It sometimes struck ponies familiar with his reputation as odd that the unicorn who, for the moment, went by the somewhat awkward but suitably foreign-sounding name of Roman à Clef was not inclined to bars. To those who followed his semicoherent ramblings, he was rather famously not averse to a drink or three now and then, so why wouldn’t he like bars?

The answer was set in front of him by the waitress of this rather upscale locale in Canterlot, who returned his weak grin with a bright, saccharine smile that was so practiced he wondered if she’d bought it somewhere.

The mug of cider—not just any cider, either, but Apple Family Private Reserve cask-aged hard cider, dry and sharp as a whipstroke, the very best stuff in all of Equestria—began to form beads of condensation on the sides. Roman à Clef sniffed irritably.

There was ice in it.

Roman stared at the mug, and decided to be depressed for awhile.

Everything about this was wretched. It was hot, which he disliked, and humid, which made him miserable—and of course the nature of his errand today meant he couldn’t at least take refuge in the shade of the bar. Oh, no, he had to sit out here in this sweltering weather and wait for the meeting to happen to him. And now, above all other things, this wretched bar had served him a drink that was by volume as much water as it was delicious, golden and above all alcoholic cider.

The pale grey unicorn suddenly jerked into motion, shoving his face right up next to the glass mug, inspecting the situation carefully before turning a suspicious look on the bartender. Roman briefly considered the possibility that this was some kind of conspiracy to drive him absolutely out of his head. He hadn’t picked the locale, so there was no telling what instructions the staff may or may not have received...

The portly brown earth pony behind the bar carefully didn’t notice the poisonous glare he was getting and continued polishing the bar with a rag that seemed to be putting more grime on than it was taking off.

Roman scoffed. Barbarians. Here, in the heart of pony culture! Who would do such a thing!? Just chill the barrel on tap, don’t put ice in it! That waters it down and more importantly it means that his five bit drink was really three bits’ worth of cider and two bits pure, undiluted, mountain-fresh profit for the bar!

A thought occured to him and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. On the other hoof, it meant he’d have to drink more to get in the proper mental state for a meeting with his patron, which was a situation he personally avowed no true artist confronted sober. Whatever her complaints.

Roman took a long swig of the cider before the ice melted too much, and chuckled. This was doubly the case considering the nature of his collaborator. There was a reason that he was forced to be sitting outside in this wretched heat, after all—

Just as the thought flashed through his mind, there was a loud, hollow whooshing overhead and a shadow passed across the plaza.

“Ah, speak of the dragon,” Roman mused, taking another long swig.

There were yelps of alarm as the atypically small crowd in the plaza scrambled to get into cover. The shadow circled, growing larger and larger until, with a rather emphatic whoomph, a huge downblast of air and four weighty footfalls announced the arrival of Roman’s first guest, whose broad shadow provided a grateful Roman with some shade from the blistering summer weather.

The unicorn looked up, grinning. “I’d offer you a seat, but...”

“I know you like a drink, but it’s barely after noon,” the emerald-green dragon replied in even, barely-accented Equestrian, giving the unicorn a grin.

He was young, yet—barely taller than a pony when he walked on all fours, but easily three times as long—and carried the strange affectation of a long, crimson scarf worn loosely around his long neck. He carefully strode over the fence separating the bar’s patio from the plaza and pushed aside a chair across from Roman, making space for him to sit, catlike, across from his co-conspirator.

“They say it’s always five o’clock somewhere, but I don’t believe them.” Roman said, draining the mug. He set it down on the table with the exaggerated care of a pony who knows he’s starting to feel it, then grinned and proferred a hoof. “To be honest, when your lunch date can bite you in half some liquid courage seems appropriate. Varanus, then. Nice to meet you face to face, at last.”

“Roman à Clef,” the dragon replied, gently taking the hoof and shaking it lightly.

The unicorn chuckled. “Not my real name, of course...”

“Really?”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding me. Your name isn’t actually Varanus, is it?”

Varanus frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It means ‘lizard’ in Classical Equestrian, you know.”

The dragon looked down at himself. “That seems about right.”

“It doesn’t strike you as demeaning, at all?”

“Should it?”

Roman grinned. “I suppose not.” He turned back to the bar and waved to the barpony, who somehow miraculously noticed somepony willing to buy another drink off of him where he had been so blind before.

“Another? Before she even gets here?”

“Look, my friend,” Roman said, giving the dragon a serious look over his glasses, “You are one scary piece of work, but when you meet her in the flesh, you’ll want a drink yourself. She’s a lot more...present, when she’s right there in front of you.”

The dragon leaned down to see the bar listings. “Nothing with enough sulfur in for me, I think,” Varanus said with a smirk. “But you better drink it fast, she’s almost here. I saw her on the way down,” he added, as the professionally cheerful waitress brought Roman another mugful of ice being warmed by a pitiful amount of cider.

“You know, she complains, too,” Roman said with a startled little expression, taking a long swig and wiping his lips. “But then she asks to meet at bars, I don’t know what she exp—” He paused, sensing something amiss. He looked up at the broad grin of his companion—and there’s nothing like a dragon for a broad grin—and groaned as he heard the whisper-quiet wingbeats of a virtual goddess who didn’t want to be noticed.

“All I expect from you, my little pony, is that you’re in a good mood when we speak,” said the serene voice of Princess Celestia behind him. “I really do prefer it to when you’re sulking.”

“Ah well, you do know how much I love being snuck up on, your majesty,” Roman grumbled. He held the dragon’s gaze and mouthed: suck up, you could have said something. Varanus looked away and made the huffing noise that, for dragons, was a chuckle.

Four little clicks of hooves touching earth and an almost silent sound of wings curling at her side preceded Princess Celestia appearing in Roman’s vision and taking station at the table between the dragon and the unicorn, rather atypically burdened with a small saddlebag. A small smile of amusement split her features, which warmed into a welcoming grin as she gave them each a polite nod of greeting. “Thank you for meeting me here, both of you. I know it was a long travel for you both...”

“Yes, have a nice flight, did we?” Roman groused, still a bit bitter at his friend for enabling Celestia making him crazy.

Varanus affected boredom. “Oh, you know...same old thing. Flights of gryphons attacking me every ten minutes, a dominance struggle with some other dragons, a couple hydras over the bogs...I barely had time to notice the distance...”

“I’m sure. And I won a golden fiddle off of Nightmare Moon on the way here from Fillydelphia, and I don’t even play violin. So we’re even.”

Celestia chuckled as the two gave each other sarcastic looks across the table, and withdrew two thick, red leatherbound folios from her saddlebags with a little flick of her head. “Alright...here we are. I’ve reviewed the material you two have put out...very impressive. I have to say, I wasn’t sure what to expect when you proposed your plan, but this exceeded whatever I could have thought.”

The folios slapped down on the table heavily, making Roman’s drink wobble disconcertingly. The unicorn gave a little squeal of anxiety and hastened to stabilize it, to the princess' momentary amusement.

"I'm happy you think so, Princess," Varanus said, politely.

The unicorn raised a hoof to his horn, as if it had begun to ache. “Did I really write all that? On all that parchment?” he asked, weakly. “It’s all a blur to me now...”

“Unless there’s something I don’t know about your writing process, I assume so,” Celestia said, smirking. She looked up to the dragon, her smile brightening. “Varanus, I’m so sorry, but some of your manuscript seems to have been lost...one might worry it was only about...say, half-finished, but I trust there was merely some sort of—”

Varanus began coughing quickly. “Er, um, about that...I’ll have the rest to you shortly, sorry...you know how it is, things getting lost...time...slipping away...” It was dragon’s turn to give his counterpart a fierce glare as the unicorn grinned and took a sip from his drink, which was by now almost all water.

“I’ve been keeping up with your activities, of course,” Celestia continued mildly. “It never would have occurred to me how useful it would be to try to influence the tide of rumor this way. You wouldn’t believe the sorts of things ponies are willing to say about me, and other prominent ponies. My sister, my young friends...”

“Oh, no, we...we know,” Varanus said, carefully. He and Roman shared a look that expressed a mutual hope that Celestia didn’t quite know the extent of what her little ponies were willing to speculate about her...not least of all because in idleness, they’d somehow managed to contribute more than their share of it. It all seemed so innocent at the time...

Celestia gave him a patient smile. “Oh? It pains me to hear you’re forced to expose yourselves to that sort of thing.”

The dragon and the unicorn shared a brief glance.

“Terrible,” Roman said, taking another long swig.

“Heart-rending,” Varanus added.

“We should get medals.”

Celestia’s smile grew wry. “Well, we’ll see about that. For now, I’m just glad that you two have been able to direct the current of whispers about my student and I the way you have...to have two writers actively creating and promoting a preferable canon of rumor was not something I would have initiated myself, I think. But I do find I much prefer that if ponies are going to speculate on the nature of my relationship with Twilight, they at least generally concede that it is unquestionably a loving one...no matter what particular form or intensity that love happens to take in their imaginations.”

Roman cleared his throat. “Ultimately ponies would, er...inevitably speculate in this direction, I think. But it was hardly any task at all to conceive of a positive narrative for the whole, erm, situation, between you two. It was only ever a matter of considering your manifold positive personality traits and...as it were...well, adding in some classical mythological arcs, some melodrama...”

“Don’t talk like this was your idea,” Varanus muttered. "Which of us put quill to parchment first, now...?"

The unicorn gave him a sly look. “You get to talk to me when you fini—”

“What I meant to say,” Varanus said quickly, giving the smirking Roman a glare, “Is that I am happy that we could help...separately at first, but, er, in collaboration together we’ve been able to help one another somewhat...”

Celestia nodded pleasantly and gave them both a bright smile as she summoned the thick folder in front of Roman to herself, flipping through pages randomly. “My manifold positive personality traits, you say, Roman à Clef? And yet I see here...hmm...I am not only guilty of a deeply, cosmically horrific crime, but I am deeply sexually repressed, a terminal addict of my own pride, somewhat vindictive and, I have to say...well...” Her eyes flicked to him, and an eyebrow raised like a sword being drawn from its sheath. “I shouldn’t have had that drink with you.”

“What?” Varanus barked, astonished.

Roman shrugged. “Did you think I could come up with that wonderful monologue in the epilogue without some direct source research? That’s real feeling poured onto the page.”

Celestia’s smile grew dangerous for a moment. “Word for word, in some places.”

“You might have said,” the dragon growled. Roman shrugged and chuckled into his drink.

“Yes, well...now I have a very high bar to cross every time I wish to speak earnestly to Twilight, is all I have to say,” Celestia said, a little testily. “It doesn’t do for one to be outperformed in honest sentiment by a work of fiction.”

“In my defense, I even say in-text, the best lies are the truth, plus or minus one fact,” Roman replied with as much nonchalance as he could manage, although he eyed the princess warily. “Believability is important to the goal of this...er, mission. Thing.”

“I was saving that little phrase about twilight being the brief time between day and night for a special moment,” Celestia said, with rather unusual irritation. “I’m not generally inclined to poetic speech; I was rather proud of it.”

“Sorry.”

The princess waved a hoof dismissively. “She just saw it before time, and I had my chance to express the sentiment to her in earnest when she asked about it, so no harm done, I suppose. Still, I think you may have gone a bit overboard from the original concept we discussed at the outset. I was somewhat distressed to find myself frying Twilight’s brain and drunkenly shouting at a statue all of the sudden...”

Roman cleared his throat. “It all turns out in the end,” he sulked.

“And all’s well that ends well, is it? It was...dynamic, at least. Would that it were about somepony else,” Celestia murmured, favoring him with a somewhat knowing smile.  “It only grew richer, if not more complimentary to me, from your initial thought, I think. Now, as for you, Varanus...a preferable scenario, thank you. And bear in mind that I am saying an accident which horrifically wounds me and induces trauma-related short term memory loss is preferable, Roman...”

“I said sorry!”

Celestia smiled. “Still, I am eager to see what you have in store for me next! I must say, it turns out I am commendably self-disciplined with regard to my rather exciting feelings for Twilight Sparkle. I certainly hope that when I read the remainder of your work, I will have turned out to have the presence of mind to reconsider what the best course of action will be if and when a good moment comes...?”

Varanus smiled desperately. “Of course, majesty, in...in fact, I—”

The princess interrupted him with a bright smile. “Please, don’t spoil it for me! I am eager to read it all out myself, the sooner the better!”

“Er...right! Of course, it’s a long flight back to—”

“Oh, forgive a...fan for being over-eager for prompt updates to a fine tale,” Celestia said, her face still for all appearances presenting a carefree smile up at the dragon.

“Yes, of course,” Varanus conceded weakly. One eye twitched as his friend snickered behind a hoof.

Celestia noticed it too, which is perhaps why she suddenly rounded on him. “And I’ve been extremely interested in your...other work, since the originally commissioned piece, as well, Roman.”

Suddenly the unicorn stiffened, his eyes leaping to Varanus’—but he found very little sympathy there, for some reason...

“Have...have you now,” he murmured, weakly, a nervous grin blooming on his face. “I’m...so glad to have earned your...dedicated attention to my little stories...”

“Oh yes,” the princess said, pleasantly, nodding to emphasize her statements. She withdrew a slim black folder from her saddlebags and pieced through the parchments there as well. “Good work, very good work. Very philosophical, although you have a way of going on and on at length. Too much emphasis on dialogue. You should try your hoof at something more action-oriented, and use your talent for philosophy and symbolism to add depth to an event-driven plot rather than the other way around.”

“Should I,” Roman said, sounding for all the world like the last thing he wanted to hear at the moment was this particular praise from the princess.

“Oh yes, I think you can do it. I have no doubt you’ll start getting professional attention if you can cultivate this rare skill. After all,” she added, with an extremely warm smile as she flipped through the parchment, pausing at one in particular which made her eyes gleam, “If there’s one thing you should pride yourself on, it’s not being constrained by...orthodoxy.”

The pale grey unicorn was now blanched such that he might as well have been the Princess’ double. His glance once again leapt to Varanus’, who had the courtesy to look a bit anxious himself. “Er—I, er...believe I understand, my lady. I hope I can live up to your praise...”

“Mmmm. I’m sure,” Celestia hummed. She clicked her tongue and gave them a somewhat exaggerated look of apology. “Oh, do listen to this old nag go on. Forgive me, I’ve done nothing but criticize.”

Varanus cleared his throat. “Not at all, lady. Er, a good author appreciates—demands, even!—constructive criticism. Especially since we set out on this venture on your behalf...”

“Absolutely,” Roman agreed faintly, still a bit frazzled.

“A wise attitude,” Celestia said in a rather amused tone of voice. “But I did want to express my appreciation to you both in person. Your scheme was a useful one and I have to say, I appreciate the lack of malicious whispers echoing in the halls of Canterlot.” She leaned in and gave them a conspiratorial look. “And strictly between you two and I, it’s given me some things to think about,” she added, winking.

The unicorn and dragon looked to each other in somewhat stunned amusement.

“An...outside perspective sometimes catches or proposes things that wouldn’t have occurred to you,” Roman said, choosing his words carefully.

Celestia nodded. “Quite so.” She lifted the three folders and slipped them back into the saddlebag as she rose from her place between them. “In any case, it’s been so nice to see you both again and, I believe, have you meet face-to-face for the first time. I do appreciate your efforts and, for all my complaining, enjoyed your stories. Well, most of the time, anyways...” She spared Roman an extra heartbeat of her bright smile, which he chuckled nervously into.

“You’re too kind, Princess,” Varanus said, quickly, to attract her attention away from the unicorn, who was beginning to go a little green.

She turned to him, pausing just a moment longer than she had to so that Roman didn’t get the wrong idea and think he was totally off the hook. “No, not at all. But, alas, I am indeed Princess of this little country, and unfortunately have many things to attend to...though I somehow doubt this is the last we’ll be seeing of one another,” she added, with a pleasant smile to the both of them. “The stipend for your services will be distributed as we arranged, and I may have more work for you two in the future.”

“I’d be honored,” Roman blurted out, feeling he had some spadework to do. “Anything, anytime.”

Celestia favored him with a bright smile. “I’ll bear that in mind,” she said quietly, in a calm, assured sort of way that made the unicorn sure that even if he were a hundred ninety years old and toothless, he wouldn’t be allowed to die if this oath was unsatisfied. The princess nodded to them both and trotted out into the plaza, spreading her wings.

“A good day to you both. You have my thanks,” she called, crouching to leap. “I look forward to your next work...” With one last little grin, she threw herself into the sky and rapidly became a vague shape vanishing into the distance.

Roman à Clef watched her disappear, and when he’d satisfied himself of her complete absence, let out a huge sigh. “I knew she’d find out about that. And yet I wrote those stories...and there’s still like, three on the mental burner, on top of my regular work. I am one sick pigeon.”

“In your defense, they’re well-written,” Varanus murmured. “But more importantly, I see what you meant about being in her presence, certainly. It wasn’t like that when I was in audience at the palace.”

“Well right, she’s wasn’t  right there with you, being all...princess-y,” Roman groused. “Doesn’t disappointing her just feel like you’ve bucked your own mother in the teeth?”

The dragon gave this some thought. “I...wouldn't know,” he said, somewhat fretfully. "If I kicked my mother in the teeth, she'd just sort of...you know, eat me."

Roman slouched, looking a little miserable. “It does. Maybe it’s a pony thing.”

“If you say so. You seem to be in a better position to know about disappointing her than me,” Varanus said, raising an “eyebrow” and giving the unicorn a sly grin. “A drink?”

“I didn’t think she’d actually show up!” Roman all but wailed. “It was supposed to be a joke! ‘Oh and princess, I’m free this Friday, let’s have a drink!’ at the end of a chapter update is not a serious proposal.”

The dragon nodded. “The joke was on you, I think.”

“At least I got a good epilogue out of it,” the unicorn growled. “She’s an expensive date, I’ll tell you that, what with being twice the size of anypony else...Twilight Sparkle’s welcome to her.”

“Again. On you, the joke—”

The unicorn just waved a hoof irritably. “Moving on...”

“Ah, yes...” Varanus scratched his head. “I expect in the wake of this, you really want to get cracking on a new long story.”

“I swear she reads our mail,” Roman hissed. “Between us, I mean. Oh, you should write a more action-y story, Roman...I was just saying that! And I did that dialogueless thing about that Wonderbolt...”

“It really was a sign of your ability that Spitfire actually took the time to fly to Fillydelphia to give you her opinion,” the dragon said, nodding. “How’re your ribs doing, by the by?”

"All the better for your asking." The unicorn shivered. “I may, someday, be able to to look out a third story window without having stress flashbacks...'Falling, eh? See how you like it.' Athletes, I swear...”

“Oooh,” Varanus hissed in sympathy. He paused for a moment and then tactfully decided to change the subject from the issue of how critics could be so harsh sometimes. “So, any ideas?”

Roman sighed. “A few, I guess...I’m trying to avoid the cliches that have sprung up, you know. I swear, if there were as many secret magical tournaments in real life as there are supposed to be, every unicorn in Equestria would be so busy they wouldn’t have time to take a fast piss up against a tree.”

Varanus scratched his head. “We had that thing going for awhile where Twilight was a v—”

“Oh, heavens, don’t remind me I ever thought that was a good idea.”

“It wasn’t that bad. You had that good scene, with the, you know, the lightning, and the sarcastic opening and everything...”

“I have all kinds of good scenes, that’s my trouble,” Roman groaned. "Unfortunately most of them have to do with ponies having very long, philosophical discussions while making out."

The dragon sighed, looking out into the plaza, where he was still earning some curious looks. "It feels silly letting that much effort go to waste is all. That sort of thing is kind of popular at the moment..."

"Mmmm...that's true, I guess..." The unicorn sniffed. "Still, I...well, you know I don't like pandering to...just because it's..."

He trailed off, and the two gave each other a thoughtful sort of look for awhile.

Then Roman shook his head. "Naaah. No, no."

"Silly of me to bring it up, really."

“Like, it's a premise, right. But a story needs more than just a premise, it needs a...a sentence. A theme, a...feeling...something running through all of it, the thread of a thing that makes all the scenes build on each other...”

Varanus flicked the edge of the unicorn’s empty mug with a claw, making a bright ringing noise.

Roman sighed, longingly. “That too.”

The two sat in silence for awhile, the dragon looking around at the plaza and waving to the little foals who gave him tentative waves in return. Roman stared at his empty mug, occasionally grunting irritably or twitching.

“Well, there’s the one thing that’s half-done to finish first,” he said, finally. “And maybe I’ll think of something while we deal with that problem in Ponyville.”

Varanus gave his companion a pained look. “I still don’t see what that has to do with you,” he said, gruffly. “She won’t appreciate it.”

“I was asked to deal with it personally, and...who knows? Maybe somepony will get something like a resolution out of it.”

~(F)~

The garishly-bright door opened, revealing an equally garishly bright pony’s garishly bright smile.

“Welcome to Sugar Cube Corner!” it exclaimed, before looking up at Varanus and making an absurd face while going “Oooooo!”

Var and Roman looked to one another glumly.

“Thanks,” the unicorn said, trying to be polite. “Look, you’re...you’re Pinkie Pie, right? Twilight Sparkle’s friend?”

“Sure am!” Pinkie replied. “What can I do ya for?” She appended this absurd question with a gale of giggles.

Varanus scratched his head, making an oddly organic, leathery scraping noise. “Look, miss, this is going to sound really strange, but...er...”

“Can I...” Roman began, trailing off miserably. He looked up at his friend for some moral support, but there was none to be found. So he just sighed and spat it out. “I need to look in your closet.”

Pinkie’s laughter ceased with alarming suddenness, and she shoved her face in Roman’s, peering at him suspiciously. “That’s a reaaaaally strange thing for a stranger to ask! Hm! Only really strange strangers ask strange things like that!”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why—”

“We’re on a mission from the Princess,” Varanus rumbled. “Princess Celestia.”

Roman looked up at him sharply, and the dragon shrugged. It was technically true...ish, if you ignored the fact that their mission had nothing at all to do with Pinkie's closet. But they did have a mission from the princess.

“The princess wants you to look in my closet?” Pinkie said, dumbfounded, looking from the unicorn to the dragon.

“There’s probably something in there we need to take off your hooves,” Roman said desperately, taking refuge in strict truth.

Pinkie looked at them both, mouth hanging slightly slack in creeped-outed-ness for a moment, then reached out and slowly shut the door to Sugar Cube Corner.

“Ah, I’m no good at this,” Roman growled, staring at the closed door as he listened to the deadbolt click in place. “I’m my dad all over again, I just come right out with things...you’d think I could think up something more clever, I do it on parchment all the time.”

Varanus sniffed. “You have time to think, then.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

They waited for awhile.

“You think she’ll check?” Varanus asked.

Roman waited awhile before answering, looking around at the building. “Now that she’s locked all the windows? I think so.”

A little group of ponies was gathering behind them, including a long-maned, petite yellow pegasus.

“Um,” she said, by way of greeting. “Is...is everything alright?”

“Just give it a minute,” Roman said, face glum.

There was a sudden thump from the upstairs, making everypony except Roman and Varanus gasp in shock. The two of them just sighed and began making impatient little tics.

BambambambambaMBAMBAM! The stairs of Sugar Cube Corner suffered the wrath of a terrified Pinkie with a mission. She threw herself into the door, which burst open to allow her to tumble outwards into the street, where she collided with a the crowd like a an oversized bowling ball, coming to a sudden halt in front of Fluttershy. Ponies scattered everywhere.

“Yeahokayyouguystakecareofit!” she yelped, throwing her forehooves around her friend, who squeaked as she was almost yanked to the ground.

Roman gave Varanus a brief upward nod. “Just in case.” The dragon nodded and took great leap onto the landing on the second floor of the building. Roman tossed a sheepish look at the recovering crowd and entered Sugar Cube Corner in a  brisk, purposeful pace.

There was a long, heavy silence, and then a rather loud racket as what sounded like about ten ponies had a brief, intense, scrambling battle on the hardwood floor, before another long hush fell. The crowd waited, everypony watching the door nervously, wondering what would come out.

After awhile, Roman’s voice could be heard over a rather more frantic female one. “You know I love you dearly, my friend, but I told you this was a really bad idea...”

“But you said yourself that on the ground research was key for capturing realistic interactions and aawwwww come on let me go you big jerkface honestly you are the worst and I even wrote that really cute thing you suggested and—”

The grey pony emerged, one eye swollen shut. Suspended in the air behind him by her tail was a rather young light green pegasus, who was squirming and whining, her wings flapping madly. He ignored her protests as he walked through the crowd, who gave the struggling young mare a wide berth as she tried to lash out at her captor.

Behind them, Varanus leapt down to the ground, causing a minor tremor, alarming the ponies around them further yet. He gave them an embarrassed grin, scratching the back of his head in the universal body language of sheepish apology.

Roman stopped in front of of Pinkie Pie, who stood up straight and gave him a comically stern expression. “Yes?”

“You’ve been having Rainbow Dash over, haven’t you,” Roman growled. He had very obviously caught a hoof in the eye, shattering one of the lenses of his glasses and getting some good coverage on the whole orbital region. His attitude was somewhat negatively impacted by this sad eventuality.

Pinkie’s stern expression slowly mutated into a somewhat strained grin. “Of course I have, silly, she’s one of my bestest friends in the whole wide—”

The pegasus began giggling hysterically, and Fluttershy gave Pinkie a somewhat suspicious look, making the earth pony blush and sweat nervously.

“Yeah, well...whatever. She was taking notes,” Roman huffed, presenting them to Pinkie Pie with telekinesis. “Feel free to have them if you want.”

“Awwwww, Roman,” the pegasus whined.

“Quiet, you,” he growled.

“What is she, some kind of stalker or something?” Fluttershy asked, alarm painted broadstroke on her features.

Varanus ambled up to her through the crowd. “Worse. She’s a ponyfic author,” he rumbled.

“But don’t worry,” Roman said, with a grimace as he turned to haul his captive back to the train station for a good talking-to. “We police our own. It’s a thankless job, but at this point, it’s more like an addiction, so we’ll do it at three in the morning in a greasy alley in Manehattan for a chipped bit. It’s a labor of love.”

“And like all such labors, there’s no point, and you hate yourself for not being able to stop doing it,” Varanus added, nodded sagely.

The unicorn and the dragon, the struggling pegasus in tow, began their long walk.

“Wait!” Pinkie called. “Who are you, mysterious stranger?”

Roman paused, and turned. The sunset—which was not important to the narrative until this point—framed him in silhouette, a tall, proud avenger, come in Pinkie’s hour of darkest voyeurism to save her from the clutches of a giggling pegasus with a notebook full of doodled hearts with PP+RD written inside. For a moment, he looked like a hero from a storybook, walking off into the sunset, mission complete at long last...

Then some utter bugger of a pegasus dropped a crate next to him, and he leapt about ten feet in the air, dropping his captive unceremoniously on her head.

"Sorry!" called a voice from above them.

The unicorn sighed, and pushed his stricken glasses back into place on his nose.

“My name is Roman à Clef,” he said, “And I need a bucking drink.”