raised an eyebrow and turned to the emperor. “A rather peculiar name for a—”

“Well, we must be going,” said Emperor Ripping Claw, scooping the little griffon up in one wing and pushing her across the wooden deck.

“Just a moment, Your Majesty,” said Green Grass, feeling suddenly like an hors d'oeuvre as the big griffon snapped a glance back at him. Plunging ahead with the confidence that was bolstered by so many witnesses, he said, “Were you planning on visiting the Crystal Empire while in Equestria?”

The big griffon hesitated, obviously torn between his griffon instincts of being attracted to sparkling objects and a certain royal responsibility to release that glittering city when he was done with his visit. As expected, Sunny rose to the bait with zeal. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him, but he won’t listen. The castle has lots of empty rooms, and the crystal ponies are all so polite. They’d love to have you visit, wouldn’t they, Uncle Shiny?”

Shining Armor made a rather garbled noise in response, sputtering a little bit while hemming and hawing before Green Grass slid back into the conversation. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. My future bro relapses into a rather peculiar dialect of the Unicorn language under stress. Fortunately, I was raised by unicorns, so I can translate for him. What he is trying to say is that he can’t make that decision on his own. He’s married.”

“Oh.” While the emperor hid a chuckle, the little griffon gave a very owl-like blink and bobbed her head before looking at Green Grass. “Could you ask him if he could send a courier to Auntie Cadence and ask. I’ll even write the note. I’ve gotten really good with my letters. She’s been teaching me.”

“I’ll try, Your Highness.” Turning to Shining Armor, who was reddening nicely, Green Grass continued, “Yo, bro. Sunny and her relatives would like to drop by the house sometime. Can you clear it with your spouse?”

“It’s not that easy!” spluttered Shining Armor. “We’ve got the Equestrian Games coming up in a few months, and we’re still picking up the pieces from King Sombra. The whole empire was frozen in time for over a thousand years, and that’s not really something the citizens can get over very quickly.” Shining Armor hesitated at the amused look he was receiving from the emperor and tried to mitigate his tone to something warmer. “Maybe if you can wait until the games, Sunny? There will be some griffon teams there who would really appreciate his support.”

The little griffon looked at Green Grass, who sighed and said, “He says their nest is still messed up from the previous tenant, and it would be embarrassing to have important company over until it gets all cleaned up.”

“Oh. That’s okay, I guess.” The little griffon looked down and sniffed in the most perfect display of acting Green Grass had ever seen. “I really wanted to show my emperor Cadence’s crystal city, but if you don’t want us to visit, I can see why. He’s only going to be here for a few more weeks before he’s gotta go home, an’ he probably won’t be able to make it to the games.”

Shining Armor lowered his head and muttered, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

Shining Armor resisted the urge to slam a hoof into the smiling face of his future relative by imagining just what the crowds of cheering crystal ponies below them would think. It did not help much, particularly when he could see the base for the future statue of Prince Shining Armor the Brave from this altitude. They’d probably cheer louder. They might even make another statue.

The two Royal Guards pulling the chariot high above the crowd seemed to understand his concern, and swiveled their ears to point straight forward so they would not be an earwitness to whatever violence he was planning. Their view of the city from this altitude was impressive, and even though Shining Armor had seen the Crystal Empire from the seat of a chariot many times, it still made his heart beat faster to think of his relatively short career from cadet to captain and now prince. Far below, he could see the griffon chariot with Emperor Ripping Claw, Sunny, his sister and Spike glide in for a soft landing on the castle’s broad front promenade, greeted by a small band of hastily gathered musical ponies enthusiastically belting out the Crystal Empire anthem. Cadence was standing proudly as they approached, resplendent in the gown and manestyle that the entire castle staff had worked on all last evening, and completely unescorted, a decision that he had fought against valiantly and lost. Above them all, mixed teams of griffons and pegasi wheeled through the sky together while trailing colored smoke and streamers, another sight that he still did not really believe could be happening.

After considerable contemplation of the relative smoothness of the greeting and the absolute gobstruck amazement the rest of the griffon contingent was displaying at the sparkling city despite the ongoing reconstruction efforts, Shining Armor gave a somewhat affirmative grunt in response to his green guest.

“Of course the hard part will be making Emperor Ripping Claw give it all back when he’s done,” added Green Grass.

“Really?” asked Shining Armor with a sideways glance.

“No, not really,” said Green Grass. “Think of it this way. There must be wingmasters for a dozen fairly local griffon aeries down there right now. The griffons place great store in tradition, in particular ‘The eldest gets first bite of the prey.’ Rip isn’t making one move towards biting at all… unless you call kissing the hoof of your beautiful wife a bite.” They both looked down from their hovering chariot and watched the griffon emperor bow deeply and give a long and heartfelt kiss to Princess Cadence’s hoof, a moment which was promptly captured by the battalion of newspaper photographers standing to one side.

Clearing his throat as the moment lasted far longer than either stallion was comfortable with, Green Grass continued, “You may know the military, but my family has been doing business with the griffons for ages. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if the emperor set the entire trip up just for this visit. Wingmasters can sign trade agreements, establish commercial relationships, set up arrangements for tourism, and so on. You’ve got a dozen of them down there at least, and every one of them knows just what will happen if any of them get a little too greedy for their own good.”

“What do you think would happen?” asked Shining Armor.

Green Grass eyed his future brother-in-law. “If any of the wingmasters down there or any that come along later try even the smallest of stunts, the rest will drop on him like an anvil to protect their own investment. Dad always said you can deal with one nest or dozens, but nothing in between. You’re going to have griffons from all across the empire traveling here to do business.” He smirked. “Get used to beaks.”

Shining Armor nodded, feeling a little better about not slugging his sister’s annoying lover. “King Sombra dominated the griffon tribes all around here when he ran the empire. Most of the citizens are familiar with the griffons from over a thousand years ago and some even speak the language, but with horrible antique accents from what Sunny says. They’ve already taken to doing business with our local griffon aerie quite well, so adding a few dozen more should work.”

“Yeah.” Green Grass looked over the edge of the chariot and waved, keeping an obviously fake smile on his face. “For as long as it lasts.”

The two of them remained silent, carrying out their distant role in the festivities as the Princess of the Crystal Empire and the Emperor of the Griffon Empire made the appropriate social motions below, eventually vanishing inside the castle for a morning of Very Important Discussions. The rest of the crowd broke up into clusters around the very popular griffon wingmasters as they went out into the ongoing city-wide celebration and Shining Armor passed on the order to land the chariot. Green Grass seemed to be more nervous than normal, swishing his tail as the chariot bumped through the rough air and eventually turning to Shining Armor right before they landed.

“Dad says the emperor is suffering some health issues and may not last out the year.” The words cascaded out in an unstoppable flood, as if they concealed a tension that the green goof had been concealing for a long time. “He says most of the eastern aeries are backing some real hardline cases, and they outnumber the moderates pretty solidly. Munition enchantments are sold out across our entire business area, and all of our distributors are backordered on everything.”

“Must be a banner year for your father,” remarked Shining Armor with a suppressed frown.

“Commercial enchantments are in demand all across Equestria. The Griffons are only one trading partner among many, including yours now. Dad says there are commercial spells from our companies in every military we know, just like those clever locking latches on your armor come from the Minotaurs, and the blades on most of the Equestrian Royal Guard’s spears are forged in parts of the Griffon Empire. Probably the only racial group who doesn’t have a hoof in your equipment somewhere are the Breezies.”

Shining Armor grunted once in response, although it did not slow Green Grass’ flood of nervous words that kept creeping closer to the analyst's supposition in the classified intelligence report that continued to bring a chill up his armored back. “I’m just wondering why His Majesty isn’t attending our wedding while he is here. I mean, he didn’t attend yours, but it was awfully short notice, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Lord Green Grass,” growled Shining Armor, wondering if an ‘accidental’ bump to Green Grass at this rapidly-decreasing height would just break a leg or two. It would shut him up at least.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I mean it would make more sense for him to be pacifying his eastern Germanen Großenbaumstadts while grooming a member of the High Court as his replacement for a smooth transition of power, rather than to travel all the way to Equestria to be in the vicinity, but still not attend our wedding. We’re not that important, but it would make a perfect political statement that goes along with his goal of peace between Griffons and Ponies. Not attending could be considered a snub of sorts by the more conservative griffons, and only ruffle more feathers.”

“Maybe he wants you to have the wedding in Great Griffon at the High Court.” Far, far away from here.

“Not a chance in the world. You’ll see a set of Royal Griffons from there being married officially in front of Celestia before that happens. The Great Council only opened up to tourists a few decades ago and even now you have to make a reservation a year in advance in order to have the background check clear. Before that, they treated any pony in the High Nest like a convicted spy. I just wish I knew what was going on. It’s bugging the heck out of me.”

“Thank you for sharing,” remarked Shining Armor in a chill tone. “I need the stress.”

“Well, I can’t talk to Twilight about it,” groused Green Grass as the chariot lined up for landing. “She verbalizes her stress. Dad’s the one who told me, so that wouldn’t help, and the Princesses must know already, so they would both just nod and say something pithy. And I sure can’t talk to your father or my brother. Equestrian intelligence is probably all over this.”

“You seem to be on good terms with ‘Rip.’ Why don’t you talk to him about it; get the story straight from the beak, so to say.” Shining Armor had not meant to sound so flippant about something that was bothering his future brother-in-law so much, but it did not seem to bother the target of his irritated response.

“Thanks, Shining. I may just try that.”

The annoying green earth pony stepped out of the chariot at almost the same moment it touched the ground, leaving Shining Armor standing in stunned bemusement, unsure if his future relative was serious about such a dumb idea or just yanking his chain.

Soft music wafted over the crystalline ballroom, filling in the conversational gaps between the hundreds of crystal ponies and their guests as they strolled among the crystal sculptures and crystal fountains beneath the crystal ceiling which spread a soft sparkling light across the Royal Reception. The day of welcoming celebration by the Crystal Empire had taken nearly a hundred Griffon Wingmasters on tours through the city, and several of the griffons had excused themselves early with what Green Grass had dubbed ‘Sparkle Overload.’ It was a little overwhelming even for him, both in the brilliant sparkles that glinted into the eyes whenever he least expected it, and due to the close proximity of so many stunned griffons, their heads craned upwards and their beaks agape in wonder. Making a mental note to see if his father could start selling enchanted sunglasses tailored to griffon physiology, he strolled through the chatting clusters of interspecies relations while trying in vain to catch a glimpse of Twilight or Spike. Actually ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle, the Seeker of the Crystal Heart’ and ‘Great and Honorable Spike the Brave and Glorious’ to be precise.

It made him feel dull and drab, far worse than normal. Griffons tended to wear sparkly jewelry for formal occasions, but were horribly outmatched by the crystal ponies who sparkled far more when they wore nothing at all. Even the servants glittered and sparkled in rainbow hues, making him one dull green blotch on a field of jewels. Responsibility as one of the guests of honor even kept him from his normal method of ditching a party by sneaking downstairs to where the servants would be taking care of any youthful colts and fillies from the older partygoers upstairs. Beleaguered servants faced with bored Royal brats always appreciated a helping hoof with diapers or party games, in particular wherever his special talent could help some young unicorn Royal who was struggling with their magic. It had always been a more productive activity than remaining upstairs at the party and dissolving his worries away in alcohol, in particular whenever his mother was on the lookout for a prospective spouse and any unmarried mare within eyesight was fair game. That was unlikely to happen tonight with his precarious perch on the royal food chain and a total absence of young crystal unicorns needing his special talent to teach their first magic. His role for the evening was plain. Smile. Nod. Try to engage the skittish crystal ponies in conversation.

Well, I seem to have a handle on two of the three problems.

“There you are, handsome!” A slim female griffon half-trotted, half-glided out of the crowd and made a graceful three-legged landing by his side, not spilling a drop out of her flute of crystal wine, which of course, sparkled in the lights. “I’m Sophia of the Moonstone Mountain aerie, Lord Green Grass. I’ve been hoping to find a few minutes with you to talk about the upcoming Equestrian Games. You see, our aerie is hosting a team in the aerial relay, and we’re having some minor funding difficulties. My second cousin works with your sister in Fillydelphia, and he suggested that your father might be willing to become a partial sponsor. I was speaking to Princess Gilded Clouds, and she—”

The conversation flowed onward as Green Grass nodded in the appropriate places, entranced by the way the green-eyed griffon wove questions about life in Canterlot into hoofball statistics and the upcoming games. It was a talent worthy of his brother, Graphite, and after a few leading questions of his own, the parallel became obvious.

“Miss Sophia, your east coast accent sounds familiar. Did you happen to attend Hayvard?” It was a fairly small conversational bait on a tiny hook, but he was pleased with the size of the resulting catch.

“Actually I had a scholarship to Griffon-Warrington University in Manehattan. Graduated with a major in Pony Political Science and a minor in Physical Education at the top of my class.”

“Ah,” said Green Grass. “Good old GW. Many of Equestria’s finest spies… I mean diplomats graduate from there.”

“Spies?” Sophia’s expression was filled with wide-eyed innocence, looking so much like Graphite did whenever he had just stolen a cookie that Green Grass could not help but chortle.

“Did I say spies?” asked Green Grass with an upraised eyebrow and a quirk to the corner of his lips that belied his words. “How careless of me. I meant business professionals.”

“So are you involved in business, Lord Green Grass?” the young griffon asked with a coy flutter of her tufted eyebrows and a flick of her leonine tail.

“Heavens forbid!” he gasped in faux astonishment, clutching a hoof to his chest. “My life revolves around my unicorn students. Well, until lately.”

“Well, I’ve made a discovery today that I think you would be very interested in, Lord Green Grass.” She sat her empty glass on a nearby sparkling planter and turned to leave with a smoldering backwards glance. “If you would follow me, I’d be glad to show you.”

Twilight had been so busy since landing in the Crystal Empire that she had actually forgotten that Green Grass was in the same room with her twice. Both were moments of intense longing for his presence followed by the heartwarming shock of seeing his muted hues from across the room, and then the inevitable guilt over having forgotten.

This time was slightly different. The familiar soft green of his coat had only been spotted in distant passing as he slipped away from the party in the presence of a very young and very pretty female griffon, leaving Twilight at a conversational void while standing by Cadence and discussing something about traditional Crystal Empire folk dancing and how a number of their experience performers would be willing to put on an exhibition at her upcoming wedding. It bothered her, but she put it in the list of ‘Things That Are Bothering Twilight Sparkle’ on the third page, indented under the subhead ‘Compare Against Greenie’s List Tonight.’

She almost failed to notice as Cadence used Excuse #4 out of Pleasant’s Guide to Pleasant Conversation in order to shed their present conversational partners and get a few minutes together in the bathroom, the first time they had been alone together all day.

“Twiley. Is there something bothering you?”

Twilight Sparkle almost jumped out of her shoes (custom silver Trottingham pumps, which Rarity had insisted went perfectly with her red dress, although they still pinched a little) when Cadence touched her on the shoulder and whirled around, nearly beaning her fellow princess with her purse (Luis VelTauren, and worth a substantial number of bits, but it goes with your outfit so well, darling, that I insist you carry it tonight).

“Fine! I’m fine! Everything is fine! Page 17, paragraph four, Diversions. I understand you have a positively darling new little puppy/kitten/parrot/ferret. May I see it, please? My husband/significant other and I were thinking of getting one too.”

She panted for breath while Cadence shook her head, the tiny spindles of crystal woven into her manestyle making little tinkling noises in the process. “Twilight, you’re all stressed out. I can tell.”

“No I’m not. There’s nothing wrong, other than being pregnant and getting married and meeting so many Royals and getting married and—” A soft compassionate hoof clad in a golden shoe (value unknown, probably forged by the same farrier who shod Princess Celestia due to the stylistic choices and microscopic hammer marks) brushed down the side of her face, and after being fortified by a dose of Love Princess Saliva, pressed down several loose strands of mane which had started to pop up.

“Twilight. You’re a Princess now. If you don’t want to go back to the party, the two of us can just walk right out of here and over to my bedroom, paint our hooves, and put our manes up in curlers just like we used to.” Cadence glanced upwards. “Well, after taking these crystals out of my hair. I swear, I sound like a walking wind chime.”

A small giggle escaped Twilight and she ducked her head. “What about Shining Armor?”

That brotherly obstacle was dismissed by the wave of one Royal Hoof. “We can put his mane up in curlers too.

“Really?” An honest smile crept onto Twilight’s face, looked around, and decided to stay for a while. “Can we paint his hooves?”

“Pearlescent Blue Hoof Polish. It’s one of the standard polish colors in the Crystal Guard. Honest to stars, Twilight. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen your brother on his back with all four hooves in the air, waving them around to get the polish dry.”

Both princesses giggled, made only worse by the light tapping on the bathroom door and Shining Armor’s voice calling out, “Cadie? There are a few more of the local Royals who would like you to introduce them to the Griffon Emperor.”

“Just a minute, Shiny,” called out Cadence before dropping her voice to a whisper for Twilight. “We can bail if you want, but can you endure just one more hour? My citizens really appreciate every minute we can give them. They just adore you and Spike.”

“And Green Grass?” whispered Twilight back.

“I don’t know,” whispered Cadence. “They’ve been shying away from him. Actually, it’s much like they treated Shining Armor back before they realized he wasn’t going to turn into some dark shadowy monster and enslave them in the crystal mines. You don’t think…”

“Oh, fudgesicles. It’s that stupid hat.” Twilight winced. “They think he’s a unicorn.”

The young griffon talked while she walked, in a peculiar half-flap, half-hop whenever it became necessary to punctuate a particularly vivid description with a dramatic gesture using one or both foreclaws. Unlike her fellow griffons, Sophia seemed much more interested in the history of the Crystal Empire rather than its reflective properties, both in structures and inhabitants. It seemed to be an authentic enthusiasm, far more honest than her occasional attempt to wheedle out little tidbits of Equestrian defense secrets or peccadilloes of his fellow royal relatives-to-be, but it was just endearing enough that he put a hoof on her shoulder as they paused in the doorway leading out of the crystal castle and into the relatively darkened courtyard beyond. It was really a romantic night, with a few small clouds at high altitude to break up the obsidian sky and a brilliant glitter to the stars, but it was lacking one particular element to make it perfect.

“I wish Twilight were with us.” He stared up into the night sky while standing next to the glittering dragon statue, casting his mind back to the first night Twilight had returned from saving the Crystal Empire, all bubbling and happy. There were a number of broad ribbons of pastel light that rose up into the sky tonight, probably a side-effect of the party among the crystal ponies causing a resonance effect in the deep microcrystalline structure of the Crystal Heart, if what little he understood about the magical artifact from Twilight had rubbed off correctly.

“Why?” asked the young griffon, sliding up beside him and running the talons of one claw through his mane.

“Several reasons. First,” he held up a hoof to prevent any more mane-stroking, “she could tell me what those resonance nodes in the Crystal Heart are called. I can’t remember, and it’s driving me nuts. Second, we haven’t had more than ten minutes together in weeks where we weren’t sleeping or working on the wedding. And third, she’d be a better chaperone than Pumpernickel.”

Sophia blinked, looking much like an owl with sand in her eyes for a moment. “Pumpernickel?”

Green Grass sighed. “Yes, him. The Royal Guard who has been dogging my hoofsteps for the last month or so. They’re afraid that if I wander off alone, some young and innocent mare will come along and create a scandal. Isn’t that right, Optio Pumpernickel?”

A deep and rumbling voice came out of the darkness, the reflections among the crystal structures making it seem to echo everywhere at once. “How did you know I was here?”

“Because you just said something.” Green Grass had expected the young griffon hen to be impressed at the Night Guard’s ability to remain hidden even among the sparkling background of the crystal castle, or at the worst startled. What he did not expect is for her to back up almost in a leap and put her rear against the statue of The Great and Honorable Spike the Brave and His Glory Triumphant In Rescuing The Crystal Heart, which actually wobbled a little as if the base had been constructed somewhat in haste and was not properly secured.

Trying to smooth things over whatever she had overreacted to, Green Grass continued, “Actually, I cheated, Pumpernickel. I counted guards before Miss Sophia and I slipped out of the party, and you were the only one missing. Would you mind giving some privacy to myself and—” Green Grass cleared his throat and continued in Griffon “—<Soft Wisdom From Mountain Peaks Flowing Down, Daughter of Emperor Ripping Claw>—” He broke off in a sharp coughing fit. “Sorry. Dry throat.”

Pumpernickel’s rumbling tenor asked, “Does that privacy include the griffon photographer over in the bushes?”

There was a reasonably small bush out in the courtyard that looked out of place, mostly due to the fact that it looked like a real bush instead of a crystalline sculpture. He walked over and looked over the top of the bush, taking the sight of the crouching griffon with the camera into consideration before looking back over at where Sophia continued to tremble next to the statue. “Miss Sophia, are you attempting a variant of the Badger Game? Because I think your photographer needs a better night lens in this light.”

“It seems ve need a better portable bush, too. Actually it’s a new lens, Your Lordship,” said the photographer griffon in a crisp, distinct East Germane accent, turning the camera sideways and pointing to the label. “Panamoptics Night-Eye. I’m please to meet you, Lord Green Grass, sir.” He stuck out a claw and shook hooves with Green Grass. “Soaring Clouds With Glinting Ice Sleeting Down On Distant Valleys, but you can call me Sleet.”

“Lord Green Grass of House Chrysanthemum, but you can call me Greenie. Your first time with the Badger Game con?” Green Grass gestured at Sophia, still trembling at the statue. “I knew something was up. I’ve never been invited out for a walk by a pretty young thing yet who didn’t want something out of the deal.”

Sleet chuckled and produced his press badge. “Vhen de Königstochter asks you to take some pictures, it’s never a good idea to turn her down. Vorst case, I get some photos for de paper. Best case, I get some photos and the Emperor owes me a favor. Vin-vin scenario.”

“Very nice,” agreed Green Grass. “Why don’t we—” He paused, looking at Sophia over by the statue and the large dark shadow she seemed to be talking with. Shifting conversational gears, he continued, “You know, I really didn’t expect anygriffon from Germaney to be on the Emperor’s little sightseeing tour. From what little I read in the papers, ponies are not very popular there at the moment.”

“Ach, you know.” Sleet waved a dismissive claw. “Der pendulum of public opinion. Vun day de ponies are the heroes of the vorld, defeating Nightmare Moon and saving all of Equestria. De next day, everygriffon is a squawking and a screeching about how Celestia let this happen in de first place. I for vun like you fuzzy little lumps.” He chuckled while shaking his head. “Not as much as Duke Plummets did, but dat’s not for me to say. You vould not believe the stories they tell in Sunny’s aerie.”

The statue of the dragon felt ice-cold to Sophia’s haunches as she trembled against it much as a little hatchling would face midnight shadows in the aerie. The stories the Misty Mountain aerie griffons had been passing around were just hatchling stories, foolish little bits of doggerel and poetry to make their pitiful little pile of rocks look important in her father’s eyes. There was no truth to them. There was no Pumpernickel of the Night Guard two centuries ago who slew seven wings of tiercels in one night to protect a pony diplomat⁽*⁾, and his ancestral spirit most certainly had not returned a few months ago, still wearing the scars of that ancient battle to avenge the death of a single pony servant. Their aerie’s Wingmaster and his Heir most probably had a disagreement and killed each other⁽¹⁾. That was the simple explanation for the void at the top of their leadership mountain. Immortal forces of undying vengeance did not just appear in response to the death of a single pony, no matter how disgusting the abuse of her body, and most certainly they did not appear in the form of a—

The shadows of the courtyard seemed to coalesce and a heavyset pony Night Guard stepped directly to her side. His dark violet armor covered most of the thin white scars that covered his body and membranous wings, in a dense and deadly pattern that could only be from griffon claws. Unblinking golden eyes stared straight into her own as he said in halting Griffon, “<Is there something wrong, Young Hen?>”

Heart hammering, breath caught in her throat, Sophia trembled at the moonlit sight as her mind brought up every single time she had ever snubbed or spoken even roughly to a pony servant. Finally with a rush, the words blurted out in a choked whisper, “<The Ghost Who Glides Through Walls, Messenger of Undying Vengeance, Death in the Shadows and Darkness, Eggslayer of Kings!>” Her tail pressed up against Spike’s statue as she backed up, trembling in abject terror and making the statue wobble. “Please don’t kill me.”

(*) Actually there was, but his last stand was somewhat exaggerated in griffon stories - Diplomatic Security
(1) Not quite true, although the Diarchy and the Griffon Empire had not yet officially admitted to the embarrassing fact that one of Luna’s diplomatic missions had caused the death of both the Wingmaster of a Griffon aerie and the First Heir, resulting in the current Wingmaster being a rather chagrined Night Guard - Diplomacy by Other Means
—

There was a chill to the arctic wind that brought a tremor down Papercut’s coat as he leaned up against the balcony’s balustrade and looked out into the glittering night. The Crystal Empire seemed unreal to his senses without the ability to open his horn up to the magic flowing through the evening air and truly feel the ancient majesty of the legendary city, frozen in shadow for over a thousand years and brought back into the starlight. Far below, he could see a few ponies out in the moonlit Dragon’s Plaza, moving around in a senseless waltz that still felt more natural than the huge room filled with glittering earth ponies and ferocious griffons that he had just left behind.

It had started as an odd observation when a crystal pony had been caught by surprise as he had walked around the corner. She had looked at him with the beginnings of a pleasant smile forming on her muzzle. Then as her eyes looked up, they paused on his horn with the little plastic suppressor, and then looked elsewhere as she turned and darted away. The rest of the day had been much the same, and when he had been dismissed from Lord Green Grass for the party this evening, it had only gotten worse. If he had not trapped one of the servants in a corner, he would not even have gotten a single hors d'œuvre, and even then it seemed as if the poor pony was about to pass out from fright.

“Hey. Not thinking of jumping, are you, Horn-Head?” With a flutter of feathers, Crosswind slipped to his side, wearing nothing but a thin line of glittering jewel chips around her neck and a snarky expression on her face. She peeked over the balustrade at the plaza far below and gave out a low whistle. “Better try to land horn-first, so you can try to minimize all that thrashing around and bleeding. Try not to land on anypony either. That’s always a mess.”

“Good evening, Miss Crosswind. It appears you are feeling better now, correct?” Papercut was not about to sniff the air for a hint of her advertised fertility, but it did seem as if she had landed upwind, and he didn’t smell anything yet, so the medication appeared to be working.

“Yeah. Look, I wanted — I wonder how far down it is from here?” She leaned over the rail far too far for Papercut’s comfort and began working up some spit. “You want to count seconds for me?”

“I do not believe that Princess mi Amore Cadenza would appreciate either of us splattering a guest with saliva,” replied Papercut in as dry a tone as he could muster, even while some traitorous cells in the back of his brain were attempting to calculate a time/distance chart. “There are several ponies down there.”

“Actually two of those are griffons,” she corrected with some squinting. “That one looks like a Nocturne, I think, it’s really hard to see in the moonlight. The other one—” She stopped with a smile beginning to form. “Hey Grumpy. What’s green, dull, and covered in spit?”

“Lord Green Grass?” he asked, squinting down into the plaza. “What’s he doing outside the party?”

“Chatting up a griffon, it seems. I’ll bet if we moved over there, you could drop a loogie on him. It was just a suggestion,” she added in response to his icy glare.

“Do try to control yourself. Speaking of control, you are back in control of your hormones, correct?”

Crosswind nuzzled softly on his neck. “If by in control, you mean do I still feel like I should fling myself down in front of you and lift my tail, begging for release from this fire that burns in my nethers and can only be extinguished by your—”

“Yes!” yelped Papercut, stumbling back and breathing in short pants. “I mean — That’s not what I mean!”

Crosswind chuckled once, seeming to get less pleasure out of his discomfort than she had expected. Moving back to the balustrade, she looked down at the griffons and Green Grass in the plaza before saying, “Yes, I’m under control. I’m a good and proper mare who no longer is a risk to your precious virtue.”

The transition from playful to miserable seemed to strip away something about the young mare he had not really appreciated until recently, and he moved up beside her to rest his forelegs on the balcony rail in a matching pose. “Well… good. After all, the Emperor of all Griffons is a guest tonight, and we wouldn't want to do anything that would embarrass our owners in front of him.

“True.” Beneath them, the moonlit figures of Green Grass and one of the griffons had moved under the statue, with the other griffon standing back a short distance holding what seemed to be a camera.

After a while of watching the photography session, he volunteered, “When we were in my bedroom, and you were… preening on my sheets. Were you in control of your hormones then? Or was it an… invitation?”

“You’ll never know,” she muttered, turning away from him.

“I suppose not,” he admitted. They watched the photographer and his subjects silently until the three of them turned and moved back into the castle, leaving the plaza empty. He shuddered at the chill breeze out of the north, then nearly jumped over the rail when a warm, soft wing rested over his back with the tickle of feathers.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said apologetically, but did not remove the welcoming wing.

“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s… something a good co-worker would do when they see their fellow pony in need. And thank you. For caring, that is. You’re a very caring pony.” The last words burst out in one quick flurry of vowels and consonants, making the warm wing across his back feel very warm indeed.

“I couldn't help it, Horn-Head. You’re just so helpless without me.” She turned her head just enough to look at him with one eye. “Thank you too, for not doing what I wanted you to do.”

“Well, of course not,” he spluttered. “We haven’t even had an official date yet, let alone progressed far enough for… that.”

She raised one eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “You mean if we had a date—”

“Several dates,” he emphasised. “With excellent wine, food at a respectable restaraunt, a certain amount of ‘fooling around’ and an ongoing arrangement of exclusivity in force at the time.”

“Wow,” said Crosswind, after a moment of thought. “You unicorns can suck all the romance right out of a one-night stand.”

Papercut bristled. “I beg your pardon, madam. If I am to extend my physical affections to a beautiful young mare, my intentions would not be for a single evening of naked lust. I am looking for a long-term relationship with an intelligent mate who would complement my abilities while remaining her own individual pony.”

The smallest of smiles tucked up the corners of Crosswind’s lips. “Anypony I know?”

There was a long pause while Papercut considered his previous words and really wished A) that his horn was fully functional and B) that he knew some sort of time travel spell that would let him go back a few minutes and kick himself in the head. Unfortunately, he didn’t even know any amnesia spells. “Perhaps,” he eventually said with great reluctance.

“You know, there is a party going on inside,” said Crosswind with a soft nudge. “Very good food with some incredibly classical music that hasn’t been heard in modern times. Perhaps even dancing.”

“I don’t dance,” he replied reflexively, but after a moment to study her face, added, “A proper gentlecolt is expected to learn such things, though. If only there were an instructor about.”

“We’ll find one,” she said, nudging him into a slow walk back to the party. “I probably should learn how to dance too.”

The prospect of curlers and hoof polish in Princess Twilight Sparkle’s near future made the remaining party pass by in a pleasant blur, even though her friends were enjoying the party far more than she was. Rainbow Dash had practically glued herself to Gilda and the two of them were the center of a number of curious griffons and a rare few of the crystal pegasi, exchanging flying stories with a boundless enthusiasm and more than a few practical demonstrations in the large ballroom that came dangerously close to a fragile crystal chandelier which seemed destined not to survive the night. Rarity had attracted a constant stream of social crystal ponies, and from what little Twilight was able to hear of their conversations, the entry in the thesaurus for ‘Fabulous’ was going to gain at least seven new descriptions before sunrise. The female crystal ponies had gone absolutely hock over heels for Fluttershy, so much so that the timid yellow pegasus had tired out early and was practically hiding behind Cadence and Twilight by the time they made their excuses and slipped out the party.

Well, first out of a door guarded by two stout crystal ponies, but the sound of conversation down the corridor made Cadence dart over to a nearby window, hissing, “Follow me! Quick, before they catch us.”

One rapid and somewhat impromptu flight outside the crystal castle later, all three of them dropped into a landing on the Royal Chambers balcony. The whole event passed before Twilight could properly tense up. It took until she had kicked her pinching shoes over to the corner of the bedroom before her mind even realized she had been flying. After all, it was only on page two of her Panic List - ‘Crashing while pregnant causing terrible harm to the foal.’

Remembering the list unleashed the whole flood of worries she had bottled up, and she flung herself down on the bed while releasing all of the tension that had been built up for weeks.

“I’m pregnant! And I’m getting married! And—” She stopped and sniffed. “Why does the bed smell like Shining Armor’s sweat?”

Cadence giggled. “Twilight. We’re married. We sleep in the same bed now. As well as other things.”

“Eww!” Twilight Sparkle bounced backwards away from the bed, pausing only to levitate a couple of pillows from the other side of the bed onto the floor and throwing herself down on them with a quiet thud. “Where was I?” she asked, her voice somewhat muffled by the pillows.

“Well, you said you were pregnant,” whispered Fluttershy. “Which is really very nice. And that you’re getting married, which is very nice too.”

The pile of purple princess and pillows made an affirmative noise.

Fluttershy continued while Cadence opened up a cabinet and dug out some extra non-stallion scented pillows. “And you’re going to be living with Green Grass, who seems like a very nice pony. And Spike likes him too.”

The purple princess pillow pile made a second affirmative noise.

“And you’re going to have a beautiful little filly this winter for all of us to hug and cuddle and adore… I mean, if you want us to, that is.”

In the resulting silence, the sniff from across the room was nearly deafening.

“Cadence?” Twilight Sparkle looked up from her pillow and stared at her former foalsitter, who was holding a couple of pillows in front of herself while looking away.

“It’s nothing, Twilight. Go on.”

“Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Twilight Sparkle rushed over to Cadence and tried to look her in the eyes, only for the older princess to twist away.

“I’m fine. I’m just so h-happy for you, Twilight.” A huge sniffling snort echoed around the bedroom as Cadence buried her face into a pillow and snuffled. “M-my little Twilight is h-h-having a f-foal!”

Twilight Sparkle found herself in the strange position of patting her fellow princess on the back as Cadence snuffled. “That little princess griffon has been with us f-for weeks, and she’s so adorable and cute and smart and she reminded me of you so much that I w-wanted one of my own! Shining and I have tried so hard to have a little foal, a-and y-you’re p-p-pregnant before me!”

“Oh, no.” Twilight pulled back far enough to look Cadence in the eyes. “I was trying not to have a foal while you were trying to have a foal, and we both—”

They looked at each other for a moment before a set of mutual giggles staged a coup over Cadence’s proper princess protocol and Twilight’s stress that cast down the barrier of time, space, and just exactly what relationship they each had with Shining Armor. Cadence confessed the difficulties she and Shining Armor had been experiencing while attempting to have a foal of their own, while Twilight made faces at the explicit parts and Fluttershy asked a number of extremely delicate questions about the procedure that indicated previously unrevealed depths of reproduction knowledge. In return, Twilight confessed her measuring issue with ‘Chill Time,’ the importance of the proper dosage of said medication, pages one through three of her foalbirth worries, and a few of the footnotes. It was a warm, intimate time between friends, that true to Cadence’s promise, involved curlers and hoof polish, as well as a somewhat incomplete attempt at ‘frosting’ Twilight’s wingtips in light purple, which of course turned into a mutual preening and totally unfair tickle fight.

The introduction of Rarity to their little party was only a small hiccup in the happy warmth, as she tucked a sleeping Spike into a curl of blankets in the corner of the bedroom before plunking right down and filling the rest of them in on the events they had missed by ducking out early. The topic of Green Grass came up almost at once, due to the number of times Rarity had needed to correct crystal ponies from the misconception that the goofy earth pony colt was some dark and nefarious creature of the night escorted by his new bat-winged minions, come to take the place of King Sombra and enslave the entire empire again. She had simply needed to repeat those darling little stories about her little Sweetie Belle and her positive lessons under his tutelage all night, you see, making sure to leave out none of the precious little details about the time Sweetie turned him into a gardenia for a week. The concept of an earth pony who taught little unicorns their first sparks of magic (and endured the resulting fireworks) was a difficult lesson to teach, but after admitting she had difficulties with the concept herself at first, Rarity felt certain that all of the crystal ponies she had talked to had a much better opinion of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s future earth pony husband.

His somewhat dark and sinister unicorn servant who slunk around the outside of the party, not so much. The peculiar gadget on his horn and the shadowy figures following him only made their suspicions worse.

A sweaty Rainbow Dash promptly showed up the moment conversation had begun to lag, chattering at full speed even as she zipped in through the balcony window, took a brief and steamy shower at Rarity’s insistence, and emerged back out into the conversation nearly completely covered in warm, fluffy towels. The griffons were ‘awesome’ and ‘radical’ fliers, even in the moonlight, although none of them even came close to topping her amazing abilities. She had even gotten to race the Emperor of all griffons, and smoked him, of course. Which brought up the possibility of Twilight and Green Grass having their wedding in the High Nest in Great Griffon, where there would be lots and lots of griffons, which of course would be cool because some of the hottest fliers in the Red Talons flew there, and they could perform with the Wonderbolts in one huge and totally awesome airshow that would absolutely blow away any other wedding like ever.

And, of course, there would be a Sonic Rainboom. Because no Royal Wedding would be complete without one. And it would be awesome!

Once the racing talk had died down, previous worries about conception and gestation were brought back out despite comments like “Darling, I’m not quite ready to settle down and have foals at this point in my career” and “Do you know how much pregnancy would cut into my top speed? Let alone my thrust/weight ratio in tight curves.” There was even a quiet “I’ve thought about it. But I haven’t asked. Yet. His work is so important to him.”

Discussions of diapers and foalsitting followed, as well as a brief segue into early enrollment into secondary education institutions and advanced degree selection that each of Twilight’s friends discouraged by the application of pillows at an appropriate velocity (gently dropped by Fluttershy, thrown at just below the speed of sound by Rainbow, each returned with the same kinetic energy).

In the end, they all were laying on the somewhat feathered rug (several pillows had suffered structural failure due to an attempted ‘Sonic Pillowboom’) and giggling together, tired from their long day.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight leaned back and rested her head on Cadence’s firm tummy. “Things are so wonderful that I don’t want them to change. Now things are changing faster than I ever believed possible with marriage and a foal and… I’m afraid things will be… different.” Her wings rustled nervously. “I don’t want to lose any of my friends.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash with an affectionate hoof to her shoulder. “We’ll always be here for you.” At the sudden silence, Rainbow popped her head up and looked around. “What? Did I say something bad?”

“She’s an alicorn now, Rainbow Dash,” whispered Fluttershy. “‘Always’ means something different now.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” Rainbow Dash rolled over and promptly blew a zerbert into Twilight’s trim tummy, grinning at the resulting uncontrollable giggle. “This means you’ll be able to tell ponies about my spectacular stunts long after I’m gone. Cool! You could even name the foal Rainbow, if she’s fast enough, of course.”

“You know, darling, that you’ve never told us just exactly how Green Grass took the news of your ascension.” Rarity rolled over and blew a feather off her nose, looking her suddenly hesitant friend in the eyes. “Spill it.”

The darkness inside the empty library embraced Green Grass in its cool chill, the only witnesses to his tears being the charred star burned into the wooden floor where Twilight had been destroyed by the Elements of Harmony. A thin golden band with a worthless lump of crystallized carbon sat at his hooves, damp and unused. It had been his most audacious proposal attempt yet, daring, bold, unannounced. Just slip into the library and ask the question right out, straight to her beautiful face, without dinner, music, or any other thing that could possibly go wrong. The square clouds rumbling over the town had been his first clue, and he cursed his hesitance at not immediately kicking the heavy wagon away and running as fast as he could. He might have even been able to save her from whatever had done this.

“Twilight Sparkle is gone.”

The words had been repeated by all of the townsponies, echoing around inside his head to the exclusion of all other thoughts as he had finally dumped the heavy wagon and just ran, past the whispering ponies, past the houses, past the flowers, and into the cold and empty library. There had been noises outside afterwards, lights and voices in the night, but nothing could penetrate the darkness that wrapped around his soul.

The murmur of voices outside the door finally forced him to move, to pick up the worthless ring and stick it back in his jacket, wipe the tears from his muzzle, and take a shuddering breath of the stale air that filled the library. Life would go on. There were little unicorn students who needed him. His family needed him. And everything he had ever needed in his life had just been taken away. But while he admitted that life would go on, he knew his life would be forever darker for what had happened here. The brilliant star that he had been planning to guide his life by had been extinguished, and never again would the world see its like.

Until the library door opened.

And Princess Twilight Sparkle stepped through.

“He was very quiet,” said Twilight, snuggling into Cadence’s warm barrel. “He sniffed a lot. We hugged a lot. His lips were ice-cold. You know, we haven’t done… been intimate since then. Well, until lately.” She blushed brightly, trying to hide under Cadence’s colorful tail as four sets of eyes stared at her.

“Darling,” started Rarity, “I hadn’t really counted months, but does that mean you were with foal before you became an alicorn?”

“And before you went through that freaky mirror to the ‘human’ world?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“And before we first visited the Crystal Empire?” whispered Fluttershy.

“No!” said Twilight, still trying to pull Cadence’s reluctant tail over her face. “Well, yes. Kind-of. Princess Celestia says the foal is perfectly fine for this stage of development, that is as much as we know about alicorn pregnancy, which is nothing, but she says so, and I trust her. So the foal has been turned into a human and an alicorn and who knows what else will happen over the next eight or nine months and what am I thinking! We’ll be fighting some giant evil monster and I’ll be huffing and puffing around behind you girls, as round as a barrel. The five Elements of Harmony, and Tubby Twilight, their leader.”

Fluttershy patted her softly on one hoof. “It won’t be that bad, Twilight. You made it through the first few months already, and we’ll help whenever you need it.”

“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash. “At least you’re not having twins like Mister and Missus Cake. She was as big as a — you’re not having twins, are you?”

“No,” sniffled Twilight. “Princess Celestia checked twice, and so did Princess Luna. They confirmed that there’s only one foal, and that he or she was conceived on the night after we returned from the Crystal Empire. We were… intimate then.”

“Any particular position?” asked Cadence. “Just for… curiosity’s sake.”

“Eww!” Twilight wrinkled up her nose and glared at her sister-in-law. “That’s still my brother you’re talking about. Besides, it was… more than one.”

“Cool.” Rainbow Dash rolled over onto her barrel and put both hooves under her chin. “How many? Because my mother always said, ‘Once for a filly, twice for a colt.’ I’ve got no idea what comes after that.”

“Eww again, Rainbow! I’m not having a litter.” There was an awkward pause in the conversation where an unanswered question that had suddenly gotten more interesting waited patiently for an answer. Every one of Twilight’s friends knew her personality, and the best way to get an answer to a question was simply not to say anything until she cracked.

It took nearly two minutes.

“Seven!” Cadence’s tail had acquired several new kinks as Twilight repeatedly attempted to hide under it, trying not to look at the growing grins on her friends as she added almost apologetically, “It was almost eight.”

After a quick check to make sure Spike was still snoring in his blanket, Rarity slipped down next to her friend and giggled. “Details, darling. We want to hear all of the spicy details.”

Green Grass determined that returning to the party after their photography session in the plaza was a little like attending an entirely different affair. Crystal ponies actually started to come up and shake hooves with him, and from the number of admiring comments about his hat, it seemed as if he was setting an entire fashion trend. Sophia was an admirable escort during the whole millinerian process, nodding along as the important pony would run a hoof along the hat’s frayed stitching or comment on his worn hatband as if it were a bold fashion statement. To be honest, it was a little embarrassing, and his head was feeling a little chilly from the number of times its warm cover had been examined, but he persevered and picked up the slack when Cadence and Twilight slipped out early, actually managing to relax a little when the griffon emperor left the party to “Do a little flying before turning in.”

Even though Green Grass was being as subtle as possible with his questions, Sophia refused to admit just why she had been so skittish around the Night Guards, and who exactly ‘Wingmaster Lumpy’ was, but he put it off as a question that could wait until tomorrow and their scheduled visit to the Misty Mountain aerie. He saw her off in the escorting claws of one of the gold-armored Imperial Guards before the party trickled down to just a few last guests, and was making himself useful by putting chairs up on tables with the servants when Shining Armor trotted over.

“<Pleasant evening, Prince By Mating of Brilliant Armor>,” chirped and squawked Green Grass in his best Griffon, somewhat pleased to see that permanent scowl on his future brother-in-law pucker up into a grimace. “<Have you visited to present physical challenges to one who would court your female egg-mate?>”

“No Griffon,” said Shining Armor. “It makes my throat hurt. I just wanted to escort you to your room—” and the extra little emphasis on ‘your’ indicated it was ‘yours only with no other ponies particularly my sister’ kind of room “—before heading out to my game this evening.”

“Game?” asked Green Grass with a small interrogatory Griffon chirp.

“Couple of the married guards and I are playing cards. It seems the Royal Bedchambers are currently mare-only, and until their little slumber party breaks up, we’ve actually got some free time.” Shining Armor yawned. “Could take until dawn.”

“I’ll leave you old married geezers to your poker game then,” said Green Grass with a matching yawn as he fell into step alongside his escort.

“Poker?” said Shining Armor with a snort of derision. “Not against these guys. I’d like to have two bits to rub together and partial ownership of the kingdom tomorrow. We’re getting them accustomed to the modern era, so it’s Hocus Pocus: The Get-Together, bring your own decks, no cash bets permitted.”

They trotted together for a while, up some stairs and down a corridor before Green Grass worked up the nerve to venture, “You know, I’ve got my own control deck, but I’m trying to work up an aggro deck.”

“Good evening, gentlecolts. I brought a newbie player tonight.” Shining Armor swept into the small guardroom with his green guest trailing behind. Green Grass felt more than a little out of place with the three bulky crystal ponies gathered around a table, but his heart nearly stopped as all three guards started. There was just a fraction of a second where their ears tucked back, shoulders hunched, and a tense ripple of combat readiness rippled from head to hocks as each stallion was prepared to launch themselves into a futile and murderous attack against a deadly foe. There was a glint of desperation in their eyes that almost instantly turned to embarrassment and chagrin as each of the three looked away, shuffling cards or fumbling with a nearby bag of haychips.

The closing door hit Green Grass in the flank as he backed into it, although the three young stallions seemed like blushing little colts who had been caught in the cookie jar now. “What in stars was that,” he managed to gasp.

One of the embarrassed stallions, somewhat of a topaz with shimmering highlights, bowed his head and said, “Sorry about that, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Shining Armor had been caught looking in just the wrong direction at just the wrong time, and swung back with a puzzled look at his card-playing compatriots. “Sorry about what, Gneiss? He just got here, and you’re apologizing already?”

“Sorry, Shiny. It’s just that every time we see a dark unicorn, we get a little…” Gneiss trailed off as Green Grass took off his hat and placed it on the table. “You’re an earth pony?”

“I think my father the unicorn said exactly the same thing in the delivery room,” said Green Grass, putting his hat back on and nabbing a few haychips from the bag while the three crystal ponies gawked. “Maybe in a slightly more accusing tone, and from what mother said, after about three applications of Starswirl’s Parenting Pair-Up spell. I think he expected the hospital to offer a refund or an exchange for somepony a little more pointy.”

“Better than me,” quipped Shining Armor. “I was born right after mom’s thesis defense. There’s still a professor at the university who keeps calling me Final Summation.”

The stallion at the back of the table, a dark obsidian bulk that soaked up the light and released it only in little sparkles, shifted uneasily. “Me mum said I was born in the mines. I don’t remember much of that time. Just at the end when Sombra was fightin’ with Celestia ‘n Luna an the whole ground was shakin’ like a leaf. I swore I’d kill ‘em for what he did to me mum. That’s about all I can remember, ‘an I’m glad of it.” He looked up at Green Grass, his eyes as pure blue as glacier ice. “Yer wife an Shiny’s wife broke that. Thank ye.”

“I’ll accept your thanks, but Shining Armor here deserves it far more than me. All I did was sit on my flank in Canterlot and worry.”

“And knock up my sister,” grumbled Shining Armor before putting on an obviously fake smile and sitting a box of cards on the table. “Well, with that out of the way—”

“M’name’s Onyx, by the way,” rumbled the big crystal pony, extending a rugged hoof that could have been carved out of his namesake mineral. “Structural Engineer,” he added, pointing with his nose to his cutie mark showing a pillar of stone.

“Green Grass,” said Green Grass, carefully leaving out the ‘Lord’ at the beginning as well as the title that Spike kept poking at him to use: His Impending Highness Prince Consort Green Grass the Incredibly Humble and Modest. “Itty-Bitty Unicorn Teacher,” he added, pointing to his own cutie mark of a little filly unicorn horn and a few weak sparks.

“That’s weird for an earth pony,” said Gneiss. “Do you have a brother who teaches flying?”

“No, but he has been known to preen,” said Green Grass. “Particularly if the young mare is exceptionally beautiful and single, with powerful wings.”

We’ll just not mention Luna’s other attributes.

They settled down to a few quick games to get situated, with Green Grass showing a good game even though he had a tendency to get beaten by just a few cards on a consistent basis. Chips were brought out, a case of imported Honeydew was sampled and compared to the local non-fermented crystal berry juice, and Green Grass had just managed to trade one of his excess Manticore cards for an Octoserpent when Gneiss came back into the room. He was being trailed by a little crystal pony without a cutie mark on her light green coat, a shimmering perfect pale green that reminded him of a fluorite coated telescope lens. She huddled behind her father’s glittering flank, obviously not wishing to be introduced to the large and frightening adults in the room, but he nudged her forward anyway and introduced her as his daughter, Fluorescence.

“She’s our very special powerful little filly, Mister Green Grass, and I was thinking since you’re a teacher and all…” The broad-shouldered guard had started his sentence somewhat slowly, and trailed down to an embarrassed stop, scuffing one heavy hoof against the floor in an obvious sign that what he had considered a good idea a few minutes ago was rapidly going to turn into a future apology and chagrined retreat from the room with his bashful daughter at his side.

Fluorescence seemed to be a perfectly normal little crystal pony filly with big topaz eyes and a sparkly deep green mane heaped up on her forehead in a swirled manestyle that looked very stylish. She stammered when she tried to say hello, looking away from him as much as possible, but there was a certain behavior that he recognized from exposure to Fluttershy. It was the opposite of Fluttershy’s habit of hiding behind her own mane, and she cringed backwards several steps and trembled when he raised his hoof to examine her manestyle closer.

After crouching down to bring his eyes on a level with the little pony, he doffed his hat and sat it on the ground in front of her. “Your turn,” he whispered with as warm and mischievous of a grin as he could muster.

A sharp tremor twitched through Fluorescence’s pale green hide in a shocked start. She seemed to be entranced by his round and most definitely not-horned head, eventually taking a few steps forward to touch his mane and ruffle around it, as if there might have been the stub of a horn hiding beneath his short manecut. With a look at her father for reinforcement, she sat down on the floor and took a deep breath before raising hesitant hooves to her head and removing the intricately woven hairpiece from her delicate fluted horn. There was a sharp intake of breath from the rest of the guards, indicating that this was a secret not even they knew about, and Shining Armor crouched down to look at the young crystal unicorn.

“It’s a very nice horn,” he commented. “Straight.”

“Impressive fluting,” said Green Grass, turning his head sideways to look at her horn. “Somewhat shorter than most students, which is still perfectly normal. I’ve seen proportionally shorter horned unicorns top of the class in Celestia’s school.”

“Am I going to have to go to the bad unicorn now?” she whispered. “Mommy said if I show my horn, the bad unicorn will come take me away.”

Gneiss put one hoof around his daughter’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, sweetie. The Crystal Princess sent the bad unicorn away, and she will never let him return.”

Green Grass nodded. “From what… um… the Twilight Princess told me, Cadence and all of the crystal ponies helped defeat the bad unicorn with their magic. Did you see it happen?”

Topaz eyes glittered with hero worship and Fluorescence abruptly gained a grin that would have looked large on Pinkie Pie. “Oh, YES! The Crystal Heart was falling off the tower and The Great and Honorable Spike the Brave and Glorious jumped off the tower to save it and…” She stammered to a halt and looked around as if King Sombra was going to jump out of a dark corner of the room. “A-and the b-bad unicorn was rising up on a crystal to grab it first.”

“And then what?” prompted Green Grass at the sudden blush and uncomfortable expression on Shining Armor’s face.

“Prince Shining Armor the Mighty and Powerful lifted the Crystal Princess and hurled her through the air to grab the Crystal Heart and Spike first!” The little crystal unicorn was fairly dancing in place with gestures as she continued, “And she put it into The Reliquary and we all focused all of our love on it just like this!” Before Green Grass could stop her, she knelt down to put her head against the floor and pushed with her magic.

After a few minutes when he had regained his sight, Green Grass regarded the glittering sparkles that seemed have become ingrained into everything in the room. According to Twilight, the effect was both temporary and related to how much of the Crystal Empire’s magic had been absorbed by the affected creature or object. His own coat now had a glossy shine that actually made the dull shade of green somewhat attractive, but it was small beans compared to the other ponies in the room. Shining Armor was resplendent in reflective shades of ivory and azure, although it still was easy to pick him out from the native crystal ponies, who fairly glowed with an internal light and a pearlescent sheen on their coats. The little sparkling crystal unicorn seemed almost at a Fluttershy stage of embarrassment, but was having problems hiding behind her semi-translucent father.

“That was… AWESOME!” Green Grass peeked around Gneiss at the blushing little unicorn, whose pale green face had taken on a rosy tinge. “Can you do it again?”

“No!” Shining Armor scowled, inadvertently taking the role of Bad Teacher just as Green Grass was hoping. Hiding a knowing grin, Green Grass dug through the educational toys in his pockets and spread a couple of them out across the floor.

“Well, how about we try something a little less fun then. You seem to have a good grasp on how to release your magic, but control is even more important than power. This little toy here has a couple of ball bearings that go into numbered holes. The more holes you can fill, the more control you have over your magic. Why don’t we start by…”

Hours later as the card game was slowing to a halt, the Crystal Guard notified ‘Prince Shining Armor the Mighty and Powerful’ that the Royal Slumber Party was breaking up and that tomorrow’s trip to the Misty Mountain aerie was going to be coming around in just a few hours and would you like to get some sleep before that happens sir because you haven’t been getting much lately. Fluorescence had run through nearly every test he had brought and reached the end of her youthful exuberance a short time earlier, allowing Gneiss to arrange her on his back for transport with only a few sleepy protests. As the rest of them left the room and headed back to their own bedrooms for whatever sleep they could get before tomorrow’s trip, Green Grass still felt perky and alert, although it was probably due to the number of Honeydews had had put away during his impromptu tutoring session.

“You know, Shining Armor, I really wasn’t looking forward to this trip, but it hasn’t turned out too—” One sparkly blue hoof darted over to cover his mouth and Shining Armor glowered.

“Not even on a dare. You finish that sentence, and I’ll have the guard fly you out somewhere in the mountains where the impact crater won’t affect the city. I swear, I don’t see what my sister—” Shining Armor gave a yelp of surprise and yanked his hoof back. “You licked me!”

“And I’m horribly disappointed in the taste,” said Green Grass. “By the way, I almost forgot to ask. Do you want to be a groomstallion in Twilight’s wedding?”

“Are you going to be there?” he grumbled as they started to trot down the hallway again.

“I understand it’s traditional for the groom to be present for at least part of the ceremony,” said Green Grass. “Although I seriously thought about using a cardboard cutout for all of the press conferences and parties. I don’t think anypony would notice the difference.”

“Tell me about it,” said Shining Armor. “No, on second thought, don’t. Just smile. Wave. Try not to think about what will happen to you if you make Twiley unhappy in even the slightest.” They continued down the corridor for what Green Grass determined to be a calculated amount of time before Shining Armor added, “Anypony volunteered to run the bachelor party yet?”

“No, but I think one will really soon.” He gave Shining Armor a dry look. “Promise me it won’t be completely full of military masculinity?”

The resulting chuckle had no humor to it at all. “Don’t worry, I know a few stallions who don’t spend all day in armor. Here’s your room.”

The chunky crystal pony guard in front of the bedroom door opened it and Green Grass stepped through, although his future brother-in-law could not resist adding one more piece of advice. “Don’t go wandering the halls in the dark. Our dungeon has crystal rats, big ones about twice the size of your hoof, and if you get tossed in there, it may be a few days until we get you out.”

After the door closed, Green Grass heard a few additional orders to the guard, mostly slanted in the direction of keeping the ‘guest’ inside the room and preventing any late-night visits by any purple princesses who might be in the castle no matter how famous they were and even if they did sign an autograph. He sighed and peeled out of his lumpy jacket, taking the time to hang it up in the closet and to toss his crumpled hat on a shelf before dropping into the soft glittering bed with a groan.

“What a day. And I’m still not sleepy.”

“Good.” A soft shadow tinted with purple glided out of the shadows and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “I had a few questions to run over with you before bed, Greenie.”

“Your command is my wish, Your Highness,” said Green Grass, rolling over and puckering up, taking a long moment to enjoy the resulting kiss and subsequent warm nuzzle before looking into Twilight’s hooded eyes. “How did you get in?”

“Balcony,” said Twilight, fluttering her wings while she extracted several books from her purse and made an organized stack. “Pumpernickel pulled guard duty for your room tonight. Didn’t even protest, just opened the balcony window for me and closed it after I went through.”

“Good lad. Very attentive to the needs of the Princesses,” said Green Grass.

“How did your night out with Shiny go? Did he bore you with stories about the Royal Guard all evening?” Twilight floated several of the books up into the air and began to leaf through them all at once, apparently engrossed in her midnight studying.

“We played a little Hocus Pocus with his military buddies, talked about things, started training a young crystal unicorn in her first magic, stuff like that. What did you and the girls talk about?”

“Mostly you,” she confessed while adding a color-coded bookmark to her book and opening another one off the stack. “Did you really meet a crystal unicorn, or are you just being you?”

“I am being me and I met a crystal unicorn. A little bitty one named Fluorescence who still doesn’t have her cutie mark. I’d place her right in the middle sixties for her power/skill ratings, but I’ll have to send for a real teacher from Canterlot to do an official evaluation. Preferably somepony who doesn’t remind the cute little tyke of King Sombra. Probably should be a female teacher with a light color. Without a hat.” He paused for a moment, running the previous words through his head. “You talked about me with the girls?”

“Did you know that Cadence makes regular visits to the city library and has collected a number of rare volumes for her personal library? They’re from over a thousand years ago, and are still perfectly preserved.”

“Yes, Twilight, but—”

“Of course being the Alicorn of Love, she has a little different view on what important works of literature deserve the most study.”

“Twilight, I really don’t want to hear about Princess Cadence’s pornography collection right—”

“It’s not porn!” protested Twilight, clutching several of the books to her. “They’re deeply sensual books on the love between ponies. And griffons. And… some other creatures. They don’t have anything to do at all about how we were talking about you. Much. I wanted to find out how ponies a thousand years ago interacted between the three tribes, and most of the books seemed so monospeciest, but then Rarity found this book on wing fetishes and Rainbow Dash found this series on sensual spells — hey, wait!”

Using his experience at reading Twilight’s visual clues, Green Grass had grabbed the very bottom book out of the stack and was examining it by the dim light of the bedroom. “The Sensual Alicorn - Illustrated. Who did they use as a model for the…”

He had to admit that from his multiple visits with Princess Celestia over the last year, he had gotten a fairly accurate idea of just exactly what she looked like, but whoever had done the illustrations for the book had seen a side of the princess Green Grass had never seen before. And a particular end. And several other points of interest that he had specifically avoided looking at in her presence. He turned the book sideways and squinted.

“It’s a stepstool,” blurted out Twilight with a bright blush and delightful wiggle.

“She’s rather… flexible for her age,” said Green Grass after a moment’s thought. “You know, as a Monodeist, I was raised to believe that Princess Celestia was the epitome of Purity and Light, the Perfect Pony in All Regards. As a perverted stallion — but I repeat myself — I want to turn the page and read the rest of the book. As a husband-to-be, I’m both frightened and a little curious at what I might find. As a brother, I so want you to make a copy of this for Graphite. And as a fellow bibliophile, I’m somewhat shocked that Princess Cadence put sticky notes all over the book, including a color-coded rating system.”

There was a warmth around his back as Twilight curled up around him and swept a feathered wing across one shoulder. “How do you feel about it as a teacher?” She punctuated her question with a sharp nip to his side that nearly make him jump off the bed.

“Errr… Well, if you consider it to be a textbook, it’s only appropriate that it be checked for… errors. Errata. Corrections. Additions.” Each word gained another nibble up his side and along his neck.

“Greenie, did you know that a pregnant female pony requires vigorous—” she punctuated the word with a sharp nip under one ear “—exercise in order to keep her muscles strong for foalbirth?”

“Really?” A sharp ripple traveled down his back as Twilight nipped him again. “Even alicorns?”

“Particularly alicorns,” she breathed in one ear. “I’ve just spent most of the evening talking about it with my friends. What would you say about skipping the lecture and going straight to the all-nighter. We can see how many chapters of the textbook we can cover before tomorrow.”

Chapter 16 - Educational Experiences

The doors in the crystal palace had a certain musical tone to them when knocked with a metal-shod hoof, and Green Grass opened one eye to glare across the bedroom at the musical door on the other end of the suite which had been quietly chiming in the key of D flat fairly regularly for several minutes so far. He did not want to get out of bed. At some time during the night, he was fairly certain he had been converted to a liquid substance — a jelly or jam perhaps — and the resolidification had not quite been completed yet. Plus Twilight Sparkle was still sprawled across the majority of his side.

The knocking at the door continued. He evaluated the difficulty of extracting himself from the bed to answer it.

If Princess Celestia can lift the sun into the sky every morning, I most certainly can slip out of bed to answer a door so Twilight can get a little more sleep. The sacrifices I make for Equestria.

After an almost liquid slide down onto the cold, cold crystal floor of his bedroom, Green Grass forced himself by sheer will to plod silently into the main room and then over to the corridor door, one slow and painful step after another. He nosed open the blessedly easy to open and most certainly earth pony designed latch before sticking his bleary face up to the opening door and speaking his first words of the day.

“Mglerg’s ponny sleep?”

The Crystal Guard on the other side of the door could not have been more apologetic if he had SORRY written across his shiny forehead, which to Green Grass’ relief, was completely horn-free.

The small collection of small fillies and colts who crowded in the corridor behind him, not so much.

An amazing array of youthful hats, tall manestyles, and fashion accessories adorned the foreheads of every little pony outside, each of the nervous little colts and fillies paired with a nervous adult pony or two at their side, and all of them looking in the direction of his door as if he were a life vest salesman on a sinking ship.

It was far more effective than coffee.

After a long minute or two looking at the glittering little unicorns, each of their translucent bodies regardless of presence or absence of cutie mark trembling in fear, Green Grass swallowed a lump the size of the Canterhorn mountain, put on his best Teacher’s Smile, and tried to think of a polite way to phrase ‘Pardon me for a moment while I go wake up your national hero, Princess Twilight Sparkle, who spent the entire night in my bed. And various places around the bedroom and bathroom.’

“Oh, lovercolt.” Warm purple wings enfolded him from behind and Twilight nuzzled up his neck to spend a little quality time with one well-gnawed ear. “Tell the guard to give us another hour or two before breakfast. I want to try Chapter Seven again.”

To Green Grass’ chagrin, the door slipped open further and the sea of little terrified faces all lit up with the sight of their heroine, adorned in all of her undressed bed-headed and sweat-dampened glory draped over his back and running her wings down his sides.

Twilight stopped moving. Apparently the sight of that many attentive young eyes was not only more effective than coffee, it was also more effective than saltpeter.

The little crystal unicorn closest to the door cleared her throat, looking even more fragile and breakable than when Green Grass had been tutoring her last night. “Mister Green Grass, sir? I brought my friends so you can show them how to use their magic too.” Bright golden eyes flickered from his face to the embarrassed alicorn still draped over his back. “If you’re not busy.”

“Give us a few minutes to clean up first,” whispered Green Grass and closed the door.

Breakfast for the newest Royal Couple turned out to be a somewhat different than expected affair involving fourteen young unicorns, sixteen nervous parents, one hundred and thirty-seven slices of toast, seventeen charred chunks of carbon that used be bread before the students tried to toast them, seven jars of various jellies and jams that were all expended in attempts to levitate the contents onto the uncharred toast, and one unfortunate kitchen staffpony who had the misfortune of wandering into the suite somewhat earlier than expected to ask if there was anything he could do for Green Grass this fine morning. Twilight Sparkle managed to stage a strategic retreat about halfway through the morning ‘lessons’ to double-check the magical locks she had placed on a certain book collection as well as to eat the rather light breakfast (mostly toast) the kitchen staff had provided, but the brief respite from chaos was disrupted by the arrival of her brother.

“Good morning, Twiley. I went by your suite, but you weren’t there.” Sharp blue eyes darted around the suite as her brother stepped inside, taking in the crowd of tiny unicorns scattered around the various rooms with only a slight twitch. Apparently the suite passed military inspection — for which she thanked a brief cleaning spell and vigorous mutual shower — and Shining Armor continued, “Are you both ready for our trip to the Misty Mountain aerie? Cadence cleared her schedule, so we can all take off just as soon as we get to the hangar.”

“Oh, no.” Twilight looked over at where Green Grass and a small crowd of tiny unicorn students were coaxing a particularly shy turquoise unicorn into popping a soap bubble with her horn. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she continued, “He’s on such a roll with them. Not a single premature geraniumification or serious backlash in the group. I’m not certain that any teacher Princess Celestia’s school sends out is going to be able to get them to open up like this.”

“Well, it is his talent,” grumbled Shining Armor. “We’ve got a dilemma then, sis. Griffon protocol does not flap well with postponing a scheduled visit of a head of state, so we really don’t want to cancel our visit. Although protocol doesn’t seem to have a problem with Emperor Ripping Claw just dropping out of the sky,” he added.

“I’m not a head of a state,” protested Twilight. “I’m not even a school board member.”

“You’re not a head of state, but Cadence is. However, if she asks the Wingmaster of Sunny’s aerie for permission to have Princess Sunny as one of your flowerfillies without a member of the wedding party present, that may be seen as a diplomatic slight, particularly with the Griffon Emperor present. Technically, you could ask the Wingmaster while he’s here, but since he’s a head of state too—” Shining Armor rolled his eyes “—that would be seen as putting a Griffon Wingmaster as subservient to an Equestrian Princess, which we already have enough problems dealing with.”

“So who is Wingmaster Lumpy anyway?” asked Twilight Sparkle, noticing the ripple of annoyance that twitched down her brother’s suspiciously sparkly white coat. “I know I’ve heard that name before.”

“He’s… it’s complicated. And screwed up. If the two of your could just have waited to have your wedding next spring, he would have stepped down from his position and you could ask Wingmaster Gilda. But no.”

Shining Armor huffed to a stop as Twilight nuzzled him along the neck. “I know you’re displacing your anger at me for getting pregnant over to him, B.B.B.F.F. And I know you’re jealous that some other pony loves me as much as you do. And I know you’re feeling protective of your defenseless little sister.” Twilight rustled her wings. “Times change. In a year, you’ll have a little niece to play with. In a few years, you may even have one of your own. Or two. Maybe three. Who knows, maybe Greenie will even teach them their first magics. But one thing that will never change is that you will always be my goofy big brother, and I love you for that, Shiny.”

“Thanks, sis.” Shining Armor returned the nuzzle. “That doesn’t mean I have to be nice to the green goofball, does it? I mean he is marrying my little sister. There’s a certain amount of brotherly intimidation that goes along with that. It’s on my checklist,” he added.

“If you think you can out-intimidate Princess Celestia, Luna, our parents, and my friends, go ahead. Now, there’s an obvious solution to the problem today that you’re not seeing. You stay here to help with Green Grass’ students and I’ll go with Cadence to the aerie. It will be fun, just the two of us like when we were young.”

“I don’t see why I have to stay here with—” There was a sharp sneeze as a young unicorn nose met a bursting soap bubble, and a brilliant flash of light immediately followed. Green Grass looked up with a grin as the little unicorn audience giggled at the flowers that had suddenly sprouted out of his mane.

“Oh, dear!” called out Green Grass while waving a somewhat greener hoof. “Could you come over here please? I need another dispersal spell.”

Twilight giggled and kissed her brother on the forehead. “I need you to stay here and keep his lessons under control because I don’t want to wind up marrying a potted plant after one of his student’s flares.”

Far above the Equestrian tundra, the flagship of the Griffon Empire swept through the chilly air, flanked by a squad of wildly-flapping Imperial Guards and one chromatic-hued pegasus matching their speed with relative ease and the occasional relaxed loop or roll. On the open prow, Emperor Ripping Claw proudly pointed out various distant details to his two guests — one shivering white unicorn and one trembling yellow pegasus — as they approached their destination. It was an impressive sight and a high honor, but the two friends seemed as if they would much rather have been in the warm observation lounge with the rest of the Royal Delegation.

There was a distinctive hole in Twilight Sparkle’s universe as she looked through the gigantic glass windshield at the front of the Indomitable’s observation lounge. Cadence stood right beside her, all pink and radiantly princess-y while for some reason Pumpernickel the Night Guard stood at her other shoulder, all dark and threaten-y even in his sunglasses, leaving her to hold up the middle of the line, a misplaced librarian who had accidently stumbled into the wrong section of the griffon emperor’s airship and was just waiting to be thrown out or reshelved in the proper location. Why in the world Green Grass would have made her presence feel more legitimate was a mystery, but as much as she wanted him here, he was so desperately needed by the bunch of cute crystal unicorn students. He had even suggested they bring the whole adorable herd along as a field trip, but after a millisecond of thought and the realization that over half of the students would qualify as Cutie Mark Crusaders, she had firmly put her Royal Hoof down on that idea. After all, the Misty Mountain aerie had only been designed to withstand invading armies, and the Indomitable was actually an armed griffon warship, and possibly flammable.

The tone of the airship’s engines changed as the squat bulk of the Misty Mountains lurked ahead, a somewhat short mountain in the Pericorn mountain chain, but a tactical strongpoint against anypony who would attempt a military expedition in the area. The squat fortress on top of the mountain looked out over a large and verdant green valley spotted with earth pony villages.

Despite the griffons claiming the airspace as far around the mountain as could be seen from the fortress, the earth ponies of the valley were Equestrian citizens while the griffons provided the villages with rain and snow in exchange for food and servants. It was an uneasy reminder for Twilight about times in Equestria’s history before the union of the three tribes, and caused her to add a few more unasked questions to her list for any of the earth ponies in the area who might wish to talk for a while. Sunny had said her grandfather had treated the ponies in the valleys poorly, but changed the subject whenever Twilight had asked any further questions.

“This is great, Twilight,” gushed Spike, standing on a box and leaning against the forward windshield. “When I’m all grown up and get wings, I’m going to fly around the mountains all the time. Look at how small the ponies are down there.”

“That’s great, Spike,” she replied, “but don’t you think the ponies would get just a little worried to see a big dragon flying overhead?”

“I know! I know!” Princess Sun Shines came bounding into the observation lounge, taking a huge leap to land directly on Cadence’s shoulders. The first time the little griffon princess had done that, Twilight had nearly screamed, but Sunny was very good about keeping her foreclaws tucked into a ball and not extending her hindclaws, so there was no real bloodshed except from Twilight biting her lip. “You can tie a big banner to your tail that says ‘Hi, I’m Spike the Friendly Dragon!’”

“Pardon me, Your Highnesses?” Papercut stood hesitantly at the doorway to the observation lounge, the little stub of the restraining ring on his horn looking somewhat silly in the reflected light coming through the wide glass windows. “His Majesty, Emperor Ripping Claw, would like to extend his compliments to you, and invite you to the hangar for Princess Sun Shine’s visit to the village of—” the corners of Papercut’s lips twitched downwards “—Toenail.”

The little griffon princess abruptly quit bouncing on Cadence’s back and Twilight considered again just what Papercut’s real talent could possibly be. It was supposed to be an ability to cut through red tape and bureaucratic paperwork that matched the scissors and pieces of cut paper on his flank, but from observation over the last few weeks it seemed his talents were more oriented towards calming irrational exuberance, with ‘irrational’ being defined by the stiff unicorn as ‘anything that Pinkie Pie might consider fun.’ The crystal ponies all seemed to view him as the reincarnation of King Sombra, so Green Grass and herself had swapped appointment secretaries for the day by mutual agreement as not to frighten any of the little students during their learning process.

“I’m very glad you all are coming with us,” said Sunny, slowing her normal adolescent chatter to a more formal voice. “I wanted to share Stargazer’s life with you. She was my best friend in the aerie, and I wanted to introduce her to both of you and Emperor Ripping Claw.”

“We’re honored, Princess Sunny,” said Cadence. “I’m certain the Emperor will be too.”

The trip by griffon-drawn carriage to the little earth pony village was a somber affair, landing at the outskirts of the small grassy cemetery at the edge of town and proceeding at a slow pace to one of the newer graves. Sunny took her position by the headstone, her head thrown back and big golden eyes blinking rapidly in the sunlight as the rest of the guests gathered in a close circle. The earth ponies of the village followed, forming a larger circle around the mismatched royalty and standing with their heads bowed until a rush of wind overhead caused everyone to look up. Griffons descended with wings open wide to land around the outside of the circled villagers, each one of them wearing the dark smear of ashes across their beaks under each eye as a sign of mourning, and each lowering their heads to look at the ground in a sign of respect. All around the cemetery, the traditional greenery of earth pony mourning brought greens and browns to the soft pastel colors of ponies and sharp colors of griffons, merging the two into a harmonious whole that tugged at Twilight’s emotions until Cadence floated over a tissue to blow her nose.

With this many griffons surrounding the ponies, the scent of panic should have been filtering up through the herd, but all she could smell was the acrid scent of wormwood, the sharp bite of yarrow, and the suffocating odor of rue, all graveyard flowers that had been accidentally trampled or broken by the gathering of this large of a crowd. The little griffon princess reared up, trying to see the rest of the crowd, but was unable to be seen until the Night Guard Pumpernickel stepped forward and permitted the little griffon to climb up on his bare back.

There was a rustling and muttering among the griffons at that gesture, and Twilight wondered if it had anything to do with the thick tracery of white scars that criss-crossed the bulky Nocturne’s coat and wings. He had discarded his armor and helmet somewhere, keeping only his armored shoes and the sunglasses that kept the nocturnal pony from being blinded by the bright sun, but he bowed his head low to the ground in respect the same as the rest of the griffons, holding perfectly still as Sunny began to speak from her pony perch.

She stood on her haunches with pinfeathered wings outspread in the griffon pose of storytelling, gesturing with a claw during particularly emotional places, and while her young voice should have been too quiet to be heard, there was a powerful set of lungs behind it that projected her words to the very farthest griffon at the edge of the cemetery. Sunny spoke warmly of Stargazer, the young mare who had been her favorite companion while growing up, there for support when her mother died and there again when her elder sister was smashed against the rocks during mating season. Stargazer had held a special place in the young princess’ heart, teaching her about ponies and the history of her aerie from her first memory as a fuzzy little chick. When she had been sick, Stargazer had been there for her. When she could not sleep, Stargazer had shown her the stars and introduced every one of them to her. When her father had to travel to far away lands on missions of diplomacy, Stargazer had stayed. There was always the warm cheek and soft nuzzle of her best friend when times were bad, and a pony to play with when times were good.

Then Stargazer had to leave. A new griffon had entered the aerie, her grandfather’s son, and Plummets had demanded a servant. Stargazer. Grandfather had been unbending on the demand, and soon Stargazer and Sunny were only able to see each other at night when she could not sleep. While serving the older griffon, her friend had become battered and bruised, showing up every night with new injuries. Grandfather had dismissed Sunny’s concerns as unimportant, but the injuries continued. Nogriffon but one stood up for her friend, and for that disobedience, her Aunt Gilda had been stripped of her position as First Heir. Plummets took her position as Duke, and the injuries to Stargazer became fewer for a while, although she still would not speak of them. Their visits became less frequent, dwindling down to a precious few until the Crystal Empire had appeared.

The glittering highlights of the Crystal Empire’s magic sparkled in the air as Sunny spread her pinfeathered wings, first giving them a slow flap, and then standing with them outstretched as far as they would go, the wingtips almost translucent in the sunlight.

“I did not find out the truth until Princess Luna’s diplomats visited our aerie. It took ponies to find out that my best friend had been killed. Duke Plummets, the First Heir of my own aerie murdered her. He drank her blood, and for that, he was challenged and killed in turn.” The feathers at the ends of Sunny’s wings trembled in the breeze, and some small portion of Twilight’s mind noticed the faint trickle of blood running down the Night Guard’s flanks as the little griffon’s claws dug in.

“My Grandfather, the protector of our aerie, defender of the weak, guardian of the eggs. He did not protect her. He did not avenge her murder. He had eaten from her cold corpse, and had his own son Plummets do likewise.”

The cemetery was nearly dead silent in shock, with only the shallow breathing of the audience rising above the whisper of the gentle breeze. Cadence’s warm wing slipped over Twilight’s shoulder, forestalling a terrified tremble at the thought of the horrible crime. The little griffon remained in place, wings holding perfectly stable until she recovered enough to continue speaking.

“For his crime, my grandfather was challenged for his position, but not by any member of my aerie. It took a pony to avenge the murder of my friend, reclaim the honor of our nest, and take his position as Wingmaster of our aerie.”

This time there was a soft rustle of uncomfortable movement and the whisper of quiet questions between the audience members. To Twilight Sparkle’s horror, the dense pattern of scars on the Night Guard suddenly came into focus as the result of a battle for survival against a carnivore twice his size. The little griffon standing on his back had once watched as her grandfather placed every one of those deadly slashes into his skin. She had watched as a pony fought against her own family, hooves against claws until only one remained alive.

And now that pony stood beneath her claws, voluntarily lifting her up on his own scarred back so that she could speak to the crowd. Her Aunt Gilda stood nearby, holding herself so rigid that she might as well have been a statue wearing the silver bracelet of a Griffon First Heir. The position that she had been given by a pony.

This was why Shining Armor had been so upset. Obviously, having a pony as the Wingmaster for a Griffon aerie would be seen as a slap in the beak to the proud race of griffons. Up until this point, Pumpernickel had been nearly invisible as Wingmaster. If Green Grass had not wanted Princess Sunny as a flowergriffon at the wedding, Gilda would have eventually risen to the position and Pumpernickel would have slipped back into the Night Guard without a word being spoken about his previous awkward position.

But now, the same quiet pony who stood guard outside her window last night was in the even more awkward position of receiving the Emperor of all Griffons into his aerie. There should have been consternation, shouting, and a considerable amount of diplomatic threats from the touchy griffons.

Instead, Pumpernickel had shed his armor and lowered himself to the task of supporting little Sunny not as a subordinate, or as a Night Guard in the service of the Equestrian Princesses, but as a Wingmaster of a Griffon aerie. It was the place of a Griffon Wingmaster to support his heirs, and Pumpernickel was obviously taking his Royal Duties as Wingmaster literally.

Eventually the whispers drew to a silence again as the little griffon lowered her wings and tucked them back along her flanks. She bowed once to the looming bulk of the Emperor before turning to the two Equestrian Princesses.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle of Ponyville, Bearer of the Element of Magic, Mate to Green Grass the Teacher of Kings. Your mate showed me compassion and warmth when I needed it most. He showed me that Princess Celestia is a friend, not an enemy, and that all histories have more than one side. Thank you. Stargazer would have loved to meet you both.”

Words seemed unwarranted, so Twilight merely lowered her head in a short bow, which seemed to be appropriate as Sunny turned to the next Princess.

“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, Keeper of the Crystal Heart, Mate of Shining Armor the Protector. Your kind words and love after my loss are appreciated more than you can imagine. Stargazer would have been overjoyed to meet you and your mate. Let it be known that as long as I live, no pony within my aerie’s protection need fear the skies.”

Cadence matched Twilight’s brief bow almost exactly, somehow making Twilight feel remotely more princess-like for a moment.

The little griffon reached out with one claw and tapped Optio Pumpernickel on the back of the head. “Hey. Lumpy. Look up.” Once she had gotten the dark Nocturne to raise his head and turn, Sunny faced the silent and immobile Griffon Emperor and bowed, which was fairly impressive as she was still standing on Pumpernickel’s back.

“Your Majesty, Emperor Ripping Claw, Stargazer would have been terrified to meet you, but with time, she would have been able to recognize your respect for ponykind and your desire that all griffons and ponies live in peace. I have sworn a blood oath to avenge the death of my grandfather upon the one who took his life, and that blood oath disgraces both the memory of my friend and our empire. I would ask a favor of you today in the memory of my friend, to strike this oath from my family honor and cast it away into the darkness where it belongs. For I now can recognize that the one who killed my grandfather was only doing what needed to be done, and to swear an oath against him was the act of a foolish chick.”

The big grey griffon strode forward one step and bobbed his head in the shortest of bows. “Sun Shines, you show wisdom beyond your years. Can you truly give up a debt of blood against one who slew your kinfolk? Blood calls out for blood. It has always been our way.”

“The blood of my friend was shed first. Her death has been avenged, and she would not wish any more blood to be shed in her name.”

The rumbling bass of the Emperor’s voice seemed to shake the ground. “Then in the name of the Empire of the Sky, I hereby declare your debt of blood cancelled. Let your friend pass to the ancestors unburdened by vengeance, and may she find peace.”

The little griffon bowed again, stabilized by her tight grip that had been shifted into something that appeared only intensely painful, not damaging to her pony pedestal. She turned to the crowd of ponies, all looking a little stunned and nervous. “To you, the friends and family of Stargazer, on behalf of our aerie, I can only ask for the forgiveness we do not deserve. Stargazer was my friend, but she was your friend and family. Her life was spent growing up among you, and all my aerie gave back to your village is…”

Sunny stopped, blinking furiously and trembling when a tall earth pony mare stepped forward out of the crowd. There was a certain way the mare carried herself that reminded Twilight of Ivory Scroll, the Mayor of Ponyville, only with the tearful restraint of one who has suffered great loss. She stepped up to the little griffon and wrapped her in a warm embrace before the tears began to fall.

“Mayor Gladiolus Berry. Stargazer’s mother,” whispered Cadence into Twilight’s ear.

With both of their composures broken beyond repair, the older mare and the little griffon remained wrapped up in each other’s embrace while the Griffon Emperor stood behind them. The gathering slowly began to break up, with various ponies and griffons moving quietly to Sunny and Stargazer’s mother, saying a few soft words, and moving on.

The slow movement of solemn ponies was a chilling sensation to Twilight’s heart, bringing back memories of the old ponies she had known in foalhood and far too many funerals during her youth. There had always been the unwelcome viewing of the body, which thankfully had not happened here, and then the service where everypony who knew the deceased would get up and say a few words. Most probably Stargazer’s funeral several months ago had been like that, only filled with nervous tension as Sunny rubbed shoulders with nervous ponies, each of them unwilling to admit the horror that they held in their hearts over what had happened.

“Excuse me, Princess Sparkle.” A silver-armored hoof holding a wad of tissues appeared in Twilight’s distracted sight, motioning to the tissue she had nearly shredded while thinking. “You’re dripping.”

“Sorry.” Twilight swapped the tissues and wiped her nose before she realized that the voice from the small and quiet Night Guard who had slipped up to her side was female. “Laminia?”

“Yes, Your Highness?” The Nocturne’s eyes were damp and showed signs that she had also used several tissues during the ceremony too. Even Papercut, standing stiff and emotionless by her side had a crumpled kerchief stuck back into his vest pocket, although he was not wearing a trim copy of the Night Guard armor that wrapped Luna’s Hoofmaiden in steel, even if it was just a little loose around her middle.

“Did you know Stargazer?” whispered Twilight, after a few ponies had passed by with condolences and kind words for the two princesses.

“No,” whispered Laminia back, passing another tissue to each of her two wards. “I was the one who found the body. That bastard Plummets had already murdered her before we arrived. He planned on killing us all.”

“Your husband was very brave,” whispered Cadence, trying not to start when Laminia gave a subdued snort.

“We were all scared pissless, Your Highness. The whole ambassadorial party was trying to run away to the Crystal Empire when Plummets and his goons ambushed us. Lumpy challenged him as a desperation move that should have gotten us all killed. Stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. And he did it twice.”

Lamnia nodded towards where two young ponies were talking to a rather uncomfortable Gilda with Rainbow Dash at her side. “If you want bravery, talk to her. After Lumpy killed her father in the challenge ring, all she had to do was step back and the whole aerie would have torn my husband to pieces, and us right afterwards. Instead, she stepped in ahead of them, fought Lumpy like a starving alley cat to distract the mob, and then the two of them took a break of all things. Trying to kill each other one minute, and limping away to sip tea and discuss strategy the next. Idiots.”

There was a brief break from the conversation as a number of the village ponies passed by, making offers of hospitality that were turned down due to their scheduled visit to the Misty Mountain aerie. It struck Twilight as a little bizarre that they were going to travel up to the top of the mountain to talk with a Night Guard (who was standing right over there) and a little griffon princess (likewise) in front of the Griffon Emperor (also likewise) about having Sunny spread flower petals over the wedding path after having just heard her talk about the gruesome murder of her friend and two family members.

As another mourner came up to exchange a few words, she really missed Green Grass. If nothing else, she could have kicked him in the shins for his bright idea. But then she was the one who had suggested the Cutie Mark Crusaders as the other flowerfillies again, so hopefully there was not going to be some cosmic balancing of the books. Particularly when the little troublemaking griffon and the three little troublemaking fillies would meet.

During a momentary lull from sympathetic mourners, Papercut leaned over and whispered to Laminia, “So who won the fight?”

“My husband, you lunkhead. Broke Plummets’ neck and shattered Wingmaster Talon’s spine. Did you think he would still be walking around if he lost?”

“Not them,” hissed Papercut, obviously wanting to take a sharper tone but somewhat subdued by the recent gruesome conversation. “When he fought Princess Gilda after their break.”

Laminia shrugged. “They haven’t yet. It’s been just over two months now, and neither of them have made any attempt to chop the other into ribbons. Lumpy said he just wanted to wait a year, and when he failed to show up at the High Perch to swear allegiance to the Emperor, the position would automatically revert to the First Heir.” She nodded at the quiet bulk of the Emperor, who was bending down to talk to a very small and very curious little filly. “That went straight into the crapper yesterday. I’m not complaining. Gilda made no secret about killing my husband no matter how their fight ended. Blood calls out for blood. Every day they don’t fight is one more day my husband is alive.”

A number of sympathetic griffons began to filter past, shaking hooves and making small talk about how fitting it was that the ceremony for Sunny’s pony friend who was loved so much was attended by the pony princesses of Friendship and Love. While the griffons streamed by in a long and colorful procession, Twilight began to think there was more than one griffon circling around to run through the line again until the sight of a familiar beak and crest crossed her eyes.

“Hello, Gilda,” said Twilight in response to the griffons greeting, more out of reflex than intent.

“Yeah, hi.” The young griffon hen squirmed uncomfortably before Rainbow poked her gently in the ribs from the side.

“Say it, you big chicken.” From the twitch, Rainbow had either hit a ticklish spot or a healing injury on Gilda.

The pattern of discolored feathers and healing lumps on the griffon when seen up close gave evidence that Gilda’s fight with Pumpernickel had not been entirely one-sided, and the griffon seemed to chew an idea for a short while before spitting it out. “I’m sorry. For being such a jerk in your town.”

“And?” prompted Rainbow.

After an additional huff, Gilda growled out, “AndIwonderedifIcouldcomebacksometime.”

Surreal. That was the word. Twilight was standing in a cemetery where a pony who had been killed and eaten by griffons was buried, being asked by a direct relative of the killer if it would be acceptable for her to visit Twilight’s new home town, filled with ponies that she cared about.

It reminded her oddly of Princess Luna.

Nightmare Moon had attacked Ponyville, but Luna had the courage to return on Nightmare Night to the site of her attack and accept the forgiveness of the small town. Admittedly, it had taken considerable effort on all sides, but Gilda was Rainbow Dash’s friend, and there was only one way for a true friend to answer her request.

“Yes, of course.” Twilight smiled and turned down shaking her outstretched claw in exchange for sweeping the nervous griffon up into a warm hug. “You’re going to apologize to Pinkie, right?” she whispered into the griffon’s ear.

Gilda paused for a moment before nodding, the point on her beak jabbing into Twilight’s back.

“And after the three of you get done apologizing to each other, you’re not planning to go out pranking all over Ponyville, are you?” whispered Twilight.

Gilda shook her head, then pulled back a little to smile. “Thank you, Princess Twilight.” It was a thoughtful and kind moment, only spoiled slightly when Gilda and Rainbow Dash had walked to just what they thought was outside of earshot and Gilda said, “You know, Dash, once we make up with your pink friend, I’ve got this idea for a prank…”

Her heart nearly stopped when the shadow of the Emperor swept over her, and when she turned, she found herself looking up into his golden eyes like some prey animal in the last seconds of its life.

“Peace, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” he rumbled, sounding much like a friendly thunderstorm. The diminutive form of Sunny was tucked right up by his side, looking like she wanted so much to have one of his large grey wings spread over her for support but also wanting to stand on her own four paws and claws as the Second Heir of her aerie in the company of her emperor. Twilight sincerely hoped with all of her heart that she would never face the same pain that the little griffon bore so well, at least on her outside.

Directly behind the mismatched pair was Sunny’s father, Ambassador Sharp Feather, and Wingmaster Pumpernickel, both of whom seemed concerned about this meeting of princesses, but each concerned in a different fashion.

The emperor paused in the polite hoof-shake he presently had wrapped around Twilight’s right forehoof, exchanging it for a warm embrace that vaguely reminded her of Princess Celestia’s reserved hugs, with vast stores of strength restrained and immense quantities of affection unleashed. She was nervous until the rumbling whisper by one ear that said, “Smile, Twilight, and look off to your right a little for the photographer.”

She did, and she smiled as the griffon photographer snapped off two quick shots, turning her attention back to the big griffon as he rumbled in a low whisper, “Thank you, Princess Twilight. I’m sorry to have involved you in this, but I shall attempt to minimize your discomfort.”

“I can stand discomfort if good will come out of it,” whispered Twilight back. “I’m a princess now. It comes with the territory.”

“Griffon-Pony relationships for the next century will be affected by our actions over the next few days,” he responded. “I wish I could stay for your wedding and the mating flight,” he added in a somewhat louder tone. “Have you laid your eggs yet?”

A rather strange triple-snort chuckle sounded from both princesses and Laminia, made only worse when Sunny popped up with, “Ponies don’t lay eggs.” All of the humor drained out of the air as the little griffon continued, “Stargazer told me all about it. She was pregnant just like Lamina. Are you pregnant, Princess Twilight?”

Swallowing once, Twilight nodded. “I’m not as far along as Laminia, but yes. I’m pregnant.”

The little griffon moved forward and placed one tentative claw against Twilight’s side, the needle-sharp points of her talons pricking against her purple coat and causing a shudder to ripple down to her tail. She then stepped forward another step and extended a second claw, placing it against Laminia’s armor-covered slim grey side. “Laminia told me that their foal is going to be a batpony, just like them, and they’re going to call her Stargazer. If her foal had survived, it would have been a hippogriff. There’s only been three of them in all of history. Is yours going to be an earth pony like Green Grass or an alicorn like you?”

It was a question that reminded her far too much of her missing fiancé, and prompted a very Green Grass style response. “Yes, probably. She could be any one of the pony races, and we would love her just as much. Although I hope she doesn’t get her father’s sense of humor.”

“He’s funny. Weird, but funny. I think he’s going to make you a good mate, just like Shining Armor is for Cadence.” The little griffon blinked in the sunlight and took her claws off the pregnant mares’ chests after a gentle reassuring pat. “When they're old enough, will you and Laminia bring your fledglings here so I can tell them about Stargazer? I think it’s just as important as the Windgido story.”

After a quick look at Laminia, Twilight said, “Yes, we will. I promise.”

She saw the little griffon princess off with her rather odd retinue and shook the hooves and claws of a few stragglers before turning to Princess Cadence and Laminia. “What’s the Wendigo story? I don’t remember griffons being involved in the Hearts Warming pageant.”

“I don’t know either,” said Cadence with a small frown and a glance at the blocky fortress looming through the mists on the top of the nearby mountain. “I suppose we could ask this afternoon when you make your formal request to the Wingmaster.”

“Well, I for one am not looking forward to it,” said Rarity with a fearful glance at the mountain also. “That castle looks positively dreadful, not at all like Canterlot.”

“I think it looks neat,” added Spike. “All gloomy and lair-like. Green Grass said that sometimes the griffons and the dragons were allies, and that sometimes a griffon aerie would be built around a dragon’s nest for protection.”

“They do both protect their eggs,” added Fluttershy. “But I never knew they both lived in ancient castles.”

“It’s actually Neoclassical Post-Diaspora architecture,” said Twilight Sparkle. “An earth pony design used after our arrival in Equestria but before modern thaumaturgical construction techniques. It probably dates all the way back to when King Sombra was ruling the Crystal Empire.”

Their introspective observation of the distant mist-shrouded castle was interrupted by a quiet voice by Twilight’s elbow that made her jump.

“There were supposedly a lot of crystal ponies who escaped his rule during the last few years.” A quiet dark blue mare with deep violet eyes bowed to the two princesses, raising her head with a soft smile. “I agree with Princess Sunny. My daughter would have loved to meet you all, but since she can not, please allow me. The village is having a quiet remembrance lunch in her memory. It would be our greatest honor to have you all attend.” The inviting smile on Mayor Gladiolus’ face was joined by a twinkle in her eye as she added, “In fact, I believe we share a common relative. Your great great grandmother to some degree was Ambassador Morning Glory, correct?”

Chapter 17 - Side Trip

The lunch had been wonderful, the conversation intriguing, and their visit to the little village of Toenail something that Twilight was going to remember for the rest of her life, no two ways about it. It was a little bit weird to discover distant relatives in distant places, but then again lately she had been receiving all kinds of mail from seventeenth cousins four times removed, most of whom claimed to need a few thousand bits to complete one project or another.

Mayor Gladiolus was definitely a breath of fresh air in that regard. Pictures of possible distant relatives and discussions on the possibility that the Crystal Empire refugees had eventually settled the valley filled the conversational cracks during the quiet lunch, giving Twilight a strange sense of leaving home as the pegasus driven carriage ascended from the village en route to the mountaintop castle.

She exchanged a few lighthearted sisterly jabs with Cadence about how all these new relatives were hers now too, and that if the Crystal Empire library had a genealogy section that could link their family trees, she was going to call her ‘Great-great-great-great-grandma Cadence.’ It brought up discussions about the fuzzy leftovers of the memory spell still hanging over the city, which was turning out to be more of a memory disruption spell that had most likely wiped out any possibility of finding out who Cadence’s real parents were. The thought drew a wet blanket over the distraction she was looking for as the grim fortress drew closer, made up for when Cadence nuzzled Twilight and declared that she was more than happy to ‘borrow’ Twilight Velvet and Night Light for that purpose whenever she needed parental pampering or cookies.

It was a rather uncomfortable ride through the updrafts and downdrafts around the Misty Mountain aerie, and Twilight’s queasy stomach was overjoyed when the chariot finally touched down on the flat and somewhat windswept roof of the stone fortress. She had expected Emperor Ripping Claw to be there, but only three griffons sat patiently while the carriage came to a halt and Papercut staggered out of the back to be noisily sick out of eyesight.

Gilda and Sunny sat with the patient immobility of raptors awaiting prey, positioned slightly in front of a third male griffon who looked as if he had just bitten into a persimmon. There was a definite sheen of golden eyes in his narrow gaze, a clue that he was one of the griffon royalty but not enough of a clue for Twilight to guess a name. Still, his impressive size and the faint grey iridescence across his feathered crest made it fairly probable that he was a close relative to Emperor Ripping Claw, perhaps the son that Sunny had referred to earlier.

“Good afternoon, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” Gilda stood with back straight and perfect grace, her niece a mirror image of her stance as the two princesses and their retinue stepped out of the chariot. The third griffon remained almost frozen and motionless, as if he did not wish to acknowledge the existence of any ponies.

“Good afternoon, Princess Gilda. Princess Sunny.” As a pony princess in a griffon aerie, Cadence and the rest of the ponies bowed to one knee as a sign of respect. “We have come on a formal mission, to beg permission from your Wingmaster to permit Princess Sun Shines on the Misty Mountains at Dawn Through Early Morning Hazy Skies to participate in the wedding of Princess Twilight Sparkle von Twinkle of Ponyville, Bearer of the Element of Magic, Mistress of the Silver Diadem and Defender of the Realm, to Lord Green Grass, scion of the House Chrysanthemum, and Teacher of Kings.”

“Where’s Greenie?” piped up Sunny, cocking her head and looking at the empty carriage. “I thought he would be able to catch up by now.”

Green Grass peeked over the edge of the overturned table and regarded the fairly large glowing hole in the Crystal Castle wall, still mostly obscured by a haze of glittering dust that cast rainbows in the reflected sunlight. The smoldering remnants of the focus rune that he had taped to the wall earlier floated down in small glowing bits, one of which blew back over the table and landed on Shining Armor’s nose.

“That’s very… impressive, Aggie.” The little pale blue unicorn remained standing stock-still in the middle of the corridor, a spiraling wisp of smoke rising from her horn and her eyes as big as saucers. The rest of her friends began to peek around the corner of the corridor as Green Grass got down on his knees and peered out the new ragged window in the castle. “Looks like you missed Spike’s statue, but the grounds crew is going to have a pothole to fill out in the garden today. Why don’t you take a short break and get a cookie while we get one of your other friends to try projecting their magic. Only a little higher, and in this direction. I think there are fewer things to break outside the castle over there.”

“Greenie,” said Shining Armor with the somewhat distracted voice of somepony remembering what it was like to grow up with Twilight Sparkle. “Let’s try to have most of the castle still standing when my wife comes back.”

“He’s unavoidably detained,” said Twilight. “Affairs of state and such things. Where’s the Wingmaster?”

“Sleeping,” chirped Sunny. “The minute they got to your quarters, they dropped off like anvils. They snore,” she added, making a quite realistic sound of pony snoring as an example.

“And who is your companion, Princess Sunny?” asked Cadence with a pointed glance at the impassive male griffon.

“That’s Sky,” she scoffed. “He’s dumb.”

“Now, Sunny. I know you’ve been taught better than that,” chided Cadence. Turning to the impassive male griffon, she smiled a very warm and loving smile. “Hello, my name is Princess Cadence of Equestria. I know two forms of Equestrian sign language but none of the Griffon varieties. Perhaps Princess Sunny could translate for—”

“I can talk,” snapped the irate griffon with a fluff of his off-white ruff. “If I need to.”

Gilda cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Allow me to introduce Prince Turbulent Skies Churned To A Violent Storm Upon Our Enemies, Son of Emperor Ripping Claw, Scion of the Heavenly Empire, Bearer of The Emperor’s Cup. Sky, this is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, Keeper of the Crystal Heart, Mate of Shining Armor the Protector, and Princess Twilight Sparkle von Twinkle of Ponyville, Bearer of the Element of Magic, Mistress of the Silver Diadem and Defender of the Realm, Mate to Lord Green Grass, Teacher of Kings.”

“Charmed,” rumbled the young griffon, sounding anything but.

“Since Lumpy is sleeping in,” said Sunny with a conspiratorial glance up at her aunt, “why don’t we all take Cadence and Twilight on a tour. We could show her the hanging gardens, the council chambers, the—”

“I’m out of here,” snapped Sky, turning to leave and extending his broad white wings with a brisk snap. “I’ve done everything my father has requested.”

“Ahem.” Gilda cocked her head slightly to one side and regarded the handsome griffon prince with a frown.

There was a significant pause, along with a certain amount of uncomfortable twitches that traveled up and down his firm pale flanks before the prince added, “With the permission of the Acting Wingmaster, that is.”

“Granted,” said Gilda. “Please return to your father and ask if later this afternoon would be acceptable for the ceremony.”

“As you command, Acting Wingmaster,” growled the griffon as he rose into the air in a flurry of feathers and shot away at an impressive velocity.

They all watched him fly away until with a inverted flip, he vanished down below the edge of the castle walls.

“Dibs,” said Rainbow Dash with a grin.

“Dash!” Gilda thwapped her prismatic friend over the head with an extended wingtip. “He hates ponies.”

“I can win him over with my charm and fantastic flying,” she replied. “He’s single, right?”

The two of them squabbled in a friendly fashion throughout the tour, although it seemed as if Rainbow Dash was less interested in the handsome griffon and more interested in using the topic to twig her friend for not ‘putting the moves on that handsome hunk, spreading some feathers and waving her tail.’ Despite her recent studying, Twilight Sparkle still did not have a handle on the diversity of pony mating rituals, let alone griffons, but as they flew and trotted through the castle with Sunny on Cadence’s back to point out interesting features, she could understand the tendency that Green Grass’ parents and Princess Celestia had to meddle. After all, Sky was a handsome hunk of griffon and there was an itching tendency to pair him off with Rainbow just for comparison purposes, although she stopped short of trying to figure out what their foals would look like. Technicolor hippogriffs, probably. Fast technicolor hippogriffs.

The tour ended with them landing at the diplomatic quarters of the aerie where Rarity and Sunny’s father, Ambassador Sharp Edge, were comparing notes about possible improvements that the relatively gloomy suite of rooms needed, while Fluttershy was enjoying the breathtaking view out of the broad balcony large enough to park two chariots on.

“Twilight, it’s so beautiful here.” Fluttershy pointed out at the mountain peaks that trailed off to the east. “There are eagles and hawks all taking advantage of the updrafts, and I even thought I saw a condor a few minutes ago.”

“That’s Old Buzzy,” said Gilda. “Disgusting thing, but he’s part of the mountains. He’s supposed to stay out of our hunting territory, but I guess the emperor’s zeppelin got him curious.”

“So glad you’ve returned, darling.” Rarity scurried out of the diplomatic quarters, a vigorously sweeping broom clutched in her magic sweeping ahead of her. “Ambassador Sharp Edge said the servants cleaned the embassy for your visit, but I insisted on making one last sweep through the rooms.” A small pile of dust about the size of a baby mouse continued its broom-driven path across the spacious balcony while Rarity followed along. “Just let me get this taken care of before I even try to tackle that.”

One pristine white hoof pointed at a rather circular section of the wide balcony floor that was covered with a scattering of loose dirt and windblown leaves, looking much different than the rest of the clean paving stones. The four princesses, two griffon and two alicorn, had skirted the untidy circle on their way into the open area in front of the suite door, but Twilight Sparkle frowned as she looked back at the unexplained anomaly.

“It seems a somewhat strange bit of litter to have in front of the Equestrian Ambassadorial residence,” said Twilight, even as her mind made a rather gruesome connection. “Oh.”

She swallowed, trying to imagine the scene as it had been two hundred years ago, when her great somethingth grandmother had been an ambassadorial aide to Amber Stone. The griffon aerie had been filled to overflowing at that time, and rebellious tercels had attempted to descend into the fertile valleys in order to kill and conquer the peaceful ponies. They had attacked the ambassador, slain most of the Royal Guard contingent, and been held off by a single Nocturne Night Guard and her ancestor, standing in the center of that blood-soaked circle as one griffon after another descended from the sky with murder on their minds. She could almost hear their screams and feel the blood under her hooves from—

“Princess Twilight?” Once Twilight regained her ability to think, she was rather puzzled that Gilda’s face was upside-down, but after she lost her grip on the ceiling of the entryway and crashed back to the ground, reality crashed back in on her, along with bruises.

It didn’t help that both Gilda and Rainbow were chortling at her even as they helped her to stand up, but the littlest griffon was not amused. “Don’t laugh at Princess Twilight,” she snapped. “Her ancestor almost died here.”

“It is an interesting tale,” said Ambassador Sharp Edge, his blue eyes glinting in the reflected sunlight from outside. “My daughter has been revising it as of late, from a book that I suspect has seen your mate’s hoofprints upon it. Would you like to hear the story?”

No, oh please no more stories of blood-drenched griffons and dead bodies…

After an astonishingly short time of looking into Sunny’s pleading golden gaze, Twilight swallowed a lump and said, “Yes?”

Once the little griffon had gotten her audience arranged, she struck the same heads-up wings-spread pose she had at the cemetery, silhouetted by the sun in the background. Twilight was afraid Sunny would bring that same frighteningly serious voice that had spread across the cemetery in a powerful alto that had brought tremors up her spine, but instead she spoke quietly, almost fearfully

A long time ago, two centuries past, there was a dark and mysterious pony who visited our aerie. His eyes were like royal gold, and his wings were as a dragon, strong and powerful. Many other proud ponies traveled with him, on an ambassadorial mission from the Sun Queen, Celestia, to bring tribute and gifts to our Wingmaster as he deserved.

War between our kind was in the wind, as the griffons desired the riches the ponies possessed. In their impatient greed, the sons of the Wingmaster rebelled and attacked the pony ambassador as the sun set, slaying her guards through treachery and driving the survivors back to a small room in their fortress. While the ambassador tried to send a message to the Sun Queen, the dark pony and his friend fought off the rebellious tercels.

There was no honor for griffons in the fight, no pride to be had in their attack. The ambassador was a friend who had shared meat and salt with the Wingmaster, but they did not care. Cowards and thieves, they struck the dark pony and his friend. While the world turned to darkness, they struck from the shadows throughout the night, seeking to slay those who only had wished for peace. The dark pony and his friend fought with honor, slaying the rebels and throwing their bodies into the woods to rot as they deserved, but there were many, many griffons, and only two ponies. In the end, the rebellious tercels struck the dark pony down, smothering him with their blood and shattered bodies in piles so deep the stones of their battlefield are still stained to this day.

The Wingmaster watched from afar and wept as his children betrayed the honor of the aerie, but when he approached to pay his respects to the noble warriors whom they had murdered, he discovered that the dark pony’s sacrifice was not in vain. Under the bodies of his children in the place of death, was life. One pony survived, saved from destruction by the death of the dark pony.

When morning dawned, the Wingmaster and the pony sat together on the mountain peak, looking down into the valley as his remaining children swept forth to fight the forces of the Princess of the Sun. Tears of sorrow fell as they watched, each grieving over their own losses at first, then together over all of the senseless deaths, both Griffon and Pony. The rebellious tercels were all slain, and nothing lay between the defenseless eggs and chicks of the aerie and the victorious ponies.

No griffon knows for certain what happened next. Some say that Princess Celestia caused the mists to surround the mountaintop for three days, protecting the helpless griffons. Some say that the Great Dragon who lives in our mountain emerged from his sleep to—

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Twilight, jumping to her hooves. “There really is a dragon in the mountain?”

Sunny blinked a few times before responding, sounding slightly irritated that her story had been interrupted. “A Great Dragon. He has slept for many centuries in our mountain, even before the founding of the aerie.”

“Princess Sunny,” started Twilight with a desperate attempt not to shout. “Dragons are fiercely territorial!”

“Where’s my Spikie-Wikie?!” gasped Rarity.

“They could have at least put a path up here,” grumbled Spike as he crawled over a boulder, the tantalizing scent of emeralds growing stronger as he climbed. “It would be a nice place for a lair, though, when I finally grow my wings. You can see the whole valley from up here.” He paused to scrabble up to the last ledge and sat down with a thump to rest.

“You should see the sunrises.”

Dragons tend to be smarter than they realize, particularly in the way they react to unexplained stimuli. Spike had fallen down many times since he started assisting Twilight with her research, most often from the top of relatively tall bookcases, but if he had jumped when the deep voice rumbled behind him, most probably he would not have stopped rolling down the mountain until he entered the village of Toenail.

Although when he looked up, that tumble was starting to look better every second.

Most books describing dragons used the word ‘like’ far too often for Spike’s literary comfort: teeth like scimitars, eyes like blazing fire, claws like spears, etc… Upon closer examination of the huge face that loomed over him, the word ‘like’ was starting to sound really good, only with the word ‘gigantic’ after it for accuracy. Even its nostrils were large enough to fit a full-grown pony inside, and the golden eyes, though they were droopy and sagged from being woken up, seemed to burn a hole straight through Spike, reflect off the rock he was sitting on, and burn a hole right back through the other way. It lowered its head to rest on the rock, keeping one eye towards its miniscule counterpart, and yawned, showing an expanse of teeth that would have kept every dentist in Canterlot employed for life, as well as a few construction engineers.

That huge golden eye canted downwards to look at Spike and the voice rumbled again. “What brings you upon my mountain, little one?”

It took a few false starts for Spike to respond, but eventually he stammered out, “H-hungry for emeralds. P-princess T-twilight and her friends c-came up here to ask P-princess Sunny to be at her wedding, and I ate the last of them this morning.”

There was a rumbling much like an earthquake and the huge head shifted slightly as a massive claw with emeralds dripping off it swung down near Spike. A somewhat small pile of emeralds was doled out and the claw withdrew. “Children. Always hungry. What is your name, little one?”

“Spike, sir!” His voice was slightly muffled from the number of gemstones stuffed in his cheeks, but after swallowing, Spike added, “And thank you. These are delicious.”

“Spike,” mused the dragon. “A respectable name. I approve. Far more polite than ordinary dragons, too.” The gigantic claw returned, depositing a considerably larger pile of emeralds and miscellaneous gemstones before withdrawing. “Tell me, what do you know of these new princesses?”

“It’s no good,” panted Rainbow Dash as she landed on a cloud next to Twilight and Fluttershy. “It’s a mountain for pony’s sake. It’s huge. He could be anywhere!”

“My poor Spikey-Wikey,” moaned Rarity from her position on Rainbow Dash’s back, holding one hoof across her forehead even though the other three maintained a rather tight grip on her flying friend. “It’s been simply hours since he vanished. I knew we should have packed more gemstones. He’s a young and growing dragon, after all.”

“He pigs out on every gem he can get his little claws on, you mean.” Rainbow cringed under the four powerful pony glares she suddenly attracted. “Don’t tell me it’s not true, Twilight. You told us he managed to sniff out your engagement ring weeks before Greenie got up the stones to give it to you. He’s like some draconic bloodhound lately.”

“There are nibble marks all over his room back at the castle,” added Cadence.

“It’s a growing spurt,” sniffed Rarity. “He needs his nutrition.”

“Have you been sneaking him gemstones again, Rarity? You know I’ve got him on a very scientific diet. Admittedly my sample size is fairly small, but… this isn’t getting us any closer to finding him!” Twilight blinked in astonishment. “Finding him! That’s it! Rarity, do you think you can still cast your gem-finding spell while Rainbow carries you?”

“But, Twilight,” interrupted Fluttershy softly. “I thought Spike didn’t have any gemstones.”

“No, but the other dragon does. Gilda didn’t know where his lair was, but if we can find it with a spell, we can get there first and catch Spike before he does something rash.”

“...so anyway, Princess Celestia sent five more tickets and all of us were able to go to the Gala.” Spike popped another amethyst into his mouth and chewed. “Sometimes I think she does things like that intentionally.”

“Yes, she was known to be quite the rascal when she was young,” rumbled the dragon. “I’m so glad to hear she has been reunited with her sister. Between the two of them, no whoopie cushion is safe.” The ground shook as the dragon shifted slightly in order to look up into the sky. Spike followed his glance and sat down half of an nibbled rhodochrosite.

“Guess they found me.” The words seemed to just drop out of his mouth like stones, but Spike quickly perked up and asked, “Would you like to meet my friends?”

“Briefly.” Another gigantic yawn formed, quickly cut off at the sound of a piercing shriek of “Spikey!” from a nearby occupied cloud. “I need to get back to my nap.”

It took considerable waving and gesturing from the little dragon to get both princesses and the rest of the ponies standing on the narrow ledge, but Spike was persistent. Once they were arranged, he pointed as he introduced his friends. “Princess Cadence, Princess Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, Rainbow Dash—”

“Hiya.”

“—and Fluttershy. I would like you all to meet my friend…” Spike hesitated. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your name, sir.”

“Names have power,” rumbled the immense dragon. “You may simply call me Dragon. My apologies, Your Highnesses, for not attending your weddings.”

“That’s…” trailed off Cadence, obviously considering the unexpected guests who had made their appearance at her wedding.

“I think…” trailed off Twilight Sparkle, obviously attempting a size estimate of the huge dragon to compare it to her seating chart, and coming up with a result that looked much like ‘Only one guest, the groom would be catatonic, and the wedding party might be a little cramped.’

“Oh, my,” said Rarity, her eyes glittering with ideas as she looked between Spike and his much, much larger, and considerably older relative.

“Your young friend is quite the conversationalist,” rumbled Dragon. “You simply must bring him by in a few centuries so that I may see how he grows.”

“Um. Yes. Of course.” Twilight Sparkle blinked a few times in the sunlight and reminded herself to mark it on her calendar.

At least I don’t have to check for an open date that far ahead on my schedule.

After another impressive yawn, Dragon shifted slightly and a sound much like an industrial earthmover filtered down to the wide-eyed ponies. “Since I am unable to attend your mating ceremonies, please allow me to express my regrets in a more tangible fashion.” One huge eye closed briefly in what could only have been a wink, and he continued, “I’m setting such a bad example for your young drake, but I cannot resist such lovely ladies. In particular, for the beautiful Princess Cadence…”

A steam shovel sized claw emerged with a glittering pink necklace draped over the tip of one talon, swooping gently down to dangle in front of Cadence. “Diamonds are supposed to be a mare’s best friend, but I’ve always been partial to a few pink pearls on a lovely lady. These are from an area north of Cavellia, by the little town of Reduit. Quite old.”

Cadence was speechless, gently levitating the string of pearls over in front of her eyes and holding them as if she were afraid to put them on. After swallowing once, she whispered, “How did you know?”

That same talon, anchored by enough draconic muscle to rip any one of Canterlot’s walls completely in half, ever so delicately brushed up against Cadence’s cheek and lifted her chin with the slightest of nudges. “We dragons appreciate beauty in all of its forms. That necklace has been buried in my lair for so long that it deserves to be shown to the world in the most dramatic fashion possible. You may have it, provided that you promise to show it off as often as possible, and to never reveal who you received it from. If asked, merely tell them it was from a very old admirer.”

There was a faint squeak of romantic admiration from Rarity, despite having both forehooves stuffed over her mouth.

“And for Equestria’s newest princess librarian…” The claw swept down with what appeared to be a toy book between two talons, which Twilight levitated out when it was presented to her, seeming much larger in context once she had brought it closer. “When unicorns first gained their magic, they learned their first spells from a wise old creature who knew everything in the world, and what he didn’t know, he could find in one of his books.”

“The Moochick?” gasped Twilight, opening the book and flipping through the pages carefully. “But he was just a myth, like the… Oh, wait. He was real. Well, there’s the… No, she’s real too. Hey!” Twilight Sparkle frowned and pointed at a page. “If he’s a wise creature who knew everything in the world, why are all the spells in here so simple?”

There was an exceedingly long pause as everypony (and dragons) looked at Twilight until realization dawned. “Oh. First magic. Simple spells.”

That immense claw reached out and delicately brushed back Twilight’s distraught mane, gently tucking a few loose strands behind one ear before patting her gently on the head. “An understandable mistake. Your friend speaks very highly of you, Princess Twilight Sparkle. I look forward to seeing you both in a few centuries. But first, one last gift.”

After rummaging around inside the cave, this time the claw swept down with glacial slowness, a tiny fleck of crimson at the end of one talon. It moved across the group of ponies in one slow motion before gliding to a halt in front of Rarity. Nestled at the end of the claw was a single long-stemmed orchid with green leaves and blushing delicate petals intact, or at least it looked that way at first glance. A longer look revealed that the dewy glistening of tiny water droplets on the leaves were in fact miniscule glass beads, and that the entire orchid was the end product of some master glassblower’s unmatched skill, a sculpture of petals and leaves that not only matched but surpassed nature’s own creation. A faint breeze drifted across their mountain ledge, and the leaves of the glass creation trembled as it passed, bending in such a natural way that for a moment, Twilight expected it to turn and face the descending sun. The afternoon light reflected softly off the petals in a cascade of reds and pinks that shimmered and flowed in a way that a natural flower could only aspire to reach for a moment before expiring, and Twilight could have sworn she smelled the soft perfume of its bloom as it passed.

“Go on. Take it,” rumbled Dragon.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” gasped Rarity, taking a very small step backwards in respect for the sharp drop-off behind her. “It’s positively exquisite. It must be priceless.”

“It is nothing but sand and a few flecks of paint. The beauty without comes from the skill of the artist and the passion he placed within. Your friend says your artistic skills and wisdom are beyond compare, and it pleases this old drake to give this gem to a true artist who understands what labor goes into its creation. Think of it as a gift, from Spike to Rarity, as a symbol to show that true beauty comes from within. Please.”

“Thank you. Thank you oh so much.” Rarity’s soft blue magical field picked up the glass flower and she took a step forward, gently laying a tender kiss on the gigantic talon. “I shall treasure it always.”

With a rather subdued yawn, Dragon began to withdraw from the upper ledge and back into his cave. “You’re welcome, all. I wish I could stay up and chat, but I’m so tired. Goodnight, lovely ladies. And goodnight, Spike. Take good care of your precious flower.”

The ground rumbled once as a huge stone sealed the cave entrance and the mountain side was quiet again except for the chirping of birds and one small dragon trying to gather up his small pile of remaining gems.

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it, Twilight? I suppose we should get back to Ponyville now that you’ve done what you needed to do around here, right?” Spike grinned weakly, a few gems that he was unable to carry falling to the ground. “I am so grounded, aren’t I?”

“You think so?” Twilight Sparkle scowled, made slightly more difficult by the way she had to move the Moochick’s book to one side in order to apply the full effect of her scowl on the little dragon.

Author's Notes:

Author’s note: Go read The Glass Blower for a better understanding of why I used an orchid here.

Chapter 18 - The Challenge

“Princess Sparkle, I really must protest your actions,” said Papercut, attending to his princess charge in a very awkward earth pony way, actually using one hoof to brush a fleck of dust off of her dress. “We’ve suffered an unconscionable delay in our scheduling due to your extracurricular activities, and if we are forced to remain here for much longer, we will be unable to fly back to the Crystal Empire until tomorrow. Could you not simply leave a note?”

“Relax, Papercut. I just need to make an appearance at their council meeting, ask the question, and make our exit. We’ll have plenty of time to fly back to the Crystal Empire before it even starts to get dark.”

Twilight looked around her small group of friends waiting to be admitted to the outdoor arena. The small aerie had almost entirely emptied itself into the large amphitheatre ahead, leaving the corridors of the mountain castle feeling horribly dead and hollow to her ears. The zeppelin’s inhabitants had followed, giving a colorful air to the outdoor arena as the various wingmasters of the other griffon tribes proudly displayed the colors of their own tribes in ribbon bedecked wings and tails. She could see the activity going on inside the sand floored arena, surrounded by ranks of wooden perches growing taller as the distance increased from the center. She had never seen a Griffon Council Chamber before, but this one seemed to have faced the ages with less dignity than it should have, with more than one of the farthest back perches having fallen into a pile of rotten wood and splinters. Both Pumpernickel and Laminia had excused themselves, most probably taking their places on the most prominent perch as the Wingmaster and his mate, a concept that still did not make complete sense to her, and was probably a considerable source of stress for the griffon aerie.

All of the military histories she had read were fairly consistent about treating one single griffon as equivalent in fighting power to two partnered ponies, which is why the common strategy for the Royal Guard was to use four pegasi against a single griffon, along with as many crossbow-wielding earth ponies and magic throwing unicorns as possible, just to be sure. From what Laminia had said and the evidence on her husband’s criss-crossed coat, the fight he had gone through that horrifying night against the former Wingmaster had been a far closer thing than it had any right to be, a bloody sacrifice that the Night Guard had made without hesitation in order to save lives.

A sacrifice that she might have to make someday as a Princess.

And after a moment’s thought to consider, she realized it was a sacrifice that she had already been willing to make for her friends before she had even gotten wings. At one time she had thought the Royal Guard existed purely in order to protect Equestria, and something inside her had died a little when she saw just how poorly they had executed that duty during Shining Armor and Cadence’s wedding. Discord had just ignored them, Nightmare Moon had knocked them to one side with a thought, and even the cream of the Royal Guard, Flash Sentry, certainly meant well, but she was fairly sure Flash needed to wear glasses from the number of times he had stumbled in front of her.

It had taken wings before she had realized that the Royal Guard existed to protect everypony, it was true, but their primary reason for existing was to guard the princesses from mortal threats such as crazy ponies with knives or being crushed by panicked ponies rushing away from a disaster. Princesses raised the sun and moon, and anything that would hurt them would hurt all of Equestria. If the Royal Guard could save other ponies, that was good, but they would die to protect their charges, be they royal or common.

Shining Armor once had taken her to see the Memorial inside the Royal Guard Academy, a broad obsidian building with wide skylights that held the helm of every Royal Guard who had fallen in battle in defense of Equestria. It was a sobering sight, silent as a tomb with an eternal flame burning in the center of the building. One pony from each of the tribes stood guard every hour of the day or night, and three helmets rested within the flickering light of the fire. Captain Earthshatter’s helmet was folded and wrinkled with stone flecks from the fist of the troll who killed him still embedded in the crest. Captain Valiant's helmet bore a broad gash, precise and clean where a sword from raiding Naga had sheared off his horn and plunged deep into his skull. And Commander Hurricane’s helmet had three parallel slashes down it where a rogue pack of wyverns had overwhelmed him.

All of those rows of eyeless helmets looking down at her had given the young Twilight Sparkle such a bad case of the shivers that it took an entire afternoon out in the sunny park to shake the feeling of despair that it had evoked over her. The outdoor arena with all of the griffons staring down reminded her entirely too much of that time, with rows of grim visages fixed in featureless glowers, concerned only with violence and death.

This was stupid. She should have been able to send a note — no, she should have just been able to ask Pumpernickel’s permission at the funeral, or even before that. She certainly would not have minded missing that eerie speech by the little griffon princess, but then again, she would have missed learning about her ancient relatives, one of whom had been standing right here two centuries ago, scared out of her wits but carrying on the duties she had taken up.

The thought gave her strength. Morning Glory had not traveled to the griffon aerie for her own benefit; she had a responsibility to try and find a way for griffons and ponies to live in peace. This request by her great-to-some-degree granddaughter would be another step along that long and winding road, filled with pitfalls and landslides, to a destination that most mortal ponies would never see.

But Twilight would see it. Generations from now, ponies and griffons would be able to live side by side in some small part by the small steps taken here today, a much smaller and less bloody step than the Night Guard Pumpernickel had taken, but still a step, nonetheless. It was even a step pushed forward by the Emperor of all Griffons, and although she approved, it just felt a little creepy that the Emperor would throw all of his schedules to one side just to take his private yacht/battleship/fortress haring off across the ocean to visit with a librarian princess who was getting married. He would have had to been notified of the wedding… She backtracked from the moment she had seen that small plus sign on the plastic tab to the present, figured out the relative speed of the zeppelin, the admitted visits Emperor Ripping Claw had already made, and considered the negative number that resulted. Even if a messenger had flown directly to the emperor from Canterlot the moment the news of her pregnancy had broken, the earliest it could have reached him was partway across the ocean when he was already on the way here.

The Emperor was lying.

It shocked her to a degree, but after a brief consideration for her lessons with Princess Celestia, she rephrased the statement to be more ‘diplomatic.’

The Emperor was taking advantage of the existing situation to provide cover for a different plan of his own which he did not wish to advertise.

An entire decision tree of possibilities forked off that realization, but it all boiled down to trust. Princess Celestia had to know about the Emperor’s visit ahead of time, but she had intentionally not told Twilight, therefore it was important that she not know, and rather than go all frantic about it like she wanted, she was going to have to ‘Princess Up’ about the whole thing because she trusted Celestia. She was supposed to exemplify Friendship after all, and the Griffon Emperor was making a friendly visit, so she was going to have to trust him just the same way Greenie had told her she could trust Princess Sunny.

With that realization, an armored griffon she did not recognize stepped up to the two sentries who had been barring their entry, spoke a few words in Griffon, and turned to go back into the Council Chamber. Following, the two princesses and the rest of the group walked down a short shaded corridor roofed in flaking wood that Twilight was not sure would last the rest of the year and out into the bottom of a large outdoor amphitheatre. It appeared that the very back row perches had been shunned by griffons who did not want to wind up on the ground in a heap of rotting wood and splinters, and the resulting crowding forward had filled the first and second row of perches to tight capacity, with several griffons taking their place where only one had been originally designed to sit.

There were even griffons sitting on the ground, mostly adolescents and a scattering of females, but all of them looked at Twilight as she stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine with the intense glare of predators, even Gilda and Sunny, sitting on a prominent perch higher than the first row. To their sides were the incredibly mismatched pair of Pumpernickel and Emperor Ripping Claw, the huge griffon making the bulky Nocturne seem small and harmless by comparison, until Twilight realized that the sand she was walking on had absorbed the blood of Wingmaster Talon, the second griffon that he had killed that night. Pumpernickel had discarded his back-and-breast armor somewhere before taking his place, a probable indication of his current role of Wingmaster at the moment instead of Night Guard, although he retained the knee-length shinguards and a somewhat battered helmet. The odd pieces of Night Guard armor seemed a little metaphorical to Twilight, as if the Nocturne were able to actually change his insides by switching his outsides, although Rarity would understand totally and Rainbow Dash would just ask if she had been drinking enough water while out in the sun.

She stepped forward, keeping her eyes on the Royal Perch and trying not to smile at the way Sunny wriggled the talons on one claw as if sneaking a tiny wave to her. Behind each of the primary Royals was a second, and Ambassador Sharp Feather rolled his eyes at Sunny’s little indiscretion, while Laminia gave a poor attempt to suppress a smile of her own. Both of the Nocturne were wearing sunglass lenses clipped to their helmets, which was a little distracting to Twilight’s nerves even though she realized it was to protect their sensitive eyes from being blinded in the bright sunlight. What was more distracting was the way Emperor Ripping Claw’s son watched her as she walked, with his eyebrows lowered over narrowed eyes, and a certain rhythmic flexing of his sharp talons.

Sunny stood up as soon as Twilight stopped, turning to the side and announcing in a surprisingly loud voice, “Wingmaster Pumpernickel, I would like to invite Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, Keeper of the Crystal Heart, Mate of Shining Armor the Protector, and Princess Twilight Sparkle von Twinkle of Ponyville, Bearer of the Element of Magic, Mistress of the Silver Diadem and Defender of the Realm, Mate to Lord Green Grass, Teacher of Kings, into our council meeting to present a request.”

“Granted,” rumbled her odd Wingmaster. “The aerie of the Misty Mountains welcomes Princess Twilight Sparkle and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, now and forever more. Your eggs shall be protected in our nests and your fledglings may fly in our sky as they wish. What request does the representative of Equestria have for our proud aerie?”

So far, everything was proceeding according to the schedule, and something deep inside Twilight’s chest relaxed a little. Only a few more lines and she could excuse herself for the flight home.

Looks like we’re going to get back to the Crystal Empire before dark after all.

“My mate and I would like to request the presence of Princess Sun Shines as a member of our mating circle. She is an honorable representative of your aerie, and a friend to my mate. We would be deeply honored and indebted to your aerie for this, and would view it as a symbol of how ponies and griffons can live together in friendship and harmony.”

Pumpernickel nodded, turning to the little griffon who was so proud she looked about ready to burst into a cloud of downy feathers. “I see no problem with allowing — “

“What!” The emperor’s son shoved himself forward, attempting to go nose-to-beak with the Nocturne wingmaster if not for the restraining wing of his father. “You can’t be serious! Allow one of our royalty to take part in a pony wedding? Are you insane?!”

The amphitheater around Twilight seemed to be filled with nervous whispers as the surrounding griffons talked among themselves, but Pumpernickel’s vibrant tenor cut through the whispers like a knife.

“Emperor Ripping Claw, control your fledgeling.” Both pony and griffon had struck nearly identical poses, glaring at each other with their wings risen slightly off their backs.

Twilight was surprised to find that both she and Cadence had taken a few quick steps backwards and tried to compose herself as the emperor turned to Sky, head down and wings beginning to rise.

“Stand DOWN, my son!”

Rather than back off, the smaller griffon raised his wings too, snarling back at the emperor. “I shall not stand down, Father. If you shall not rise up in defense of our sacred traditions, than I shall. Wingmaster Pumpernickel, I hereby challenge you for the leadership of this aerie!”

There was a strange feeling in her head as if a dance had been called out at a fancy party and Twilight did not know the music or the movements involved. She took another few steps backwards alongside Cadence, feeling the welcome warmth of her friends as the mismatched royalty continued to glare at each other. Finally, Pumpernickel turned away with a derisive snort.

“I need not accept the challenge of one from another aerie.”

“Fine!” snapped Sky. “I, Prince Turbulent Skies Churned To A Violent Storm Upon Our Enemies, Son of Emperor Ripping Claw, Scion of the Heavenly Empire, Bearer of The Emperor’s Cup, do hereby resign my position within the aerie of the Heavenly Crown. Do you accept my resignation, Father?”

“Are you certain you wish to take this path, my son?” Although he looked just as regal and powerful as before, something in his expression made Twilight think this had actually been planned by the huge griffon, and the deep sigh he gave out when his son nodded sounded suspiciously like Celestia’s best mournful intonation. “Very well. Fly free, my son. Let the winds guide your path.”

“Fine!” snarled Sky, turning back to Pumpernickel. “Wingmaster Pumpernickel, I hereby challenge you for the leadership of this aerie!”

The whispers of the griffons died down again as the Nocturne shook his head, the tattered crest on his helmet waving ever so gently in the soft breeze. “As Wingmaster, I am not required to accept the challenge of one who is not of my nest.”

“What?!” screeched Sky. “You challenged Wingmaster Talon, and you damned well weren’t a member of the aerie then! You killed First Heir Plummets and—“

“I executed First Heir Plummets for his crimes,” snarled Pumpernickel, stepping forward and making the larger griffon take a step back. “He was a murderer, a traitor, and a coward. There were none in the aerie who would confront him for his actions, and it fell to me, a pony to bring him to justice. Blood calls out for blood, young prince. Would you have me reject one of your most sacred tenets? He murdered Stargazer and drank her blood. Leave him rot.”

“Leave him rot,” echoed around the outdoor amphitheatre in an eerie echo that made the cool spring air seem cold and frosty, each griffon reciting the words with a cold determination that brought a shiver up Twilight’s spine and made her friends huddle closer.

“Again,” said Pumpernickel, “I shall not accept a challenge of one who is not of my nest. However,” he added in a perfectly flat tone, “the aerie of the Misty Mountains is a refuge for all. We will accept any who accept our rules, regardless of their position in life.”

“You think you’re so smart,” spat the griffon with a snap of his beak. “What if I were to take you up on your idiotic offer?”

“I would have no choice but to accept.”

The whispering from around the amphitheatre had died down to only the faint whistle of a mountain breeze as each griffon’s eyes were riveted on Sky and Pumpernickel. Finally, the emperor’s son snapped, “Very well pony. I request to join your aerie.”

Pumpernickel deliberately turned away from the angry griffon and faced out into the attentive crowd. “Any objections?” After a moment, he continued, “Turbulent Skies Churned To A Violent Storm Upon Our Enemies, do you swear to follow our rules, to place your wings upon our pathways, and to uphold the honor of our ancestors?”

“Yes!” he snarled.

“Then I bid you welcome to our aerie.”

“Finally!” Turning to Pumpernickel again and shouting in a voice that was just one step away from pure frustration, Sky screeched, “Wingmaster Pumpernickel, I hereby challenge you for the leadership of this aerie!”

“I accept your challenge, Prince Sky. However, you will have to wait your turn.”

“What?!”

Gilda stepped up to stand beside Pumpernickel, her wings partially extended and her head lowered into a hunch that looked somewhat like an angry bulldog with a bad tooth. “I have challenged him first. It was my right, by blood, honor and tradition. On the night when he killed my father and became Wingmaster, I cast the challenge before any of our nest.”

That seemed to throw Sky for a loop, and he looked back and forth between Pumpernickel and Gilda before asking in a somewhat hesitant tone, “But you lost, right?”

“Our challenge is not complete,” said Gilda. “It was interrupted by a disobedient tircel of our nest, and we have not yet resumed our combat.”

It was difficult to read Griffon’s emotions due to their dissimilar features and the immobile beak, but it was obvious that Sky had skidded into uncharted territory here. He gawked in amazement before turning to the emperor with an anguished, “Father!”

“My son is correct to be upset,” rumbled the emperor. “This is most unusual. After surviving a challenge for leadership, it is traditional to wait a least a moon before a second challenge may be raised.”

“But—“ started Gilda before being cut off.

“In addition,” continued the emperor, “it has been more than two months since your challenge, and you have not resumed your combat. Unless you continue this day, I shall be forced to judge your challenge null and void, First Heir Gilda.”

There was a brief moment where Gilda just glared at Pumpernickel as if she wished she could make him fall over dead, then she scowled and looked away. “I shall not fight him today. Our aerie is host to Equestrian princesses. To challenge for leadership in such conditions is bad enough, but to spill the blood of a pony while guests are present would be a great dishonor to our aerie.”

The murmuring of griffons was cut off as the emperor asked, “Do you still wish to challenge Wingmaster Pumpernickel?”

In the dead silence that followed, the grinding noise of Gilda’s beak flexing against itself could plainly be heard even over to the pony guests. “No,” she growled. “He has acted with honor as Wingmaster. My father threw away the honor of our aerie by his actions, but Wingmaster Lumpy has restored the honor of our aerie by slaying my father. There is nothing to challenge in his position.”

“He wants to permit your niece to take part in a pony mating ritual!” snapped Sky.

“And?” Gilda moved closer until her beak was pressing against Sky’s. “My best friend is a pony! Sunny’s best friend was a pony! And my uncle killed her before my worthless father ate from her corpse! You’re a blithering idiot who thinks griffons are the only race in Equestria worth anything. You deserve to have somepony beat some sense into your thick head, and our Wingmaster is just the pony to do it. Just remember, he killed my father. I have a blood debt against him, and if you kill him instead, then I’m going to kill you. I don’t care how long it takes, or who your father is. You kill our Wingmaster in this stupid challenge of yours, and I’m going to kill you. Your fault, his fault, nogriffon’s fault. I’m going to kill you. Do you understand?”

“No!” snapped Sky. “Why will you not revenge yourself upon him now? He killed your father!”

“He did that which I was too cowardly to do myself!” snapped Gilda. “I shall not take my revenge while he occupies the perch I do not deserve! Still, I will not stand in the way of your foolish challenge, provided you do not kill him, for if you do, his blood debt shall be yours, and I will not rest until your heart’s blood stains the sands.”

“Fine!” snapped Sky, turning away from Gilda and to the object of his ire. “Wingmaster Pumpernickel, I hereby challenge you for the leadership of this aerie!”

“You’re getting really good at that,” rumbled Pumpernickel. “Do you accept the conditions of my First Heir?”

“Yes,” snarled Sky.

“Swear it,” replied Pumpernickel.

“I swear by the First Egg, by my family honor, and by my heart’s blood, that I will accept the responsibility of blood vengeance against myself should I kill you.” Sky spit to one side, making a griffon on a lower perch scowl upwards. “What other hoops must I jump through in order to—“

“Helmet,” said Pumpernickel in a commanding tone that stopped Sky cold. “If I’m going to be beating some sense into your thick head, you’re going to need it.”

While Pumpernickel flew down to wait in the center of the Council Chamber on the dirty sand and Sky was strapped into a griffon helmet by one of the guards, Gilda and Lamina flew down to the waiting princesses and gave an extremely shallow bow each.

“Princesses,” said Gilda in a very quiet voice, “I apologize on behalf of my aerie and all of the griffons here today.” The fuzzy crest on her helmet wriggled while she talked in a very distracting fashion, and some small corner of Twilight’s mind took note that nearly all of the Misty Mountain griffons in the audience were wearing helmets, different than the Night Guard, but with the individual flair for extravagance that griffons tended towards.

“We’re sorry that we dragged Optio Pumpernickel into this,” started Twilight before being stopped by a raised claw.

“Wingmaster Pumpernickel,” said the scowling griffon hen. “He tries to keep his jobs separate.” She spared a glance at the young griffon who was taking his place on the edge of the platform as if he were getting ready for a dive into the pool. “My job for this challenge is to keep anybody else from interfering. Not that I think anybody is going to help Prince Itchy.”

Once the griffon prince had been strapped into his helmet, he faced only one more small obstacle before stepping off the platform and attacking the rather calm looking Nocturne sitting in the middle of the council chamber, with tinted lenses over the eyes of his helmet and a certain relaxed look about his shoulders indicative of the idea that he was more comfortable solving this problem with violence than trying to talk it out. Princess Sunny stood in front of Prince Sky with one claw held up and addressed him in a loud voice that echoed throughout the deathly still amphitheatre.

“Before you challenge the Wingmaster of our aerie, I must ask you to desist one last time. First Heir Gilda has already spoken that she sees no dishonor in Lumpy’s service… I mean Wingmaster Pumpernickel’s service to our aerie, and I now add my voice to hers. Stand aside from this foolish challenge, for if you win, I will be unwilling to remain your Second Heir, and will leave this aerie.”

For the first time, Twilight Sparkle could see uncertainty in the young tercel. He looked over in Twilight’s direction, his gaze passing between the two Equestrian princesses and the pregnant Nocturne. “I shall not leave his eggs unguarded,” said Sky. “No harm shall befall his mate when I defeat him.”

“Damned straight,” muttered Gilda in a quiet whisper.

“Insufficient,” called out Sunny. “Your actions prove you unworthy of rule. Should you emerge victorious, I shall withdraw until I have attained my majority, at which point I shall return and kick your—“ She paused and glanced at her father, who apparently had made a disparaging noise quiet enough not to have reached the rest of the audience. Somewhat abashed, Sunny cleared her throat and continued, “At which point I shall return and challenge you for leadership.”

The little griffon stepped to one side with bright eyes watching Sky as he stepped forward on the perch. It was obvious that every move the older griffon made was being stored, analyzed, and prepared to be used in several years when she returned, and a shudder ran down the back of Twilight’s neck at the thought of the neverending chain of violence that it indicated.

“Relax, Princess,” whispered Gilda out of the side of her beak, still standing in front of the Equestrian diplomatic group. “Lumpy’s going to beat the socks off of that idiot.”

“I hope,” whispered Laminia. “He’s still not fully recovered from the clawing he got from our last trip here.”

Chapter 19 - Victory Through Defeat

Prince Sky balanced at the very edge of the Royal Perch, looking down into the Council Chamber and the watching griffons with just the slightest amount of displayed nervousness. He picked up his claws one at a time, stretching the talons and shifting his weight to limber himself up before the combat, but Twilight Sparkle could see the way his eyes tracked back and forth between his opponent and the Equestrian delegation. As much as he wanted to hide a degree of nerves, there was a familiar twitch to his leonine tail that reminded her of Green Grass and the faintest quaver in his voice that she would not have caught if she had not been listening for it.

“Wingmaster Pumpernickel,” he called out, “yield to my challenge and I shall permit you to leave unscathed.”

“That means unhurt,” whispered Laminia in a snarky aside to Gilda, who merely twitched one wing in response. The mismatched pair had remained in front of the Equestrian delegation as some strange combination of bodyguards and commentators, although Twilight could not tell just who was supposed to be guarding who between them. Still, their presence was a welcome one to Twilight’s nerves, and she was far more comfortable than if there was nopony between the two princesses and the upcoming battle in the outdoor amphitheatre.

She still wanted to throw up.

“Your beliefs show you unworthy of the position,” called out Wingmaster Pumpernickel in response, and to Twilight Sparkle’s surprise, the title seemed to fit him perfectly this time, standing ready to fight for his aerie in the center of the circle of griffon onlookers. “Your lack of respect for ponykind will only drive my aerie farther from our allies and cause it to weaken. If permitted to continue on the path you chose, griffon and pony will once again fight each other in the skies, and the blood of the innocent will flow. I cannot permit this to happen. This ends now.”

“So be it!” Prince Sky flung himself into the air and began to circle the Nocturne sitting in the middle of the Council Chamber.

And to circle.

And to circle.

“Fly, you worthless pony!” snapped Sky, making yet another circle above him. “Fly, before I kill you!”

“If I am to die, I shall die a Wingmaster of my aerie, with my face to my successor,” said Pumpernickel, still continuing to track the circling griffon above him. “Foolish taunts from fools shall not make me act like a fool in return.”

“Coward!” screeched Sky.

“Is it cowardice not to attack onto ground where your opponent is strong, or is it more the act of a coward to circle above his prey like a vulture, waiting for it to—”

With a deafening scream, Prince Sky plummeted out of the sky with talons extended, only to spray sand in every direction as the bulky nocturne rolled to one side to evade his attack in almost a casual manner.

“Nice one, Lumpy,” whispered Gilda. “You never tried that on me.”

Laminia gave her counterpart a brief caustic glance and replied, “That’s because your father had put a hole the size of a cantaloupe in his wing by that point.”

Twilight shuddered at the thought and tried to ignore her two odd bodyguards as the griffon prince flapped back to altitude, spitting and coughing sand with every flap. “Pony!” he spluttered, “You’ll pay for that!” Not getting a response from his taunt, Sky winged over into another blindingly fast dive, only to spray sand again as Pumpernickel feinted one direction and rolled the other, winding up even farther away from the impact point of the sand-spewing griffon this time.

Of all the things Twilight Sparkle was prepared for, humor was not one of them. Wingmaster Pumpernickel actually laughed as the prince flapped for altitude, a low chuckle of amusement that was echoed by several of the griffons in the stands, and only grew when Sky’s next dive sprayed sand again.

“You have struck your blow for honor, young tircel,” called up Pumpernickel at his furious opponent. “Yield now, and I shall return you to your father’s nest unharmed.”

“Never!” This time when the griffon plummeted out of the sky, the flash of clawed strikes and the spray of sand was terrifyingly close to the Nocturne, and when the griffon climbed up into the sky, a long red stripe dripped from the hide of his opponent.

“Yield, Wingmaster Pumpernickel,” snarled Sky, curving his path in obvious preparation for another strike. “Give your aerie to a worthy griffon!”

The laughter abruptly stopped, both from the griffons in the stands and from the bloody Nocturne in the circle, who had tucked back his ears and gone into a prehensile crouch that reminded Twilight of an attacking panther.

“Ohshit,” muttered Gilda. “Now he’s mad. Princesses, you may want to close your eyes.”

This time when Sky plummeted down, Pumpernickel dodged backwards, with a roll onto his back that allowed both hind hooves to strike straight up under the griffon’s chin with a noise like a struck bell and a blinding spray of sparks from the enchantments on both Sky’s helmet and Pumpernickel’s steel shoes. Sky seemed to just stop in mid-air before tumbling along the sand in a whirling spasm of flailing claws and talons.

The Nocturne followed almost as a shadow to the griffon prince, diving straight into the flurry of claws to plant a forehoof straight into Sky’s side. Shining Armor had shown Twilight how to ‘put your body into it’ when punching or bucking the hanging boxing bag at home, and she recognized the way Pumpernickel had shifted his considerable weight during the strike as nearly a textbook example of the technique, although the heavy bag had never made the popping and cracking noise of fractured ribs and broken uncinate processes that echoed through the Council Circle now. The bloodcurdling cry of fury from the griffon was paired by a return stroke across Pumpernickel’s own helmet that sprayed sparks and bits of shattered claw across the sand, but the Nocturne ignored his minor injuries as the two of them rolled across the ground, pausing only to put a second bone-crunching blow into the prince’s other side before flowing around the return blows and onto the griffon’s back. With one armored foreleg around Sky’s neck and both hindlegs braced around the griffon’s now nonfunctional wings, the bulky Nocturne heaved upwards. Sky gave off one brief squawk of rage before his wind was cut off, and all the thrashing he did to attempt to dislodge his opponent only served to exhaust his air until he laid prone on the sand with Pumpernickel locked onto his back.

“He’s been practicing,” whispered Gilda.

“Since the first minute he could hobble back onto the sparring ring,” whispered Laminia in return, with a feral lifting of the corner of her lips that could only be considered a smile in technical terms.

The struggling griffon continued to weaken, until the emperor stepped forward on the perch and called down into the circle. “Wingmaster Pumpernickel. I have many sons, but that does not reduce their value to nothing.”

It was impossible to see the Nocturne’s eyes because of the tinted lenses, but he seemed to return from whatever murderous place he had gone, twisting the defeated griffon’s head to point at the Royal Perch and growling, “Prince Sky. Do you yield?”

“Never!” gurgled Sky, attempting to rise only to have Pumpernickel put more pressure on his neck.

“I’m sorry, My Liege,” rumbled Pumpernickel, setting his shoulders. “It appears I have no choice.”

“Idiot,” whispered Gilda.

“Idiots,” corrected Laminia. “It comes with the gender.”

“I am sorrowed too,” said Emperor Ripping Claw without a hint of sorrow in his voice. “If my son dies, I shall need another at my side to finish my tour of the Equestrian aeries. Will your First Heir be able to look after the aerie in your absence, Wingmaster Pumpernickel?”

“Father?” Apparently the question had startled Pumpernickel as much as anypony because Sky managed to get an abbreviated breath before having his wind cut off again.

“Yeah, I suppose. If I have to,” rumbled Pumpernickel, getting a better grip on Sky’s neck and bracing himself to twist.

“Very well,” echoed the emperor in much the same bass rumble.

“Wait!” gurgled Sky. “I yield! I yield!”

“Will you abide by my rules for this aerie, Sky of the Misty Mountains?” growled Pumpernickel. “Or will we need another educational session later?”

“I’ll obey!” he gurgled.

“Will you swear to defend the members of your aerie as if they were your own eggs, down to and including every pony in the valleys beneath our domain?” When Sky did not immediately reply, Pumpernickel put a little more pressure around his neck until the griffon waved weakly.

“I will. I swear!”

“Good.” Pumpernickel slid off the larger griffon’s back and dragged Sky across the sand towards Twilight with his teeth clamped onto one feathered wing and the gasping prince hopping along behind, obviously unwilling to risk the loss of his wing by resisting. He stopped in front of the Equestrian princesses with a twist of his head that caused Sky to stumble to his knees. “Apologize.”

There was a flare of resistance in the griffon’s eyes as he turned in Twilight’s direction, but only for the shortest instant until a hard-driven hoof slammed into the griffon’s side again and the griffon sagged to his knees. Pumpernickel grabbed Sky around the neck, his sharp teeth so close to his feathery ear that little tufts of down flickered with every word he spoke. Although she was sure their words were supposed to be private, her new alicorn body had far more acute hearing than before, and she could hear every edged word from the deadly serious Nocturne.

“I just saw that look in your eyes, and I don’t like it. You may not like ponies, but that is Twilight Sparkle, Equestria’s newest princess, and if anything happens to her, Princess Celestia, you remember Princess Celestia, right? Immortal, raises the bucking sun every morning? Could burn the entire Griffon Empire into smoking lava? Well, she would be just a little bit upset, and so would her sister. Same thing, only the bucking moon. Created my whole race just because she was lonely, and Twilight Sparkle is her friend. Now I’m feeling pretty generous right now, and if you have even the slightest urge to hurt Princess Twilight Sparkle or Princess Cadence, just nod your head, and I’ll make your death as quick and painless as possible. Go ahead. Just one little nod.”

“What’s going on?” whispered Rainbow Dash to Twilight’s side.

Twilight Sparkle could not answer until Sky very slowly began to shake his head from side to side. “Princess Sparkle,” he rasped, once Pumpernickel had slackened his chokehold, “allow me to apologize for my actions this afternoon. Please.”

“That’s… understandable,” she said, trying not to think about how badly she felt the need to go throw up. “Change can be very difficult to accept.” Without realizing it, her new wings fluttered, and she could swear she could feel something very small and delicate kick her on the ribs from the inside.

“If Your Highness will step back into the Council Circle,” said Pumpernickel, dropping Sky to gasp in front of them and stepping back to make a sweeping motion with one hoof, “our aerie will be happy to continue where we were so rudely interrupted.”

“I don’t think so.” Emperor Ripping Claw stepped forward to the edge of the Royal Perch, looking down into the crowd. “Wingmaster Pumpernickel. Your guests do not seem to understand the importance of your actions when you became Wingmaster, nor the foolishness of my son just now. Do they know of the history of the noble race of Griffons, and that of our greatest shame?”

From the startled and somewhat blank look that both Pumpernickel and his wife gave the emperor, the answer was obviously negative, although Sky gave a guilty twitch and a terrified look at Twilight as if he had just remembered something horrifying from his fledgelinghood. The emperor just clucked his tongue at the resulting silence, standing at the very edge of the Royal Perch and arranging himself with great care, placing every talon and claw in a very wide stance as the rest of the griffons in the Council Chamber quieted to a respectful silence.

“What’s going on?” whispered Rainbow Dash, who had slipped between Laminia and Gilda, obviously conflicted between gaining a little altitude to get a better look and drawing unwelcome attention in the sepulchral calm of the outdoor amphitheatre.

“Emperor Ripping Claw is going to Tell,” whispered Gilda back with a glance backwards at the two Equestrian princesses. “It’s a very high honor. I’ve never heard of him doing it in front of non-griffons.”

“He hasn’t,” rasped Sky. “I hope he doesn’t Tell the story of the Windigo.”

The griffon emperor spread his wings and cocked his head back in exactly the same pose that Sunny had done in the graveyard this morning, only with a majestic gravity that made Twilight Sparkle suck in a breath of air as his booming voice filled the outdoor amphitheatre.

Hear, oh my children, of the shame of the griffons.

Long ago, when the race of griffons were few and young, we soared above the fertile valleys and farms of the pony nation. Our wings were strong as mountains, and the pegasi rose into the skies with us, soaring almost as high as our own kind. We lived in harmony with the pony races, watching over them from our high nests, and all was good. Or so it seemed.

As our ancestors soared in the frigid skies, they heard the voices of the world calling to them, and the higher they flew, the louder one voice sounded. It told them of their destiny, how they were greater than the ponies who flew with them, and as we listened, the race of griffons grew even more powerful. We built fortresses in the sky to raise ourselves even farther from the ground, we lifted our bodies closer to the sun to feel its warmth against our feathers even as our hearts grew colder and more distant. Some of our kind who soared higher and faster than all the rest grew proud, and claimed the voice had told them of a way they could soar even higher.

The voice spoke to them of the glory of blood and the energy of the kill, but not of the animals of the ground and birds of the sky. It spoke of the power they would gain from the blood of the ponies, and one fateful day, a griffon listened. He struck down a pony and ate from it, giving him the power to soar higher and faster than any other griffon, but at a terrible price. While he soared far above the rest of the griffons, his heart grew cold and cruel. More of our kind yielded to the wicked voice, and the pale griffons soared even higher above the ground, looking down upon both griffon and pony with contempt. As their ranks grew, the weather became colder, and the endless snow began to fall. The once fertile land grew dark and empty, and the claws of the pale griffons sought out our own kind among their prey.

While the rest of the ponies fled the formerly fertile valley, the pride of the griffons would not be broken that easily. We fought the beasts, now called Windigo, and as the snow piled high outside our mountain caves, the numbers of our kind dwindled.

We were lost, being consumed by our own folly. The few of us who remained gathered together in the last mountain stronghold, determined to meet our fate with claws and beak towards the enemy as we waited for the end.

The Windigo circled our fortress, patient as the blowing snow, for they knew our kind would soon be without food, and in our desperation, we would be forced to eat our own and add to their ranks. They screamed in endless rage as they flew by, taking the forms of their victims in cruel mockery of our decision.

All was lost, until we heard the distant notes of a trumpet.

The clouds parted, and the Pegasi of Equestria filled the frozen skies in numbers we had never seen before. They flew to our aid, rescuing the fathers and parents of the ones who had slain their young. Many pegasi fell while protecting our fledglings as we evacuated what we thought would become our tomb, and at their head flew Commander Hurricane. He was a lion in battle, faster than anything with wings, and where he flew, the sky shattered. Windigo fell beneath his flashing hooves as we fled, broken into pieces and dropping through the clouds. He was struck many times in the battle, but the golden armor of their kind protected him, forged by earth ponies and enchanted by unicorns, it turned uncounted blows as we fled to the warm lands of Equestria where they dared not follow.

We gathered, the poor bedraggled remnants of a once proud race, prepared to accept our punishment for unleashing this disaster upon the world. Our leaders humbled themselves before the powerful pegasi, and our sole surviving golden-eyed king abased himself at the hooves of their Commander Hurricane.

But the noble pegasus would have none of that. He lifted our king to stand by his side and asked that we might once again fly through the sky with his kind as equals. The king was baffled. Why would the pegasi forgive our crimes against them? Why would they risk their lives to save us? He asked, but received only these words in response:

What else could we do?

In his wisdom, the king withdrew from the pony lands, taking the mountain tops and crags for our homes while the pegasi continued to dwell within the clouds. He decreed that Griffons and Ponies should remain separated so that the peace would be sustained, and the temptation to soar above them would never again threaten the lives of pony or griffon.

We were not ready to live alongside the ponies. If we tried, the same conflict would happen again, only this time our weakness would destroy us all. For centuries since, our kind has ridden the skies, soaring high in the clouds, far from ponykind. Someday we may become strong enough to be worthy of the gift that Commander Hurricane gave to our ancient king, and that every griffon since has acknowledged.

Let the wings of our ancestors be our guides, may the winds whisper only words of harmony to our ears, and may we someday be worthy of the gift of life that was once bestowed upon our race.

The Griffon Emperor lowered his wings and turned his head, bringing Twilight out of her trance in a burst of blinking, which to her great relief was mirrored by the rest of the pony contingent and most of the griffons. The powerful eyes of the huge griffon swept in her direction, but did not stop there, instead pausing while looking at her friend.

“Rainbow Dash, Daughter of Prism Bolt, Bearer of the Element of Loyalty and Creator of the Sonic Rainboom. I see the blood of Commander Hurricane flows strongly in your veins. As Emperor of all Griffons, I would request a favor of you. Princess Gilded Clouds Rising Gloriously Into The Dawn Sky Signifying Upcoming Storms was a friend of yours, but events have driven the two of you apart. I would ask that you return to her side, guide her during this stressful time, and help return the gift of friendship to her heart so that she may spread that same friendship to all griffons in her nest. We may not be ready to soar with your kind yet, but I believe we are ready to take our first fledgeling flaps.”

“Me?” Rainbow Dash looked around at the intently staring griffons. “Sure. Who is this Princess Gilded Clouds whatever something?”

Gilda scowled at the wave of giggles that swept over the crowd, balling one claw up into a fist and punching Rainbow Dash in her shoulder. Hard. “That’s me, you dope.”

“Oh!” Rainbow gawked at her friend. “Since when did you get such a goofy name?”

“We would be honored, Emperor,” said Gilda in a decidedly loud voice, obviously trying to drown out Rainbow Dash and the laughter that followed.

Twilight Sparkle was immensely relieved that the rest of the formal request for Princess Sunny to participate in the wedding went as smoothly as she had originally hoped, with no more bloody duels or screamed insults. She had to pledge Griffon oaths and make personal promises without end that Sunny would remain healthy, protected, guarded, shielded, well-fed, and cared for in all regards, although by the end Twilight probably would have agreed to let Sunny take the throne of Equestria and raise the sun on alternate Wednesdays, just to get the whole thing done and over.

They were far behind schedule as the pony delegation returned to the ambassadorial suite for a few minutes of freshening up that turned into nearly an hour of fine needlework on Wingmaster Pumpernickel from Lamina, assisted surprisingly enough by Rarity with both a practiced anesthesia spell and a few stitches of her own. She declared afterwards that the Nocturne took the medical attention with far less uncomfortable wriggling than any of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and gave him a pat on the head and an admonition to ‘play nicer with the other little fillies next time.’

Even Prince Sky received some rather reluctant medical treatment for his cracked ribs. Reluctant on both sides, that is, because Sky had to be practically threatened to permit Twilight and Cadence to examine his black-and-blue chest, and Twilight Sparkle was horribly twitchy at the close proximity to the battered griffon, even with the rest of her friends in the room. To her surprise, Fluttershy proved the most useful assisting with Sky’s treatment. Her quiet requests would be followed by a none-too-subtle glare from across the room by Pumpernickel or Gilda, and then reluctant compliance by the belligerent patient. Even with as much healing magic as practical used on them, the prince’s badly bruised flight muscles made it almost impossible for him to sweep his wings downwards, at least for the next week or two.

“A griffon who can’t fly,” grumbled the grounded prince. “I might as well be a pony.”

Gilda’s reactions were faster than Twilight could see, and she clamped a claw down on Rainbow Dash’s muzzle before the pegasus could even take a breath to respond. “Prince Sky,” started Gilda while still holding onto Dash’s mouth, “as the newest member of our aerie, I’m taking you to the village of Toenail tomorrow. I noticed the weeds are a little thick around some of the tombstones, and while we weed, I’ll see if the mayor is willing to come out and tell you about some of her ancestors who once served us. Earth ponies, for the most part, although I understand some of them are Princess Twilight Sparkle’s relatives.”

“That sounds—” Sky considered the looks he was getting from around the room “—nice?”

“He can be taught,” muttered Rainbow Dash once Gilda let go of her muzzle.

Long shadows covered the ground as the sun sat stubbornly on the horizon, perhaps just a few minutes late in its trip to the other side of the world, but Twilight did not mind a bit as the pony delegation started climbing into the waiting Royal Guard carriage. The top of the griffon fortress was alive with activity as Emperor Ripping Claw and Wingmaster Pumpernickel stood to one side and observed their preparations for departure, with Prince Sky and Gilda behind and quiet. The griffon prince seemed both relieved that the pony princesses were leaving, and strangely aware of the number of earth ponies who had turned out onto the fortress roof to see them off. The number of hovering griffons overhead was starting to feel normal to her, with at least a dozen armed and armored guards from the Griffon Emperor’s own Imperial Guard arranged along their departure path as escort.

She and Cadence took their places side by side before the carriage door with brief and significant nods to the griffons, followed by respectful nods in return, both gestures maintaining the relative social equilibrium of the situation to the satisfaction of the watching ponies and griffons. Cadence — as she was the eldest and highest ranked princess present — turned and addressed the emperor with a short speech, extolling the cooperation between the griffons and the Crystal Empire and her hopes that the relationship was to endure far into the future. Then it was Twilight’s turn.

“On behalf of myself and my mate, I would like to thank both Emperor Ripping Claw and Wingmaster Pumpernickel for giving permission for Princess Sun Shines to be a part of our wedding celebration, and I’m looking forward—

Oh, stars! It’s less than two weeks away!

“—to seeing all of you at our wedding.”

Oh, stars. I just invited the Griffon emperor to my wedding. To Canterlot! What will Princess Celestia say? Where am I going to put him on the seating chart?

In the dead silence that followed, Rainbow Dash’s voice was crystal clear.

“Wow, the emperor’s going to be at your wedding, Twilight? Awesome!”

There was a slow shaking of the emperor’s head as well as the hints of a smile as he rumbled in return, “I’m sorry, Princess Twilight Sparkle, but my schedule can only stretch as far as escorting Princess Sun Shines to the preliminary festivities. By the time your wedding is being conducted, I shall be far away in the mountains to your north. So, until we meet again in Canterlot—”

Emperor Ripping Claw braced himself, head high and proud as every griffon within sight duplicated his posture. “Goodbye, Princesses. May your flight be swift and true.”

A wave of stress and nervousness just seemed to slough off Twilight’s shoulders at the words. Greenie had used the traditional griffon ritual of departure before kissing her goodbye for weeks now, having explained that it was both a promise to return and a pledge to never truly leave, because a part of both would forever be mingled in their hearts. Her disobedient wings rose almost instinctually at the same time as Cadence’s graceful rose-colored plumage and she lifted her head as a princess should properly do to give the response that flowed from her heart without thinking.

“May your wings never falter. Guard well the aerie until my return.”

She almost spoiled the moment when her wings failed to retract at her first command while attempting to get into the carriage, and then nearly hitting her horn on the door and nearly tripping, but both princesses managed to settle into their seats without casualties before Wingmaster Pumpernickel stepped forward just as the sun began to drop below the horizon.

“Griffons of the Misty Mountains,” he called. “Rise into the skies to guard the departure of our guests alongside the forces of the Equestrian Night Guard. Let any who threaten the path of the princesses quake in fear at your combined might.”

It was a testament to her familiarity with the two forces of the Royal Guard that it took just a second for Twilight to recognize the fact that their carriage drivers were bat-winged and golden-eyed Nocturne instead of the white pegasi who had driven them to the Misty Mountain aerie in the first place. But in that second of realization, the sun sank behind the horizon and the moon rose, revealing another startling sight.

It seemed that dark spectres flowed from every shadow and hidden niche that could possibly hold a pony, gathering together in the moonlight next to each of the hovering griffons before materializing into the shape of an armed Night Guard. With a sharp snap of unfolding wings, the carriage drivers leapt into the air and their escort followed, some of the griffons more startled than others, even to the point where one of the griffons dropped his spear and had it retrieved by a grinning Nocturne. They rose into the stars with the whir of mixed wings, a gasp of practical admiration by Rarity, a squeak of fear from the back of the carriage where Fluttershy was hiding, and Rainbow Dash shouting, “Cool! Do you think they can do this at the wedding, Twilight?”

Papercut had no comment, as he was lying unconscious in the back seat where he had fallen into a faint when the first Nocturne had appeared.

“It’s taking forever,” said Green Grass, looking out into the star-strewn sky from the balcony of the crystal castle where he and Shining Armor were waiting for their respective princesses to return.

“I know,” muttered Shining Armor, poking at his midsection with a paw. “Normally Twiley’s spells would have worn off by now. Rat.”

Green Grass turned from his inspection of the sky to grin at his fellow transform-ee, which was made easier by his protruding front teeth and wriggling whiskers. “Oh, come on. You volunteered to help with my class while waiting for Twilight to get back. Potted plants are no joy, but animal transformations are at least shorter. I’ll bet it’s only another hour or two, tops. Besides, it could have been worse, trust me. Sweetie Belle had me stuck as a geranium for a week. Missed the Grand Galloping Gala and my one-year anniversary of meeting Twilight because of it. If it will make you feel better, I still jumped into the Ponyville fountain afterwards. I’m considering making it a tradition.”

That didn’t seem to help, as Shining Armor merely hunched over farther into a ball of glittering white fur and pouted, his long ears drooping down over his face. “You’re still a rat. You said it was unlikely any of the students had enough control to—”

“Power, brother-in-law to be of mine. You have to admit, little Garnet sure packs a wallop. Control, not so much.” Green Grass pulled his hairless tail up underneath him and tried to suppress a shiver at the chilly breeze that flowed over the balcony. “Besides, at least you got a form that’s warm. I wasn’t even aware there was such a thing as a Crystal Snowshoe Hare until today.”

“You’re a rat,” muttered Shining Armor. “How appropriate.”

Both of them looked up at the clatter of hooves on the staircase, and Green Grass’ ratty grin grew even wider when a pale blue unicorn the shade of pure ice trotted into view, calling out, “Greenie? Are you up here somewhere? The guards said—”

Frost cut off abruptly when she saw the glittering pale-green rat and sparkling white snowshoe hare sitting together on the balcony, putting the clues together far faster than anypony’s little sister had the right to and ending in a cheerful giggle as she trotted over to nuzzle her little big brother. “Greenie, you rat. You’re supposed to duck when a student points their horn at you.”

“Yeah, sis?” quipped Green Grass. “Like I did when you had your sneezing surges? No, stop! Not the ribs!” It turned out that being transformed into a rat had no effect on one's susceptibility to tickling, and his sister did not stop her assault on her transformed brother until Shining Armor cleared his throat.

“And who’s your little friend?” asked Frost, scooping up the chubby crystal rabbit and tickling his tummy with one hoof. “Ooo, aren’t you a cutie pie? Think I’ll take you home and let Twilight’s little brothers play with you. Does your student have a name?”

“Well,” started Green Grass, trying not to laugh, “I believe Princess Cadence calls him ‘Prince Snuggybottoms.’”

“That’s so cuuuute,” cooed Frost, tickling the struggling rabbit under the chin. “What does Prince Shining Armor think of…”

It probably was a good thing that Shining Armor had been transformed into something that could jump because Frost dropped him as if he had caught on fire. “Ohmygosh! Ohmygosh! I’msosorry! I didn’t mean to… I mean you were so cute and cuddly…”

“Sis!” shouted Green Grass, standing up on his hind paws for volume. “Deep breaths. Come on. Shiny’s not going to throw you in prison for rubbing his cute widdle tum-tums.” That earned the transformed tutor a lapine glare, which Green Grass ignored as he scurried over to lay a reassuring paw against Frost’s pale blue leg.

“No, I’m fine,” snapped Shining Armor, getting back up to his furry feet. “I’m not mad at you, Miss Frost. I’m just a little cranky from getting zapped by Greenie’s little students. Gives me something to look forward to when my little brothers get older, I guess. I take it our request this morning to Princess Celestia for a few little unicorn teachers included you?”

After a nervous swallow and a pat on the top of the still hornless head of her brother-the-rat, Frost said, “Me, two of the older teachers from the Department of Making and Breaking, and some of my student teaching classmates. Oh, and—”

“Shiny!” Twilight Velvet had managed to slip within range undetected and scooped Shining Armor off the floor to administer her own dose of fuzzy tummy rubbing. “How’s mommy’s favorite little colt? Ooo, and you’re so warm.”

“Mom!”

“Mom?” Twilight Sparkle paused at the entrance to the room where she had just appeared in a flash of purple light, looking at the members of her family and extended family for just a heartbeat before sweeping up into her mother’s embrace in a flurry of violet feathers. “Oh, mom! You can’t believe how good it is to see you here! It’s been such a stressful day and I invited the Emperor of all Griffons to our wedding and I didn’t even think of where to put him on the seating chart and they fought about having Sunny at our wedding!”

“There was a fight?” Green Grass scurried to one side to avoid being trampled. “Was their Wingmaster against the idea?”

“No, not at all.” Twilight Sparkle sniffled, looking around the room for her fiancé. “He was all for it, and so was Emperor Ripping Claw, but Prince Sky… Where are you, Greenie?”

“Down here.”

There was a certain appeal to Twilight Sparkle’s expressive face that Green Grass had grown to appreciate far too much over the past year. Most female expressions were guarded and concealed, hiding whatever arcane thoughts that percolated around in that strange and complex maze called the female brain. His training in theatre and elocution had given him a leg up on the fine art of facial studies, and Twilight was no exception. Her delicate curves and soft features could change in a heartbeat, in particular when the powerhouse of a mind behind that face were to lock onto a misconception that boded ill for nearby ponies, or even dragons for that matter.

Curiosity had always been and he suspected always would be foremost on her face, because even if facing certain death and destruction, that magnificent mind would be examining said doom to see if perhaps there would be some sort of learning experience to be had from it, or if it could be postponed long enough for her to look up any uncertain details in a convenient nearby book. Also everpresent was that aggressively open friendly expression indicating a sincere desire to be introduced, discover your favorite books and subjects, have a long cup of tea with more conversation, and become best pen pals by exchanging letters every day forever, although he suspected that this expression had only become common after her move to Ponyville. He had grown accustomed to a certain amount of puzzlement in her face when encountering an unexpected situation, which he could see now, or even a certain amount of frustration, which he could definitely see now, but never before had he seen this level of absolute pure need that extended all the way down to the very core of her being.

Which he only got to see for a moment before she scooped him up off the floor and engulfed him into a warm feathery hug, ending with the sharp -pop- of teleportation as the room became somewhat less populated by the contents of one panicked princess and one somewhat squashed crystal rat.

Twilight Velvet shook her head and looked at her son, the bunny. “That must have been one humdinger of a meeting they had, Shiny. Care to enlighten me on what’s going on with my baby filly, or am I going to have to make slippers out of you?”

“Mom…” Glancing at Frost, he continued, “Executive summary, not to leave this room. Greenie invited the Third Heir from the Misty Mountain aerie to be a flower filly for their wedding. I thought it was a done deal, but apparently Emperor Ripping Claw’s son objected. I didn’t think he was dumb enough to squawk with his father in attendance, but I’ll get the details out of the rest of the guard contingent when I debrief them.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Twilight Velvet levitated her son by the scruff of his bunny neck, placing him onto her back and turning for the door. “I’m taking you right up to your room, young colt, and when your wife gets back, you are going to comfort her. You saw how upset Twilight was to go teleporting around in her fragile condition. Cadence will need her Shining Armor tonight, snuggle bunny or not, and besides that, I’m still waiting on grandfoals from you two…”

Frost watched mother and transformed son as they trotted out of the room, waiting until the voices had faded away in the distance before applying a hoof to her own forehead. “Greenie, you’re marrying into an asylum.”

Chapter 20 - Final Hurdles

“Morning, gents.” Green Grass slipped out of the Royal Guest suite with a yawn and regarded the two bulky Crystal Guards and the rather muted form of Papercut sitting to their side while tucking away a book. “Good morning, Papercut. Here you go.” A thick calendar was hoofed over to the servant, a practical forest of colorful sticky notes giving it the air of a somewhat mashed and confused flower.

“So glad to see you up and about on your hooves, sir. Did you sleep well?” asked Papercut with a note of bland disinterest, regarding the changes to his tidy schedule with a certain disdain, but still maintaining the good sense not to move any of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s notes.

“About two hours.” Green Grass yawned again. “Twilight and I were up all night.”

“Don’t want to hear about it, sir,” said Papercut, awkwardly sticking the calendar into his sidesaddle using his teeth.

“She’s just unstoppable now since she’s become an alicorn,” continued Green Grass. “All night long, over and over. I was hoping to get some sleep in the train on our way to Ponyville, but I think she’s wanting to do it again, just to be sure. Maybe twice.”

“Not for me to hear, sir,” said Papercut, looking at the floor to make sure he had not dropped a sticky note.

“Crosswind helped, but she conked out around midnight. Poor thing. Nowhere near the stamina of either of us.”

“I’d rather not — Miss Crosswind was in there with you?”

“Yeah, I needed as much help as I could get.” Green Grass yawned again. “We were going to have the guards send for you too, but Twilight said you should get some rest. It’s your turn on the train while Crosswind sleeps.”

“Train?” Papercut’s upper lip trembled. “Do you think that wise, sir?”

“No, but my opinion in this matter is only incidental. I argued against it, but she bargained me down to just once on the train so we can get some rest during the rest of the trip. All of our work is going to be useless anyway once we get to Ponyville and all the rest of the Elements of Harmony come over to the library. That’s going to be when the real work happens. I’m going to need you right by my side then, Papercut. We’ll likely be up all night again.”

“That’s…” Papercut swallowed. “Not quite what I expected out of the job, sir.”

“Me neither,” said Green Grass, “but that’s what happens when a half-dozen extra griffons get dropped into the seating chart of a perfectionist at the last minute. At least the emperor isn’t going to be showing up at the wedding. With only two weeks left, I don’t think we could squeeze in all the spots to accommodate a foreign dignitary of his stature and his escorts. At least the date for this thing is fixed. Anyway, go make sure the servants are ready to pick up everypony’s luggage and get it onto the train, review that schedule, and try to brace yourself for the seating chart changes that Twilight wants to make. And grab some breakfast, dude. You look white as a sheet. We’ll be out in about ten minutes.”

There was a faint click from the door as Green Grass vanished back into the suite, an expansive sigh of relief as Papercut finally exhaled, and a low chortling from both Crystal Guards, ending only when Papercut fled the field of battle for the sanctity of the preparations for departure from the Crystal Empire and a return to good old comfortable and sane Canterlot.

...with only two weeks until the Royal Wedding, the social scene in Canterlot has come alive with all of the pageantry that our capital city is known for. The newest Royal Couple has finally returned to Canterlot for a gala season’s worth of parties and extravaganzas that seem determined to top Princess Mi Amore’s wedding! In these last few days of celebration, every single Royal House in Canterlot is bursting with pride and determined to outdo each other in a party scene that may never be seen again in our lifetime. Today’s schedule includes a fundraising breakfast at the mansion of Jet Set and Upper Crust benefiting Zebrican orphans, followed by a series of brunches with various civic organizations, lunch with the Saddle Arabian diplomatic delegation, an afternoon in the Canterlot Southern Park hosting the annual Kite Day and Sky Carnival, and four different dinner engagements, but later this week they kick it up a notch with a masked ball at the estate of Fancy Pants, and midnight fireworks over the Canterhorn…

A smiling Green Grass waved as he climbed into a carriage, and he kept waving out the window until the estate of Lord and Lady Whiffenpoof was a respectable distance behind them, only then collapsing onto the seat with a ‘whoof’ of exhalation. Turning to the rather taciturn dark green stallion already sitting on the other end of the bench seat, Green Grass nodded at the quill Papercut was holding in his magic. “I see the doctor gave you the hooves-up on taking off the horn restraint. Any residual damage?”

“Only minor bruising,” he replied, floating his watch out to check the time. “And no more brain damage than one would expect as your appointment secretary. We’re actually two whole minutes ahead of schedule, sir.”

“I fled the field of battle prematurely rather than be engaged in a battle of wits with their little darling Whiffenpoof. He’s gone through five magic tutors now and still no cutie mark. I had no desire to be a sixth.” Green Grass made a show of wiping his forehead and looking at the schedule. “I think I have determined just how you and Crosswind plan on keeping me from marrying Twilight now. You’re going to work me to death first.”

“Whatever would give you that idea, sir?” Papercut extended out several pages of the schedule in question, neatly arranged in fifteen minute slices all the way up to ‘I do’ and a rather vague section afterwards marked ‘Freedom’ in large block letters. “We were only doing our jobs by accepting so many invitations. Certainly you would not want to turn down any of the Royal well-wishers, would you?”

“Not counting sleep, your schedule gives Twilight and myself approximately fifteen minutes together until we get married in the Royal Back Yard in just a little under two weeks.” He gave Papercut a dry look. “We may have to reintroduce ourselves before the ceremony. Heck, if I see her for more than three minutes at a time before then, I’ll have to check to see if she’s a changeling.”

One of the drivers turned his head over his shoulder and called back, “Coming up, sir.”

“One moment, Papercut.” Green Grass stood up in the carriage and opened the door, holding it steady as the wind whistled by.

“Sir?” He was trying not to sound concerned, but if Green Grass threw himself out of the carriage, Papercut was fairly sure he was going to get all of the blame and none of the satisfaction. The carriage slowed, eventually coming to a stop somewhere over Canterlot as a second carriage slid alongside, pointed in the other direction but also stopped. Both doors were open, and Green Grass leaned out to catch Princess Twilight Sparkle in a long and impassioned kiss.

“We’ve got a minute and a half,” gasped Twilight when they finally broke for air.

“Not nearly enough time,” gasped Green Grass, giving her an extra kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Papercut managed to catch a glimpse of Crosswind and Spike in the other carriage, rolling their eyes and making faces before the Royal Couple broke their cinch.

Green Grass wrinkled up his nose and grinned, matching Twilight’s smile tooth for tooth. “Our two naughty appointment secretaries have outdone themselves on our schedule. I think they were listening to ‘Gotta Keep ‘em Separated’ while they were working.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Twilight floated a folded piece of paper out and stuck it in one of his pockets. “Don’t forget to talk to my Aunt Aura at your next event, the Association of Archaeologists, Hippopologists, And Ancient Architects. I wrote her a note about the thaumic parallelization problem she’s having when dating potshards.” She followed it up with an extra kiss.

“Gotta keep ‘em carbon dated?” added Green Grass with a nose-rub. “Don’t forget to compliment the Dutchess Wildwater on her Anthurium plants and suggest that she might want to put a little more potassium in their pots. Dad says she frets over them more than her husband.”

“Silly Dutchess,” said Twilight, nuzzling up one ear. “Plants can’t kiss back.”

“Time,” called out one of the drivers.

“Gotta go,” whispered Green Grass. “Later. I promise.”

“Me too,” whispered Twilight, giving her fiancé one last kiss before the two carriages separated from their unscheduled rendezvous and headed onto their destinations.

“Stop fussing, Papercut! I just need to drop by the DRR for a few minutes and pick up a coronet. Ambassador Flintrock’s reception over at the Greystone mansion is supposed to last two hours, so if I’m ten minutes late, it’s no big deal. Besides, the Greystone family will understand. They’re very down-to-earth unicorns. I even got to tutor some of their kids.” Green Grass paused. “Weird kids. Weird, but nice. The second youngest one particularly. Vanishes right into the woodwork if you don’t keep an eye on her.”

“I shall endeavor to come up with a suitable excuse for your tardiness, sir,” said Papercut from his seat in the carriage, showing no interest at all in following his charge into the looming stone building bearing the name of ‘The Royal Mint’ carved into its grey granite exterior.

“I think I can feel a cramp in one wing,” suggested one of their Royal Guard drivers, extending the feathery appendage.

“I’ve always gotten lost easily,” added a second. “Maybe we could ask directions at this convenient building?”

The first Royal Guard gently clopped the second over the helmet with one hoof. “Idiot. We need a believable excuse. Asking for directions? Nopony would believe that.”

Green Grass chuckled to himself as he trotted through the door and into a maze of twisty grey passages, all alike.

“Hello? Is anypony in here?” called out a fairly strong but male voice that echoed through the stone corridors of the Department of Royal Regalia, filtered around a number of dusty cubicles, and into the ears of a elderly stallion dozing at his desk. It did not sound important. He went back to his nap.

“Sir, the reception at the Greystone mansion most certainly has already started, and we are running considerably late,” said a second voice, a melodious high tenor that nonetheless still had a small thread of shrillness in it, like a piece of wiregrass in an otherwise tasty salad. Still nopony important enough to be worth interrupting his nap.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to ask Princess Celestia if I can borrow one of her old crowns out of her closet,” said the first voice, with enough intentional emphasis on the real Princess of Equestria to make Stuffy Fossil, Head Curator for the Department of Royal Regalia, snort in derision.

Name dropping fool. Probably not even a Royal.

“Please don’t, sir,” said the second voice with a distinct wheedling whine to it. “She’s likely to take you up on it. Besides, I don’t think she even has any crowns other than hers in the castle. This office was created for just the purpose of categorizing and storing the various crowns, tiaras, coronets, diadems, and circlets she accumulated as gifts in her first few centuries of office, so technically, this is her closet. The use of the office by the rest of the Royals came along later.”

Well, that was worth heaving himself to his creaky hooves and seeing what was going on. Nopony ever seemed to appreciate the care and effort that went into maintaining The Vault, as he preferred to think of his proud office. Stuffy Fossil arranged his rather dusty Hat of Office atop his head, aligning the notch carefully against his horn and checking his dapper reflection in the mirror. Every inch the Head Curator now, he strolled casually out of his office and over to the front counter in order to observe the two impatient unicorns standing and waiting, two blotches of mismatched green in an otherwise colorless office. The somewhat shorter and more bulky of the two seemed to be in charge, and to Stuffy’s approval, was wearing a hat, a worthy habit that the shiftless young of the city seemed to be casting away as of late.

“Good afternoon, gentlecolts.” Stuffy blinked several times until the figures came into sharper focus. “Dropping off or picking up?”

“Picking up,” said the palest green unicorn in a rapid cascade of words. “We need a simple coronet, something thin and unobtrusive that doesn’t need to hook over a horn. I have an order in over at Cartiara’s to make one, but it won’t be ready until a week after the wedding, and that’s too late, so we just need a loaner for about two weeks.”

Stuffy drew himself up to his full swaybacked height. “Sir, we here at the Department of Royal Regalia do not loan our collection. It is held in the highest trust in the most secure vault in Canterlot exclusively for the Royal families who have placed their precious heirlooms into our care, and access to the stored items in The Vaults is highly restricted.”

Particularly anypony who wishes to make a withdrawal.

The pale green stallion paused, then put on a remarkably warm smile while extending a hoof. “Beg pardon, Curator Fossil. I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Lord Green Grass of House Chrysanthemum, and I’m engaged to be married to Princess Twilight Sparkle in eight days, nine hours, seven minutes and—” he checked his watch “—forty seconds, at which time I will gain the title of Prince Consort, and with that title, comes a hat.” Lord Green Grass wrinkled up his nose, looking remarkably as if he had just bitten down on a lemon. “Apparently my existing hat isn’t ‘Royal’ enough, so I need to find something gold and unobtrusive, preferably a loan from one of the failed House Minors who had no inheritors when their property reverted to the Crown. I was hoping to resolve this earlier. I sent several letters.”

There was a rather comfortable mailbag that Stuffy had been using for a pillow at his desk for several years now, and once he thought about it, there were a few newer and more stiff letters in it recently. In fact, the name Green Grass seemed familiar too. It had been in the crossword puzzle of the Canterlot Times under ‘Groom’ for some reason, as well as Princess Twilight Sparkle, who had taken up nearly the entire row across.

“House Chrysanthemum,” he muttered, opening a hefty ledger and running a hoof down a list of entries. “No, we are not currently storing any regalia from your family.”

“I know that,” huffed Green Grass. “Dad hates this place. I need to borrow a coronet from one of the failed House Minors for two weeks, tops. I have a letter of permission from Princess Celestia and Princess Luna right here. After two weeks, you can have it back and everypony is happy. Capisce?”

“I’m sorry, Lord Green Grass,” said Stuffy, closing the book with a puff of dust. “Items entrusted to us can only be removed by the express order of the senior member of the House. Even the Princess does not have the authority to order them ‘loaned’ for any reason.”

“But all of the failed House Minors don’t have any living senior members of their house, or even junior members for that matter. They’re dead,” said Green Grass in a plaintive tone. “What am I supposed to do, bring their bones into the office?”

The darker unicorn stallion to his side quietly cleared his throat. “Princess Celestia rather frowns on necromancy, sir.”

Stuffy Fossil shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. My decision is final. Perhaps one of the other Houses would loan you appropriate regalia for your upcoming nuptials.”

Now it was Green Grass’ turn to shake his head. “No, I don’t want to start this marriage indebted to a particular House.”

“You could always call it off,” suggested the servant.

Three meetings, two coffees and a cutecinera later, the two Royal carriages once again paused in their headlong flight across Canterlot for the Royal Couple to exchange a few words and personal affections, as well as for Papercut to float a note over to his counterpart about scheduling.

Once the initial round of frantic Royal Couple kissing had slowed and before the second wave of kissing could begin, Green Grass gasped, “Wasn’t able to get a coronet from the Vaults.”

“I’ll make you one,” said Twilight with a kiss. “It’ll take five minutes and a short stack of bits for materials.”

“No.” Green Grass paused in his application of stress relief to his overstressed fiancé in order to get both hooves on her cheeks and look deep into her soft violet eyes.

After a few moments, Twilight said, “Yes?”

“No. I mean…” Green Grass looked away and took a deep breath. “I can’t think like that. Anyway, this is something I’m going to do on my own. Like my hat. It’s a symbol of what I do and who I am. If you make one for me, that’s… not me.”

“I understand.” Twilight Sparkle tucked a hoof under his chin and brought his blue eyes back up to look into her own gaze. “That’s why it took you so long at the jewelry store to define exactly what you wanted, even though they kept wanting to make it bigger and more ornate. And why you insisted on paying for it out of your own pocket. Don’t worry. Even if you have to wear a bucket or make a coronet out of paper and glitter for the wedding, that’s good enough for me.”

“Oh!” Green Grass kissed her on the nose. “Wonderful idea, dear. Tomorrow morning, first thing before breakfast. How would you like to see the attic of House Chrysanthemum?”

House Chrysanthemum was not a particularly large house, having been established in the lower middle section of the ‘Unicorn Belt’ of manor houses that clung to the side of Mount Canter like barnacles, or at least that is how Green Grass described the positioning. There were many larger manors and no few the same general size, even though ‘general’ was not an adequate description for the exhaustive status ranking system of the unicorn Royals where not only the number of baths, bedrooms, salons, music rooms and birdhouses were counted, but the specific instruments inside the music rooms, the types of birdhouses, etc… There was also a multiplier effect as to altitude, although after a series of excessively high flagpoles with huge flags in the area had become a hazard to pegasi navigation, Princess Celestia had put one gold-clad hoof down quite solidly in that regard. Still, a small manor higher on the mountain in the Heights was worth more ‘points’ than a large manor next to earth pony dominated Central, and absolutely nopony who was anypony in the Unicorn Royals would be caught dead considering a mansion around Cliffside where the Pegasi Royals congregated.

So in that regard, Green Grass’ childhood home was ‘average’ for the lower Canterlot Royals, sufficiently low enough that the upper crust could pretend they were not even in the same pie, and high enough that the lower crust could still curry favor and pretend to the crusty heights of living that they would never reach. A mere four stories tall and barely wide enough for a both a well-lit conservatory and an extremely small ballroom on the first floor, it had certain meritorious features that Green Grass’ mother, Spring Fresh, was more than happy to detail at the slightest urging. With both an antique harpsichord and glockenspiel (worth more points than a mere piano-forte) on the first floor, the main living quarters for the baron on the second floor, rooms for the children on the third, and a sparsely populated servants quarters on the fourth, one would think bragging rights were thin, but Lady Spring was able to push those small selling points with the skill of an expert real estate agent until a visitor was unsure if they were being given the tour or being evaluated for a possible sale.

It was the attic of the old house that had Twilight Sparkle’s attention this morning, although ‘attention’ was thready and ‘morning’ might be disputed by one Royal sister not willing to release her night yet and one Royal sister who was still soundly asleep. There was a significant difference between ‘early-rising’ and ‘carried out of bed while still sleeping and waking up in the dusty attic of an old house with your husband-to-be so deep in an old chest that all you could see was his cute plot.’ The faint rustle and clunk of his fellow conspirators at various distances disturbed the dusty air in accordance to what she vaguely remembered as Green Grass’ plan for searching the attic for the rather odd artifact, although it appeared that the chest that Greenie had tackled was just slightly larger than he had expected.

From Spike’s delighted voice, the little dragon was somewhere nearby in the maze of dusty boxes and tarp-covered objects, having discovered a treasure trove of comic books, and the slightest push to a tracking spell she had put on the saddlebags of their appointment secretaries revealed the scheming duo a few aisles away, but what truly seized Twilight’s attention and brought her out of her drowsy musing was the welcome aroma of fresh coffee drifting up to her nose.

She staggered to her hooves, floating the hefty foam container of coffee up to her lips and taking a long, long drink. Liquid energy pooled in her belly, surging out to her limbs and horn, and eventually as she slurped down the foamy bottom of the coffee mug, lifting both eyelids to sharpen her view.

It was a very nice view. Greenie was easy on the eyes, no matter which end she looked at. Dropping the expended foam coffee container to one side, she picked up the second one (because Greenie was uncommonly well-trained) and took a much shallower sip.

The foal is going to be born wanting to nurse out of a Starbucks cup.

“Oh, good. You’re up, dear.” Green Grass’ back legs wriggled in a futile attempt to get out of the large chest, finally stopping and asking, “Dear?”

She levitated him out of the chest with a yawn and looked around the dusty attic, or at least as far as she could see in the box-strewn corridors. “Any luck?”

“You bet, Twilight,” came the voice of Spike from several rows over. “Silver age and some of the limited editions. They even have the original origin story for the Power Ponies.”

“Be careful with them, Spike,” called out Green Grass over the piles of boxes. “Those are probably Regal’s. I wondered where Mom had stuck them when he went off to college.”

“Actually I stuck them up here, Greenie. Hello, Princess Twilight,” said Martel Chandler, Green Grass’ father as he huffed up the narrow staircase into the attic. “His mother wanted to throw them away, but I can remember when my mother threw out my first collection of oak leaves, and nopony deserves that.”

“You collected leaves too?” Twilight Sparkle lit up with a broad smile.

“All kinds. I think I even have a few Library Oak leaves from Ponyville.” Green Grass’ father yawned. “They’re a vanishing breed, I’m afraid. So what brings my beautiful future daughter to our humble home this—” he made a show of checking his watch “—hour of night?”

“Dad!” Green Grass kissed Twilight with a grin. “Stop trying to cozy up to the princess.”

“Greenie said something about looking for something for the masked ball tonight or something…” Twilight trailed off and took an additional slurp of coffee to reignite sleepy brain cells.

“It’s nothing, Dad. I just thought I might be able to find that crafts project I made back in fifth grade. You remember? The tiara?”

Martel chuckled and cast a mischievous look at Twilight. “Who could forget?” Momentarily wiping the grin away from his face, but leaving the twinkle in his blue eyes, the older unicorn continued, “My talented and handsome young son had a school project where everypony in his class got to construct a crown for Mother’s Day. His siblings got him to model it for them. They took pictures.”

“Dad!”

“I think I still have them in the family photo album. Would you like to see them?”

“Dad!” Green Grass held his hooves loosely over Twilight’s ears. “Pay no attention to my old and quite senile father, Dear. In fact, I’m not sure this really is my father. Maybe some elderly stranger has wandered into our house and is just making up tall-tales of my foalhood.”

“You were eight,” said Martel with a wink as he turned his back and trotted down a dusty attic corridor. “Besides, once I heard you were dating Her Highness—”

“Twilight!” said Twilight. “Please.”

“—I put all of our photo albums into the house safe,” the baron finished. “Ah, here we go.”

Flipping aside a thick tarp revealed a rather heavy chest, which eventually yielded to the baron’s magical touch and opened up. “Your mother put a number of the children’s little projects in storage up here. I don’t think I’ve looked through it in years.”

A welter of small cardboard boxes and tissue-wrapped bundles were gently levitated out of the chest as Green Grass rummaged, slowing as he peeked inside their protective shells. “Hey, Dad. Here’s that coffee cup I made for you. And the nametags for your school visit.” He examined a crinkling piece of yellowing paper with a distinct sniffle before hoofing it over to Twilight and returning to his search.

“You were quite the poet,” said Twilight, trying not to laugh. “I wouldn't have even thought of rhyming ‘effervescence’ with ‘quintessence’ when writing a poem about my mother. Are all of these yours?” She gestured at the growing collection of small bundles that had been removed from the chest.

“It was a very crafty school,” said Green Grass, pausing as he tried to stuff a few pieces of dislodged macaroni back into a bag. “Come to think of it, nearly all of this is mine, Dad. Where’s everpony else’s stuff? Or am I secretly an only child?”

“You’ll have to ask your mother. Ah, this looks promising.” The baron’s soft blue magic unwrapped a glittery assembly of twisted wires that had been extracted from inside a cardboard shoebox. The words ‘#1 mOm’ could be discerned, if squinted at carefully, and little flakes of glitter released by the age-weakened glue fluttered down as the baron turned it in his magic for inspection.

Twilight gently picked the tangle of wires up from her future father-in-law’s magic and lifted it to her own head, placing her horn inside the exaggerated ‘O’ of the front and resting the assembly on her head. “How do I look?” she asked, taking in the look of suppressed laughter from Martel and the admiring grin from Green Grass.

“That’s why I fell in love with you, Dear. You’re the spitting image of my mother. Except purple where she’s yellow, gently rounded where she’s skinny, and feathered where she’s bare.”

“Son, I’m surprised you’ve lived this long if you’re going to use the words ‘gently rounded’ to your future wife.” As their two appointment secretaries came around the corner, escorting Spike with his arms full of comic books, the baron began to pack the collection of youthful memories back into the chest while shaking his head. “You’re not seriously going to let Princess Twilight Sparkle wear that ratty old thing to Fancy Pants’ Costume Ball, are you?”

“Nope!” declared Green Grass, delicately removing the tiara and storing it back in the cardboard box. “I’m wearing it.”

The stubby pencil scratched across the boxes of the Canterlot Times crossword puzzle, leaving little trails of illegible letters behind as Stuffy Fossil proceeded to close in on his lifetime goal of completing the puzzle before he erased through the newsprint like normal. Today was particularly easy, since Seven Across, ‘Disguised as something else’ turned out to actually be ‘Costumed’ as he had guessed, but Four Down was giving him troubles. ‘Also Royalty’ was supposed to be nine letters long, but ‘Unicorn’ was only seven, and even ‘Unicorns’ stretched it out to eight. ‘Alicorn’ had the same issue, and even ‘Pegasus’ shortened when turned into a plural. Even ‘changeling’ was ten. Maybe it was a badly-spelled Griffon. Gryphon? Griphthon? No.

The tinkle of the bell above the office door stirred a sense of annoyance in the elderly civil servant. There had just been somepony in the front office just yesterday, and now there was another one. He tried to ignore the annoying customer, but the insistent ringing of the bell made his horn ache as he erased yet another misspelled word in the crossword puzzle, and eventually he put on his official hat to go tell off the bell-ringing idiot in person.

“We’re closed for lunch!” snapped Stuffy as he poked his head out of his office and regarded the two unicorns standing at the counter. The shorter of the two, Lord Green Grass if Stuffy remembered the name correctly, and he always did, stopped yanking the door open and closed under the little bell and turned with a broad and totally fake smile.

“Curator Fossil! I just wanted to drop by and tell you the good news. I found a coronet to wear at my wedding, so you don’t have to dig up one of those old crowns out of storage. Isn’t that good news?”

“Wonderful,” groused the elderly unicorn. “Enjoy your wedding, sir. The door is right over—”

“But I knew how busy things are going to get after the wedding,” continued Green Grass, just as smooth as if he were selling life insurance to a terminally ill cancer patient, “so I wanted to get the paperwork out of the way for storing my wedding coronet once Cartiara’s jewelry store delivers the permanent replacement. After all, there will be historical significance to it by then. Only the second Prince Consort coronet in centuries, and I think Shining Armor plans on keeping his in the Crystal Empire, like he’s ashamed of it or something.”

Stuffy paused in his shuffling progress back to his office and the incomplete crossword before turning for the filing cabinet and heaving a thick sheaf of papers onto the counter. “Let me get you the paperwork, sir, and you can pay the filing fee now. That way you can properly store it in the Vault when you’re ready. What kind is it?”

“Well, it’s… Hm. I’m really not certain. I brought it along, and you’re the expert, so you can tell me.” The pale green stallion took a rather ragged cardboard shoebox that his servant levitated to him and placed it on the counter, where Stuffy peeled back the protective tissue paper and stood in shocked terror at what was revealed.

“That… It’s a… What…”

“Do you like it?” Green Grass picked up the tangled mass of wires and held it in his hooves, ignoring the little flecks of gold paint and glitter that flaked onto the spotless counter. “I thought about going into jewelry design when I was little, but I never was able to—”

“What kind of sick abomination is that!?” blurted out Stuffy, managing to point a hoof at the… thing and wondering if he should grab a fire extinguisher or a flyswatter to beat it to death before dropping it into a trash can.

“Well, since you wouldn’t let me borrow one of the failed House Minor’s regalia for the wedding, even with permission from Princess Celestia and Luna, I decided to use one from our family. One that I actually made, in fact.” Green Grass placed the tangled wire tiara on the counter and rotated it around so that Stuffy Fossil could see the wobbly ‘#1 mOm’ on the front.

“You can’t be serious!” Stuffy pointed at the piece of trash and backed up a step. “It’s… It’s…”

“It’s the coronet that I’m going to wear at my wedding to Princess Twilight Sparkle,” said Green Grass with a tight smile. “In front of the entire court and every diplomat that Equestria can fit into the castle gardens. And when anybody asks me about it, I plan on telling them the truth. That I came here. That I talked to you, Head Curator Fossil. And you turned me down. By the end of the day, I don’t think there will be a living creature in Canterlot who won’t know the story.”

“They’ll have my head,” gasped Stuffy. “I’ll be fired! I’ll be worse than fired, I’ll be—”

“Famous,” said Green Grass, idly buffing a rusty wire on the tiara and endangering its structural integrity by some significant value.

“Y-you’re bluffing!” stammered Stuffy.

“Master Green Grass does not bluff,” said Papercut with a resigned tone, stepping up to the counter. “If you persist in your recalcitrance, in seven days time, Princess Celestia will be placing that—” Papercut shuddered and looked away from the collection of wires “—thing on his head in the middle of the second and possibly last Royal Wedding of our lifetime.”

“It’ll be a disaster,” whispered Stuffy. “The Princess will be a laughing stock.”

“She’s immortal,” said Papercut just as levelly as if he were discussing which wine to serve with dinner. “She will outlive it. Master Green Grass simply does not care what the Royals think of him, and Princess Twilight…” Papercut paused, his lips pursed as if he had bitten into a lemon. “She has become corrupted by his entirely inappropriate sense of humor. Were it not for the fact that she already possesses a crown, I believe she would wear it to her wedding.”

“We could trade, I suppose.” Green Grass paused to consider. “No, tourmaline is just not my color of gemstone.”

Stuffy trembled, first looking at the lunatics who had escaped from the asylum and taken refuge in his peaceful office, then down at the creamy pieces of paper embossed with the Royal Sun and Moon symbols that Green Grass pushed in his direction. He wanted to believe it was all a bluff, but both of the unicorns looked deadly serious, and the servant even seemed somewhat desperate at the thought that his master would voluntarily debase himself in that uncouth fashion. The letters were an easy out, a Royal Excuse, as it were. As much as he was reluctant to release one of the treasures in the Vault to the unwashed hooves of the nobles⁽*⁾ for public display and possible damage, the alternative would be far worse. A scandal like this could cause all of the Royals to withdraw their carefully-preserved regalia from the security of the Vault. Some might even be stolen. Or lost. Or even — he shuddered — worn.
(*) Stuffy Fossil was of the opinion that collectables were meant for collecting, not for pawing over and waving about. In his home, he had a large temperature controlled storage unit with over a thousand sealed comic books, unique toys, and first edition books, all of which had been retained in an unopened and pristine condition for decades. It was quite fortunate that he was not married.
—

“I suppose with proper security, the office might permit a public display of one of the lesser pieces,” he started, picking up the letters in his magical field and giving a quick read through them in hopes of finding a loophole. “Some of them are quite elegant and are insufficiently exposed to the public for the amount of crafting talent that has gone into their creation.”

“No,” said Green Grass. “Something simple, that I pick. No gem-encrusted fancy and heavy golden neckbreaker. A coronet, preferable in the late Eponox style.”

Stuffy Fossil regarded the green stallion through narrowed eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that. I am the expert, after all. First, we'll need to measure the length of your horn."

“That’s easy.” The light green stallion swept his hat off to reveal a very round and extremely hornless head. “Zero.”

Stuffy was speechless. The servant, less so.

“You really should quit doing that, sir,” chided Papercut.

“Why?”

“Well.” Papercut considered his words while Stuffy just sat and blinked. “Eventually you’re going to trigger a heart attack.”

“Naa,” scoffed Green Grass. “Your heart is nice and strong. I read your file.”

Author's Notes:

I would like to thank Jmac for letting me slip a little bit of Quizzical into the story up there. You might have to look twice. She tends to blend into the background, but she's a wonderful character. Go read his stories if you have not already. And if you have.

Chapter 21 - Masks, Part One

Seven days before the wedding

There were levels to ostentatiousness in Canterlot that made the social scale somewhat more complicated than a simple numerical value. The less wealthy tended to make vain attempts to appear more wealthy than they really were while the truly wealthy preferred to simply be wealthy, and avoided certain trappings of wealth (such as pools) if they had no real desire to use them (or were unable to swim). This resulted in a certain degree of snubbing among the wealthy peers when they discovered a socially climbing upstart was using generic cream cheese in their hors d'oeuvres, or had employed the second most expensive restoration expert to reconstruct their antique harpsichord, but once an invisible line had been crossed, any snubbing quickly faded out.

That line was Fancy Pants.

Even if the highest of social climbers were to corner Fancy at a party and beg to be told his secret, they never would be able to comprehend the answer despite having already been told it repeatedly at every opportunity. At his level of wealth, it was not the having or the earning that was the most difficult task of his life.

It was the giving.

Like a giant ball of snow rolling down Mount Canter, the financial assets Fancy managed constantly accumulated a growing mass of inertia, and to simply fling a few million bits of that fiscal mass at a deserving charity could destroy a worthy cause faster than anything. Fundraising was a social event, requiring many social occasions and social visits, and of course considerable socializing. To simply give more money than was needed to a cause would drive away other donors and their critical social contacts, leaving the worthy cause stranded and cashless once they had burned through their unexpected windfall. In fact, he had used the same technique through a series of cut-outs and blind drops on a particularly loathsome pegasi supremacy group in Cloudsdale once, resulting in the organization withering away into nothingness within a year and a quiet word of thanks from Princess Celestia several months later.

The whirlwind romance pairing him with the fashion model Fleur de Lis had been the talk of Equestria in a quite literal fashion. A simple monogrammed kerchief appeared in Fancy’s vest pocket and ten thousand kerchiefs sold out in the next day. A visit to a morning cafe with Fleur for baguettes and no bakery in the country could keep up with demand. He had once remarked that if they spent a romantic night out looking at the stars, Celestia would have been besieged with requests to keep the moon in the sky all the time, a comment that seemed much less humorous when Princess Luna returned. A wedding in the Haymen Islands, a three month world tour, and when the couple returned to Canterlot, it was as if they had always been together despite the gap in their ages. There had always been rumors of some infant furniture purchases during their visits and appearances around the country, but nothing had ever been proven, although Twilight was beginning to wonder as she stood in the giant mansion and chatted with the healthy model, who was dipping into an early plate of appetizers with just as much enthusiasm as her pregnant princess conversational partner.

The costume ball was supposed to start in a little over an hour, but no proper Canterlot Royal would be caught dead showing up on time, which is why Green Grass had been so insistent about the both of them showing up early. Fleur had decided on a sexy maid outfit that was just a small fraction of cloth from being obscene and which — upon close examination and several discreet questions — would never have fit Twilight anyway. Fancy Pants had decided on the outfit of a judge from a few centuries ago, with tall white wig and a respectable-sized gavel. Both Crosswind and Papercut were preparing to slip away for the rather less formal servants’ party a few mansions away, and Twilight was trying to figure out just how much credulence her future husband deserved in his explanation.

“Honestly, Dear. I wouldn’t have worn the tiara to the costume party or the wedding.” Green Grass rolled his eyes and tried to adjust the tall formal hat which kept trying to slide off his head. They had found the antique military uniform of a great-great-uncle in the Chrysanthemum House attic, and although he had been rather easily convinced to leave the awkward sword that went with the outfit behind, the tall ornate hat with the frilly trim had woven a spell of entrancement into the goofy stallion far beyond what she had expected.

“Quite true,” said Papercut in a droll tone while standing to one side and trying to adjust his ‘owner’s’ somewhat mothball-scented uniform jacket. “I believe he would have worn it to the party and the wedding. Sir, please allow me to put a stiction spell on your hat or it will just slide off. There’s no horn to anchor it to.”

“It’s not meant for a horn,” countered Green Grass, taking the hat off and pointing at the hollow interior. While the two of them fiddled with the hat, Twilight took a few moments to step away and look around the busy ballroom for her friends. Both Pinkie Pie and Applejack had yielded to the siren song of manual labor, and were helping the servants with the party setup despite frequent requests otherwise, and even Fluttershy was fluttering around the ceiling at Rarity’s direction where the fashionista had spotted a flaw in one of the constellations of glittering pseudo-stars and was busy making it ‘Princess Perfect.’ Rainbow Dash and Spike were acting as food inspectors and generally getting in the way, but as long as this did not turn into another Grand Galloping Gala, Twilight didn’t mind if they both stuffed themselves as full as the pinata Pinkie Pie had stashed for the After-Wedding Party.

House Twinkle had never actually thrown a costume ball, due to the small size of their ballroom (which would have been Twilight Velvet’s dining room with the tables and chairs moved out of the way), and most of the costume balls she had attended with Princess Celestia had seemed a little like peacock judging contests, with the most impractical outfits and the stuffiest of nobles stuffed into them. Inevitably, there were alicorns, acres and acres worth of false horns and fabric wings, sometimes both, of every possible size and variety, ranging from the small token horn nubs or half-dozen feathers on the back of a ballgown up to… excessive. Occasionally wildly excessive, although thankfully the breezie antenna and insectile wings popular a few years ago for mares had fallen out of fashion, or Green Grass might have even wandered in that direction for his costume tonight. Even if it most probably would have threatened the masculinity of even the most red-blooded stallion, somehow she could not shake the possibility of him making it work and restarting the trend.

Thankfully, none of her friends had gone the alicorn or the breezie route tonight. Spike had decided on his best suit, because a dragon in a suit was as unique as possible in Canterlot, while Rainbow Dash had dug her Shadowbolt costume out again, much to Rarity’s chagrin. Applejack had the cutest stereotypical apple seller outfit complete with (of course) apples to give out to anypony who asked, and to Twilight’s great relief, free. Pinkie Pie was dressed as… Pinkie Pie, or so it seemed, and Fluttershy was resplendent in forest green leaves and yellow silk flowers, looking almost exactly like a beautiful hedge, and Twilight suspected she was able to vanish into the background flower arrangements by simply holding still and pretending to be one. Although Rarity had avoided adding wings to her own creamy silk gown, she had added a replica of Princess Platinum’s crown, and Twilight suspected she would have a dragon servant attending to Her Majesty as soon as the music began to play.

“Your Highness… I mean Twilight,” said Crosswind once Fleur had excused herself and departed to the buffet table for a refill, “if you do not need me any further this evening, I’ll just be off to the secondary festivities before the guests begin to arrive.”

Her appointment secretary was actually wearing lipstick this evening, along with an abbreviated dress just barely covering her cutie mark as well as the twinkle of sparkly dancing shoes on her petite pegasus hooves. Twilight tried not to shake her head or smile, but just nodded assent. “Go ahead. Have fun on your date.”

“Date?” The young pegasus held a hoof to her chest and blinked rapidly. “It’s not a date. Papercut is just escorting me to the party since we’re both starting out at the same place and winding up at the same place. It’s only natural. It’s proper. It’s… efficient. It’s… You’re not buying it, are you?”

“I’m not even renting it,” said Twilight with a knowing sigh. “What, did you think I was going to object or make fun of you dating a handsome young stallion like Papercut? Why, you must have so many things in common with him, like…” She paused, groping frantically for a word, or even a category of words.

“Calendars,” said Crosswind with a sour twist to her lips. “I mean he’s clever, witty, sensitive and kind, but he’s an over-organized twit. Why, he even sorts his quills by purchase date.”

“Who doesn’t? I mean it’s the only sensible way to make sure—”

“What I’m trying to say, Princess Twilight, is that he’s… I don’t know. He confuses me.”

Twilight did not even try to restrain her snort of amusement. “Dad says that’s dangerous. Next thing you know, you’re going to wind up standing beside him with a ring on your horn. Wing.”

Crosswind… squirmed is the only word that made sense for her erratic motions. Rainbow Dash was the expert in pegasus wing signals, and the uncomfortable twitches across her secretary’s feathery appendages triggered a ripple down her flanks, ending in one rear hoof stomping into the hardwood floor. Careful of her costume, Twilight extended one dark indigo wing across Crosswind’s back and gave a gentle squeeze, much as Princess Celestia used to do when she was having stress issues. “I just don’t know, Ma’am,” said Crosswind, somewhat muffled by the wing. “He’s just so—”

“—unoriginal and boring, sir, while she’s so vibrant and spontaneous.” Papercut paused while straightening up a rather stubborn wrinkle on Green Grass’ collar. “I’m just not used to thinking in that particular fashion. Did you know when we both went out for lunch a few days ago, she didn’t even make reservations first?”

“Shocking,” gasped Green Grass, trying to get a hoof to his neck. “See if you can find a little slack or you’ll strangle me.”

“No great loss, sir.” A little tugging allowed the young groom to take a deep breath and Papercut shifted his attention to a rumpled pocket instead, once the threat of suffocation had been averted. “I’ve tried to tell her I’m interested, but every time I open my mouth around her, the most amazing of foolish things emerge. I actually invited her up to my apartment to look at my etchings, sir. And I don’t even have etchings!”

“Never too late to pick some up, Papercut. Why don’t you take her shopping for a few?”

The servant twisted his face into a grimace while tightening the thread on a few loose buttons. “I have no idea why I thought discussing my personal issues with you was a good idea. You have no sense of tact.”

“Well, if you can hold on for a moment, you can ask an expert in tactlessness.” Green Grass brightened as a tall stallion trotted across the floor, his snow-white mane billowing in soft waves down the back of his neck. The stallion had thrown a great deal of tradition to one side for his costume tonight, with a pair of realistic bat-wings on his sides and a spell to turn his eyes into golden spheres with split pupils, just like a Nocturne, except with a dark unicorn horn and a sly grin that he had never seen on any of the Night Guard before. He swept up to greet Green Grass with a coy smile and waggled eyebrow as he glanced across the ballroom in the direction of Twilight and whispered, “Who’s—”

“—that, Princess Twilight,” whispered Crosswind, peeking out from under Twilight’s thick wing. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Runs in the family,” said Twilight, fighting a smirk. “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him. It’s my future brother-in-law, Graphite, with the most amazing Nocturne alicorn costume. If you think Greenie is an expert at snark, you’re going to hate him with a passion. Oh, look. He’s coming this way. How’s my mane? Did I get the stars right?” She ran one dark hoof through her ethereal mane, watching as the sparkles of tiny stars flared and glittered in response. “I wanted to make them as accurate as possible, but they keep flowing around. I didn’t know that when I picked—”

“—Princess Luna for a costume?” whispered Green Grass’ brother as they walked over to the two mares. “Impressive, Greenie. She even has the wing proportions correct.”

“Well, you’re the expert,” Green Grass whispered back, trying mightily to fight back a grin when Graphite swept into an elegant bow, holding one hoof across his chest as he lowered his head almost to the ground and lifted it up with a salacious grin at ‘Princess Luna.’

“Oh, most radiant Princess of the Night. Thy perfect countenance hath blinded this poor wretch to all others but thy own. I beg of you, allow me to plight my troth for a love which shall burn within my mortal chest until my last breath of life. A single moment in your presence shall be as an eternity, and all that I ask is for your hoof in wedded matrimony, for as long as I might live by your side.”

“Thou art most droll,” said Twilight, raising an eyebrow while catching Green Grass’ subdued smirk and nod. “Thy Princess of the Night shall consider thy proposal as valid upon one condition.”

Pursing his lips, Graphite leaned forward. “For a kiss, your wish shall be my command, oh — Oh, please tell me you’re really Twilight Sparkle and not Luna, or I am so screwed.”

Giggles overcame her. “Yes, I’m Twilight. I take it the costume meets with your approval? Oh, and this is my appointment secretary, Miss Crosswind.” She lifted her concealing wing, and Graphite’s face lit up with joy, an expression Twilight was almost certain was automatic whenever faced by the opposite gender of whatever species. He bowed before the blushing pegasus, somehow managing to get Crosswind to lift a hoof to be kissed as he swept into a second proposal.

“We meet again, oh, most beautiful mare. I have been terribly deceived, for until this moment, I considered your Princess to be the fairest in the land, and now I must confess her beauty, although great, does but hold but a weak candle to thy radiant countenance, which only grows in beauty during the time we spend apart. I beg of you, come to my side so that we might never again be depraved of each other’s presence.”

The giggling overcoming Twilight must have been contagious, because Crosswind could not even respond, and was in danger of falling over since she was only standing on three unsteady hooves. On the other side of the suave stallion, Papercut could not have been stiffer if he had been stuffed and mounted on the wall. Taking mercy on their mischievous appointment secretaries, and feeling a little mischievous herself, Twilight smacked Crosswind on the rump with one wingtip, making her almost jump out of her dancing shoes.

“It’s ‘deprived,’ not ‘depraved,’ good Prince of the Night. And she’s taken. Go on, Crosswind. Have fun at your party with Papercut, and try not to stay up too late. We have an early morning scheduled tomorrow. Only a little over seven days left.”

She watched with a grin as the two of them turned to start off, only for them to stop as Green Grass called out, “Miss Crosswind. Papercut is too timid to say it, but he likes you. And Papercut? Miss Crosswind is too afraid to say it, but she likes you too. For heaven’s sake, talk to each other, not just make pegasus wing signs and unicorn mind games. Think like earth ponies, or you’ll still be making eyes at each other when our foal gets married. Now shoo. Have fun at the party.”

“That was cruel, brother-of-mine,” said Graphite once the mismatched and somewhat irritated couple had vanished out the door.

“It was my earth pony heritage coming through,” responded Green Grass. “Cross-cultural barriers make the process far too complicated. Pegasi view love as a contact sport, and unicorns just have this bizarre dance of innuendo and suggestion that drives me crazy. Does she like me enough to sleep with me? Or does she just want to borrow a pen? Mares are hard enough to understand by themselves.”

“For good reason,” stated Twilight Sparkle emphatically.

“Not you, dear,” protested Green Grass with a soft nuzzle up her neck. “You’re carefully sorted and indexed, with the most amazing table of contents.”

“Greenie!” she chided, looking around at the scattering of ponies in the ballroom who had arrived early to the festivities and several of which were most definitely not-looking in their direction while attempting to stifle a laugh. “I’m supposed to be acting like Luna.”

“Princess Luna enjoys stargazing as much as I do, with the appropriate company,” he whispered, brushing up against the fine hairs on her neck in a way that gave the ethereal star illusion of her mane the twitch and sparkle of distant supernovas. “I just prefer viewing heavenly bodies at a much closer range.”

Rolling her eyes at the antics of her silly fiancé, she tried to ignore the somewhat conflicted look on Graphite’s face at the sight of his brother performing a Public Display of Affection on ‘Princess Luna.’ Although Greenie had been totally recalcitrant about giving out any details of his brother’s royal romantic interest, and had not confirmed the identity of Princess Luna’s private preener even while being tickled into incoherence, Twilight had a pretty good idea how to connect those two logical threads. However, she had never actually gotten up the nerve to ask Princess Luna, partially from the worry that she would wish to compare notes the way Princess Cadence had.

After getting Green Grass to act his age and his brother to stop encouraging him, Twilight tried to relax a little while watching the early arrivals spread out in the huge room, which had been broken down into smaller sections by a series of low green ‘hedges’ and broad ‘trees’ with lanterns in their artificial branches to simulate the look of the eventual wedding location.

Seven days, twenty minutes and seventeen seconds until we’re married. Only a hair over seven days. I really should thank Princess Celestia’s meddlesome appointment secretaries. They’ve kept me so busy that I haven’t had time to panic. Could she have sent them to us for that particular reason? Greenie always says Princess Celestia is a better teacher than he ever could be, and that she can make ponies learn the hardest lessons by just letting them do what they want to do. Could she have been teaching a lesson to all four of us at once?

She was so distracted by the idea that it took Greenie elbowing her sharply to get her attention as his parents began to walk across the floor in their direction. Only for a moment did she think about their first visit in the library over a year ago, and a sense of shame bubbled up inside as she realized that this was actually only the second time she had ever met Lady Spring Fresh, the mother of the stallion she was about to wed.

There was a certain angularity to the middle-aged mare which made Twilight think of the sharp prow on an icebreaker, a thinness around the cheeks and a near point to her nose only emphasized by the gem-encrusted pair of red glasses perched on said slender appendage and damping her sharp gaze not one bit. In fact, there was just a small hint of Griffon in her general appearance and demeanor that Twilight had not really noticed before, which may have explained how Baron Chrysanthemum, who had a long and quite profitable trading arrangement with the Griffon Empire, had been attracted to her in the first place.

The rose-hued silk dress sweeping down her back and the glittering golden manebows holding back her thinning violet mane and tail had to be imported from the Griffon Empire. They acted as a sort of advertisement for the family business, and must have cost a fortune, even discounting the delicate Equestrian butterfly wings extending just partially over her back, shimmering from rose to violet in an insectile iridescence. With a sharp click of pristine dancing shoes, she stopped in front of Twilight Sparkle and cocked her head to one side while examining Twilight’s face.

“Luna wears less eyeshadow,” she sniffed, turning to her son. “Green Grass, where is the tiara I had stored in the attic?”

As Green Grass spluttered, caught off guard by the question, Twilight could not help but see his father trying to conceal a smile. Spring’s tail was twitching in almost exactly the same way Greenie’s would twitch when he was upset, although she had the aura of calm control down much better than her future hubby.

“Lady Spring Fresh,” she interrupted, getting a brief glare from her future mother-in-law and a relieved look from Greenie, “we just borrowed it for the afternoon, and we’ll be happy to bring it back tomorrow.”

“You had no right to take it,” she snapped, pausing momentarily afterwards as if to think about whom she was being short with. “I mean, it’s one of Green Grass’ gifts to me during his foalhood, Your Highness.”

“Were you planning on wearing it this evening, Mom?” If Twilight had not known Greenie’s twisted sense of humor as much as she did, she could have almost thought he was being serious, but before the expected cutting response from his mother, he added, “By the way, I was meaning to ask. Why are there so many of my crafts projects tucked away and almost none of my siblings? I mean, Regal always used to make you the most beautiful things in school. Didn’t you keep any of them?”

“Hi, Greenie! Hi, Mom and Dad.” His little sister, Frost, bounded into the family discussion and gave Lady Spring Fresh a desperately needed moment to think.

“Hi, Snowball.” Greenie ruffled the white fleece snowpony outfit that his already blueish-white sister was wearing and made a half-hearted bite at her carrot nose. “You cold in there, sis?”

“Naa,” she scoffed. “Hot, actually. Hello, Princess Twilight,” she added with a smile.

“Unfair,” said Green Grass. “Did you cheat?”

Frost gave her brother a very chilly look, which matched her snowpony costume perfectly. “You were nuzzling on her neck, and you’re not presently sitting on the moon. She’s Twilight.”

“Smart kid,” agreed Twilight Sparkle. “Could you slip over to the buffet table and grab your Princess of the Night Light a cold apple juice?” She watched the teenaged snowpony bounce merrily on her way with a ragged top hat dangling by a string to keep it from falling off before turning back to Green Grass.

“Greenie, dear. Don’t put your mother on the spot in public.”

For a second it looked like Green Grass was going to protest, but he eventually huffed out a short breath and lowered his head. “Sorry, Mom. It’s just that Dad and I were going through the chest you kept all our old school stuff in, and I didn’t see anything from the rest of us kids.”

“You did not look hard enough,” sniffed Spring. “If you had searched, you would have found a beautiful necklace Regal made me out of glass beads, and several sheets of Graphite’s poetry, such as it were.”

Lady Spring Fresh took a brief glance at where Graphite and Frost were talking by the buffet table, a number of glasses of apple juice floating in their mutual magical fields. Spring seemed to be struggling with some words, eventually turning to Twilight as if her son was not even there. “Frost made me a beautiful music box with a dancing ballerina on it for one of her magic courses. I could never do the spells she’s doing now in school, and Greenie could never do spells at all. I worry about her somewhat, but I have always worried about him, between being so sickly when he was a foal and the way he acted around his peer group.” Twilight managed to get a cautionary hoof across Green Grass’ face before he could interrupt his mother’s brief lowering of her guard. Spring looked away and swallowed. “I just wanted some things to remember him by when he was gone. I always knew he would go away some time. The house seems so empty now. We thought getting him a wife would at least keep him in Canterlot, where we could visit, and he would be safe, but Princess Celestia told us…”

A relative silence stretched between the two mares, with an uncomfortable Baron Chrysanthemum obviously unwilling to fill it and Green Grass far too willing. She kept her hoof firmly in place and addressed her future mother-in-law as much as she would her own mother as possible. “Did she give you the story about the baby bird leaving the nest?” A sharp twitch traveling down Spring’s yellow hide gave the affirmative. “He will be safe, Mom. I won’t let him fall, but you have to let him fly. If you hold onto him as tightly as you want, you’ll lose him forever. You have to let go to keep him. I learned that lesson the hard way.”

Green Grass managed to get his lips out from behind Twilight’s restraining hoof and whispered, “When was that, dear?”

“At the train station, when you took off for your next teaching assignment,” she whispered back. “Try to pay attention, dear.”

“You followed me,” he whispered. “Took two days for you to go back to Ponyville.”

“I’m trying to make a point, dear.”

“Actually, my son does have a point, Your Highness,” said Spring with the exact same lemon-biting expression her son used when he could not evade or divert an uncomfortable question. “It is very difficult to give the ones we love the freedom to not love you back. I…” Spring paused before turning on her heel and stalking away towards the other side of the ballroom and a few early-arrivers who were quietly discussing something among their small group.

With a practiced sigh, Green Grass’ father turned to follow. “I’ll go calm her down, Your Highness… I mean Twilight,” he corrected at the matching brief frowns from the Royal Couple. “Things have been a little stressful between us for the last few years, and I’m afraid the wedding is only making things worse.”

“Wait.” It took a little effort to avoid grabbing Baron Chrysanthemum by the tail with her magic as she had become accustomed to doing with Green Grass, but he stopped anyway and turned to await instructions, much like his son. “I’ll go talk with her.”

Despite the various ‘trees’ and ‘hedges’ breaking the ballroom down into several areas, Green Grass’ mother was easier to track down than Twilight had anticipated. The little directional signs around the area saying things like “She went this way, Twilight” and “Turn right, Twilight” were a great help, as any pony who was trying to hide in the vicinity of Pinkie Pie was doomed to certain exposure. She stopped at a sign reading “Behind this pillar, Twilight” and took a breath to brace her confidence, but as she approached her future mother-in-law behind the shadow of a supporting pillar of the ballroom stage, she could not help but think about how the bright yellow unicorn had a look of mourning about her matching the expression on young Twilight Sparkle the day before Lieutenant Shining Armor had departed for his tour of duty in Cloudsdale and an anticipated year absence from his LSBFF. Twilight stopped, the two glasses of non-alcoholic cider suspended in her magical field sloshing only slightly before she quietly cleared her throat and asked, “Would you like a drink, Lady Spring?”

“Yeah,” the older unicorn drawled, in almost exactly the same way her son sounded when he was having a depressing day, but with a somewhat different request. “Scotch on the rocks, hold the rocks.”

Despite a lump of reluctance filling her belly with lead butterflies, Twilight took a step forward to stand directly in front of her future mother-in-law and asked, “Are you certain? Because I will, if you want.”

At Spring’s sharp nod, Twilight turned slightly and addressed the darkness behind the ballroom stage. “Corporal Meadows, I believe? Will you please go inform the staff that we would like to have a double-shot of scotch delivered to my conference here, and then please give us a few minutes of privacy.” Twilight and Spring waited silently while the darkness became slightly less populated, and within moments, a middle-aged mare in a server outfit trotted over with a filled glass tumbler held in her soft green magic.

“Your beverage, Madam,” said the server with a nod as she floated the glass over to Spring.

“Thank you, Specialist Grace,” said Twilight. “Can you ensure we are not disturbed for a few minutes?”

Without a single displayed bit of annoyance at her disguise being penetrated so easily, Specialist Grace of the Night Guard (on assignment) turned to grace Princess Sparkle with a discouraging expression. “Her Highness specifically requested for you to be available when she makes her entrance.” After a few moments of Twilight Sparkle’s most insistent look in response, the disguised guard yielded somewhat by raising one hoof to her earring and whispering, “Top, this is Iceberg. Egghead is requesting an ETA for Moon Cheeks and Sunburn.” After a short time, Grace looked up. “Please be ready in about an hour, Ma’am. I’ll keep you updated if anything changes.”

“Thank you, Specialist Grace. That will be all.”

Spring still gave every indication of wanting to remain in her sulk, but it was obvious a question was ricocheting around inside her head from the little twitches she developed around the cheeks, much the same reaction as her son displayed to unanswered questions, and Twilight sat quietly and sipped her own cider until the question managed to inevitably escape.

“Moon Cheeks?” Lady Spring obviously did not know if she should be insulted or amused, and settled for the constipated look that most Royals got when faced with something they did not agree with, but were too ‘well-mannered’ to verbally protest.

“It’s a handle,” explained Twilight. “The Royal Guard use them for all of their personnel protection subjects. Your son is Lucky,” she added.

“He most certainly is,” agreed Spring, taking a sip. “When I found out you and he were dating… I couldn’t believe it at first. I don’t think we had exchanged a dozen words in the year before you two met. He would always sulk and get snappy whenever I would suggest some improvement to his behavior or a career opportunity. It only got worse in college. I could scarcely hold my horn up in proper company, what with his abysmal grades and outrageous behavior. We were at our wit’s end, and thought we would never find a proper mate for him anywhere.” She took a deeper drink from her scotch. “Although I think the last mare we tried to wed him with may have been somewhat incompatible.”

Don’t say it. Don’t scream it. Don’t yell at your mother-in-law. There’s only an hour before Princess Celestia shows up, and that’s not enough time to calm down and cover up any evidence. Just breathe in, and breathe out. Try to look at the situation from her point of view. Without sticking your head up your plot. And say something positive!

“I agree,” said Twilight Sparkle, taking a sip of her own decidedly non-alcoholic beverage and trying not to worry about stress hormones affecting the foal.

“We really appreciate what you’re doing for our son, Princess Twilight. I just feel guilty at pawning off our problem child onto you.” Lady Spring Fresh took a deeper drink from her scotch and avoided eye contact. “He can be so difficult. Much like his father,” she added with a wince.

Don’t let her say those things! Stand up for Greenie. He’s your fiancé and father of your unborn child.

But if I stand up for him, his mother will get defensive and quit talking. Remember the saying, What Would Princess Celestia Do. You’re disguised as Luna, so try to act more like her.

Twilight settled for making a noncommitted noise in the back of her throat and just the slightest slurp when she took another sip of cider, which prompted Spring to continue.

“Was it uncomfortable?” At Twilight’s rather puzzled look, Spring added, “Making the foal. Our first was rather nice, but over the years, the process became a burden. With Frost, all I could do is lay back and think of Equestria.”

“You’re kidding.” The words just burst out of Twilight’s mouth, quickly followed by, “I mean, really? Thank the stars the Observatory has thick walls, or we would have woke up half the castle. As it is, we knocked over the star chart cabinet and kicked the telescope out of alignment! I think there may still be hoofprints on them. I had never felt so much pleasure in my life as that night. I could barely talk or walk afterwards, and it’s even better now, but not quite as loud because we don’t want to wake up Spike in the next room, even with a sound-damping spell. Please don’t tell me you don’t enjoy sex with your husband any more; that’s just awful!”

Shock caused Spring’s jaw to hang open and her half-full glass of scotch to wobble in her magical field, but even more impressive was the reaction of Specialist Grace, who had returned to Twilight with the obvious intent of relaying an update to the Royal Sisters’ schedule. Standing less than a yard away, the jade-green unicorn mare had turned a rather bright shade of pink around the face and was frozen with her jaw hanging open and both eyes somewhat glazed, but what really drew a chill down Twilight’s back was the hoof resting on the activation section of the communications crystal hanging from her ear. It was dead silent around the three mares except for an announcement going on at the entrance which had just come to an abrupt stop, but Twilight could pick out the entire security detail inside the ballroom by the pop-eyed and stunned expressions on their faces, every one of which was turned in her direction for one brief embarrassing moment.

Chapter 22 - Masks, Part Two

As the early arriving guests filtered in, Green Grass and his father stood next to each other and observed the costume party as it began to pick up velocity. Without Twilight or Lady Spring in the vicinity, the conversation topics between the two stallions were limited, but after a while, one of the two broke the uncomfortable silence.

“So,” grumbled Green Grass in as casual a tone as he could manage while trying not to look in the direction Twilight Sparkle had gone.

“Yeah,” responded his father, keeping his eyes pointed the same way. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Us, probably.” Two sets of eyes regarded the entrance of the ballroom and the Royal Herald taking his place to announce the guests. The two stallions checked their watches and let out matching sighs.

“Seven days almost to the hour,” said Baron Chrysanthemum. “When your mother and I were at this stage, our parents were still negotiating the final marriage settlement and resulting dowry. I’d only seen her twice by then, and hadn’t even heard her voice. Have you thought about a place to spend your honeyboom?”

“Dad!” Green Grass tried to frown despite the growing smile that was taking over his face. “Just because something happens every time we get together, doesn’t mean there’s going to be some end-of-Equestrian disaster during our wedding. What happened to Princess Cadence and Shining Armor’s wedding was a fluke. After all, we’re both here, and nothing has happened so—”

“Announcing, Her Highness, Princess of the Crystal Heart,” sounded the stentorian voice of the herald, a rather short and nondescript Nocturne who seemed far too small to contain that much volume. “Ruler of the Northern Territory of the Crystal Empire and All Associated Airspaces, Vicereine of the Providence of Little Whinnypeg, Duchess of the Pericorn Valley, Dem— “

The herald paused with one hoof held up to the side of his helmet and a look of pure shock across his face, before doubling up with laughter and managing to wheeze out, “Princess Cadence and Shining Armor!” He was barely able to duck behind a curtain to compose himself afterwards, but that was not what caught everypony’s eye.

Cadence looked extravagantly radiant this evening, her mane done up in a series of glittering crystals and a golden crown that matched her elaborate gold-trimmed dress, while Shining Armor just looked… short. Far, far too short, in fact, trotting alongside Princess Cadence as they headed in Green Grass’ direction much as a young colt trotting alongside his mother.

In fact, exactly like a certain changeling colt trotting alongside his aunt.

“Greenie!” exclaimed the enthusiastic pink ‘alicorn’ with her forehooves opened wide. “Give your Aunt Cadence a hug!”

“Dad!” exclaimed Green Grass, nearly shoving his father in front of him as a somewhat rounded shield. “I’d like you to meet Ambassador…” He paused with one eyebrow raised in as much of a pantomime of Please-Tell-Him-You’re-Ambassador-Honey-Bear as he could possibly do without spelling it out on a placard and holding it up behind his father.

Besides, making his own sign was redundant, as Pinkie Pie was already standing behind his father with exactly the same message written out in pink lettering with glowing highlights.

“Ambassador Honey Bear of the Badlands,” she purred, ignoring the father’s outstretched hoof for a more personal hug that lasted far, far too long for Green Grass’ few remaining nerves, particularly after he saw Pinkie Pie bouncing away with a knowing grin. “And my son, Peep Sprout,” she added, motioning the smaller version of Shining Armor forward with the gentle push of her wing.

“I’m one of his students,” volunteered the little disguised changeling with a toothy grin. “This is awesome!”

“So this is your father,” Chrysalis said, turning to Martel with an evaluating look that swept across both father and son. “There’s definitely a family resemblance.” The disguised changeling took a deep breath with an expression resembling a small filly sniffing freshly-baked cookies. “I think I like Equestrian parties.”

Her nose twitched, Green Grass’ stomach gave a lurch, and the changeling queen leaned forward to sniff his stunned father right behind one ear.

“Ma’am!” Martel recoiled, but not before the disguised changeling queen got the most peculiar grimace and sneezed.

“Pardon me,” she gasped. “I seem to have gotten something up my nose. Thank you,” she added, as the older stallion pulled out a kerchief and floated it over to her.

“Ambassador, this is my father, Martel Chandler, Baron of Chrysanthemum. He’s married,” added Green Grass with as much emphasis as he could.

“Of course he is,” she purred. “I can tell. After all, I am the Princess of Love, at least for tonight, and he has the air of a stallion with a deep and well-aged passion. Like a fine wine, properly aged and served with the proper—” she fluttered her long eyelashes “—appetizers.” She slid one hoof down Martel’s jacket foreleg and looked over at his son. “Why don’t you take Peep to the nursery while your father and I get acquainted?”

“Because I don’t trust you?”

Green Grass had to admit the Queen of the Changelings had the perfect face for acting. The way she recoiled and held one hoof over her heart (or liver, or some other organ probably) was the perfect picture of extravagant outrage played for every bit of sympathy that any comedic actor would sacrifice a kidney to duplicate. “Moi?”

“Oui,” said Green Grass, determined not to yield an inch.

With a roll of her eyes, Chrysalis said, “Greenie. I’ll Princess Promise on this. No mind games, no tinkering with his willpower, and no angry Princess Luna hunting down my children for the next few thousand years. I won’t do anything but talk to your father about love and sex.”

With a push of one hoof on the back of his small odd student to get him moving, Green Grass trotted off with unusual speed in the direction of the nursery. “Come on, Peep. Let’s see what’s going on with the rest of the kids. You’ll love it.”

“I really appreciate this, Mister Papercut.” Crosswind bumped her flank up against the stuffy unicorn as they strolled in a casual fashion through the evening Canterlot streets, past the tall mansions and ornate towers of the powerful unicorn families. Her impromptu tour guide had been unusually verbose when they had left the costume ball to begin their trek to the nearby ‘Commoner’s Ball’ at the Van DerHooven estate, even going so far as to make a rather oblique unicorn joke about how having two balls close together implied the presence of a rather large male organ, or a considerable number of smaller ones in the area.

“It is the least I can do, Miss Crosswind. If you would be so kind as to turn to the left at this intersection, we shall pass to the rear of Lady Lightningbug’s ornate multiflora rose garden.” The stallion pursed his lips momentarily with a sideways glance. “Her earth pony gardeners permit the bushes a rather untidy free reign over the back wall, but they are some of the most delectable in the entire city, and if we are careful not to hesitate for an extended period, we can catch a brief snack on our way to our evening entertainment.”

“So, have you nibbled on Lady Lightningbug’s rear… garden before, Mister Papercut?” It was just plain funny to watch his cheeks pink at the thought, and she continued, “Our neighbor in Cloudsdale kept water hyacinths in her cloud waterfall cascade. She always wondered why the blooms didn’t last very long. If we ever get there, we’ll have to drop by for a bite.”

“It’s a date.” The words seemed to silence the meticulous unicorn until their path reached a wide brick wall covered in multicolored flowers and surrounded by a breathtaking floral scent that stopped her in her tracks.

“Wow. That’s just… wow.”

She breathed it all in while Papercut coughed apologetically. “I must admit, Lord Green Grass is the one who suggested this distraction. I must remember to thank him. I’ve actually only lived in Canterlot for a few years, mostly inside the castle, and don’t have his in-depth knowledge of the popular attractions.” He nipped a yellow bud off the wall full of flowers and chewed thoughtfully. “Quite good, actually.”

To his side, Crosswind bit down on a soft reddish rose and moaned almost sensually. “Good? Try one of the red ones. I’m going to spoil my appetite for the dance if we stay here long.”

“No danger there,” said Papercut, taking a bite of a tiny red rose and raising an eyebrow in appreciation. “The earth pony servants always bring the most amazing of dishes in almost a potluck dinner of sorts. There’s an informal competition to see whose dish is devoured first, and some sort of bonus points awarded if anypony is actually caught licking the pot.”

“Ummm…” whispered Crosswind as she sampled one of the light blue roses with yellow stripes. “Minty. So are the earth ponies responsible for setting up the whole party for the servants whenever the Royals have one of their blowouts?”

“Heavens forbid!” Papercut recoiled with one somewhat orange-ish petal hanging from his bottom lip. “Princess Celestia herself informed me that the protocol for the festivities had been established many, many years ago when Canterlot was quite young. It seems at that time, the earth ponies selected the entertainment, the unicorns brought the appetizers, and the pegasi selected the site.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” volunteered Crosswind, nibbling her way down a short string of chromatically hued petals and trying to figure out how the gardener made each one of them taste different.

“The pegasi selected a location with a very sharp dropoff all of the way around the ballroom floor and an open roof, the unicorns brought celery stalks with beet dip, and I mean all of them brought exactly the same dish, and the earth ponies brought a polka band.” Papercut’s lips curled up as if he had bitten into a green flower bud, but he continued with, “I suspect Royal meddling in the process. Princess Celestia looked far too pleased with herself when telling me of the incident. For some reason, all of the results somehow always wind up going her way no matter the decisions of whomever the ponies think is in charge.”

“It’s good to be the Princess,” said Crosswind with a brief and very pegasi-like burp.

“There are times she seems like Equestria’s oldest Magic Kindergarten teacher,” sighed Papercut, one pink petal peeking out from the corner of his mouth. “At least Princess Twilight Sparkle and Lord Green Grass have not learned to emulate her abhorrent sense of humor.”

“Hey!” Both Papercut and Crosswind looked up abruptly as an elderly yellow unicorn hobbled out of a nearby gate while waving a cane in her magic . “What are you youngsters doin’ eating my prize roses! I’ll have you arrested! Guards! Guards!”

“Lady Lightningbug,” whispered Papercut. “Crap.”

“Run,” whispered Crosswind, and promptly took her own advice, galloping as fast as she could away from the furious elderly unicorn with Papercut right behind.

“I’m starting to get a little miffed at your son,” grumbled Twilight to Lady Spring during a brief interlude between costumed guests. An alicorn’s natural position seemed to be a three-hoofed stance with one hoof extended for shaking, much as she had been doing for the last hour, as well as the last two Grand Galloping Galas. Just like tonight, Green Grass had managed to evade being at her side on both of those social events, the first by the suspicious coincidence of not having met her yet and the second by having spent the week transformed into a potted gardenia by Sweetie Belle’s magic surge. Not this year. In three months and one week, he would be trapped between Princess Celestia and her side, condemned into the endless hoof-shaking even if she had to place his pot on a little stand and have the attending ponies each shake a leaf. The only downside she could think of was if he were mistaken for a part of the buffet table and grazed somewhat. Then again, he was always complaining about trying to lose weight.

“My son has always needed to be encouraged during social events,” volunteered Lady Spring once the next set of costumed attendees had been properly introduced and departed on their way to the buffet table. “It will take a firm hoof to guide him so that he does not embarrass the dignity and respect that Equestria has earned over centuries of Princess Celestia’s rule.”

“So you’re saying we probably shouldn’t dance tonight, right?” said Twilight with a questioning glance. The older mare’s look of puzzlement certainly indicated a lack of knowledge about her future daughter-in-law that Twilight determined was just going to have to be remedied by experience. Besides, she loved dancing, particularly since she had become an alicorn and the other dancers gave her a wider⁽*⁾ berth.
(*) When dance music started, some ponies dove for cover due to Princess Twilight’s reputation, some just out of an instinctual sense of survival.
—

“Oh, of course you should dance, Princess Sparkle.” Lady Spring fidgeted in place, looking at the dance floor as if it were a display case where valuables would be placed and admired by all of the guests. “Although my son is not the best dancer, it would be an unspeakable faux pas for the two of you not to start the first dance of the evening.”

Back in the mansion’s kitchen, Pinkie Pie stopped In the middle of checking the assembled cakes for the proper amount of frosting. A wave of trembling swept across her bushy tail and jittering hooves, rattling the pink party pony into the hallway among a number of staring waitponies and servers.

“Wow, that one was a doozy. I better get back out to the party to see what’s going on.”

“Ladies and Gentlecolts!” The uniformed herald at the front door had risen up on his fluttering bat-wings in order to get the best volume to address the growing crowd, and settled back down at the top of the stairway as silence spread out across the assembled ponies. “Please give a warm and loving reception to our next Royal guest, who has traveled here from far away to bless us with her presence. May I present, Her Majesty, Queen of the Changeling Empire and Special Guest, Queen Chrysalis!”

A roll of diabolical laughter flowed into the ballroom as a familiar tall dark changeling posed at the top of the staircase and swept her green-eyed gaze across the assembled nobles with a broad grin. “Good evening, my little loving entrees!” She added a cackle for effect and glided down the staircase in the direction of Twilight, calling out, “Princess Luna! How good of you to be here this evening. Come on, give me a hug!”

Alicorn met ‘Changeling’ in a collision of giggles as each of them put their noses to the other’s ears and whispered.

“My stars, Twilight! Your Luna disguise is just perfect! I never would have guessed it was you if Shiny hadn’t told me.”

“I think he’s feeling a little put out, Cadence.” ‘Luna’ pointed to the top of the staircase where Shining Armor was patiently waiting behind the herald, disguised, of course, as Shining Armor.

“Yoo-hoo!” called Cadence, waving a holey leg at her escort and shaking the herald out of his stunned silence. “You forgot to introduce Shiney!”

“Oh!” The herald jumped and scurried to one side. “And Prince Consort Shining Armor,” he added.

Shining Armor strode down the stairs without shaking his head, as Twilight knew he wanted to do. Instead, he stopped in front of the two giggling alicorns and dropped to one knee, bowing his head and announcing in a deep and very solemn voice, “Your Highnesses.”

Wriggling free from Cadence’s grip, Twilight nodded to the stunned unicorn by her side. “Princess Cadence. Prince Consort Shining Armor. I’d like you to meet Lady Spring Fresh, Green Grass’ mother.”

“Charmed,” purred Cadence, looking so much like a changeling as she extended one hoof and put on her most vulpine smile. “And where is your delicious… I mean handsome young progeny?”

“Away,” said Spring, gingerly touching hooves with the ‘changeling.’

“He was over with… well, ‘you’ and Baron Chrysanthemum a short while ago,” said Twilight, looking across the ballroom at where ‘Cadence’ and Greenie’s father were in close conversation. “Where are Princess Celestia and Luna? I would think they would be right behind you.”

Cadence giggled with a creepy cackle that still caused shivers to travel up and down Twilight’s back even though she knew it was just her disguised former foalsitter. “Oh, my aunties are having a bit of fun this evening.”

“Well, that was fun,” chuckled Crosswind with a hip-bump to her partner in crime as they approached the large well-lit mansion where the Commoner’s Ball was being held.

“It was not fun!” protested Papercut with a glance over his shoulder, most probably looking for Royal Guard swooping down on the flower-thieves. “We could have been arrested!” he hissed.

“How scandalous,” said Crosswind with one hoof to her chest before being overcome with giggles, although her sporadic giggling afterwards continued until the two of them entered the mansion ballroom. “Wow.”

She paused for a long moment, looking between the crowded dance floor, the band set up at the other end, and the buffet tables groaning with food. Happy ponies filled the air (well, the pegasi at least) with laughter and talking, while a busy bunch of party goers treated rolling a new keg of sarsaparilla over to the nearby drink station as some sort of competition. There was a soft tingle in her ears and the deafening chatter died down to a tolerable level while the light around Papercut’s horn faded.

“Muffling spell,” said the stiff unicorn with a rather complicated expression that mixed a smile and a frown together, and added a certain amount of distraction at the party surroundings on top. “Keeps you from having to shout at the top of your lungs to be heard. It’s a little more noisy than I expected. I’ve never really… been to one of these before.”

“Party virgin?” Crosswind poked him in the side and began nudging him in the direction of the dance floor.

“Well, I certainly… I don’t think… That’s hardly…” Papercut swallowed as the two of them progressed through the crowd, eventually admitting, “Yes.”

“Thought so,” smirked Crosswind with one wing over him as protection from any of the other single mares she could see trolling through the guests for hookup material. “Otherwise we would have gotten here sooner so we could graze the buffet before the dancing started.”

With a puzzled tilt of his head, Papercut asked, “How in the world did my scheduling for our arrival inform you of my… romantic inexperience?”

Crosswind stopped cold. “You mean you really are a virgin?”

In the rapidly filling costume ball, the activity had picked up for Twilight Sparkle to the point where she no longer had the opportunity to talk with either her former foalsitter or future mother-in-law. Instead, there was a constant stream of somewhat familiar masked and decorated faces that she struggled to match up with the stuffy royals from her previous meetings at the Grand Galloping Gala.

How does Princess Celestia keep up with their names? I can’t match up more than half of them!

A pair of Royal Guards, done up in archaic armor from several centuries ago⁽¹⁾, paused in front of the three mares shaking hooves and saluted, looking from ‘Luna’ to ‘Chrysalis’ to the unknown yellow alicorn mare in confusion before one of the guards said hesitantly, “Your Highness, Princess Sparkle?” to Lady Spring Fresh.
(1) Stylistic changes in the Royal Guard armor occur once a century, and although Celestia would never admit it, the changes were solely for the purpose of reminding her what date to put on official documents after several embarrassing incidents.
—

With narrowed brows, the Breezy ‘alicorn’ replied in a clipped tone that Green Grass must have heard a thousand times, “Do not patronize me, young colt. The Royal Guard most certainly has been briefed on the costumes for your protective charges, and if you are not really Royal Guards, there are a number of fine young stallions around this party who would be more than happy to have you properly trained until you can wear that armor with the respect it deserves.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Both guards drew up into perfect salutes, their eyes slowly drifting to one side where Twilight and Cadence were observing them in muffled amusement. Splitting the differences, the first unfortunate guard addressed them both. “Your Highnesses. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have been somewhat delayed at their previous engagement, and wished us to convey their regrets for any convenience… I mean inconvenience this delay may be causing.”

When Cadence did not immediately respond, but instead ran her tongue over her sharp teeth and eyed the guards as if they were part of the buffet, Twilight said, “That’s perfectly fine, Lieutenant Capricorn. Let us know when they’re on their way. We just need enough notice to get Green Grass collected from wherever he’s hiding when they make their entrance.” Ignoring Cadence’s muffled ghastly chuckle, Twilight asked, “So what’s keeping them?”

“Ow!” Crosswind popped up into the air and rubbed one hoof, her wings brushing against several other dancers before she dropped back down to the dance floor and regarded her clumsy ‘date’ with less than admiring eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said Papercut in what was beginning to be a quite familiar apology. “I said I knew a little about how to dance, but this is nothing like a waltz or a foxtrot.”

“Nopony dances that way anymore in this century. Who were you practicing with, Princess Luna?” asked Crosswind, settling her shoe back on one hoof and obviously ignoring the scuff marks that had appeared on all four of the delicate dancing shoes that were taking on the role of armor this evening.

“Pardon me, young mare,” said Papercut with a sniff. “Princess Luna does not lower herself to dancing with the servants. I had an instructor of great experience and skill.” He paused, blinking and looking away before adding in a much lower voice that Crosswind would not have heard in the noisy dance floor except for the enchantment on her ears. “My mother.”

“Excuse me.” An older unicorn in a perfectly pressed suit and with a small clip-on earring tapped on Papercut’s shoulder before floating a small cluster of flowers over and pinning it to the startled servant’s lapel. “And one for the lady,” he added, producing a small cluster of small delicate violet flowers surrounding a brilliant blue rose, and giving it to Papercut.

“What’s this for?” asked Papercut, shouting somewhat to be heard.

“Identification,” he replied before slipping away into the crowd.

“Ladies and Gentlecolts,” bellowed an announcer from the other end of the room, amplified by a sound system that managed to flatten any other voice. Without music, the mutter of whispered conversations died to a relative silence as the announcer continued, “Welcome to the one thousand, seven hundred and sixty-seventh annual Commoner’s Ball. Before we get started, I’d like to extend a hoof of appreciation for our event committee, starting with our chairmare, Miss Bluebelle.”

As the stomping applause went on, Papercut turned to Crosswind with the odd blue flower arrangement in his magic and shrugged his shoulders. “Miss Crosswind, I assure you, I had nothing to do with this.”

“Of course not, Needle—” She paused with a smirk. “That’s no way to talk to my date. Even if you haven’t done anything spontaneous and romantic in your entire life. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Crosswind,” said Papercut as he went about the delicate task of affixing the corsage to her thin dress without poking the pin where it didn’t belong, a chore made more difficult by the stomping applause of the rest of the crowd as the rest of the organizers were recognized. “But please. Do not call me sir. That is my father’s name.”

“That’s right. You come from a long string of Papercuts.” She nuzzled up to his chest and sniffed his corsage with a mischievous grin and a playful nip. “You know, reading each other’s files takes all the fun out of dating.” She hesitated before continuing, “I suppose that can be a good thing. I never would have dated my previous coltfriend if I had known he was married. With two foals on the side.”

“Not everything about either of us is on paper,” admitted Papercut, much like he was revealing a previous criminal record. “I would have never guessed you used to steal nibbles off the neighborhood flora.”

“And before tonight, I would have never guessed that about you either,” said Crosswind. “Now hush. They’re about to bring out the band.”

“And now, the moment you have all been waiting for,” bellowed the announcer over the applause of the ponies on the dance floor. “The Commoner’s Ball would like to welcome to our stage, the one, the only, PRINCESS!”

Amidst the screaming and applauding, Crosswind leaned over and whispered into Papercut’s ear, “I’ve got all of their albums.”

“Me too,” he whispered back. “Although it just isn’t the same since their lead singer died. A Night At The Clopera was their best work.”

“No way,” she whispered back as the music started to swell. “Whinnuendo blows it out of the water.”

“Good evening, Canterlot!” The band erupted into a brief flurry of music until their lead guitarist raised a hoof into the air. “Before we start, let’s all have a big round of applause for two of our special guests at this evening’s performance.”

A spotlight stabbed down from the ceiling and highlighted the awkward couple with their faces to each other’s ears, causing them to jump apart and blush as the applause doubled.

“Papercut and Crosswind, who have been keeping the newest Royal couple’s calendars organized, and from the looks of it, enjoying their jobs together just a little bit in the process.”

There was laughter among the applause as the announcer swept his hoof back and shouted, “In honor of our two special guests, we have two special performers on stage with us tonight for a limited time.” This time, the spotlights drew together on stage and showed two alicorns, equipped with matching guitars and microphones while waving to the crowd.

Sheer pandemonium erupted, with screaming and cheering that only died down when the first alicorn stepped forward, microphone hovering in front of her as she sang.

“How did they get Luna up on stage,” whispered Crosswind, now that the entire crowd’s attention was elsewhere.

“That’s not Princess Luna,” replied Papercut in a somewhat distracted whisper. “That’s Celestia, in her costume for later tonight.”

Crosswind glanced back and forth between the two alicorns, certain that there was at least one return glance in her direction just brimming with mischief. “This isn’t on their schedule,” she managed to stammer.

“Oh, my.” Papercut looked down at the mare pressed up against him and had a sudden urge to follow the example his prim and proper princess was displaying in what just had to be as direct an order to him as if she were going to hold up a placard with the message written in large letters. Kissing Crosswind gently on the top of the head, he said, “After we’ve made our proper appearance here and Their Highnesses have departed, what would you say to an offer to do something totally spontaneous and fun?”

Author's Notes:

Credit for the music goes to the Personified name that the band Princess is known by on this side of the portal: Queen, Somebody To Love

Chapter 23 - Masks, Part Three

Author’s Note: It may be a little difficult to track who has what costume at the ball, so I thought it would be a good idea to include a guide for those characters who are plot-specific (Spoilered for those who like the surprises):

Green Grass : Wearing the uniform of his great-great-uncle, who was in the navy
Twilight Sparkle : Disguised as Princess Luna
Various and Sundry Guards including Specialist Grace : Dressed as servants
Lady Spring Fresh: Wearing a ‘alicorn breezie’ costume
Queen Chrysalis : Disguised as Princess Cadence, but calling herself Ambassador Honey Bear, because otherwise the ponies would get all upset and run around. No doubt she is being closely watched.
Peep Sprout : Disguised as Young Shining Armor and most likely stealing kisses in the nursery
Princess Cadence : Disguised as Queen Chrysalis and enjoying herself
Prince Shining Armor : Disguised as Prince Shining Armor

Princess Celestia : Nightmare Moon
Princess Luna : Elkvis

The costume ball had rapidly filled up as the obscure time of ‘Fashionably Late’ had come and gone, and there was still no sign of Princess Luna or Princess Celestia. An occasional guest still trickled in, making Twilight’s head twitch in the direction of the grand processional staircase every time the herald announced a new costumed alter-ego for one of the Royals, but no real princesses. The costumed stallions and mares gathered in small clumps around the open dance floor, sampling the refreshment tables and talking among themselves, most probably about Her Newest Highness due to the enormous number of subtle sideways glances she was receiving.

Her friends were faring much better with less stress. Rarity and Rainbow Dash each seemed to have accumulated a number of horned and winged admirers, and were soaking up the attention in their own particular fashion. Applejack had cornered or been cornered by the refreshment tables, chatting up a storm with a number of earth ponies who could only have been members of an investment group due to their pirate costumes. Incredibly, she had been joined by Fluttershy, who was also contributing to the conversation, although a second look determined that she was primarily talking to the various parrots sitting on their faux-pirate shoulders.

Pinkie Pie, of course, was nowhere to be seen, which only reinforced Twilight’s determination that the decision to send her after Green Grass had been the worst idea since flavored writing quills.

Even Shining Armor was surrounded by a group of aging stallions who she suspected had once (long, long ago) been Royal Guards, and who Twilight suspected could still be addressed by name by Princess Celestia without a moment’s hesitation.

Watching the milling crowd was a little like astronomy. The guests tended to gravitate like the sun and moon around their particular Equestria, their orbits determined by rank and status of the moment, only unlike celestial bodies, the orbits would change as each guest exchanged the latest gossip and flew away to a different globular cluster to sample the discussion there. Perhaps astronomy was a bad analogy. Bees among the flowers seemed to fit better, although the buzz of the guests was loud enough that only only a pony with exceptional hearing, or an alicorn, could have picked out the topics from each tight knit group as they passed by.

Don’t grind your teeth. Don’t stress. Smile and nod. Celestia will be here soon. Where’s Greenie?

“How are you holding up, Mademoiselle Sparkle?” Fleur came gliding up to Twilight’s side while holding three glasses of punch in her golden magic. Twilight wasted no time in liberating a glass of her own and draining it to the bottom in one swig, although she did check first to make sure it was non alcoholic with a quick spell.

“Not too bad, I suppose. I just wonder where Greenie is hiding.” Ignoring the knowing sigh from Lady Spring, she continued, “I sent Pinkie Pie to look for him, but haven’t heard a word since.”

Cadence cocked an eyebrow. “You sent Pinkie after Greenie.”

“Yeeeeaaahhh,” sighed Twilight. “I know. I should have told her to bring him back.”

Fleur rolled her eyes and collected the empty glasses, floating them over to a passing servant who was headed back to the kitchen. “At least Prince Blueblood has made his appearance and departed, thankfully. It was all I could do to prevent Mademoiselle Rarity from personally critiquing his costume.” She clucked her tongue while shaking her head. “A Crystal Unicorn costume, really quite ingenious of him. I simply must see if Fancy and myself can travel to your delightful kingdom to meet with the real article, Princess Cadence. Quietly, of course. Twilight has told us of the troubles the little ones have endured. We already have set up several branches of our charitable organizations in your lands to assist, but there is always space for more.”

Fleur paused as a motion over by the other ‘Cadence’ and Baron Chrysanthemum caught all of their eyes. The two had accumulated several of the older couples as an audience, and were regaling them with what must have been a quite interesting story, from the laughter and general merriment ongoing, bolstered by a number of servants with serving trays full of glasses.

“Ambassador Honey Bear seems to be quite popular,” volunteered Cadence with a small but badly concealed shudder.

“She should have chosen a different costume,” sniffed Lady Spring. “Of all the cheek.”

Twilight fidgeted, swallowing and trying to think of another conversational topic other than what Green Grass had told her about the ambassador and her ant. Or aunt. “I really expected Princess Celestia and Luna earlier than now. She never was late for anything when I was her student. Wait just a moment.” A small glimmer of indigo light escaped from her horn as she gently plucked an ornate earring out of her mane and held it to the side of her face.

“This is… um… Egghead. Where’s Lucky?”

“Where he always is,” said Lady Spring with a practiced sigh. “There’s no need to bother the nice young colts guarding the party.”

The nursery of any major event in Canterlot always filled up fairly fast with the darling young of the high social strata. While their older parents and grandparents engaged in the complicated dance of status and political maneuvering, their young attempted to do the exact same dance in their fluffy animal and picture book crammed space, leading over the years to more than one multi-generational squabble over just exactly which noble house really had the rights to Mister Beaky the Penguin, and who really was responsible for young Lord Beetingham swallowing a button on a dare.

Twilight Sparkle had been to a few social events as a foal and managed to survive, mostly by concealing herself behind a carefully constructed fortress of building blocks and books to resist the siege of her peers. That was where she had first formed her opinion of young colts, who only seemed to see her fortress as something that needed to be assaulted, and young fillies, who wanted access in order to lounge near a window and flip their mane while waiting on a noble prince to rescue them. Between the screaming and the temper tantrums, she had gotten almost no reading done until Cadence had begun foalsitting her. Which, come to think of it, did not allow her too much more time for reading either, but it was a lot more fun than the traditional screaming and squabbling of a room full of small ponies in unhappy chaos.

When Lady Spring and Twilight trotted into the nursery with Specialist Grace close behind, that was the scene she really was expecting. What she did not expect was to see the entire room full of small fillies and colts in nearly constant motion around Green Grass, laughing and giggling as they played with bubbles drifting through the air. Little earth ponies were blowing bubbles as fast as they could at one end of the room while pegasi flapped their wings with various degrees of skill, making the bubbles swirl and dance all through the room. Leaping around in the middle of the room were the unicorns, each with a spoon stuck to their nose to keep their head up and throwing small sparks up into the air to either pop the bubbles or to knock them off into a different direction. Of course, that all dissolved into chaos almost the instant she stepped inside the door and the little colts and fillies saw her.

With a joyous shout of “Princess Luna!” they cascaded towards her in a multicolored avalanche of cuteness.

It took almost ten minutes to extract Green Grass from his happy students, with his mother glowering in the background and Twilight constantly assuring the little colts and fillies that yes, the real Princess Luna would visit soon, and no, Twilight did not have her little foal yet. Only when Pinkie Pie showed up with a vast collection of sugary sweets that most likely had not been approved by their parents were they able to finally slip away and trot down the corridor on the way back to the party.

Green Grass shrugged back into his jacket, which had been retrieved by Grace from the coatrack on their retreat, and readjusted his hat, taking a small slip of paper from it and putting it into a pocket as they traveled. The silence of their return trip was broken when Spring finally said, “Now you see what I had to put up with for all these years, Princess Sparkle.”

“I most certainly do,” said Twilight, glancing at her intended, who looked so smug that he resembled a green balloon ready to pop with joy. “I noticed somepony in the nursery got their cutie mark tonight.”

“Two of them,” gushed Green Grass, his suppressed grin finally released to beam all over the hallway. “Dusty got her cutie mark in wind currents and the young Whiffenpoof lad got his from a very impressive barrier spell he was casting to protect the bubbles.”

“A pegasus and a unicorn. Very nice, dear.” Twilight bestowed a kiss on his nearest ear, which caused both of the appendages to blush in an adorable fashion. So she did it again while they walked, despite Lady Spring clearing her throat and looking away.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she sniffed, “please try to maintain a modicum of dignity at least for the Royal personage you are costumed as. Certainly none of the other princesses would never permit such a public display of emotion.”

To Twilight’s surprise, their silent guardian coughed once, looking suspiciously innocent as her protective designees paused. “Actually,” started Specialist Grace, “you might be wrong.”

Papercut and Crosswind stood stunned on the Commoner’s Ball dance floor, watching the two Royal sisters step forward side-by-side on stage as the next song began to play. If the microphones floating in front of them were not enough to reduce two dedicated Royal employees into embarrassed puddles at the indignity of it all, the snow-white and pitch-black guitars they each were playing at full volume topped things off nicely.

“I shall never forgive Lord Green Grass for purchasing Princess Luna that infernal Neighponese karaoke machine,” whispered Papercut through thin lips.

“They sound really good together,” whispered Crosswind back.

“Only one week left,” whispered Papercut. “Equestria and I can survive a week of this. I hope.”

The relative silence among the costumed guests was Twilight Sparkle’s first clue that something was going on as they approached the last corner before the ballroom. The second clue was the number of eyes looking in their direction as the four of them rounded the corner and looked to see Princess Cadence and Queen Chrysalis on stage. At some hidden signal, the orchestra began to play a soft bouncy musical number that Twilight knew she had heard before, and that at least one of her companions recognized and then some.

Lady Spring stopped cold in her tracks with wide eyes staring at the orchestra and the two smiling mares on stage. Twilight was not sure if the perfectly identical poses of ‘Cadence’ and ‘Chrysalis’ were planned, but each of them had a loving smile and a microphone hovering in front of them as spotlights held them in a gentle glow.

“T-that’s our song,” Spring stammered. “The one they were playing when Marty and I were first introduced.”

The soft notes of a Flank Sinatra tune wafted through the ballroom as a corridor opened up in the wall of bodies between Twilight and the dance floor, showing a blushing Baron Chrysanthemum standing there, holding a pink rose in his magic field and wearing a growing smile. Green Grass had once explained to Twilight in great detail how his parents were not ‘cold’ to each other, but ‘respectful’ of their mutual space for as long as he had known them, which now seemed to show a little bit of an observational bias on his regard, due to Spring’s fascinated wide-eyed gaze at her husband. What little romance had been in their arranged marriage a near half-century ago had supposedly died down into smoldering embers, but there was most definitely a spark in the older mare’s eyes, and the entire ballroom had been piled high with the emotional equivalent of kerosene and dry tinder.

“Go on, mom,” whispered Green Grass in his role as parental arsonist.

“B-but I haven’t danced in ages. What if I fall down? Princess?” Lady Spring looked at Twilight in desperation, but only received a gentle princess-nudge in return.

“Go on. Princess Cadence must have gone through a lot of work to set this up, and you wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?”

Green Grass brushed up against Twilight while watching his mother take small tentative steps out onto the dance floor until she eventually stood uncertainly in front of her husband. The two older ponies leaned together and Greenie’s father whispered something that made Spring blush and giggle. Then they gently took each other’s hooves and kissed, ever so gently and somewhat clumsy as if they had traveled back in time to when they were young. The music swelled, the two swayed as one, and Princess Cadence and Chrysalis began to sing in an extremely good duet.

♫ L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is very, very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you adore… ♫

Twilight brushed back against Green Grass and just leaned a little, feeling his warm side as he leaned back. Her world had turned upside down in just a little under two years, from being Celestia’s lonely student with only a baby dragon as a friend to being a princess now, with all kinds of new friends. On that first trip to Ponyville on what seemed to be so long ago, she had never dreamed what she would find, or more particularly who, and how many.

A muscle in her abdomen twitched and made the corners of her mouth turn up as she considered just how her foal was going to be spoiled by three alicorns, her friends, and of course, her husband. Friendship was an additive and multiplicative process that was just growing every time she met a new friend, even her friends in ‘other’ places she had never dreamed about before.

As she watched Martel and Spring glide across the dance floor as if they were thirty years younger, it made the warm glow inside her ribs flow across her entire body until it seemed to fill the ballroom with happiness. It was a moment that all of them would treasure, and even the presence of the Changeling Queen only muted the feeling slightly.

Maybe she’s going to try farming to raise love for her subjects instead of just taking it. No, she’s just between schemes at the moment. Relax. Enjoy the moment for as long as it lasts.

Her musing about their unexpected guest lasted through three dances led by the Father and Mother of the Groom, and even partially through her own rather slow and dignified circuit of the dance floor at the hooves of her incipient husband, fortunately without any serious casualties other than a ding on a support pillar that would buff out with some sandpaper and a little paint.

When it finally happened, the long-delayed entrance of the Princesses of the Sun and Moon into the costume ball was handled with a flair that never would have been possible at the Grand Galloping Gala, which could most probably be credited to the costumes and the sense of implausible deniability they gave the normally prim and proper princesses.

‘Nightmare Moon’ was first to be announced, in a flurry of thunder and flash of lightning, although the quartet of singing Nocturne stallions with long villainous moustaches was probably just a little over the top. She swept into the ballroom in a flurry of evil cackling that sent more than one overdressed Royal under a table, finally landing amid mixed laughter and screaming in front of Fancy Pants and Fleur to declare ‘The Buffet Shall Last Forever!’ Naturally, the feat of not only filling a plate from the buffet during her rapid circuit of the room, but managing to steal a substantial slice of cake in the process was met with wild applause by Pinkie Pie (and the rest of the Royals once the shock had worn off and they crawled out from under tables and out of the decorative shrubbery).

The second alicorn sister made a much more reserved entrance, although topping the previous display would have been nigh impossible. Dressed in creamy white silk with the glitter of a thousand rhinestones on her jumpsuit, she glided down the staircase in the glow of brilliant spotlights to the quiet applause of all and a general sense of relaxation that there was at least one sane alicorn in the kingdom, although there was a great deal of gazing at her mane. Heaped up on the forehead of ‘Elkvis’ was an absolutely magnificent white pompadour like the prow of some rock-and-roll galleon with small antlers peeking out to either side that matched the diamond-spangled white guitar slung over her back and her sparkling white boots. Meeting the applause with a raised hoof, she slung the guitar in front and broke out in a few quick country riffs, ending with a “Thank yew! Thank yew very much!”

Smiling in her normal enigmatic way, the tall alicorn swept up to Twilight Sparkle and Lady Spring, who was taking a brief break from dancing while her husband fetched drinks. They chatted briefly, exchanging a few pleasantries before ‘Elkvis’ had to excuse herself to make the rounds among the rest of the guests. It actually took Twilight a long while to twig to the fact that the dark ‘Nightmare Moon’ who was still bellowing and swooping around the room (while snitching various sundries off unguarded plates and giving the occasional older stallion a kiss on the cheek) was in fact Princess Celestia, and that the understated Elkvis Przewalski who was passing among the guests with guitar unslung to give impromptu romantic serenades was in fact Princess Luna.

Perhaps Green Grass is right. Sanity is highly overrated.

After a suitable amount of socializing and scandalizing, both of the Royal sisters visited the nursery to the overwhelming joy of the inhabitants and the once-in-a-lifetime experience that followed. Each of the new cutie mark recipients got a piggyback ride around the top of the ballroom atop the princess of their choice, shrieking and screaming at the top of their lungs to the applause of the crowd (and one or two particularly jealous looks from the older stallions).

Green Grass remained uncharacteristically quiet and well-behaved at her side for the rest of the evening, a perfect model Prince for a Princess. It was suspicious behavior to say the least for anypony who knew him well, but it seemed to calm the usually flighty Royals in a fashion that even Celestia would have approved. After all, the Princess of the Sun was presently drinking out of the chocolate fountain at the buffet, the Princess of the Moon had gathered a number of Elkvis fans for a sing-a-long, and the orchestra was being conducted by the Princess of Love… Or perhaps Chrysalis… It was very confusing, and Shining Armor had adapted to the chaos by treating various elderly widows to a dance each out of either compassion or a sense of survival. Twilight felt fairly certain that both Shining Armor and Cadence were going to use the changeling detection spell that Luna had created several times on each other tonight before bed.

And far too soon, it was all over, with guests thanking their host and the various Princesses, both real and disguised, before filtering out the door into the late night. The buffet had been grazed down to a few celery sticks and some beet dip, which always seemed to show up at these events even though nopony ate it. Vaguely, Twilight was aware that her own parents had shown up, danced, and departed considerably earlier, although with all of the activity she could not remember what they had been wearing as costumes or even if her little brothers had been in the nursery. Only Lady Spring and Baron Chrysanthemum were left on the dance floor, doing one last pass to the quiet beat of the orchestra, which Fancy Pants had assured her was going to be well-compensated for their long night.

When Grace showed up with word that their security detail was prepared to escort them back to the castle and could she please have her communications earring back because it had been signed for and needed returned to the armory, Twilight acceded to the request. They said their goodbyes, collected their things (which included Pinkie Pie, who was trying to get one last lick out of the depleted chocolate fountain, and Fluttershy, who had nearly camouflaged herself perfectly besides one of the ornamental shrubs with one of the purloined parrots⁽*⁾), and allowed the Royal Guard carriage to sweep them away to the castle for a long night⁽¹⁾ of rest.
(*) A great amount of ink was spilled over the next few days on headlines as the press seized upon the alliterative opportunity to blow the event totally out of proportion. For three whole days, ponies opened their newspapers to phrases like ‘Borrowed Budgies’ or ‘Stolen Squabs’ and even one particularly innovative ‘Melancholic Misappropriated Macaws’ on a particularly slow news day. The headlines all stopped the day after Princess Celestia wrote a particularly polite note to the mothers of the editors, expressing her praise for their children’s clever literary talents.
(1) ‘Night’ being defined rather vigorously as ‘If anypony wakes us up before mid-day, they had better be prepared for a few days as an amphibian out in the garden pool.’ And that was just Rarity.
—

The inky darkness that filled the Canterlot castle corridors only grudgingly acceded territory to the lamps next to the Night Guard standing at attention in front of a pair of guest bedrooms. It was a fairly open secret to the guards that one of the two bedrooms they guarded was empty, but still, the Night Guard had been ordered to guard both doors as a security measure. After all, if they did not know which of the doors contained the newest Princess and her rather odd husband-to-be, nopony else would either.

One of the admirable traits of all Night Guards was selective deafness. No matter what their sensitive ears picked up behind the doors where their charges slumbered — or did not slumber — their mouths remained closed, both to their peers and to their superiors. That did not prevent both guards to the sides of one door from raising an eyebrow when Lord Green Grass slipped out of the door with a soft, “I’ll be right back,” called over his shoulder.

He paused out in the corridor, looking at the two most decidedly non-curious Nocturne before whispering, “I have a very important private meeting just downstairs. It should only take a minute. Which one of you is going to sneak along behind me whether I want you to or not?”

“Me, sir.” The impassive Night Guard did not even flinch as Green Grass looked him up and down.

“Corporal Meadows, this meeting is intensely private. It does not need to be reported to your superiors, or the other guards, and particularly not to Twilight. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Come on.” Making remarkably little noise for an earth pony, Green Grass slipped down the corridor into the stairwell, down a flight of stairs, and through a door blocked off with a sign that read ‘Under Construction - No Admittance.’ Turning to his silent shadow, he whispered, “Stay here,” before moving down two more doorways and entering a small bedchamber with signs of splattered plaster and recent paint on all sides.

“Are you alone?” whispered a voice from inside the darkened room.

“Yes,” Green Grass whispered back. “Now why did you send me that note and what kind of danger is my family in?”

Author's Notes:

Links to this world’s versions of the Equestrian songs
Love by Flank Sinatra (Well, actually Gnat King Coal, but it’s a tribute)
Fat Bottomed Mares by Princess
Somepony to Love by Princess
Love by Mic Bubble

Chapter 24 - Clock Is Ticking

Six days before the wedding

Dawn greeted Canterlot a little late with a somewhat unsteady sun wobbling up into the sky, much as if the one doing the lifting was regretting a certain extravagance at the buffet table last night. Even the Royal Presence at Morning Court was substantially muted with both the Princess of the Sun and Moon yawning at inopportune times during several of the more boring petitions for action, and one young stallion who was knighted on the spot when he condensed his thirty-seven page request down to a simple “If Your Highnesses could read this sometime next week and get back to me, I would deeply appreciate it.”

The guest quarters in the Stellar Royal Tower were no whirl of morning activity either. Visitors who could not prove an absolute need for the bearers of the Elements of Harmony by reason of perhaps a loose malevolent monster eating the city were quietly sent away after having their requests recorded by an impassive female Night Guard, who was in full armor and at her post despite the rising of the sun.

Nearly two hours after sunrise, a somewhat mussed green unicorn and a yawning sky-blue pegasus walked into the guest towers and were stopped by Specialist Grace’s rather solidly extended armored hoof and a grim question.

“Did the two of you have a good time last night?”

Running a hoof through his normally immaculate mane to press down quite a few disobedient strands, Papercut nodded cautiously, although Crosswind only giggled.

Grace lowered her eyes and floated out a clipboard, which she flipped through in a calm and calculated fashion. “Very well. Her Highness expressed concern in that regard, and for good reason. It seems there was an outbreak of petty crime last night. Lady Lightningbug reported that a pair of 'nefarious scoundrels' grazed her prize multiflora rosebush to mere nubs.”

“You don’t say,” responded Papercut, trying to ignore the giggling pegasus at his side.

“Correct,” said Grace. “I didn’t. The scoundrels seem to have quite a wide range, because I just received a report from the Las Pegasus Police that a prize water hyacinth grown by one of their upstanding citizens was likewise grazed nearly to the roots the same evening, and witnesses report the color scheme of the suspects matched the police report from our Canterlot criminals.”

“Quite a coincidence,” said Papercut, staggering a little as Crosswind buried her nose in his mane to stifle the increased volume of her giggles.

“Quite.” Grace flipped another page. “In addition, the Royal Post in Las Pegasus had a rather sketchy report of a pair of ponies jumping onto one of their express mail wagons headed for Canterlot early this morning, shouting something on the order of—" she flipped ahead a page and cleared her throat "Floor it, girls. They're gaining on us."

Crosswind lost it, throwing herself over Papercut’s back and laughing until she could not breathe, while the supporter of the sudden weight only grunted, deeply grateful that the undesired exercise program had given him the strength to hold up the healthy young mare.

Floating the clipboard back into her sidesaddle, Grace nodded at the mismatched pair. “I expect your charges to sleep at least another hour this morning, which is plenty of time for you to freshen up before going back to work.” Grace’s horn glowed softly and a small hyacinth leaf floated out of Papercut’s rumpled mane. Disposing of the leaf, she continued, “There are only six more days until the wedding, and I believe my colleagues in the police department would appreciate it if you were to restrict your dining choices to purchased food until then.”

“Thank you, Specialist Grace,” said Papercut, dispatching with the traditional short bow of dismissal out of a suspicion that he would just collapse to the ground with the laughing pegasus on top. “Miss Crosswind and I shall go ‘freshen up’ at once. When we return, we shall even pass through the staff dining area to get properly situated with calories and nutrition for the day. Should we bring you back anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” replied Grace, with a tiny twitch forming at the corner of her lips as if a smile were begging to come out and enjoy the morning. “I just have one question.” She lowered her voice and glanced in both directions. “How were the multiflora roses?”

“Delicious,” giggled Crosswind.

“True,” agreed Papercut. “But far better when shared.”

Morning had long since passed by the time Green Grass and his shadow boarded the Royal Guard carriage which was to convey them to the activities of the day. Princess Twilight Sparkle and her shadow were right behind, with a brief kiss (between Twilight and Green Grass, that is) exchanged before they went their separate ways for the day. The cheerful smile that his annoying boss normally wore faded a little as the carriage reached altitude, with the little dips and wobbles that Papercut had grown somewhat inured to over the last few days. The morning schedule had slipped just enough to be too late to drop in on the first appointment, and just a little early to drop in on the second, so the drivers were taking a slow and scenic route, which gave them both a little extra time to look over the schedule. Green Grass seemed distracted this morning, taking his normal morning humorous jabs from Papercut without a response until he took a deep breath and pushed the schedule away.

“Papercut, I have a very important task for you to do today.” With unusual seriousness, Green Grass produced a sealed note and allowed his servant to float it out of his grasp for closer inspection. “Take that note to my father while I’m at my next appointment. Stay with him while he reads it, and then bring the note that he gives you in return back. Tomorrow you will need to take his note to the First Equestrian Bank and withdraw twenty thousand bits in large denomination coins.”

“Twenty thousand—” Papercut’s jaw dropped. “Sir, are you in some sort of trouble?”

“No. Not if you follow my instructions to the letter. Do not speak to anypony about this, not Princess Celestia, not your friends, and certainly not Twilight. Do you understand?”

“No, sir.” The slim green unicorn tucked the note away in his jacket and nodded. “But I shall obey your wishes to the letter.”

“Good.” Green Grass seemed to be chewing on a small knot of something, pausing while working his jaw until he finally blurted out, “Thank you, Papercut. It has been… interesting working with you.”

With one eyebrow raised, Papercut responded, “There are still six days until your nuptials and my emancipation, sir.”

“Well, if this goes wrong…” Green Grass trailed off and swallowed. “Just do what I said, and everything will be just fine.”

By the time the day was over and the mismatched Royal Couple vanished behind their respective doors (whatever they did afterwards was their own business, and the connecting door between their suites was never discussed), both appointment secretaries were dragging their hooves as they headed home. Crosswind leaned up against Papercut and lifted her hoof for closer inspection.

“I’m starting to have my doubts about scheduling so many activities for the love birds,” said Crosswind, rotating her ankle and wincing. “Alicorn endurance and all. I think Twilight can walk as fast as I can gallop. My hooves are killing me. How about you, Cut?”

“Yeah,” said Papercut. “Six more days. Five now, I suppose.”

“Hello,” caroled Crosswind, waving a hoof in front of her co-worker’s face. “Equestria to Papercut. You having a low blood sugar fit or something? We could stop off for a quick bite on the way home.”

“That sounds nice,” said Papercut, pulling out the sealed note from his bag and inspecting it.

“Princess Celestia has this amazing Millennial Floribunda out in the Private Royal Gardens that’s supposed to be delicious. We could eat it right down to the roots.”

“I suppose,” said Papercut, tugging gently on the flap of the note and turning it over in his magic.

“And afterwards we could bang ourselves silly in Luna’s bedroom.”

“That sounds… Wha—” Papercut jerked his attention up to where Crosswind was observing him with hooded eyes.

“I thought I was going to have to bite one of your ears off to get your attention,” she muttered. “So what’s in the note that’s so important?”

“Nothing!” He tucked the note away despite Crosswind’s good-natured attempt to nip it out of the air, pausing once he had latched down his sidesaddle. “Did Princess Twilight seem… off today?”

“No, of course not. A little preoccupied, but that’s probably because the Griffon Emperor is arriving tomorrow, and there’s that State dinner tomorrow night.” Crosswind paged through her notes. “Rarity’s having some color matching issues with the bride and groom’s outfits, something about how much easier it would be if she could just borrow the green goober and dunk him in a vat of dye for a few minutes first. Normal pre-wedding jitters, I presume. So what’s going on with the green goofball?”

“I’m not sure.” Papercut frowned and lit up his horn to open his saddlebag, then closed it again very firmly. “I promised not to speak about it, but… You don’t think he could be being blackmailed, do you?”

“Any reason why you’d ask?”

“Twenty thousand of them,” growled Papercut. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but he specifically told me not to spread it around… which means I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

“Blackmail? Blueblood, I suppose,” said Crosswind.

“It doesn’t fit,” said Papercut with a vicious scowl. “He wants Lord Green Grass dead or otherwise ineligible to wed Princess Twilight. Twenty thousand bits may be a lot of money, but it’s loose change for him and far too trivial a sum to attempt extortion.”

“Well, I’m not going to swap theories with you while standing around on my hooves any more.” Crosswind swatted Papercut on the flank with one wing and made him jerk forward into a brisk walk. “Let’s go pick up some Quilinese take-out and discuss things at your place.”

“That sounds— wait a minute. Quilinese is a little spicy.”

Crosswind responded by gently smacking him with one wingtip along the flank again as they walked. “Thought you were going to object about sneaking me into your place. You know, we could always use Luna’s room while she’s in Night Court this evening. She’s supposed to have a huuuuuge bed.”

Behind them, the two Night Guards guarding the Royal Guestchambers exchanged glances until they were absolutely positive that the mismatched couple was out of earshot.

“You don’t think they were serious about using Her Highness’ bedroom, do you?” asked the first guard.

“I’m not sure,” said the second, raising a hoof to the communication crystal by his ear, “but it’s a good idea to be prepared. I’ll let the inner security ring know to leave the door unlocked tonight and stay out of the way in case they try. Plus we need to have an unofficial discussion with Princess Luna.”

Two days before the wedding

“Just think of it, Twilight,” bubbled Rarity as the group strolled through the central Canterlot streets. “Only a few more days until the wedding. Just yesterday it seemed that you were dunking him in the town fountain, and now you’re going to be walking down the aisle with him.” She gave a sideways glance at Rainbow Dash, who was floating along at a lazy glide while bouncing a soccer ball from one wing to another. “I guess there’s hope for everypony.”

“Oh, yes,” said Fluttershy in her normal whisper. “Why, this whole wedding has given me so much confidence that I may just ask…” She trailed off with a faint squeak and a bright blush.

“Now, Flutters,” said Applejack, who seemed to have been determined to be Best Pony To Hide Behind. “You ain’t gotta be ashamed of yer coltfriend, whoever he is. We all can keep a secret, can’t we?”

“Nope,” said Rainbow Dash, bouncing the soccer ball off her left wing and bumping it back up in the air with a rear hoof. “If Fluttershy wants to keep a secret, it would be silly for her to start telling other ponies.”

“Are you nervous, Twilight?” Rarity patted her friend on the shoulder as they and the other element bearers trotted through Canterlot, a small cluster of colorful mares on their way to a meeting that they should have had over a week ago, or even two if a proper number of changes were to be made to the wedding dress and the bridlemaids’ outfits before the wedding. Even Cadence trotted along with them wearing no more clothing than the average Canterlot resident. It made her horn itch for charcoal and a sheet of paper, or even an entire sheaf to fill with sketches of the Crystal Princess done in sparkling gems and shimmering silk.

Not to disparage her best friend, but Twilight simply did not have the same royal magnificence in creamy satin and silk as her older princess/foalhood sitter, despite the wings. Her friend still reminded Rarity just the teensiest bit of an adolescent lilac swan, still filled with pinfeathers and with a considerable amount of growing to do, although the nearly infinitesimal swelling around her waist showed yet another direction her growth was about to take her. Still, if she could not be royally magnificent at her wedding, she could be cute and adorable in a way that would melt the hearts of every pony present, plus the photographs that would run in all of the papers and fashion magazines.

“There’s still two whole days left, Rarity,” scoffed Rainbow Dash, floating along above them like a captive cloud. “I don’t see why we can’t just try the dresses on right before the wedding like last time.”

“I cannot believe you would suggest that, Rainbow Dash,” huffed Rarity. “These things simply take time to do properly. There are so many colors to coordinate between the participants, the flowers, the surroundings—”

Rainbow waved a hoof in dismissal. “So the groom has to wear a suit so he won’t blend into the lawn. Big deal.”

“He is not grass-colored,” insisted Rarity. “He’s about two shades up from Kale or a shade down from Mesclun, in that nasty little notch in the color palette that absolutely nopony wears. All it would take is a teensy bit of dye—”

“No,” stated Twilight most emphatically, totally ignoring her little suggestion as she had the last several times Rarity had made it. “He is what he is.”

“But I had everything all planned before he got his mane and coat cut,” protested Rarity in a familiar refrain to the argument they had several times now. “His undercoat is at least three shades off from his topcoat, and they trimmed his mane so short it can’t even be braided. I mean you can do so many things with extensions, but at his present shade, it would look horrid! You wouldn’t even have to tell him. Just slip a few drops into his bath this evening—”

“And we’d both come out looking greener,” said Twilight.

“I had forgotten that the guest bedrooms have Princess-sized tubs,” said Cadence with a small flick of her wings. “Much more private than going to the Royal Baths, but you just can’t do the backstroke in them. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever shown all of you the castle baths before. Miss Crosswind, is there time in Twily’s schedule for all of us to schedule a group visit sometime in the next few evenings? Without mane dye, that is.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Crosswind, flapping along just slightly behind Rainbow Dash. “It’s crammed full of tea parties, meetings, and the odd flugelhorn recital.”

“We could move one of her tea parties to the baths,” bubbled Pinkie Pie as she bounced along. “Bubble bath and tea go perfectly together, and we could all sit around in the hot tub and get all wrinkly. We could even have bubble tea!”

“I’m not supposed to spend too much time in the hot tub,” blurted out Twilight. “It’s bad for the foal, even though I love it so much. And I’ve been trying to cut down my caffeine consumption without falling asleep at the meetings, but it’s been difficult what with all of the tea served at all of the tea parties even though the hosts have been very good about making non-caffeinated blends available and stock my plate with every kind of healthy and nutritious snack and they all ask about foal names and how I’ve been doing until I swear I could send Crosswind and I’ve missed you girls so much!”

The procession stopped in the middle of the street for an impromptu group hug that even encompassed a few random passers-by until Twilight Sparkle finished blowing her nose and the walking continued.

“Y’only got a week more ‘till you come home after the honeymoon,” said Applejack. “Tell ya what. A bunch of the townsfolk was wonderin’ what we could get you for a wedding present anyhow. What would you say if we all pitched in and got the library one of those big fancy tubs. We could install it while you’re in Canterlot and on your honeymoon to wherever, and have it all ready for your first shower when you get back.”

“There’s not enough space in the library,” said Twilight Sparkle almost immediately, although all of her friends patiently waited until she continued after a few more paces. “Unless you moved the laundry hamper, which I really don’t use anyway, and took out the towel closet, which I don’t think I’ve opened twice since I moved in. You’d have to run a larger line out to the sewer main, but that’s something I’ve been meaning to get done for almost a year so we won’t have to deal with any more clogs.”

“You know if you would clean out the feather filter after your shower, I wouldn’t have to keep dealing with the aftereffects,” scoffed Spike from his perch on Applejack’s back. “You became Princess of Friendship about the time I became Prince of Plumbing.”

“Well it’s settled, then,” said Applejack, reaching for the door to House Chrysanthemum. “We’ll start the ball rolling when we go back home this evening, and by the time Ponyville’s Royal Couple move back into the library—”

The door to the mansion glowed a soft blue and opened to reveal an elderly unicorn servant with impeccable creases in his spotless black suit. His eyes lit up at the sight of Twilight and her friends, and Friday Haystings swept into a short bow.

“Good morning, Your Highnesses. Ladies. Gentledrake. Perfectly on time, as expected. Lady Spring is awaiting your arrival in the Grand Ballroom where the gowns have been placed for your approval. If you will follow me, please.”

The stroll through the mansion was short, as it was a little more of a mansion-ette than a full-fledged monstrosity of the upper-upper classes. Still, it seemed to be quite tidy and organized to Rarity’s expert eye, much as a museum’s display of fine artwork in a well-dusted cabinet would be a completely misleading indication of the life and times of some primitive pony tribe. There were no scribbled artworks from grandfoals or marks on the walls indicating the children’s progress in growing, zero indications of patched plaster where young hooves had trod the walls, or any other clue that five young ponies had grown up here. Green Grass had mentioned that even his youngest sister stayed at the dormitories in Celestia’s school, and now she had a much better idea why.

That was not to say that Baron Chrysanthemum had failed to make a mark upon his home. The wall hangings and decorations had a distinct Griffon Empire taste to them, from the occasional decorative piece of armor to an entire glassed-off wall of wing primary feathers. But try as Rarity might, she could not see any distinct impression of Lady Spring on the house other than the absence of anything that might be tied to her.

The ballroom of House Chrysanthemum was a small but discrete space with enough room for a string quartet and perhaps four couples to dance, but only if they were cautious of each other’s hooves and the mirrors on the wall. Friday explained that in the several centuries that the house had been in the family’s hooves, the room had been remodeled several times, from a weapons salle, to a ballet studio, and now to its present temporary purpose as a Royal Wedding fitting room.

As Lady Spring made her entrance and exchanged small talk with the bride and her fellow princess, Rarity took a few moments to look around the room. The illumination was sufficient, she had to admit, with large windows and modern lighting that could be adjusted to match the shades of the evening. Seriously, if Twilight Sparkle were not her best friend, Rarity would have thrown her hooves up at the impossibility of matching colors for a wedding that would take place between Day and Night, but then again, her name was Twilight. Normally it was stallions who made technically impossible decisions about weddings, and as much as she wanted to blame Green Grass for her difficulties, it had proven to be a masterful challenge to rise above.

There was just one little problem.

“Lady Spring, I can’t help but notice that there are far more gowns here than the selection I sent.” Rarity looked over the wide variety of wedding gowns and matching bridlemaid outfits with a concealed shudder. A full critique of them would have taken simply weeks, but ‘overpaid by the pound of lace’ would be a good summary, as well as ‘flammable.’

Not that Rarity was considering doing away with her rival’s products with fire. A long association with her younger sister as well as a certain romantic young drake had given Rarity considerable respect for the ability of a fashionable outfit to withstand certain environmental dangers, including fire, sprinklers, mud, and peanut butter. However, she did consider subjecting a few of the more extravagant ones to extensive testing, or perhaps allowing her little sister’s friends to launder them afterwards.

“But of course,” said Lady Spring with a thin smile on her narrow face. “There have been so many designers who wanted to be a part of the wedding and who offered their services pro bono that I just could not bring myself to send them all away without allowing Princess Twilight to try on their offerings.”

A quite descriptive word for them. A proper disposal of them would be to incinerate them upon the altar of fashion in order to gain favor from— No, Rarity. Focus.

She could tell Twilight Sparkle was conflicted between her natural instincts about being honest and her social responsibilities. It was fairly obvious, after all, since she had been picking up certain nervous tail-twitch and ear-flicking cues from her impending spouse over the last year. Sending Twilight back to Ponyville until this week had been a masterful stroke by Celestia, allowing her to be among a vast number of friends and companions while undergoing the initial shock of her oncoming motherhood and keeping a certain degree of new bridal nerves at a minimum. And Princess Luna’s scheme to keep Green Grass squarely in the reluctant position of ‘responsible adult’ in Canterlot during the day and ‘panicked prospective partner pamperer’ at night had paid off well for both of them. And for the insurance rates for all of Ponyville.

Still, Twilight was here now, and only needed to keep things together for two more days until the Royal Couple would be whisked away into the night to some romantic honeymoon location like Neighgra Falls or the Haywaiian Islands where they could finally relax.

Who am I kidding? They’ll probably wind up in a library somewhere.

“Twilight, darling,” said Rarity, moving forward to place a hoof on her friend’s trembling shoulders. “I think that’s a positively marvelous idea.”

“You do?” asked Twilight, mirrored by a faint echo in the room as if one or more of their other friends said exactly the same thing.

“Of course! Why, I’m simply dying to see how you’ll look in all of these dresses. Particularly this one.” Rarity gestured to a swept ball of lace and satin strung with seed pearls and tiny flecks of glitter. There had to be a ponyquin under all of that cloth, but for the life of her, she could not see it, or even determine which end was supposed to be the head and the other the tail.

“Well…” Twilight Sparkle hesitated before moving forward and lifting one edge of the dress, perhaps looking for the concrete and steel structure supporting it. “If you say so. I suppose it won’t hurt to just try on a few. We have enough time in the schedule. Do you think Green Grass is going to have any trouble fitting his suit?”

Rarity tried to put on her best and most convincing smile. “If it were a dress, I could have completed it simply weeks ago, but I’ve always had just a teensy problem with getting a stallion’s suit just perfect. Don’t worry, Twilight. Princess Celestia told me that she had arranged for a ‘favor’ from one of her friends in regards to your fiancé’s suit, if I would assist him with a wedding dress that has been giving him fits.” The smile trembled, nearly fading out of view. “Although I cannot think of anypony in Equestria who could do as good a job as myself.”

As he stood in Twilight Velvet’s dining room and tried not to think about how his future wife was dealing with her future mother-in-law, Green Grass remained locked in place to allow the gentle hooves and magic of the fashion stallion to arrange his wedding tuxedo just so, putting a tiny tuck in here and letting out a single stitch there in his endless quest for perfection upon a very imperfect subject. What was worse was that Elusive seemed familiar in some way, although a cutie mark of three umbrellas was not totally unheard of in ponydom. Neither was the creamy white coat and dashing violet mane, but when put together, there was still something… off. Twilight Velvet’s kitchen was playing host to both of his brothers and the rest of the groomstallions, who were probably eating his future mother-in-law’s cookies just as fast as they came off the plate if he remembered Graphite and Regal’s tendencies correctly, so he had time to think while being fitted, but one of the pieces in this mental puzzle had all of the right colors with the wrong bumpy bits.

The fashion stallion certainly had Rarity’s eye for the proper cut and fall of a seam, as well as the same niggling little tendency to glance at his new hat as if he were overjoyed the old one had been replaced as an affront to proper fashion. And the care that Elusive had put into his own mane was astounding, with the burnished glow of many hours spent with a brush and the faint scent of—

Green Grass leaned over and took a quick sniff, straightening back up almost instantly with a knowing smile. “Is there something amusing, sir?” asked the fashion stallion, gently adding a line of pins down a seam with the look of intense concentration he had only ever seen on one mare.

“Oh, nothing,” he replied, taking a shot in the dark. “I was just thinking how much trouble Gardenia must be having with her dress.”

Elusive’s snort nearly caused him to inhale a pin. “Oh, don’t get me started. I just wish she hadn’t gotten a trim and changed her whole color scheme. It’s been terrible, just awful. If only I could get that mare to see reason and add just a teensy bit of dye to her bath, just one or two shades towards Kale or Mesclun, although Kale fits her much better…” The stallion trailed off and gave Green Grass a rather worried look and a nervous smile.

“Are Dusk and Gardenia having their wedding at sunset in your world also?” asked Green Grass, unable to restrain himself in that regard but determined not to even bring up any mention of his counterpart’s maternal status.

There are some things a stallion just doesn’t need to know.

“Yes,” said Elusive, turning back to his pins with a restrained masculine chuckle. “They took over the Royal Lawn too. I swear, you two are determined to make my life difficult wherever or whenever you are. I just wish I knew what I was going to do with her dress. Nothing I do allows the colors to match correctly.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” said Green Grass. “Princess Celestia and Prince… Um…”

“Solaris,” prompted Elusive.

“Right. They’re probably both conspiring to make everything work on both worlds. I think you can expect a little fashionable help on my otherworldly twin shortly.” Green Grass sighed as he shrugged his shoulders in his tuxedo to check for any stiff seams. “I swear, sometimes I just feel like one of her chess pieces.”

In her private study, Princess Celestia paused with her teacup almost to her lips and one eyebrow cocked in surprise. The similarly tall alicorn stallion on the other side of the table looked up, holding a captured chess piece in his magic and with an expression of similar concern.

“I think our charges are talking about us again,” said Celestia, sitting her teacup down with a distinct click and regarding the chessboard with renewed interest.

“It’s for their own good,” said Prince Solaris, sitting the captured rook to one side and picking up his own coffee mug. “Keeps them on their hooves. Checkmate in seven moves.”

“Really,” said Celestia, moving a knight and tapping the chess clock to reset the timer. “Checkmate in six moves. And a wedding in two days. Any more on my hooves and I’ll be able to dance ballet for Swan Lake.”

“Hey mom! We’re home!” The tramp of hooves mixed with the scratch of griffon claws through the corridors of House Chrysanthemum as Green Grass and his guest breezed past Friday Haystings. There was a faint flare of Friday’s magic as they passed, and Green Grass’ new hat floated over to the hatrack as the elderly servant swept into a respectful bow.

“Good afternoon, young sir. Your Grace. Your mother is in the Grand Ballroom andisthereanythingyouneed?”

His voice faded into the background as Green Grass kept trotting, calling back over his shoulder, “Thanks, Friday! We’re good.”

“Lord Green Grass, this is most improper,” protested the young Griffon hen trotting alongside, dropping to a slow walk as her escort slowed. “I must communicate my father’s delay to Princess Celestia at once.”

“Which would take you at least two hours after working through the security at the castle, being properly introduced, et al. Not to mention the faux pas of forgetting your luggage. Shocking.” Green Grass clucked his tongue while stopped in front of a door, his face arranging into a much more somber expression.

“<My apologies, young hen,>” he clucked and chirped in cautious Griffon. “<Your father seems to be having some difficulties, and I wanted just one unheard moment to offer him whatever assistance he might require of me.>”

“<You could have bent his ear-tuft yourself earlier,>” she chirped back as quietly as a sparrow. “<What of Princess Evening Dawn?>”

“<My word of honor does not bind her actions,> he carefully replied, picking his way through the Griffon language like a minefield. “<However, all of the Equestrian princesses have generous and caring livers, and will give to the bottom of their craws to any in need.>” Green Grass paused and thought back through his sentence. “Did I get that right?”

“If you wished to pledge your first-hatched into Imperial services, yes, that was quite appropriate,” said Sophia with a sharp nod that bobbed the feathers in her crest. “I will speak with him,” she continued quickly as the sounds of Papercut’s polite pursuit grew. “That does not mean he will listen. I accept your word of honor, Prince By Marriage of Evening Dawn, as will my father. And no, we will not request your first-hatched.”

“That’s a relief,” said Green Grass. “Now, before we go into the ballroom, I would humbly suggest that you don’t say a word about your missing luggage until I prompt you.”

“Why?” asked the young griffon with her head tilted to one side and a distinct frown.

Green Grass grinned in response. “Because that way you’ll get to see the First Wonder of the Fashion World at work.”

Twilight Sparkle was lost. Well, not totally true. She knew she was in House Chrysanthemum's ballroom underneath about the seventh wedding dress she had tried on, but exactly where the rest of the universe was in respect to her position was a complete mystery.

“Spike? Do you see a way out?”

The massive pile of fabric shifted slightly and Spike’s voice filtered through. “I think I see light. Should I come back and get you?”

“No! Save yourself! I’ll survive somehow. I think I have an oat granola bar tucked in my mane for emergencies.” She thrashed around a little in the fabric for effect, hearing her friends muffled chuckles far outside the sea of taffeta and lace she had become marooned inside.

“Young mare,” snapped Lady Spring’s sharp voice, muffled by the expanse of fabric but still far too audible. “Please stop with this nonsense at once. This is a serious event, and—”

“Honey, I’m home!” caroled Green Grass’ voice through the ballroom in a welcome sound that still made her heart feel lighter every time she heard it. “Hi, mom. Where’s the second most beautiful princess in the world?” The snarky comment was topped with a noisy kiss that only made the older mare splutter in frustration even as her husband-to-be continued with, “Oh, and this is Königstochter Sophia of the High Nest, mom. Sophia, this is my mother, Lady Spring.”

“<Your Highness!>” protested Spring in perfect Griffon before switching to Equestrian. “I’m so sorry about the behavior of my son. Please, allow me to apologize.”

“No need, Lady Spring,” replied a second, vaguely familiar voice. “Lord Green Grass has been a most droll companion on my trip to your beautiful home. He informed me that Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Great and Honorable Spike the Brave and Glorious were here, and that I might ask Spike to deliver a message to Princess Celestia for my father.”

“Dear Princess Celestia,” quipped Green Grass. “Dad’s going to be about two hours late. Signed, Princess Sophia of the Griffon Empire.”

“Just a minute,” said Spike as he slowly began working his way towards the edge of the dress in a mobile lump. “I need to get a quill and some paper.”

“Greenie!” By the exasperated sound of his mother’s voice, Lady Spring was about to have a stroke right in the middle of the ballroom. It was time to put a firm hoof down on his tail.

“Oh, Greenie!” called Twilight. “Catch.” With a whoosh of released magic, the heavy mass of cloth and lace vanished in a teleportation spell and reappeared directly above the snarky green stallion, with predictable results.

Now that Twilight Sparkle was out from under her imprisoning dress, she could see Lady Spring standing near a young griffon hen who had the sleek musculature and leonine grace of an athlete, as well as a few freshly-dried patches of perspiration that showed a recent high-speed flight. Genetic indications of Griffon ancestry were fairly obscure to ponies, but it was completely believable that she was really the emperor’s daughter, from her height if nothing else. The only thing missing were the golden eyes of a griffon Royal, but the penetrating green gaze that snapped in her direction when the dress had vanished showed an alert mind behind that athletic body regardless of her low official position in the Griffon Empire due to an accident of eye color.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, I presume,” said Sophia, stepping forward with an extended claw. “Your fiancé could not stop talking about you, and now I see why.” After the hoofclasp, she looked down and extended the same claw with the same respect to the little dragon at Twilight’s side. “And Spike the Dragon. Your reputation among the Crystal Empire is amazing, Spike. When Princess Twilight and Prince Grass… I mean Prince Green… When Twilight and Greenie come to the High Nest on their honeymoon, I would be honored to be your companion when we visit the Great Wyrm’s lair.”

“We haven’t quite nailed down a honeymoon spot,” said Green Grass from somewhere in the middle of the relocated dress. After a brief thrashing around in a vain attempt to escape his cloth imprisonment, he added, “We’ve just been putting all of the suggestions into a big jar and we’ll have Discord pull one out after the Ponyville Post-Wedding Party.”

“First things first, Greenie,” chided Twilight Sparkle. “Spike, if you would please send a letter to Princess Celestia for our guest.”

“No problem, Twilight,” said Spike with paper and quill ready.

“Lady Spring, I believe I have tried on every dress in the collection except my friend Rarity’s design.” Twilight took a pointed look at the heap of cloth and lace that concealed her future husband, who was still struggling in search of an exit while Papercut stood nearby and called out encouragement. “And even though we seem to have a few extra hours in our schedule, I think it would be advisable to get started. Now.”

Author's Notes:

Credit for Gardenia goes to Conner Cogwork’s excellent Alternate Universe fic, On Cross And Arrow.

Chapter 25 - Trapped by Circumstance

Two days before the wedding

After fighting through several layers of fabric only to be trapped in dead ends, Green Grass was starting to think the massive wedding dress was actually supposed to be entertainment for the foals, a sort of bigger-on-the-inside cloth maze that they could wander through while playing tag inside. It was possible. He really needed a map. So far, all of the holes he had found were merely sleeves or thermal vents that only allowed him to get a rather foreshortened view of the outside world and the six mares of the bridle party trying on outfits.

He took his time while waiting, and by the time Green Grass had dug himself out from underneath the ‘dress,’ the respective wedding dress and bridlemaids outfits had all been tried on, adjusted, and a substantial amount of ‘mare talk’ was ongoing between Königstochter Sophia and the six chatty young mares. Even Papercut, Crosswind, and Sophia’s photographer had abandoned him for the dubious excuse of ‘schedule detail coordination’ that he suspected would take place in the mansion’s kitchen with Cook’s famous apple strudel.

Taking a few minutes to examine the field of battle before emerging from the entrapping dress revealed his mother standing just behind and to one side of the ongoing vigorous conversation. She had not noticed his observation, and he took a moment to take in the faint glistening of tears in her eyes and the almost unnoticeable trembling of her upper lip. He had thought of his father and mother as opponents for many years now, and now that he could be considered to have triumphed over both of their plans for his future, he found victory to be bittersweet. Marechiavelli was quite clear on how ruthlessly a victorious princess should rule a conquered province, and he deliberately wadded up everything he had ever learned from that chapter in his history lessons and threw it into a metaphorical fire before stepping out from under the dress.

“Really, I would think at least one of my mother’s wedding suggestions would be useful. Maybe something a little more sizable would be more appropriate,” he started, rearranging a string of lace on a sizable dress that presided over the floor of the room like an ocean liner in port. “Admittedly, this one is a little large, but maybe if it had a set of wheels inside…” He trailed off as he moved a section of the train to one side and saw that it indeed had a set of rails for suspension, as well as a little wheeled cart that could only be called a caboose.

“Really, Greenie,” scoffed Rarity as she adjusted a hem on Twilight Sparkle’s gown. “That one is horribly impractical. I’ve devoted considerable effort over the last year and a half to making the perfect wedding dresses for my best friends.”

“That’s a laugh, Rarity,” said Rainbow Dash from the ceiling where she was testing the aerodynamics of her bridlemaid outfit with a series of loops and hoof-chops. “They’ve barely known each other for a year and a half.” The pegasus stopped next to the swaying chandelier. “Friends? Do you mean you’ve made a wedding dress for each of us?”

“I mean, take this train, for example,” said Rarity rather quickly, holding the short length of creamy white fabric out for Lady Spring’s inspection. “It’s comfortable, flexible, and won’t get in the way in the event we have to fight a horde of invading changelings during the wedding.”

“That’s nic—” Spring blinked. “Changelings?”

“Oh, I doubt we’ll see any changelings this wedding,” said Rarity in a dismissive tone. “They’re so last season. This year it will probably be dragons. That’s why I made all of our outfits fireproof, and perforated just under the surface so they can be—” she shuddered violently “—torn off and used as bandages in case of dragon attack.”

“That reminds me,” said Spike, digging around in the boxes. “I had Sparkler make this just for the wedding. Here!” The little dragon presented a fairly substantial emerald on a golden chain to Green Grass.

“Why Spikey! You’re so generous.” Rarity kissed the little dragon on the top of his head. “That’s one of the gems you got from that tremendously huge dragon next to the Griffon aerie, isn’t it?”

“Yep!” said Spike with his chest puffed out. “It looks positively delicious. Any dragon who attacks during the wedding will go for it first.”

“Eeep!” declared Green Grass, whose nerves were not helped by the fact that the mirror-lined walls of the dressing room reflected the image of one particular dragon dozens of times.

“A wedding means lots of wedding gifts, and that many presents in one place is sure to attract them like flies,” continued Spike.

“It could be worse,” prompted Sophia with a particularly envious avian glance at the glittering emerald that Spike had looped around the unresisting stallion’s neck. “You could have hundreds of greedy griffons in the area. Granddad once invaded an entire country for a bag of marbles⁽*⁾.”
(*) To Emperor Slash’s credit, they were very nice marbles.
—

“Urk!” said Green Grass, looking out the window at the immense zeppelin-shaped shadow that had just passed overhead.

“Well, looks like my father has finally made his appearance,” said Sophia, fluffing her feathers and taking a quick stretch of her wings. “We should probably head over to the castle so I can introduce all of you before the reception dinner this evening.” She paused, looking at Green Grass with an anticipatory expression, which he abruptly remembered as his cue.

“It’s too bad you don’t have anything to wear to the reception,” he managed to say.

“Nothing to wear?” Rarity stared in anger, a small cloud of scissors, thread, and measuring tapes forming behind her like a growing thunderhead as the other five young mares dove for cover. Sophia remained frozen in shock, much as an animal who just found themselves directly in the path of a speeding wedding train. “Nothing to wear! The Emperor of all Griffons, your father, is coming for a State Visit with Princess Celestia and you have nothing to wear?”

“Why didn’t you mention something earlier, Greenie!” protested Lady Spring. “We don’t have time to get something put together. Unless…” Her panicked gaze drifted over the collection of rejected wedding dresses and she yanked one of the less gaudy ones off its support with her magic.

“No!” gasped Rarity. “I couldn’t!”

“You must!” said Spring while drifting the dress over to the paralyzed fashionista. “I shall not send Königstochter Sophia of the High Nest out into that social battlefield without proper armor.”

“No! I mean that isn’t her color at all!” Rarity snatched a light blue bridalmare dress from further back and spread it out across the startled griffon, taking the scissors that Spring floated over to her with a firm magical grip and beginning to snip at a frenzied pace.

Everything in Papercut’s life seemed to be running both horribly late and faster than he had ever dreamed. All of the diplomatic receptions he had attended as Princess Celestia’s appointment secretary had been rather bland and boring events where he had marked time in a back room or corridor, noshing off a few greens while attempting a crossword puzzle while the glamorous/boring events took place. He had never actually been inside one of the cavernous dining rooms during an event before, particularly as a guest, and double-particularly as the escort for one of the diplomats. Having Königstochter Sophia of the High Nest at his elbow while he gingerly picked his way through the crowds of greater and lesser pony nobility was several multiples of particular higher than he had ever gone, and the resulting altitude was a dizzying sensation that almost made him wish for some of Green Grass’ motion sickness pills. The diplomatic dinner reception had been packed with Royals seeking various forms of attention and favor from the Emperor, and to a somewhat lesser degree, the several dozen Griffon Wingmasters of whatever aeries that he brought with him, but to Papercut’s subtle irritation, the escort of the daughter of the Emperor seemed somewhat snubbed by comparison in the crush.

I suppose I know how Green Grass feels during these things now.

A sideways glance at the result of Rarity’s enthusiastic scissorwork on one of the unsuspecting bridalmaid dresses made the puzzle considerably more puzzling. A string of seed pearls woven into her crest made Sophia fairly glow in the lights, accented with a series of pale blue bows down the back of her neck and topped off with a daring abbreviated dress that was more absent than present. The other griffons at the event had all done a double-take upon seeing her for good reason, much like Papercut had done when he returned to the dressing room to pick up his green slavemaster only to find a winged and beaked goddess in the final stages of a five-minute magical makeover. Crosswind and Papercut both had been immediately dragged into the ongoing fray, and if Papercut stood on the tips of his hooves, he could just see the stunning pegasus and her older griffon photographer escort on the other side of the reception, being charming to barely half as many ponies as Sophia had attracted for conversation.

Apparently Rarity had a tendency to get carried away while in the throes of creation, a fact which he never would have guessed before and would never be able to forget afterwards. He had been stuffed into a suit, placed rather solidly beside Sophia, and thankfully ignored afterwards as the fashion tornado moved on to engulf both Crosswind and Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Currently, Princess Sparkle and Green Grass were being herded along with the bearers of the Elements of Harmony into the general vicinity of Emperor Ripping Claw while Papercut and his ‘escort’ had been subtly encouraged into drifting to the other end of the room to mingle, but there was one group of participants he expected to see at this evening’s event that seemed to be missing.

“I don’t see any of the Imperial Guard,” he mentioned to Sophia as they walked away from a small knot of socialites who had spotted more interesting conversational foils among the other golden-eyed griffons.

“Look harder,” said Sophia as she ran her talons through her crest to adjust one of the bows that was threatening to slump down across her back. “The Blutwache have been dismissed to act as guests for the evening, since my father is a visitor in your peaceful city, and the security is being handled so well by your Royal Guard.”

She glanced at one of the many golden-armored pegasi who was standing motionless by one wall, a decoration that had been applied rather liberally to the surroundings. “Father wishes this visit to be a symbol of how ponies and griffons can cooperate in all things. He called it a ‘cultural experience’ that I should treasure.” She rolled her sparkling green eyes in a dismissive fashion, but with the smallest of smiles peeking out around the corners of her beak.

“Blood Guard,” mused Papercut. “I recall reading something about how they’re hoof-picked from the Emperor’s most trusted Wingmasters, and are the only griffons permitted to draw steel in his presence. You don’t think he plans—” Papercut eyed the swarm of fawning nobles surrounding the distinctive figure of the sizable emperor and the somewhat small-looking by comparison Nocturne to his side while Sophia snorted in a most un-princesslike manner as if she could read his mind.

“Not a chance in Niflheim. Father is quite taken with you ponies and your innovative ways, but the High Nest already is most likely in feather-spitting chaos right now. Even the most liberal wings of our politicians would never be able to believe a pony could be a member of an aerie, let alone as Wingmaster. The news must be causing a mass moulting. Can you imagine what they would say if he tried to make the Night Terror into one of his personal guards?”

“I would imagine we could hear the screaming from Canterlot,” said Papercut, deftly maneuvering a pair of champagne flutes off a passing waiter’s tray. “That is, if we could hear it over the bellyaching of the Canterlot Royals over their new Pointless Prince. Would you like a drink before dinner, Mademoiselle?”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She plucked the glass of champagne out of the air and touched the rim of the glass to his. “What shall we drink to?” With a tilt of her head slightly to one side and the slightest of smiles around her beak, she added, “Long life to the new Prince? To love found in unexpected places?”

“To common sense,” he suggested. “To rational thought in predictable fashion.”

“To Chaos,” suggested Discord.

To Papercut’s credit, the champagne in his glass barely rippled as he turned to look at the strange and irregular draconequus who had appeared to his side. “Good evening, you little lovebirds,” purred Discord, chasing away a pair of small tweeting birds that burst out of Papercut’s tidy mane.

“G-good evening, D-d-discord. Sir.” The servant tried to stop stammering and straightened his spine, turning his panic into a smooth gesture at Sophia. “S-sophia, I would like to introduce one of P-princess Twilight’s friends, D-discord. Discord, this is Soft Wisdom From Mountain Peaks Flowing Down, Daughter of Emperor Ripping Claw, otherwise known as Königstochter Sophia.”

“Charmed,” purred Discord, gently kissing her outstretched claw, which apparently she had extended in reflex and was too startled to retract. “I do so enjoy the work your empire has been doing as of late, particularly among your Grand Council. Sometimes I just drop by and watch the squabbling for simply hours.”

“Ahhh…” Sophia watched the kiss that had been placed on her claw grow tiny little legs and arms before breaking out into a miniscule tap dance. “Thank you?”

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but dear Fluttershy needs me and I’m only booked for a brief cameo. Ta.” He grasped his face by the goatee and tugged before rolling up like a spring-loaded blind, flapping in a circle and vanishing in a brief flash of peppermint snowflakes.

“That was… weird,” said Sophia.

“I just had a tiny little twinge of sympathy for Green Grass,” said Papercut, still holding his drink, but observing the small goldfish-shaped ice cubes that were cavorting around among the bubbles, not certain if the piscine proclivities of the contents were what disturbed him most or the thought of what kind of twisted mind would put ice in such a fine vintage of champagne.

Any formal dinner among pony Royals was a veritable ballet of food and servants taking place in one of the large ornate dining rooms with only the lack of music to differentiate it from actual entertainment. Still, Papercut felt entertained if nothing else. Sophia had been the very model of a perfect griffon princess as he escorted her around the reception, and as they made their way across the floor of the rapidly-filling dining hall, she fairly floated by his side in a harmonious pairing that lasted right until Crosswind cast a fairly thunderous glance at him when they reached their table.

“Your seat, Your Highness,” he murmured while pulling out the rather odd griffon-styled chair and trying to ignore the irritated pegasus.

“Smile, please.” Sleet fiddled with his camera as Sophia and Papercut held still for the moment it took the older griffon to take their picture, and resumed their seating process after the shutter clicked.

“Mister Sleet, I would think you have dozens of pictures of Princess Sophia by—”

“Miss Sophia,” she corrected.

“As you are the daughter of the His Majesty, Emperor Ripping Claw, it is the bare minimum of respect to address you by your correct title, regardless of your eye coloring,” said Papercut in as level a tone as he could manage. “My owner and his mother both refer to you as princess, so it would be disrespectful for me to do otherwise.”

“Ha, I tink you haff twigged a spark in your polite young stallion,” huffed Sleet with a twinkle in his golden eyes as he turned his camera to the dining room door again and began photographing both ponies and griffons as they entered.

At Papercut’s questioning look, Sophia rolled her eyes again. “The only way that griffons will acknowledge a title from me is if I were to be mated to a royal. The lowest idiot in Great Griffon with golden eyes can claim to be Grand Poobah of Marasha, but this daughter of the emperor is on the lowest perch beneath even him.”

“The lowest griffon does not attend Griffon-Warrington University,” said Crosswind. “I had to fetch your file for Twilight, and I caught a little of it while she was reading. It seems you’ve been a regular around Canterlot for the last few months doing preparatory work for your father’s visit in addition to your training for the Equestrian Games cross-country team.”

“True, as far as it goes.” Sophia took a beak full of water out of her glass and tilted her head back to swallow as if she were washing the taste of something out of her mouth. “The diplomats have been wrangling permission for father’s formal visit to the Equestrian lands for over a year. Then when the Crystal Empire appeared just under two months ago, all of their plans went straight over the cliff. After all, he’s only going to last so—”

Sophia cut off abruptly and cleared her throat. After a few tense moments of studying the griffons filtering into the dining room she added, “The only real task I’ve been given is flying messages between here and Manehattan. Father’s important diplomatic agreements have been handled by others. Protocol has always been rather stiff and slow between our kinds.”

“I beg to differ,” said Papercut with a scowl. “Lord Green Grass embarrassed Prince Consort Shining Armor into extending him an invitation to the Crystal Empire with almost no warning at all, and Princess Twilight Sparkle seems to have overridden protocol to an unprecedented degree by directly inviting the emperor to her wedding. I certainly hope that their irrational and spontaneous proclivities do not rub off on the rest of the court. He is a bad influence.”

“Who, my father?” asked Sophia.

“No.” Papercut took several deep breaths and looked over to the door to the dining hall where Princess Twilight and her fiancé were entering. “Him.”

After watching the Royal Couple and their colorful group work their way through the friendly ponies who insisted on one last hoof shake or word, Sophia added, “Father always said that protocol is for little chicks, when I suspect what he really meant was that protocol is for everygriffon but him. That’s why he was late to Canterlot this afternoon. The zeppelin was cruising over this fairly large lake in the northern mountains when he decided it was the perfect time to go fishing.”

“Fishing?” Papercut took a brief but somewhat nervous look at the place settings. “Don’t tell me that—”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, but yes, grilled trout is on the menu,” said Sophia, looking over at where Crosswind was giggling into her napkin. “Father’s private chef was to fly the entire collection to the Royal Kitchens upon landing and finish all preparations totally by himself without a single pony helping other than to serve. He called it a triumph of griffon magic over pony magic, and it will be a high honor for every one of the aristocracy that are traveling with him, including the off-duty Blutwache.”

“Fish?” Papercut swallowed rather firmly. “Only for the griffons, correct?”

An audible giggle finally broke through Crosswind’s napkin. “I thought you were determined that there wasn’t anything an ‘earth pony’ could do that a unicorn couldn’t do better. Are you adding griffons to the list?”

The giggle appeared to be contagious as Sophia snorted once with a shake of her head. “Oh, don’t taunt the poor thing so much, dear. Unicorns have a very delicate digestion, quite unlike earth ponies.”

Unable to compete with the two females of different species chattering together, and being ignored by the male photographer, Papercut sat back in his chair and tried not to think about fish as the rest of the dining hall filled up. Sleet kept himself busy with a constant clicking of the expensive camera, giving little outbursts every once in a while just as a happy birdwatcher might exclaim to see a Lesser Tufted Nuthatch or a Yellow-Breasted Tit. While photographing, he even heaved a heartfelt “Oh, wonderful!” when Baron Chrysanthemum and his wife strode into the dining hall, watching them being seated somewhat closer to the large number of griffon guests than Papercut would have been comfortable with.

A few quick questions between photographs revealed that although most of the griffons were Wingmasters from the scattered Equestrian aeries, there were still some Wingmasters from Great Griffon aeries mixed in among them, as well as the off-duty Imperial Guards, who were also a mix of former Wingmasters and higher rank griffon Royals. It was a little creepy to think that so many of who just a few centuries ago had been Equestria’s greatest foes were now mixed in with pony Royals in a somewhat uneasy but still congenial dinner, particularly after what Papercut had experienced at the Misty Mountain aerie. He knew beyond a doubt that pony was not on the menu for the evening, but it still felt comforting to scan down the selections of rice pilaf and iced fruit swirls without seeing ‘Annoying Appointment Secretary, browned on both sides and served with a light vinaigrette sauce and a side of asparagus’ written in the margin somewhere.

A surreptitious glance at his watch gave him the vaguely cathartic pleasure that the Royal Sisters were running late, a deficiency that Kibbitz had been quite stringent about training Papercut to avoid. The assistant appointment secretary who had been filling in for his position actually was gauche enough to be seen, poking her head out from around the corner and looking around the room to determine if the guests had all been seated yet. It reminded him that there were only a few days now until the wedding and the ending of his sentence, when Papercut would return to Princess Celestia’s side and Crosswind would…

Crosswind would…

Not.

The thought bothered him far more than it should have, and constantly came back to rest firmly in front of his eyes as the evening wore on and the introductory speeches were made. Green Grass looked so comfortable, wedged in between the fledgeling griffon princess and Princess Twilight Sparkle, a hornless green blotch between royal purple and regal violet feathers, even if some of those feathers were mere suggestions of a vibrant new set of griffon plumage. The tutor certainly had no problems with wings, even though the princess he was to wed was featherless when they met. When the distant earth pony stood to make a short speech, Green Grass even seemed remarkably in-place, much as a puzzle piece would fit firmly into a slot despite a first glance that revealed no correct coloration.

When the speeches were over and the dining began, Papercut dawdled with his spoon as the soup was served. He found himself trying his best not to look at Crosswind, who had promptly shredded a stack of hay crackers into the lumpy potato concoction. Instead, he watched the high table where Emperor Ripping Claw and Princess Celestia seemed to be enjoying a private joke, with the little griffon princess next to Green Grass leaning so far out into the table to see what was going on that she managed to dunk one wing into her own soup. While Green Grass fussed with a napkin and the waiters brought a replacement bowl for Princess Sunny, Papercut noticed a somewhat odd hesitation that filled the entire banquet hall.

“Why are all of the griffons just holding their spoons instead of eating?” asked Papercut in a low whisper to Sleet, who had barely noticed the untouched bowl of soup when it had been sat on the table behind him.

“The eldest has rights upon the first bite of the prey,” whispered Sleet back, not even pausing as he continued to click his shutter. “Well, technically the eldest Persönlichkeit would be Princess Celestia, but in der Griefreich hierarchy, der emperor is considered older than anygriffon present. Dhere!” One final click from the shutter sounded as the griffon emperor took a spoonful of soup and nodded in obvious pleasure, being followed by the click and clatter of nearly a hundred other griffons tucking into their meal with considerable enthusiasm.

“They’re just potatoes,” said Papercut with a skeptical glance at his own bowl, which was suspiciously large, much as if a certain green annoyance had passed along a secret order to fatten his appointment secretary up. He did however dip in and take a spoonful just for manners sake, and a second spoonful for the sake of his company. It was thick, rich and creamy, bursting with flavor that meshed well with the grass crackers. His previous reluctance cracked, and he proceeded to cautiously make a substantial dent in the remainder of the relatively plain soup before sliding it over to Crosswind after she had finished hers and was making the most plaintive begging eyes while waiting for the next dish.

Picking up the flagging conversation from a discussion he had once overheard from Princess Celestia, Papercut said, “Princess Sophia, I understand that the Griffon Empire has been relatively resistant to the importation of potato products from our western provinces. Do you think that Emperor Ripping Claw might be open to an alteration in our trading agreements to permit greater access to our food products in exchange for Coltland wool or Prench wine import restrictions being loosened?”

“I really don’t have anything to do with our trade negotiations,” said Sophia as she finished off the last bite of her soup and swapped the empty bowl with her associate, who had not even taken a bite yet due to his constant photography.

“Really.” Papercut raised one eyebrow a fraction and turned slightly to express his skepticism, only to be met by a subtle rolling of the eyes by the griffon princess and a faint shrug of the shoulders that indicated a reluctance as to her part in the dance of diplomacy that she was playing, but a certain firm insistence that she was going to play by the rules she had been given regardless. It was such a casual and fluid expression of Unicorn Gesture that Papercut was momentarily taken aback before nodding in understanding and indicating with a flick of one ear that he too was following a script that he would prefer not to be bound by, but was likewise going to stay within his restrictions.

The next course arrived with great trepidation on Papercut’s behalf, but instead of the fish he was dreading, it turned out to be a delightful eggplant and egg casserole with little bits of vegetables and a sharp tang to the spices that made him grab for his water glass several times. “Hot,” he managed to gasp between gulps.

“Wonderful,” sighed Sophia between huge forkfuls of the smoldering substance.

“What are griffons made out of?” gasped Crosswind after finishing her glass of water and holding it out to be refilled by Papercut. “Are there dragons in your ancestry somewhere?”

“No,” said Sleet, taking a brief break from a rapid series of photographs featuring other surprised pony Royals with much the same reaction to their meal. He forked out two quick bites from his plate before returning to his photographic mission with intense concentration. “Just Eagle Father and Cat Mother. Ponies have such sensitive tongues.”

“So I’ve noticed,” said Sophia, hardly even pausing to chew as she swallowed another bite. “I’ve been talking with Princess Sunny. Did you know that Green Grass once preened Princess Celestia?”

Her timing was perfect. A narrow spray of barely-chewed casserole sprayed out across the table from both ponies, and they coughed and spluttered as Sophia passed them some extra napkins that she had been holding in a rather suspiciously convenient fashion.

“How could he do that?” whispered Papercut once he had managed to recover from coughing.

“Why would he do that?” echoed Crosswind, just a few syllables behind him.

Sophia shrugged. “We griffons have pony servants groom our wings all of the time. With the proper training, they’re much better at it and can reach all the spots we can’t.” She eyed Papercut with an interrogatory rising of both eyebrows. “Don’t tell me that in all of the months you’ve spent in training with Princess Celestia—”

“No!” hissed Papercut, hunching his shoulders and trying not to look at the head table where he was absolutely positive that Princess Celestia would be looking back while concealing her smile. “I’ve never preened Her Highness’ wings. I’ve never been asked to preen her wings. Nopony has ever asked me to preen their wings.” He paused with a horrible sense of reality sinking down over his body like cold tar and the certain knowledge that any words he were to utter in the next few sentences would shape his future until his dying day.

“That’s not to say I wouldn’t, if asked politely,” he added. “In words, that is. Mere gestures can be misinterpreted.” He looked up at where Crosswind was still trying to hide behind a napkin, unsure if the giggling that he could hear was directed at him or… No, it was directed at him. “And I’d need a tube of Preen Balm.”

“Wonderful,” said Sophia, passing her empty plate to the waiter who was bringing their candied pineapple slices as a palate cleanser before the main course. “I’ll see you in my room after the dinner. You’ll have to bring your own Preen Balm, though. Mine is with my lost luggage.”

“Eh. Wha?” Papercut could do nothing but sit and stare at the yellow lumps of pineapple on his plate while his brain attempted to make sense of his situation.

“You can invite your marefriend along,” said Sophia, eating her own pineapple in one gulp. “That way I can get both wings done at once.

“Ubba?” said Crosswind, apparently just as taken aback as Papercut.

Sophia waved a wingtip while stifling a burp, a motion that somehow caused the pieces of candied pineapple on both of the servants’ plates to vanish. “Sure. After a feed like this, it’s going to take forever for my crop to settle down.” She made a second motion around her beak and chewed for a moment before swallowing again. “I’m not going to fly or be able to get to sleep all tilted forward, and that’s before the main course. Might as well have somepony to talk with.” She bobbed her head, her filled crop making her look a little like a fat-necked bird as she cast one longing glance at the line of pony waiters with covered trays coming out of the kitchen entrance.

“Fish,” said Papercut, shocked out of his shock by a greater and considerably nearer fishy shock.

“Grilled Butterflied Trout served with Curried Rice Pilaf,” added Sophia. “Cook Flay always does it up right with enough curry to light your feathers on fire.”

A sideways glance at the high table did a little to soothe Papercut’s frazzled nerves, as it appeared that Lord Green Grass was having just as much of a suppressed nervous fit over the introduction of an aquatic main course to his dining menu. It also drew his attention to a different pony at the high table sitting directly at the side of Emperor Ripping Claw, for some reason. If Green Grass looked a little greener from the upcoming fish dish, Wingmaster Pumpernickel had nearly changed from his previous charcoal grey to a light green hue too, casting little terrified glances down the table at the rest of Twilight Sparkle’s friends for some reason. Certainly just because he was a wingmaster of a griffon aerie did not mean he was going to be served the same fishy dish, or at least that was what Papercut was repeating to himself as he hoped that a guest of griffon royalty would be accorded the same dining preferences.

“Here you go, sir,” said the waiter, slipping a plate in front of Papercut only to have his lapels grabbed rather impetuously by the nervous servant.

“It’s not a fish, is it?” asked Papercut in less of a question than a demand.

“No, sir.” The waiter reclaimed his collar from Papercut’s grasp and adjusted his uniform minutely. “It is the finest tofu from our kitchens, grilled and prepared with fresh grated lemon, Minosioan peppers, Indhayian curry, and Neighpal mountain parsley flakes to exactly the same specifications as Chef Flay prepared the Griffon portion of this evening’s meal, but if you would like to try one of the remaining trout, I’m certain that the chef would be overjoyed that his creations are appreciated by the pony community.”

“No,” said Papercut in a very small, strained voice. “I’m fine.”

“Or if you happen to be allergic to fish,” continued the waiter with ill-concealed pleasure, “Chef Sizzler has prepared a delicious Lapin A La Bourguignonne in honor of the Royal Couple. It’s garnished with Canterlot mountain mushrooms and Ponyville truffles, with just a touch of the Royal greenhouse’s famous shallots shaved over the dish before roasting, served with small bits of roast pork and bacon in the same curried rice pilaf, and topped with—”

The waiter cut off abruptly and cupped one hoof to his ear, which would not have disturbed Papercut so much if a similar motion at the head table where Princess Twilight Sparkle was surreptitiously talking into her mane had not caught his eye. After a brief period of nodding, the somewhat subdued waiter turned back to Papercut with a polite, “Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes,” he squeaked, determined to keep his concentration on the table and ignore the rapid clicking of the griffon photographer’s shutter as he documented much similar reactions from the rest of the pony Royals in the banquet hall.

There was a long conversational fish-shaped hole that followed, unfilled by either pony or the main aquatic subject of the silence. Sophia’s fish was an enormous creature, reaching all the way across the plate from one tail-covered end to the other head-covered end, only with the skin flensed from the dark flesh all along the length in order for fire to have wreaked delectable havoc in short blackened lines that criss-crossed over the corpse. What was worse, Papercut felt almost positive that the silent fish was somehow looking back at him with wide, unblinking eyes, indicating that its fate was his fault for some reason, and that a similar fate lay in store for deceitful unicorn servants who attempted to get in the way of a princess choosing her own mate.

“I wonder what’s going on at the head table,” said Crosswind, momentarily shaking Papercut out of his fish-related funk.

“I’m not sure,” said Papercut once he had gotten a look at where the waitstaff was distributing plates among the various royalty. “I can barely see from here, but it looks like there’s some sort of dispute in the dish being served to that rather odd Wingmaster of the Misty Mountain.” He concealed a shudder. “Perhaps his fish is not raw and bloody enough.”

“Makes sense, I suppose,” said Sophia, who kept casting little envious glances at her fish while waiting for the emperor to take the first bite. The rest of the griffons in the dining hall were mirroring her attitude, but the dispute around the emperor had drawn the attention of both pony and griffon until the sound of clinking silverware and glasses was nearly absent.

“Ach, dat’s what it is,” muttered Sleet, lining up his next photograph through his telephoto lens with special care. “The staff at the head table apparently brought him a tofu instead of a fish, and Emperor Ripping Claw is objecting. After all, he iss a Vingmaster. Vould anyone like to place a bet on how this vill end?”

“Badly,” said Papercut with a shudder and a quick glance at Sophia’s fish, which he could almost swear had winked at him. And with Discord in the same room, it was possible.

“I know some pegasi do, but I can’t imagine anypony actually eating a fish,” said Crosswind with a matching shudder as she pushed away her own plate containing a hefty slice of grilled tofu.

“Green Grass did.” Sophia continued looked at the distant High Table as the two ponies gawked at her. “Princess Sunny loves to talk about her dinner with Princess Celestia. Apparently Celestia was considered the eldest Persönlichkeit there. Everypony present sampled Chef Sizzler’s trout, and I would lay even odds that is what prompted my father to propose a little demonstration of Chef Flay’s talent this evening.”

“Everypony?” Papercut’s voice was quite weak, but carried all the way across the table in the dead silence that filled the dining hall as every pony and griffon was focused on the actions of the Emperor and his favored guest. “Even the Princess?”

Sophia giggled. “She said it was c'est magnifique.” The giggling only intensified as the griffon held a napkin to her beak. “Sunny even said that on the next day she shared some of her roast rabbit with Greenie.”

“A bunny?” Papercut tried not to look at the High Table and the bearers of the Elements of Harmony seated along one side, including a very small highchair for Fluttershy’s pet rabbit, who had been acting suspiciously good all evening.

“I’ll bet she tries to share her fish again tonight,” whispered Sophia. “And, I’ll bet he eats it.”

“Lord Green Grass would never…” Papercut trailed off and considered just exactly the lengths to which the dull green stallion went to frustrate his every effort in both matrimonial planning and proprietary. Although he really did not think that Green Grass would actually eat even the smallest bite of fish, losing a bet in that regard would be worth it. “You’re on,” he said. “Terms?”

“If Sunny offers him a bite of fish, you have to help preen my wings tonight.”

“If Lord Green Grass eats a bite of fish tonight, I shall be honored to offer whatever practical assistance with your evening toilet that you may require,” countered Papercut. “Although I am untrained in that particular regard.”

“I’m in,” said Crosswind with a particular quirk to the corner of her mouth that indicated she was looking forward to the training. “But if he does not eat fish this evening, we want something in return. A week’s vacation in Great Griffon once the wedding is over.”

Before Papercut could object, Sophia said, “Done,” with a certain enthusiasm that belied her innocent expression. “I’ll even show you around. You know, the Griffon Empire does employ quite a few ponies in the various ranks of our bureaucracy. Maybe we can even throw in a job offer.”

“No thank you, Princess Sophia,” said Papercut without a moment’s hesitation. “One work-related trip to an Equestrian Griffon aerie is sufficient for a lifetime.”

“Oh, come on,” prompted Crosswind. “Greenie seemed to think that a honeymoon in Great Griffon would be a great idea. You’re not going to chicken out on something that he’d be willing to do, are you?”

“Our Empire has many ponies in it,” said Sophia. “In fact, there are nearly five ponies for every griffon. You don’t have to make a decision now, but I’m certain that your experience as Princess Celestia’s personal appointment secretary would be a fine recommendation for any position in our government. Particularly with as smoothly as the wedding schedule has gone. Seven weeks and no Equestria-rending disasters to speak of.”

“Or at least none that have become public,” said Crosswind, turning to Sophia. “Speaking of which, how did Princess Twilight’s visit to the Misty Mountains aerie go? Cut won’t say a thing about it.”

“Oh, about the usual,” said Sophia, seemingly engrossed by the distant discussion taking place next to her father and Equestria’s oddest Wingmaster. “Twilight visited one of Sunny’s fledgelinghood friends, got permission for her to be in the wedding. Nothing dramatic. Or so I’ve heard. Father’s trip to the Crystal Empire was much more interesting. Oh, my. Father seems to have settled the dispute over Wingmaster Pumpernickel’s dish.”

The griffon emperor had just finished taking a huge knife to his fish and jammed a fork into the resulting hunk of charred flesh before placing it on Pumpernickel’s plate with a ‘plop’ that was audible all the way through the deadly silent dining hall.

“Same bet, different pony?” whispered Sophia.

Papercut and Crosswind both nodded.

With a flourish of his fork, Emperor Ripping Claw dug into his own fish and took a huge bite. “Delicious!” he proclaimed in a stentorian bellow, diving in for a second bite, fork-first.

There was a significant clatter of cutlery as the rest of the griffons dug in, some of whom even abandoned protocol in order to go beak-first into the plate for more rapid consumption. Sophia’s knife and fork flashed as she ate, leaving both ponies to stare in repressed horror at the resulting carnage, while Sleet kept to an almost constant string of photography, barely even stopping for a moment to change crystalline film canisters and grab a forkful of his own fish.

“He’s doing it,” whispered Crosswind, drawing Papercut’s attention to the high table where Green Grass was rather skeptically observing a somewhat large chunk of fish that Princess Sunny had just offered.

“They’re both doing it,” murmured Papercut, glancing over at where the bat-winged pony at the emperor’s side was chewing rather thoughtfully. “Disgusting.”

The griffons were whooping quietly under their breath at the sight of the dark pony picking up his fork and prodding his plate for a second bite of fish while the ponies in the dining hall seemed entranced at the interplay between the cute little griffon princess and the awkward green earth pony as Green Grass picked up the fork that Sunny had just passed to him.

Regarded the sizable lump of fish sitting on it.

And ate it, right there, without even a grimace or other distasteful expression. He even managed to look happy at the taste, passing the fork back to the little griffon princess while whispering something in return.

Papercut took his own fork and jabbed it down into his dish again. “I can’t believe it. There must be some sort of trickery involved. Lord Green Grass could not…” He trailed off as he chewed, becoming dreadfully aware that the bite of ‘tofu’ that he had just taken had a much different texture and taste than what he had just been eating previously. He wanted to spit it out and wash his mouth out with as much bourbon as he could lay his hooves on, but there were two young ladies at the table, and as much as his pony instincts objected to his rather unexpected dietary experience, a true gentlecolt does not throw up in public. He spared the table a quick and futile glance in the hope that he had perhaps taken a forkful of napkin by accident, but no.

Taking the supreme act of willpower by swallowing the rather large bite of trout, Papercut gently levitated Sleet’s plate back over to him and reclaimed his own tofu from where Sophia had moved it. After a precise small sip of wine, he remarked, “Very amusing, Your Highness.”

“Yes, it was,” she snorted, finishing off the last of her trout except the head with a few quick jabs of her fork and regarding the lightly-touched trout at Sleet’s side of the table. With a calculated motion that swapped plates at the height of Sleet’s distracted fork movement, his half-eaten fish exchanged positions with her empty plate, and she settled down to finish it off. “So how did you like your brief exposure to our diet, Mister Papercut?”

“Different,” he admitted over a forkful of tofu to wash the taste out of his mouth. “Not quite what I expected, but surprises are what keep life interesting, I suppose.” He chewed the tofu for a while in order to get up his confidence. There was something about it that bothered him more than the fishy aftertaste, but the recipe spell was not giving him the answer that he wanted.

He really did not want to do what he was about to do. It would have been easy to avoid it a few weeks ago, but the longer he spent with the scroungy green teacher, the more important finding the answers to difficult questions seemed to become. Taking a deep breath and a sip of wine to cleanse his palate, he asked, “Could I try a second piece of fish, please?”

All conversation around their small table stopped immediately. Even Sleet stopped taking pictures in order to cast a curious glance in his direction. “Purely for curiosity’s sake,” he added. “The waiter claimed the recipes were the same, but the fish had a certain… sharp bite to it that I did not expect.”

“I had no idea there was Griffon blood in your ancestry,” snarked Sophia as she carved off a small bite of her purloined fish and placed it on Papercut’s plate.

“My mother was an excellent cook, but alas, unfeathered and unbeaked.” He took the forkful of fish and inhaled briefly before biting down and chewing. By concentrating on the recipe spell instead of the substance being eaten, it was far easier than he expected, and also somewhat mitigated by the breathtaking flavor that seared along his abused taste buds. After a few moments of silence around the table, he swallowed and continued, “Curious. The recipe spell shows some differences between the two dishes. Other than just fish.”

“Chef Flay always has his secrets,” said Sophia while holding another bite of fish on her fork and regarding it with a skeptical look. “There’s enough curry on this to make my tongue numb, though.”

“Vhatever it is, it seems that your princess hass much the same streak of curiosity,” said Sleet, his telephoto lens fixed on the high table where Green Grass was passing a forkful of fish from the little griffon princess over to… Twilight Sparkle. The importance of discerning whatever herb that the griffon chef had flavored the fish with shrank to insignificance over the sight of an alicorn with a bite of the same fish floating in front of her nose. The clatter of silverware in the dining hall quieted as every pony and griffon regarded the silent princess, who was regarding the small chunk of fish with intense concentration.

“You don’t think she’s going to… eat it, do you?” whispered Crosswind.

“Most likely she’s going to use the recipe spell too,” said Papercut, mostly out of hope that perhaps Her Highness was just curious, although some small portion of him still held the futile hope that she would be so incensed at Green Grass’ offer that she would reject the upcoming nuptials. His musing was cut off as Twilight Sparkle’s eyes suddenly glowed bright white and little green flecks of fire danced over the small piece of fish in front of her, as well as every remaining piece of fish in the dining hall.

Princess Sparkle jumped to the top of the table and shouted, “Henbane! The fish is covered in henbane!”

To Papercut’s abject shock, Green Grass reacted to the words by grabbing Princess Sun Shines and thrusting a hoof into her neck, followed almost instantly by Wingmaster Pumpernickel assaulting Emperor Ripping Claw in nearly the exact same fashion.

But it was a far greater shock when Crosswind flung herself past him and across the table to plant a hoof directly into Sophia’s throat.

Chapter 26 - Guts

Time: 7:40 P.M. 48 Hours and 20 minutes until Zero Hour
Scheduled Event: Departure Ceremony, Griffon Emperor
State of Alicorn Anxiety: Orange shading to Red with Violet tints

Papercut should have been panicking.

A good scream while running around in circles had a certain attractive appeal to his hindbrain at the moment. He really wanted to panic. All of his instincts and senses fairly demanded that he panic, from his battered ears filled with the sheer vocal volume of nearly a hundred griffons all forcefully voiding their crops, some more violently than others, to the nauseating eye-watering and nostril-burning smell of it all. But then again, if he had panicked already, he most certainly would have been hit right in the face when Crosswind slammed a forehoof into Sophia’s bulging crop and the griffon princess had promptly voided nearly everything she had eaten this evening in his direction.

As it was, his jacket had been undoubtedly ruined beyond any possible cleaning spell, as well as the terminal damage to all of the Septenary dining hall tables and a parquet teak floor that had been, in castle terms, almost brand new, having just been finished barely a decade ago. All across the formal dining hall, the scene was repeating. Sheer chaos could not describe the sight of various Royals running around in a distraught tizzy while others buckled down and helped the vomiting griffons purge the henbane-tainted fish with repeated crop pressure and ice-water flushes whenever they had gotten empty enough to drink. Which reminded him.

“Take another drink, Your Highness,” said Papercut through gritted teeth, holding the ice-water pitcher over the weakened griffon hen. “Crosswind said to keep purging you with water until she returned, and that goes for you too, Sleet.”

Both griffons attempted to wave off the floating pitcher, Sleet with a distinct grimace as if to indicate that the relatively little fish he had eaten had already been returned to the sticky floor of the room, although Sophia made the mistake of opening her mouth to weakly protest her treatment. Most of the water went down her gullet when Papercut poured, but a considerable amount poured down her sopping wet neck too, washing away some insignificant amount of the chunky fish residue that Papercut could not bear to think about.

He focused on his task instead. It was either that or scream.

The entire dining room was filled with similar scenes being played out with differing results. He could see several of the medical ponies who had materialized almost immediately after Pumpernickel’s rather dramatic assault on Emperor Ripping Claw, but the immense griffon was only an aside to their ministrations. Griffons lay stretched out on tables, sprawled in the aisles between tables, and bent over chairs as ponies helped in whatever way they could, from rather less dramatic crop pressure than Wingmaster Pumpernickel had provided in order to promote vomiting, or pouring water as Papercut was doing. Even Discord—

He squinted and turned his head sideways, trying to make sense of the mismatched chaos god holding a seltzer bottle and spraying it into a griffon until the creature was nearly spherical, then pulling out a pin. Fortunately, Fluttershy was in the immediate vicinity.

The rest of the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony had reacted nearly as quickly as Princess Twilight Sparkle, pitching into the disgusting activity without any complaints at all. Even Rarity had bent to the task with grim determination and considerable skill, assisting Green Grass and Twilight with the little fledgeling princess and her repeated regurgitations, while Applejack and Pinkie Pie had cleared out the worst of the panicking Royals and chased in the hesitant servers carrying extra water as if they had been herding bunnies.

“‘nuff!” spluttered Sophia, coughing and retching under the flow of icy water that Papercut had forgotten he was pouring. “I need to get to my father. Need to get there now!”

Despite being sick with henbane poisoning and dressed in the sodden remnants of the stylish blue dress she had been filling out so well, there was a sincerity of purpose about the female griffon that spoke rather directly about Papercut’s future health if he were to obstruct her determined path. “After one more purge,” he managed to say through gritted teeth. “And that goes for you too, Sleet.”

The photographer took the remainder of the pitcher that Papercut floated over and managed to chug it down even while feebly taking a few more pictures of the ongoing disaster, a process that even seeing his Emperor being punched in the throat had not slowed very much. Papercut placed his magic against Sophia’s crop in a gesture that still nauseated him to his tail and gave a short but strong push in an upwards direction, trying his best not to join the griffon when she spewed the watery contents of her crop out onto the dining hall floor.

“Almost no fish in that one,” she gasped while coughing. “How’s Sleet.”

He repeated the motion with the photographer, who somehow managed to throw up gracefully on the muck-strewn floor in a stream of clear fluid that had only a tint of yellow. “He didn’t get nearly the dose you did, Your Highness.”

“Dad always used to squawk at me for snitching food off the other plates,” explained Sophia with a series of weak coughs. “Never thought it would be the death of me. Let’s go see about the old bird and the rest of them now.”

Papercut lifted streaming eyes and squinted at the far end of the room where a densely-packed crowd of medical ponies were fussing over an immense grey mountain of soiled feathers. Even at this range, he could see the emperor’s derisive gestures even if he could not hear the virulent curses that most likely accompanied them, or at least that was the language that the scandalized look on Rarity’s face seemed to indicate was being liberally applied to anypony in the vicinity.

To one side, the little griffon princess had been lifted up on the table and was being tended to by Green Grass. He was splattered and smeared with the fishy residue of her vomit but still diligently pouring water down her throat, much like Crosswind was doing a few tables away to a number of griffons several multiples her size. Although the rest of the outnumbered medical ponies all were busy as could possibly be, there did not seem to be any of the griffons in much more serious danger than the rest, and even little Sunny seemed more angry than deathly ill. To Papercut’s disgust, the emperor’s son Sky appeared to be just as lightly affected as Sleet, most probably due to his deep suspicions of the pony-filled room that had made him pick listlessly at his food and therefore reduced his intake of poisonous henbane.

“I don’t see anygriffon in deep distress,” said Papercut. “I would hesitate to offer a medical opinion, but we’d just be underhoof next to your father because the crisis appears to be under control.”

“Not likely,” growled Sophia. “Poison is a coward’s weapon. The perpetrator must be found soon, or the Empire may blame the Equestrians.”

“You mean will,” said Sleet, who had returned to his photography with a vengeance, seeming to click the shutter each time with a particular deadly enthusiasm. Papercut regarded the vomit-strewn room with a sense of growing unease that could be felt even above his already overstressed stomach and snot-streaming nose. It had been an assassination attempt on Emperor Ripping Claw, no doubt about it, but not even the most politically inept Equestrian Royal would have been stupid enough to try it here. Not even Blueblood, who Papercut had caught a glimpse of fleeing the dining hall in abject terror after the first griffons had started upchucking. And with as little as he knew of Griffons, he still doubted their involvement, particularly the ones who had been spewing their crops all over Celestia’s dining hall. That left several of the other races of Equestria, but the Empire was at a remarkably peaceful period, at least outside of their fluid boundaries. It could have even been a particularly clumsy attempt to derail Princess Twilight Sparkle’s wedding, but it would have been an act of supreme idiocy or bull-headed cluelessness.

Or there is something here that I’m not seeing. Green Grass said there was something big behind the scenes that Celestia was worried about, but this wasn’t an attack on Equestria, was it? Could there be something bigger and deadlier behind this?

“Mister Papercut.” He looked up with a nervous twitch at the disheveled Princess of the Night, who was standing within touching distance and flanked by both Prince Sky and Soon-To-Be-Prince Green Grass on one side, and a female Night Guard on the other. “The medical ponies have procured a treatment to the vile poison and shall be distributing it momentarily. Will Lady Sophia be comfortable without your presence for a few minutes?”

“Yes, Princess Luna,” said Sophia with a muffled cough. “I’ll just sit here for a while and drink my water. Go on, Papercut.”

“Very well. Attend us.”

With that, Luna strode off through the crowd, followed by her rather odd retinue and a trembling servant who still felt a little miffed that his input had not been requested on his rental for whatever task was ahead. The sticky adhesion of his formal jacket to his own coat by way of vomit and other unmentionable fluids tugged at his legs with every step and gave him a cold chill up his back as they walked, but he took some small pleasure at noticing that his regurgitation dodging abilities apparently were superior to his ‘owner,’ who was even more disheveled. Princess Sun Shines had apparently consumed a great deal of fish and had scored a somewhat more direct hit upon the tutor than his own disgusting experience with Sophia’s aim. Out of a sense of responsibility, Papercut floated his last remaining somewhat clean kerchief out of a pocket and dabbed rather ineffectually on Green Grass’ fish-splattered face as they walked.

“What’s going on, sir?” he whispered as the five of them passed out of a back door in the dining hall and picked their pace up into an uncomfortably rapid trot down a utility corridor.

“Now that the immediate danger is over, Twilight and her friends are going to be hustled off to a safer location,” responded Green Grass with a bitter twist to his face as Papercut applied the kerchief. “Security thinks that if they surround her with guards ex post facto, that’ll somehow make things all better. At least it will give the Royal Guard something to do other than panic. How’s Sophia?”

“Significantly ill, but I believe she will recover without lasting effect.” With a sharp glance at Prince Sky, who was trotting alongside Princess Luna as if he had been ordered by his pony Wingmaster, and would much rather have a limb amputated instead, he continued somewhat louder. “Princess Twilight most likely saved the lives of every griffon in that room. I noticed the fish had some unknown substance on it when I t-t-tried—” Papercut swallowed, as if the fish was about to make an reappearance. “I used a recipe spell on it in order to identify that rather bitter trace hiding under the curry powder. It was most definitely not parsley flakes, but I lacked the experience to identify the herb.”

“I would have thought Security would have twigged to the henbane when they brought out the fish,” said Green Grass with a thoughtful frown. “Certainly there would be a few unicorns with detection spells scattered among the servers.”

“According to Princess Sophia, Chef Flay was quite insistent on the dish being prepared without any unicorn magic.” Papercut unconsciously rubbed the back of one hoof across his lips before realizing what was smeared across it. With a brief cough, he continued, “That appears to have been followed with the serving too. She claimed that it was a high honor for the other Wingmasters and the off-duty Blutwache.”

“About the last honor they would have received too,” mused Green Grass. “Did you notice a pattern to the distribution of the poison?”

“Of course, sir. It had been placed only upon the fish dishes.”

“Exactly.” Green Grass trotted along with the rest of the group, his face locked into a grim frown. “The flakes of henbane had been seared into the fish, so they must have been added during the cooking process. And there’s only one griffon who could have done that.”

“Two,” said Luna, not slowing her punishing pace even slightly. “Chef Flay has been evacuated from the kitchens and is being taken to our finest hospital under strict guard. Apparently he and Chef Sizzler had sat down for a quiet dinner together after the main course had been sent to be served, and were sharing one of the last trout when he took ill.”

“I knew it,” growled Sky, picking up his pace into a peculiar groundbound griffon half-trot, half-gallop down the corridor. “A pony. We shall carry out the interrogation on The Indomitable and—”

There was a rather offsetting noise that griffon claws and paws made on granite floor tiles while scrambling for purchase. The screech slipped in sideways through the ears, down the spine, and caused pony hooves to lock up into a skidding halt also, leaving the entire group stopped in the utility corridor with Prince Sky’s beak being firmly held in a powerful indigo magic as he was turned to look at a solemn Princess of the Night.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear," said Luna as she took a step forward to look down at the suddenly cringing griffon. "We are seeking a suspect who had reason to assault your father, perhaps somegriffon who stood to gain when he was slain. Suspicion would seem to fall upon one of his sons who recently had been humiliated by a pony and who did not consume enough of the poisoned flesh to be seriously injured. A suspect who meets these criteria could quite easily be arrested on what little evidence we have and turned over to Emperor Ripping Claw for… questioning. And if this suspect were to die during questioning, a great amount of blame for this assault could be easily placed firmly upon his beak. Now, do you have any further useful observations, or shall we return to our investigation?"

The griffon did not seem cowed by his situation, and growled once Luna released his beak. “You’re just covering up for a pony.”

“On the contrary,” replied Luna in just as flat a tone as before. “Should it be a pony who has committed this crime, they shall certainly pay in full. You must realize, Prince Sky, the reason you are here to observe our investigation is two-fold. For starters, I am in serious need of a representative of the Griffons who can act as both witness and skeptic. In that regard, you are highly qualified. Secondly, the points I raised previously will soon be raised by your peers. A mob is a terrible thing, and should the rest of the griffons seize upon your good fortune as an example of your guilt or foreknowledge of the attack, your life would be in grave danger. It is in both of our best interests to discover the true culprit as soon as possible.”

“How can I trust you?” muttered Sky. “You know nothing of our kind.”

Princess Luna tilted her head a fraction to one side and cleared her throat, continuing in flawless Griffon. “<I swear by the First Egg, in the Name of the Great Wyrm, that we shall find the one who committed this deed, and that whoever they may be, pony, griffon, or other, they shall die before me.>”

The words seemed to sink into Sky’s head with considerable pain, causing him to shift his expression several times until his feathery face settled into a glower of sincere reluctance and grudging assent. When the group stopped at a set of closed swinging doors guarded by a rather middle-aged female Night Guard, he even gave a short nod of acknowledgement while Luna spoke with her.

“Specialist Rose. Has there been any change in in the situation since I was informed of Chef Flay’s condition?”

“No, Ma’am. Chef Sizzler still won’t let anypony into this section of the kitchen other than you or Princess Celestia.” The middle-aged guard glanced at the floor and shifted position, which drew Papercut’s attention to the runny smears of Griffon vomit and possibly other unmentionable substances that streaked the otherwise pristine tile floors and detailed Chef Flay’s undignified path towards medical treatment. Whatever had overcome the griffon chef had obviously been treated in the same disgusting fashion as the dining hall, only on a somewhat smaller and more controlled scale.

“And in your opinion, how is he taking the poisoning attempt?”

“Badly, Ma’am,” responded the guard, looking rather nervously over her shoulder again at the closed swinging doors. “He’s always been a little… off, if you know what I mean, but I’ve never seen him angry before.”

“Understandable,” said Luna with a brief nod. “Now if you will stand to one side—”

“Not just yet, Ma’am.” The nervous guard brushed a strand of dark pink mane back under her helmet and lit her horn with a pale pink glow. “Need to run the changeling detection spell first. Can’t be too sure.”

“True.” Luna stood very still while the guard waved her glowing horn over her body and moved to the rest of the delegation. “In your opinion, Specialist Rose, could Chef Sizzler have committed the crime?”

“No,” said the guard rather bluntly. “Nor could Chef Flay. They were both too angry at whoever poisoned Emperor Ripping Claw to have been faking it. I’d feel a lot better if we could put a full forensic team into the kitchen and give the whole place a complete working over.”

“A full pony team,” said Luna. It was obviously not a question.

“Ah… I see your point, Ma’am.”

“Nonetheless, I have ordered a police forensic team to inspect the scene after our investigation has been completed to my satisfaction,” continued Luna in a controlled tone that matched a certain rigidity that had settled over her features like setting glue. “Could an outside agent have accessed the kitchens while the chefs were at work?

“No, Ma’am,” responded the guard while she ran her horn’s glow over Specialist Grace. “The meat station is fairly isolated from the rest of the kitchens by solid scent-blocking partitions and a full set of organic barrier spells. The only connection between it and the rest of the kitchens are these doors and their shared oven space, which means any intruder would have to go past me or through the hot ovens. I was on duty at this door all evening, from the time the—” she swallowed, with her horn’s pale glow flickering for a moment “—fish arrived until the servers picked it up. A few griffons came along to assist with the delivery, but they left afterwards, and no ponies other than Chef Sizzler have been in the kitchen since then.”

“Perchance, was Prince Sky among the delivery griffons?”

The griffon was about to whirl around and face Luna with his wings just beginning to extend when a sharp wince of pain seemed to stop him, and he ever so slowly put his wings back onto his flanks.

“No, Ma’am,” replied the guard. “He did drop by during the reception, but Chef Flay sent him away without even opening the door.” The guard looked up at Prince Sky, who was regarding her in return with a distinctive glower. She finished waving her horn over him, and then after a brief hesitation, patted him gently on one shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure your father will be just fine after treatment. He was treated soon enough after the poisoning so that he should recover in a day or two.”

Sky’s expression darkened as he glanced at the violet armor that the female Night Guard was wearing. “And just why should you be concerned about my father? I don’t need the fake compassion of another pony.”

The female guard looked back, just as peaceful and compassionate as if she was talking to a small child who had just lost their favorite toy. “Prince Sky, the details of your encounter with Optio Pumpernickel have been all over the castle. Obviously, he didn’t like what he had to do to you, but that doesn’t mean he hates you. Be assured that Lumpy has a deep respect for the way that you’re willing to stand up and speak out for what you believe in, as does your father. Deep inside, you realize it too. As much as you claim a sincere dislike of ponies, you worry about the way your father has been opening up to other pony-friendly factions and you’re afraid that he has gone too far.”

“Why… yes.” Sky blinked a few times and turned his head slightly to one side. “But that doesn’t explain how you know how much poison my father had ingested or his present condition.”

Specialist Rose tapped one hoof against her helmet. “Communication crystals. They’re clearing the corridors to transport him to the hospital now, and I can hear him complaining to the other guards.” She turned to Luna with a nod. “All clear, Your Highness. No changelings in your party, just one worried young griffon who will do anything for his father.” She patted him on the shoulder again with a gentle smile and returned to her position guarding the swinging doors.

“Thank you, Specialist Rose.” Before opening the doors, Princess Luna regarded the rest of the group with a level stare and a few cautionary words. “Please be aware that Chef Sizzler is a valued member of the castle staff. He is a trifle… eccentric, as artists tend to be, but I will not tolerate any disparaging comments about his differences or his talent. Is that clear?” The Princess of the Night’s evaluating gaze swept across the waiting ponies and griffon, seeming only to hesitate for a brief moment longer on Papercut than was necessary.

“Very well, then. Let us proceed.” The indigo glow of Princess Luna’s magic on the doors caused them to swing open, but there was very little if any proceeding that followed.

Hanging suspended in the open doorway was a large cleaver, from which drops of fresh blood appeared to be dripping.

Chapter 27 - Staff Meating

Most unicorns have fairly colorful auras to their magic, allowing other unicorns to be able to identify the objects they are manipulating at a glance. The magical aura that surrounded the cleaver hovering in the kitchen doorway was unfamiliar to Papercut’s experience, but with a twisting feeling in his gut, he recognized it by reputation. Only Chef Sizzler’s magical aura had that dull colorless sheen to it with little sparkles of dark red flowing inside, particularly whenever the chef was distracted and whatever he was carrying wobbled in his magical field. Even after all that Papercut had gone through tonight, that magical wobble almost made him lose control of his abused stomach because the sparkles in Sizzler’s magic field were the deepest and bloodiest shade of red, and the emotional turmoil that was sweeping over the angry chef disrupted his field in a way that made them seem to drip off the cleaver like droplets of fresh blood from a murder weapon.

Papercut had never met the chef before, although he was a favored topic in many uncomfortable conversations from ponies who had met him, and could not keep from talking about the experience. It would have been difficult for Papercut not to know about Chef Sizzler, with as many months of training as he had spent in the castle, but now that he was actually going to meet the odd chef, it disturbed him nearly as much as the chaotic dining room he had just left.

After all, Papercut’s mother had been quite diligent about keeping him away from any hot stoves or sharp knives, and those habits had followed him through his life, particularly when faced with the Royal Kitchens and the various emotionally eccentric chefs who made their lairs like dragons around their precious treasures. The meat station and its chef were no exception. Although it was one of the least contested positions in the entire castle staff, it still brought in applicants from all over Equestria and beyond. It was a critical position for the processing and preparation of meat-based dishes for any visiting carnivore or omnivore diplomat or guest, even if every pony in the castle staff tried their best to avoid the sights and sounds of some poor creature being turned into food by way of knife and fire.

Papercut was no exception. He had never met Sizzler or visited his work area before because he did not want to. Nopony really did. It would not have been so bad if the chef had just been in charge of the meat station as his predecessor, Chef Leancut had been before him. No, it was worse than that. Sizzler actually enjoyed his work, and could not comprehend why any other hooved ungulate would not. To wander into his working zone was not only to be subjected to the muffled scents and sights of a dead creature in the process of being turned into food, but to run the risk of being ambushed and offered… samples. Generous samples even, because most diplomats who were carnivores could not possibly consume an entire slaughtered beast in one sitting, and that resulted in leftovers.

And to make matters worse, Chef Sizzler had a spell to preserve those tasty little tidbits just in the odd case that one of the pony visitors to his abattoir-like workspace would lose their mind and ask for a snack. He would talk while heaping thin slices of roasted and seared animal flesh onto poor innocent slices of bread and garnishing the remains with a zestful mix of tasty vegetables and herbs that he insisted would go well with the dead creature inside if only the pony trapped within his reach would be open-minded enough to just try a bite or two.

Trying to distract his attention by looking past the cleaver, Papercut’s first glance at Chef Sizzler turned into a long and disbelieving stare. No pony should have such a bright red coat, one that made him appear to be completely covered in blood, fresh where the bright kitchen lights reflected the faint greasy shine to it and seemingly coagulated and clotted in the shadows. Thankfully, his tousled and tangled mane was not any shade of red. However, the unkempt hairs were the color of bleached bones, with a single thin streak of red made all the more prominent by the yellowish-white of his mane that appeared like a trickle of blood flowing off the remains of a freshly butchered corpse.

“Princess Luna!” exclaimed the chef, nearly dropping the hovering cleaver in his startled reaction. “The most horrible thing has happened! You have to do something! Wait!” The cleaver returned to hover and ‘drip’ in front of the doorway again as Sizzler’s ears folded back and he glared viciously at the small group. “How do I know you’re not changelings?”

“Because Specialist Rose checked all of us,” said Luna, eyeing the hovering cleaver with some skepticism.

“Oh,” said Sizzler, shaken out of his panic by the need to think. “I’m just so glad you’re here, because— Wait!” He blinked away a tear and squinted out the doorway with narrowed eyes while the cleaver bobbed from side to side as if it were seeking targets on its own. “How do you know she’s not a changeling?”

“I checked her,” said Luna in a very patient manner that bore no trace of the condescension that Papercut would have reverted to by now, despite the close proximity of a blade.

“Oh.” The thin chef paused in confusion. Sizzler was rumored to be somewhat dim with a single-track mind, and that track appeared to have several metaphorical carts and a wagon wedged into it at the moment. As he shuffled his hooves while searching for more words, the faint sticky sounds of treaded splatters of crop ejecta seemed to bring his whole world crashing back down on top of his trembling shoulders. Returning his tear-streaked, imploring gaze to Princess Luna, Sizzler continued, “It’s just so terrible, Princess Luna. What kind of meanie would do such a thing?”

“Calm yourself, my little pony,” said Luna, taking a step forward into the kitchen.

“How can I be calm!” babbled Sizzler with a wide gesture of his cleaver that had the entire group stepping back. “Somepony has poisoned Grand Chef Flay! How could they do such a thing? Right in his own kitchen. Actually my kitchen. Actually your kitchen, Your Highness, but he was using it, so it was really his kitchen while he—”

“Calm down,” insisted Luna. “We have come to investigate—”

“Investigate!” cried Sizzler, grabbing onto the word with an intensity of a drowning pony grasping for twigs. “We need to investigate just like in the Prancy Drew novels I’ve been reading. We’ll track down the suspects from the clues they left behind and grill them under hot lights until they confess and put them in jail for a hundred thousand years or until they—”

“Calm!” snapped Luna, sounding anything but.

In the echoing silence that followed, Green Grass stepped up to the side of the princess and put on his most sincere smile. “Chef Sizzler, what we need is for an expert witness to the crime to carefully explain what happened, so we can determine who put the henbane on the fish.”

“Oh, that was Grand Chef Flay,” said Sizzler with the startled blink of somepony returning to someplace vaguely resembling reality. “He didn’t know it at the time, but neither of us did.”

“None of us know how fish is prepared,” said Green Grass in a soothing tone as if he were speaking to a frightened colt. “I saw a little of the process when you made that delicious fish for Princess Sun Shines, but you’re the expert here. Could you walk us through every step that Chef Flay did when he prepared the fish for tonight’s meal?”

“You liked my poached trout?” Sizzler’s watery eyes brimmed over with more tears. “I mean, I heard that everypony at Princess Celestia’s private dinner for Princess Sun Shines had a taste, and I thought I had overdone it a little with the peppercorns, but… you liked it?”

Papercut spotted a brief hesitation before Green Grass responded, “It was a very memorable experience on a very memorable night. I shall never forget it. Much like tonight. It is a rare honor to taste the same course prepared by two totally different expert chefs, except, perhaps, for the bitter tang of henbane. When Grand Chef Flay is well again, I shall see if he is willing to repeat his performance this evening, only without the… mistake.”

Indignation seemed to drive the fear and anger away in a distinct ripple of annoyance that traveled down Chef Sizzler’s back, raising his bone-white mane much like an angry bird might fluff up to express hostility. “This is Grand Chef Flays The Flesh From The Bone With Amazing Speed! Grand Chef Flay doesn’t make mistakes. During every step of the process, he was magnificent, like a ballet being conducted under the hoof of a master.”

“Even while bringing in the trout?” asked Green Grass, totally ignoring Papercut’s silent indignation over conflating a ballet choreographer and an orchestra conductor. “How did he prepare them?”

While the disturbing chef walked Green Grass, and to a lesser degree the rest of the group through the steps involved in turning wriggling and flopping live trout into artistic expressions of the cooking arts, Papercut faded back. Any distance he could get from the waving cleaver being used as a teaching aid was a good distance, except for when he backed into a fairly large tub filled with a mass of slimy grey tubular objects which his brain insisted on identifying as the missing fish guts. As Sizzler waxed poetic on the beauty of the deboning knife when held in the claws of a master chef, Papercut turned to the most friendly beak in the room with a whispered question.

“He’s certainly enthusiastic about his… craft.”

Prince Sky nodded, keeping his voice down as he responded. “Despite being a pony, Chef Sizzler is highly respected throughout our diplomatic circles. He actually emigrated here from Great Griffon several years ago in the hopes of gaining a position in your famous kitchens.”

As the description of the food preparation process ended, the group had gathered around a wide table to observe a simple tin labeled ‘Parsley Flakes’ in the swooping dots and commas of Griffon script, although none of the unicorns made a move to pick it up. Even Chef Sizzler simply glared at it with his cleaver held in front of him, just in case the innocuous-looking tin were to leap at him with bared fangs.

“First, we need to identify any magical residue that remains on the tin,” said Luna in somewhat of a lecturing cadence. “Everypony please hold still.”

There was a low glow around Princess Luna’s horn and a tingle ran up Papercut’s neck, duplicated by nearly all of the group from their similar reactions. Ever so slowly, the room around them began to shimmer as Luna continued to talk.

“Green auras are from earth pony magic, yellow from pegasus magic, and blue from unicorns,” she recited, just as calmly as if she were reading from a book. “Griffon magic is much fainter, but should show as a light orange.”

The ordinary tin still sat on the table, with the faint traceries of orange surrounding it matched by the same orange patchwork across the food preparation area and the oven doors in a tight grid of precise thin lines unmarred by any other aura. There was a deeper blue tint to the room in multiple hues from Sizzler’s magic, but it was obviously predating every phase of the fish preparation except for the fairly small meat preparation area directly inside the odd pony chef’s sanctum sanctorum. That area fairly blazed with a series of brilliant blues around the smaller food preparation table and private oven of the meat station. It was more spellpower than Papercut had considered usable in the preparation of food, but a short step forward for a better look rapidly turned into a quick step backwards as he realized just how much of that magic was permanent enchantments strictly for the elimination of odor. Even saturated in vomit and regurgitated fish, his tortured nose still was quite adamant about not going anywhere near the faint traces of blood it could sense on both of the kitchen furnishings, despite their neat and clean appearance from a safe distance.

He deliberately turned his eyes back to the larger food preparation tables and traced the thin orange scratches that Chef Flay had left over the area while preparing the fish, and the regular circular green blotches on the floor where the servers had trooped in to load the dishes onto carts and take them to the dining area.

“Nothing,” grumbled Prince Sky. “The tin and the larger preparation area appears to be untouched by pony hooves in the recent past.”

“I’ve never looked at spells this way before, Your Highness,” said Green Grass, gently placing a hoof onto the floor and removing it in order to see the faint green glow of his magic that remained. All of the members of the group were outlined in their particular tribal magic, with Luna a deep, dark indigo that seemed to churn with silvery glints of movement even when she was standing still.

“This still gets us no further to finding who poisoned my father,” snapped Sky.

With a wave of Luna’s horn, the spell cut off and the normal view of the kitchen was restored.

“Au contraire,” said Luna. “It may not totally eliminate all pony suspects, but it does considerably reduce the probability that it was an Equestrian who committed the crime. Now, if you please, Prince Sky, carefully pick up the tin and rotate it while Specialist Grace examines it. Since we’ve shown there is no pony magic on it, just griffon, your touch should not contaminate any further thaumatological examination by the forensic team, who should be here once we are done.”

With a rather reluctant expression, Sky picked up the tin of ‘parsley flakes’ as requested and began to slowly rotate it while Specialist Grace examined it at nearly nose-length. After the second revolution and a few 'hmms' under her breath, she sat back and lit her horn with a pale green glow and an exact replica of the can appeared in mid-air, only five times the size of the original. Various scratches and chips in the enamel coating were promptly highlighted in glowing orange lines as the illusion rotated, and then stopped.

"There are too many tiny scratches to get a good pattern on the recent ones," said Grace with a tight frown. "Most of them correspond with a griffon of Chef Flay's size, but beyond that, nothing." A second green-highlit illusion of a griffon claw appeared next to the illusionary can, and after a little manipulation, Grace added, "It's not Prince Sky."

"What?" The griffon prince nearly dropped the tin of poisonous green flakes, saving it only with a last-minute grab before it hit the ground.

"You're a claw-tip grabber," said Grace as a series of amber highlights circled several scratches on the illusion. "You're keeping your top two claws together and grabbing onto things with the tips. Whoever grabbed onto the tin before Chef Flay was a whole-claw grabber who kept his or her claws equidistant. It was a confident grip, so they either did not know what was in the tin, or knew and didn't care."

"I suspected you were innocent of the crime," said Luna, punctuating Sky's smug expression as she added, "You have too little grasp on subtly or cunning to have thought of it, and you are too bad of an actor to be faking your reaction. Please, shake a little of the poison onto this plate. Not too much.”

With a mixed glare and sulk, the griffon shook the nearly-empty tin of flakes over the plate until a sufficient amount had been removed, then sat the tin back down on the table much as one might place a bomb with an intermittently fizzing fuse. “Why do you need the henbane?” he growled.

“We have a witness as to the tin’s use, and we have identified that the tin was not touched by any other than a griffon, but we have not verified that this particular henbane—” There was a brief flash of light over the plate of flakes and Luna nodded “—is actually the source of the henbane that was used in the poisoning attempt.”

“Starswirl’s Tracer,” said Specialist Grace, almost in reverence. “You’re going to have somepony ingest it so you can compare the thaumaturgic resonance to what was found in the griffons when they were being treated. Even the smallest variations in batch mixture can be isolated to track a solution back to an individual test tube, or even what level of the tube the sample came…” Grace trailed off with a brief glance at Princess Luna. “Sorry, Your Highness.”

Papercut had enough experience with Princess Celestia to be able to detect the subtle signs of an alicorn whose lines had been stepped on, from the tiny irritated twitch to her wings to an almost infinitesimal narrowing of her brows. He was expecting the subject of Luna’s little chemical tracking experiment to be a guard who had spoken out of turn, or possibly a rather annoying appointment secretary, but he was surprised beyond words when Luna turned to Prince Sky and floated the plate near him with a polite, “If you please.”

“Why would I…” Prince Sky paused with a snap of his beak, looking between all of the other ponies in the room before leaning his head back and holding the plate up. By tilting the plate to one side, he managed to get the entire collection of fine green flakes into his beak, and with a short snort of irritation, Sky swallowed.

“If my father did not have such confidence in you,” growled the griffon prince, “I would never agree to this foolish stunt.”

“If you had waited for a moment,” said Princess Luna, her horn glowing alongside Specialist Grace, “I would have told you to merely take a portion of the contents so we could have a control sample. Now be quiet while we work.”

In the background, Papercut and Green Grass quietly filled up several pitchers of tap water for what was going to come next, staying to the back of the open area in a futile attempt to stay away from the disgusting tub of fish guts, the actual meat station, and of course, Sizzler, who seemed fascinated by the spell that Princess Luna was casting. Papercut kept his silence while using a chilling spell on the pitchers of pure sparkling water, but eventually the tension built up to the point where he had to say something, even if it was just whispering to his literal liege.

“Will this delay the wedding, sir?”

“No.” Green Grass rolled his eyes. “With only two days left, I’m starting to think I could die, and the wedding would proceed as planned⁽*⁾. Twilight might even… No, you said Princess Celestia rather disapproves of Necromancy.”
(*) By chance, Green Grass had happened upon the only wedding contingency that Twilight Sparkle had not planned on. By intention, he did not mention it to her until long afterward.
—

After a moment’s thought, Papercut nodded in agreement. “It would be a shame to waste all of the cake and decorations, and everypony would be able to wear the same outfits to the funeral that evening. It would make the vows rather peculiar, though. Pardon me.”

Papercut slipped away from his owner for the sound of a light tapping on the swinging kitchen doors, which he answered with a hoof held over his lips to indicate the need for quiet. The medical pony on the other side of the door held up a bottle and whispered, “We have the antitoxin as requested. The team is dosing the rest of the griffons now, but I understand Prince Sky is in there with you.”

“Regrettably,” said Papercut. “He is presently in private consultation with Princess Luna in an attempt to track down the being who poisoned the meal this evening. Will a slight delay prove any problems for the treatment?”

“Probably not,” said the medical pony with one hoof over her nose to block the smell. “From what I heard, he was properly treated after receiving a lower than average dose, but griffons are more sensitive to alkaloid poisoning than ponies. I’d rather we get to him sooner than later, though. Without additional treatment, we’re looking at possible irreversible nerve damage and a chance of paralysis in griffons after two hours, depending on the initial dose.”

“I see.” Papercut did not want to ask, but it was a subject both important to his liege, as well as near and dear to his heart. “How about for ponies?”

The medical pony scoffed. “Other than Lumpy, nopony was stupid enough to be eating fish this evening.”

After a breath to compose his features, Papercut said, “Optio Pumpernickel, Princess Luna’s personal guard and close associate to His Majesty, Emperor Ripping Claw, deserves far more respect than you are showing. Please correct your behavior before I am forced to report it. Now, as to the matter of your treatment this evening. Lord Green Grass, soon to be Prince Consort Green Grass, had a bite of the tainted fish. As did I.”

The look of pure astonishment that fairly poured off the startled medical pony could not have been more impressive if Papercut had somehow grown a beak right in front of her. The door guard paralleled the medic’s look of surprise with considerable restrained humor, barely keeping from bursting out in laughter as Papercut backed out of the doorway with a quiet, “Please prepare a proper dose for your patients. I’ll inform you when they are ready.”

He returned to where the female guard and Green Grass were helping Prince Sky vomit up Luna’s toxic science experiment, still nauseated all the way to his tail at the sight and smell of the procedure but still valiantly keeping his own henbane-tainted snack inside, as Green Grass had not thrown up yet, and somehow the thought that Papercut was managing to endure the ordeal better than the earth pony was a wan comfort to his soul.

Besides, the medical pony said that ponies were less affected than griffons. Papercut had only taken two small bites, and the antitoxin was just outside the door. Other than Wingmaster Pumpernickel, Papercut was most probably the most poisoned of the two other ponies stupid enough to have eaten…

No, make that three.

“Chef Sizzler, didn’t you say that Chef Flay had shared his fish with you?” Papercut glanced at the nearby table where only a few bones remained of the mutual meal distributed among two plates, although one plate had a very small number of bones and a rather lumpy napkin. The skinny red stallion twitched as if a sensitive spot had been poked on his flank, and the cleaver wobbling around the room in his pale aura dipped dangerously close to the floor, making Papercut jump backwards. “Watch the cleaver!” blurted out Papercut as he stumbled up against the table. “You’re going to stab somepony!”

“Stab? A cleaver is used to hack through stubborn gristle or cartilage. You don’t use it to stab,” babbled Sizzler with a sudden dash towards his comforting food preparation station. The heavy blade wobbled over to the spotless wooden table that swept along the side of the fairly large room, landing with a clatter as a half-dozen slim blades from the station knife block floated up in his magic. “You use a knife for that. No, that’s a deboning knife, probably too thin for stabbing. The santoku might be useful for stabbing, but it’s more of a chopping knife. I suppose you could use a yanagiba, if you were careful not to hit any bones that would—”

“Chef Sizzler,” said Luna, seemingly unperturbed by the floating hedgehog of glittering blades in front of the disturbing unicorn. “Our servant asked you a question.”

“Er…” Sizzler cast a set of panicked glances all around the room as the collection of blades slowly began to reinsert themselves into the solid wooden knife block, one at a time, until the dim light on his horn extinguished with a gentle touch of Luna’s magic. Somehow the blood-red of his coat managed to look even redder around his cheeks and his folded-down ears, and if he were blinking any faster, his eyelids could have taken off like hummingbirds. Papercut took advantage of the relative calm by using his magic to open up the lumpy napkin on the plate and reveal most if not all of the missing fish from Sizzler’s plate, somewhat masticated and gooey, but still recognizable.

Luna’s sole reaction to the disgusting sight was a slightly-raised eyebrow.

“I’m sorry!” blurted out Sizzler in a sudden burst of words that poured out from the skinny stallion in an unstoppable flood. “It was such a high honor to have the Grand Chef in my kitchen and I know you told me not to talk to him but I kept my mouth shut like you told me to while he was cooking and just watched out of the corner of my eye while I was preparing the rabbits because I know how distracting it can be when somepony talks while you’re working.” Sizzler sighed, his runny eyes seeming focused on a distant place of pure bliss as a temporary refuge from his ongoing panic attack.

“I was so tempted to offer my help even though I knew the Grand Chef had wanted to prepare the meal with no pony magic at all. He was so skilled with the deboning knife and the spreader. Not a single nick or scratch on any of the intestines while gutting them, just one swift slice of the knife and the guts came pouring out into the bucket, like poetry. He even borrowed my sharpening stone to touch up the edge on his fillet knife.”

Wiping his running nose on his foreleg with a sniff, Sizzler gestured at a stack of strange grid-like stones next to the ovens lining the back of the room that were shared with the rest of the kitchens outside of Sizzler’s isolated zone. “You should have seen the way he brought the stones out of the oven where they were warming and just slipped the buttered fish onto them to sear the scales down so they wouldn’t slide off, and then passed the herbs over each of them before popping them into the oven. I could smell something just not quite right then.” He trembled, eyeing the now-cool ovens with the same expression one might look at a coiled snake. “I should have said something, but I thought that maybe the Grand Chef was improvising, or maybe using a secret ingredient that I wasn’t supposed to know about. After all, he’s the Grand Chef, and they’re never wrong, but then he asked me about the Lapin A La Bourguignonne I was preparing! Me! The Grand Chef actually asked me, and I forgot all about what I had smelled.”

His rump hit the sticky floor of the kitchen as the chef clutched his forehooves together in an expression of beatific joy.

“He said my work was adequate! He actually ate all of the portion! He even gnawed on the thighbone!”

There was a very long pause where four sets of pony eyes and one nauseous griffon watched Sizzler with his forelegs clutched to his chest and an expression of pure ecstasy radiating from every single hair of his body. Eventually, Luna cleared her throat and Sizzler promptly started babbling again.

“I don’t remember much after that until the servers had taken away the butterflied trout,” said Sizzler with another wet sniff. “I was breathing into my bag for a while. I… may have offered to sell myself into indentured servitude or something like that. I saved the thighbone. I wonder if it can be framed.”

“Focus,” said Luna in a flat monotone. “The fish.”

“Fish!” exclaimed Sizzler, and the verbal flood resumed in an odd torrent of panic and pride. “After the servers were gone, he brought one of the remaining trout out from under a dishcover. He must have planned it, because the rest had gone into the ice box, but do you know what he did? He offered to share it with me! It’s such a high honor to be asked to share meat and salt with a griffon, let alone the Grand Chef that I… I’m afraid I had to breathe into my bag again for a while before I fainted. Well, after I fainted. I was just so excited!”

His pale magical field glowed from under the table, and a well-worn paper bag drifted out for a few well-needed breaths until Sizzler could barely talk again. “I’m never washing that plate again! Never! I wonder if it can be framed too. Yes, focus,” he added in a rush as Luna began to breathe in.

“We sat down, right here in my kitchen, right at this table, and we shared the fish. He ate most of it while I… um… nibbled on the piece he set aside for me.” The skinny red stallion squirmed as if he was sitting on a tack while he began to speak even faster. “I could taste something different in it, but I couldn't place the herb, and I knew he couldn't possibly have put anything wrong into it, so I didn't check for henbane at all until I had finished using the recipe spell to check every other possible plant I could think of, even Neighweigean Thyme. I even checked twice just in case it was a false positive or maybe I was mistaken, and it took forever for me to get up the nerve to tell Grand Chef Flay about it. I should have said something sooner, the minute I thought something was wrong. He has such a reputation, and this will just wreck it. He might even have to resign! And it's my fault,” he ended in a frantic squeak.

“It’s not your fault,” said Papercut before he realized he was talking. An encouraging glance from Luna made him add another unfortunate sentence. “I couldn’t determine what the poison was even after two bites.”

“You ate the fish?” The four eager words made Papercut look up into Sizzler’s intense red gaze with the sudden realization that he had just subjected himself to a career’s worth of being offered little tidbits and choice morsels from the meat station, and that he would live in continuous nervous anticipation from that moment on as long as he worked within the castle or anywhere within a short train trip.

Perhaps Princess Cadence will need an appointment secretary in the Crystal Empire. I could always bleach my coat and wear a hat.

“We were of the opinion that you had eaten of the poisoned flesh also, Chef Sizzler,” said Princess Luna flatly.

“I tried,” whined Sizzler, looking so much like a spanked puppy for a minute that Papercut had a twinge of sympathy. Or maybe it was the undigested fish trying to make a second appearance. In any case, it appeared Sizzler was in far more discomfort than anything Papercut was going through.

The skinny chef cringed away from Princess Luna and fixed his gaze on the sticky floor, lowing his voice to a harsh whisper. “I couldn’t actually eat it. I mean I’ve never actually been able to eat anything that I cook, and I know what an honor this was, but—” Sizzler swallowed firmly “—all I could think of was it used to be a fish, all flip-flopping around and swimming with scales and a tail. I know they’re delicious, because I can smell and feel the flavor in my magic, but I've never actually… bitten one before. It was… odd. It was delicious, of course, but all I could think of when I was chewing was where it had been and what it had been eating. Trout eat flies and maggots and all of those creepy crawly things that live in that mucky slime at the bottom of the lake—”

Both Green Grass and Papercut bolted for the same trash can at the same moment, with the earth pony winning the impromptu race by a small margin. Rather than expunge his rebellious stomach all over the back of Green Grass’ head, which although a pleasurable thought, would probably not look well on his servant’s annual performance review, Papercut choked back the upcoming vomit and sprinted for a nearby door with what he assumed was a small bathroom behind it.

This isn’t a bathroom.

His first reaction was muted somewhat by the cold, as a sudden damp chill soaked in through his entire coat and mane at once. It could have been the moisture in the small meat locker, but more likely was a sudden outbreak of nervous sweat at being surrounded by so many dead bodies and pieces of dead bodies. Plucked ducks soaking in unmentionable fluids lined one wall, while most of a hydra head was skinned and hanging from a hook directly in front of his nose. To either side, suspended sides of meat hung in various states of dismemberment and preparation, as well as a number of savory smoked sausages draped across a rack and emitting a heavenly fragrance that made Papercut’s upcoming regurgitation pause for a moment while his brain caught up with his tortured nose.

That’s meat! It’s not supposed to smell that way! How can it smell good and terrifying at the same time?

Reversing his steps at an astonishing rate of speed, Papercut dashed to the main sink in the meat station kitchen and spewed his guts out as hard as he was able. Everything else in the world settled into a subordinate importance compared to the urgency of getting every single bit of his insides outside, in the hopes that perhaps he would be able to disgorge the memories along with the chunky bits of potato soup and rice pilaf that sprayed into the sterile stainless steel of the sink.

Between spasms, he could hear the soft voice of Princess Luna talking to Sizzler in the background, in a low but still quite firm timbre that cut through his own misery like one of the chef’s knives.

“We can understand your reluctance to consume animal flesh, even during this singular opportunity of high honor, good chef. Please be assured that none shall think unkindly of your natural instincts, not even Grand Chef Flay.”

“I know,” said Sizzler with a sniff. “I wanted to. Ever since I was a little colt, I’ve loved meat, the way it slices and cooks, and how it mixes with other ingredients to make delicious dishes. I’ve just never been able to get up the nerve to actually… swallow it.”

The scrawny chef climbed rather listlessly up onto a chair next to the table and hung his head until Luna broke the relative quiet.

“We scarce have had a meeting with you that did not include some tidbit of meat offered. You fear that which is your special talent, and believe that if you press enough of it upon others who share your fear, you shall gain courage.”

“Yes.” Sizzler hunched his shoulders and Papercut almost felt sorry for him while spitting out a few last fragments of his memorable dinner.

“Your idea is doomed to failure, my little pony,” said Princess Luna with a long, slow shake of her head. “It is instinct that drives the herd away from the scent of blood and meat, the same instinct that wars with your special talent whenever you consider consuming that which you create. Even one such as you who truly understands the joy of your creations cannot consume them without considering the source being possibly one who was once known to you.”

“But Princess,” objected Sizzler, “No living sapient being has eaten of another within our nation's boundaries since the Treaty Of Menagerie. We always use verified non-sapient meats in the kitchen. Always,” he added in almost a plaintive whine.

“That’s… not quite what I meant to say,” said Luna. “One who is aware of their instinct and is able to set it to the side, even in a partial fashion, would be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor, as they were, in order to calm your fears. With a few considerations, of course.”

There was a long pause with a look of bafflement on Sizzler’s behalf as he attempted to translate the complex terms into something that he could understand, followed by a quiet Royal cough. “As a Princess of Equestria, our actions are watched by many eyes. There are already copious rumors about the proclivities of alicorns, without adding rumors about our diet to them.” After another long and responseless pause, Luna continued in an even simpler way. “Our ponies would view the former Nightmare Moon consuming flesh with considerable nervousness.”

Another spasm in his gut caused Papercut to withheld his comment, which was probably a good thing for everypony in the room. He spat bitter bile into the sink while considering the situation from the other end of the Royal Pay Scale. It took little effort to come up with the same determination to be a dedicated vegetarian, even if Luna had actually wanted to experiment with her diet. Still, the fish had not been all that bad, other than the poison.

Lord Green Grass is corrupting me. Next thing, I’ll be asking for some fava beans with a nice chianti.

“I understand,” said Sizzler, sounding anything but convinced.

“I think not,” put forth Luna with unusual solemnity and a fairly long pause to let the words soak in. “The peace of our subjects is of great concern to us. It is not proper that I ignore this source of discomfort from one of my loyal staff any more.”

The princess seemed to be hesitating on the brink of a sharp mental precipice, but after a brief swallow and a sharp glance at Papercut to ensure his silence, she continued.

"If thou art so deeply concerned about thy weakness, it would only be proper for your Princess to show you there is nothing to fear, once this incident is behind us.”

Sizzler looked up, and in that instant, Papercut realized that he no longer had any worries about being asked to sample little bits of meat for the rest of his career.

“You'd do that… for me?”

Luna nodded. “Thou art a valued member of the Royal staff, who hath gone through great trials in our service." She paused, wrinkling up her muzzle. "Some very small samples, for Celestia and myself, and only if you maintain your composure throughout the investigation. No offering samples to the press or to the constabulary who will be speaking with you over the next few days. Do you understand?"

Sizzler's slumped spine straightened, his sunken chest puffed out, and a small smile crept onto his face in stages. "Yes, Your Highness."

“Good. Papercut, please allow the medical pony in."

With a cough and one last spit into the bucket, Green Grass spoke up. “Your Highness, I need to be excused. I have an important meeting that I need to attend in a few minutes.” He exchanged glances with Papercut, who suddenly remembered the pressure of twenty thousand bits in his ruined sidesaddle, and with that realization came a sudden increase in the metaphorical weight of the bits until it felt as if a boulder had been dropped on his back.

“It shall wait. You are needed here for the immediate future,” said Princess Luna with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “After he has been treated, send your minion to explain the circumstances.”

“Ah…” Green Grass hesitated before catching Papercut’s affirming nod. “As you wish, Your Highness. The details are in the note,” he added with a return nod to Papercut.

From his expression, Papercut could tell that Green Grass wanted to add “Be careful,” except for the presence of so many witnesses, the most royal of whom stopped him on the way out the door to tuck a small object into Papercut’s ruined jacket pocket.

“A little reward for once you have completed your task,” said Luna. “Now, off with you.”