It was not the place of mortals to puzzle the actions of the Divines, but as Susanne sat in quiet meditation, she could not stop her mind’s wandering thoughts. Her brother, nearly certainly a dead or half-crazed by lycanthropy in the best of situations, was alive and had a mind as sound as a Conjuration-user’s mind could be after years of study. Reman was looking healthy, if a bit unkempt, but he wasn't starving and seemed to be sleeping enough; if she was being honest with herself, his companions were perhaps the worst thing about his return. She did her very best not to judge him; it was better for him to be on the wrong side of the law and seemingly doing well, as happy as he looked and acted with the small, white pony with wings, than for him to be perfectly lawful and miserable.

It was ironic that she felt such, that she allowed her brother to be such a perversion not of only of mankind but of Kynareth’s creations. Reman was warped and corrupted by Hircine, in much the same way their mother had trafficked with Azura, but that did not make him any less of a just man, a merciful man. Perhaps, as rough as the others he travelled with appeared, they too were just, righteous in their actions. Azura fit perfectly within the worship of House Tullius, brought in by Senna Corvidae and spread through the wise women of the House; Susanne herself had been taught some of her mother’s tricks for divination, a tradition in her Nibenay blood that all womenfolk needed to understand at least a little of witchcraft, to be clever in ways men did not suspect.

Senna had not liked it when Reman had shown such magic talents, certainly not at first, but as the boy grew and learned she eventually came to love that he was to be a battlemage. Was Reman’s vampiric ally a mage? He was a breton, certainly, so at least he had some magical talent, and if so, what did that make of the purple pony with them? Was she a spellcaster as well; did she weave magic while others fought? Did that mean that her horn designated her a wizard? The winged ponies flew, so did the horned ones use magic? There was too much to think about, too many possibilities to really delve into the strange creatures. All she could say with any certainty was that the little white flier, Glade, was also touched by the daedra, just like Reman.

Susanne’s carriage was in front of the ponies’; she was leading two werewolves, a vampire, and several unknown creatures into her family’s estate. It felt nice to be doing something so out of the ordinary again.

“Your sister is rather odd,” Glade said, sunning herself on the carriage roof. Next to her lay Reman and Springs, likewise enjoying the warm day; the human himself was half-asleep after the long night on watch. He grunted noncommittally and shifted a bit, weaving his arms around the ponies next to him. The little mare giggled quietly and leaned over him, snuggling up and catching a glimpse of her friend on the other side. She shared a look with the unicorn, who smiled at her even as he wiggled in the unexpected embrace.

“Is he always like this?” Bitter asked, trying to find a comfortable position; he dared not leave the human’s grasp lest he risk waking the warrior and ruining the day’s lazy mood. Opportunities to unwind were rare in such times, and if relaxation meant cuddling up to a werewolf, then by Tartarus, Bitter Springs of the Lunar Guard would do it.

“Yep!” the mare chirped as she stretched a wing out, making a feathery blanket over Reman and Bitter. She wiggled a bit as Reman traced a hand over her belly in his sleep, feeling the slight bump that had already formed; she was not exactly large anymore, and had slimmed into a more streamlined figure that allowed her to show a little even this early. The spring sunlight shined gently as they fell asleep on the carriage roof. They would arrive at the Tullius compound some time the next day, and the nap did them all a little good.

Hours passed by without incident. Renoir occupied himself by reading Mannimarco’s notes while Fluttershy inspected the bow he’d used the night before; its barbed arrows were meant to cause far more damage that the double-bladed tip usually did, consummate weapons of terror that left anyone not able to heal themselves via potion or magic crippled or dead. Rainbow Dash and Applejack invited Pinkie to join them in a card game, using bits and septims as they gambled for fun. Rarity and Twilight discussed magic at a depth the seamstress found understandable. Princess Celestia, calmed since the previous night’s horrors, smiled at the day’s lazy feeling.

“Princess Celestia, could you please pass me the snifter?” Twilight asked, holding a bottle of amber liquid, either some sort of whiskey or brandy. The snifter in question was one of cut crystal, a favorite piece of Celestia’s collection, having been a gift from Sombra before his fall; it was large enough to hold the entire bottle and then some.

“I had no idea you enjoyed drinking,” the alicorn replied before passing the crystal to her student. A taste for alcohol itself was not a worrisome thing but it was so far from what the princess knew of Twilight that it seemed odd; Celestia understood her student was an adult, but after having taught her for so long, it was hard to resist the maternal instincts that called out whenever she saw her little ponies.

“Well, we’re here in Cyrodiil, soon to be making arrangements with the emperor, so I figured a little celebration was in order,” the little mage explained as she uncorked the bottle and gave it a sniff. It had a sweet, fruity aroma that belied its high proof; whatever grapes went into the brandy must have been delicious, but she did not know enough about wines to guess beyond that. “Reman gave me this bottle after I… defended myself on our return trip, and he said I could do whatever I wanted with it, and I want to share with my friends.”

“It smells like a fruit pie,” Pinkie giggled, leaning over to get a better whiff. “Get it? Fruit Pie?” She laughed a little longer as Twilight poured the brandy, swirling it in the snifter before passing it to her bubbly friend. The baker graciously accepted, smiling as she raised it and took the smallest of sips, sure to save enough for the others. She shivered as the warm taste spread through her mouth and left a trail to her belly, the perfect heat for a lazy afternoon; she blinked back some tears as she thought about the Cakes, about home, about everything she had lost since starting this crazy adventure. “Here you go, AJ,” she sniffed, before smiling again, optimistic about her life, even after being so far for home.

“Thank ya,” the farmer replied in her usual fashion. For her, the sip did little, save bring a few memories of her parents back to the forefront of her mind. Her father, rest his soul, used to enjoy hard drinks like this; she had vague memories of downing a shot when she was sick to clear up her sinuses. As she lowered the glass, she resolved to find a tobacco pipe or cigar, and maybe another bottle of whatever this was, so she could share the memories with Big Macintosh and maybe tell Apple Bloom a few more things she did not know about Ma and Pa Apple. Wordlessly, she passed the snifter to Rainbow Dash, who nodded her thanks.

With her usual lack of tact, she gulped down a mouthful, and wretched as the drink bit back. She remembered why she hated hard liquor, the same reason her mother hated it, and her father could not seem to put it down. Rainbow Blaze, for all his redeeming qualities and amazing parenting, was a hopeless, violent drunk who eventually sabotaged every relationship he ever had. Her mother took Dash away after one particularly bad night, one she really did not want to think about, but it taught her that the family she chose mattered more than the one she was born with. With a bitter taste in her mouth that almost certainly was not from the sweet brandy, she passed the snifter to Fluttershy, who was looking on with interest. Rainbow return to the game after she got rid of the accursed drink, but found she did not feel like continuing. “I fold,” she grumbled, putting her cards down as she started to think. She resolved to pay a visit to her mother the next time she was in Equestria.

The little yellow pegasus, previous hangover still fresh in her mind, gingerly took a sip before passing the glass to Renoir. The heat reminded her of her fireplace back home with all her little critters, and there she was, in a nice, warm carriage with all her friends close by. The drink was stronger than she expected, especially with it having such a sweet smell; it reminded her of the angelus sanguinum she had mistakenly consumed. Fluttershy smiled a bit as she recalled her hungover actions, before shaking her head to dismiss some of the more embarrassing thoughts that crept in. She leaned on Renoir’s shoulder, content to enjoy the strange dichotomy of sensation as her insides warmed while she rested against something cold; honestly, she could sleep right there, but roused a bit as Renoir passed the glass to Rarity. Fluttershy quickly bolted upright as Pinkie giggled at her, before sticking her hoof against his leg and seeing just how cool he felt.

“You should rent yourself out during warm months; you’re like a walking air conditioner!” the party pony provided, hoping to ease some of the embarrassment of her dear, yellow friend. She looked around the room and realized that nopony was actually paying Fluttershy much mind, and that she had interrupted the quiet contemplation everypony was in.

“Cheers,” Rarity said in dismissive tone, hoping to avoid the can of worms that Pinkie seemed to want open. She sipped a bit, careful not to shiver or show any sign she was affected by the shocking proof. She simply smiled and hand the snifter back to Twilight, thinking only of how nice her home was, and how glad she was to improve her business’s selection by studying Cyrodiilic fashions. Gracefully, never betraying her actual thoughts on the too-sweet drink, she levitated the snifter back to the only other unicorn in the carriage before reclining and preparing for another magic lecture. “It’d be wrong of me to have any more without you having some first, darling,” she said, not wanting another sip for fear it would hurt her teeth.

“Would you like some, princess?” the purple mare asked her teacher, who merely shook her head with a smile.

“This is your celebration, not mine,” the alicorn deflected. In truth she was never a big fan of alcohol; it took a lot to affect her and usually tasted terrible if it was strong, which the brandy Twilight was passing around certainly was. Everything she knew about her faithful student said she had never so much as touched anything harder than slightly spoiled juice, and with her jumping to something as strong as brandy, it was her own mistake to make.

“Alright then,” the purple pony said, tone somewhere between embarrassment and apology; there had been a slightly maternal twinge in the princess’s voice that brought back a lot of memories for her. While she had hoped her teacher would partake as well, she was not overly disappointed; it would have been rude of her to attempt to force the drink upon anypony, so she instead decided enjoy it as much as she could, with or without Celestia’s approval. She sniffed the glass once more, reacquainting herself with the bouquet, before pondering what in Equestria had gone into making such a drink. This brandy was as foreign to her as Tamrielic magics. Panic ran through her as she recalled her first experience with Conjuration, the probing tentacles and pain in her very mind, the fear as she felt her very life draining away.

The sudden thoughts nearly broke her hold on the snifter, but she remained steady. There was no need to fear, no need to worry; she had her friends all around her, and they would help her as she helped them, because that was precisely what friends did for one another. Bravely, she lifted the cut crystal to her lips and sipped at the sweet liquor within. It burned a trail to her belly, burned like her magicka did as it flared within her for the first time, burned like the sun on a hot day, burned like home. The second sip was cooler, like a warm breeze, Ponyville’s springs, Canterlot’s summers, her mother’s homemade cobbler on Hearth Warming Eve. The third sip was cool, somehow chilled within her warmed mouth, soothing like Skyrim’s twilight air. She felt at peace with herself and all she had done, sighing as she lowered the crystal; her eyes were closed in quiet reflection.

She was Twilight Sparkle, student of Princess Celestia, bearer of the Element of Magic, daughter of Night Light and Twilight Velvet, sister of Prince-Consort Shining Armor, friend to everypony she met. Right now, she sat in a rocking carriage with her closest friends and mentor; tomorrow evening she would see House Tullius’s holdings; some time after that she would help Reman prepare Princess Celestia for a meeting with Emperor Titus Mede II; beyond that was uncertainty. For once, in that uncertainty, Twilight found no fear, no matter how much she searched or wondered. Hermaeus Mora and his tentacles gave her no pause; he was simply a challenge to overcome, an impossible intellect that could be outmaneuvered, out-plotted, even if it would nigh impossible.

“Lovely,” she whispered as she poured the brandy back into its original bottle, now barely a third full. “I see now why Reman wanted me to have it; it’s quite relaxing.” She smiled at Celestia, then Renoir, before turning her head to the ceiling and hoping Reman could also feel her gratitude. She coughed once, then emptied the contents of her stomach all over the carriage’s floor boarding.

Author's Notes: