“H-hello?” Roseluck asked. “Anypony home?”

As far as underground joints went, the cavern had a surprisingly cozy feel to it. Properly lit with balloon-like lanterns bouncing its bright flickers off the crystal clear pool in the middle, it was a welcome upgrade after the tunnel that lead her here. And that’s just for starters—around the pool lay an impressive collection of rugs, pelts and blankets, all different from one another but all making the otherwise rocky surfaces a truly royal bedding, if not for their softness alone then certainly for their sheer number. There were also some books on the far side, stacked on the ground and stuck in natural wall cavities.

“Ouch!” Roseluck cried out as the sudden jolt of pain broke her musing. “Stupid dare,” she muttered. “Stupid holes in the ground. Stupid, silly little filly!”

Wary to not burden her strained leg too much, Roseluck shambled forth along metallic censers hanging from the ceiling. The furthermost one was seeping incense, a familiar scent of Leonotis leonurus more commonly known as lion’s tail which pleasured her nostrils. Her unmatched knowledge on the matter kicked in—an evergreen shrub, height three to six feet, its aromatic leaves could reach up to four inches long. Flowers coming in orange or white, or so it said in the books. Roseluck knew their family well, but until now she would have never thought about throwing them into fire.

“Such a waste,” she said at the embers. “You poor little thing. I’d have a customer for you.”

Another lightning bolt across her flank, another cry of pain echoing throughout the cavern. She gritted her teeth. She could take it. She was an exceptionally brave and tough pony. She had to be to work out the quota for Lily and Daisy, her good-for-nothing friends who dared her to pick a star salvia flower which bloomed only during the night. If it wasn’t for them and one too many drinks, she wouldn’t have stepped anywhere near the Everfree Forest, or lost her way, or fallen into the abyss, or bruised the prettier part of her backside. She liked that part!

Roseluck fell on a rug right in time for the next sting. It’s fine, she could totally ignore the pain for now, she just needed to occupy her thoughts.

“Keep it together, Rose!” she commanded. “Just, you—you keep it together, okay? Breath, exhale, don’t move too much. That’s right. How about you look around and try to figure out where on earth you’d ended up?” she asked herself and, greatly encouraged by the painkiller that was her voice, continued her monologue for two. “So, what do you think? Because I think we’ve found one of Princess Twilight’s secret book clubs,” she chuckled and lay on her back. “Yeah, for real! Rumor has it that after the Golden Oak Library was blown to bits, Twilight created several spots just like that with the help of Pinkie Pie—for reading emergencies.”

She waited for the inner Roseluck to chew on that.

“That’s insane,” she replied. “That’s the most ridiculous think I’ve heard today, but I can’t blame you. You got it from Lyra and you know how much of a crazy conspiratorialist she can be,” she pointed out, to which Roseluck disagreed. “It’s not insane, Rose. Yes, it is, get your facts straight. It’s still not as insane as you think. Ha! Too much lion’s tail, darling? Because you yourself might be insane!”

“Insssane…”

“Huh? W-who said that?” Roseluck squeaked when another voice intruded her struggle. “Whatever you are, uh, sir, don’t show y-yourself and better pretend you’re not there… a-and it will be all fine for the both of us. I mean, mostly for you… so b-beware? Please?”

“She is insane, the young one’s insane,” came a melodious hiss from a bulge of rugs across the pool. “And when she’s gone, whom will they blame…”

Although Roseluck considered herself braver than Lily and Daisy put together, it honestly wasn’t saying much. She squealed and tried to crawl away, but the more she wiggled the more the blankets and furs shifted around her, swallowing her whole. Watching out for the injured leg and keeping an eye on the bulge of rugs heading her way made it only more difficult. She was in no condition to run. Should she head into the pool and hope for the best? She wasn’t a terrific swimmer to begin with and she wasn’t sure if drowning was a nobler end than getting brutally mutilated by whatever terrifying creature was slithering towards her.

Slithering towards her.

Well, thorns. At least the choice of incense made sense now, because if that thing was what she thought it was, then she really should have joined that Ogres and Oubliettes game Spike was running. Maybe then she would know how to fight such a monstrosity. So what that floreomancers weren’t the part of his precious setting? She should have put her hoof down and roll with Rosaline Shadowflower anyway.

Roseluck felt a cavity full of books behind her back. There was a lot of quality literature among those, like textbooks on pony-to-pony social interaction or the culture of modern Equestria, but also some less noble works that included self-appreciation guides with cheesy titles about the new you, and a truly alarming quantity of cookie-cutter romance novels targeted to young, naive fillies. As much as she was ashamed to admit, Roseluck recognized some of the titles. Well, most of them. Alright, nearly all of them, but that’s because she hadn’t gotten to Enchanted Paradise 3: The Stag King yet.

Just like the lanterns, the books were wrapped in the same material: coarse, but transparent nonetheless—long straps of once shed skin of a most dangerous noodle there was.

“Ressst in my pond, ressst in my grasp,” the voice hissed, “I’ll take your pains away, far and fast…”

It was no book club. It was—wait for it—a snakepony’s lair!

She felt cheated to the point she barely noticed the creature that emerged in front of her. If it wasn’t for her leg she would start protesting loudly, storm out, get her money back, give zero stars rating on the lifestyle column and demand to see the lair’s manager. In fact, she would gladly do it all and more in the correct order if she wasn’t so confused by the apparent manager’s appearance because oh my goodness what a dreamboat he was. His broad frame and developed pecs were calling out for due admiration, and his strong forelegs and bare torso brought to mind ponies in tartan skirts who would throw tree logs to woo their mares.

His lidless eyes were a little creepy, with vertical slits and some difficult to grasp color of Lavandula stoechas mixed with Vinca minor, and from the waist down he was pretty much a scale-clad snake, but hey, nobody’s perfect, right?

Roseluck’s heart calmed down a little, but she was still prey in this setup. When he said nothing but just watched her, she decided she’d rather meet her demise with a smile on her face.

“So, you come here often?” she asked. “It’s a, uh, it’s a really nice place here, wonderful ambience, a little rustic, though. I guess it’s alright for you, Mr. Lamia, sir. Naga! Mr. Naga, sorry—or wait, which one was it? One is real and came from the east, the other is just a tale, or are they both myths?” she asked herself on the side. “There was something about the number of legs, too. Gah, it would be so much easier to learn about mythology if mythology wasn’t living next door.”

“How about you sssimply make use of this one’s name proper?” the snakepony finally spoke. “Please, this one’s name is Shah’sariusssh.”

“Sha-sha-shush?” Roseluck tried and failed miserably.

“Asss expected. Throats of your kind are flawed. But worry not, for the Coilsss of Conduct allow an alternative form. In your tongue, this one’s name would be”—he put his hoof on his throat in a self-chocking fashion and spat out the word—“Azariusss.”

Roseluck raised her hoof, not even half as high enough to match the snakepony’s towering posture. “Excuse me, just to avoid confusion, how many ‘S’s would that be?”

“Only one. It’s Azariusss with a single ‘Sss’.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re making it sound like”—she stuck out the tip of her tongue—“an Azarius-s-s-s.”

“Impudence! To make fun of this one’s ssspeech impediment!”

Roseluck gasped and covered her mouth in shame. “Oh, it’s a condition! I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Azarius, I didn’t want to offend you, really, that was—that was just so insensitive of me! I mean, I have my own condition that’s making it really tough for me to get by sometimes, yet here I am, making fun—”

“Sssilence!” Azarius hissed viciously, to which the mare immediately curled up. She stopped trembling only after the domineering echo died out. Her brilliant plan of just talking her way out probably wasn’t going to work, so perhaps she should start by being more cooperative, just in case. To her surprise, Azarius leveled with her and gently took away both of her forelegs, looking at her with concern. “Worry not your head. This one does not intend to hurt you, but ssseeks only proper introduction.”

“Okay,” Roseluck squeaked meekly.

As Azarius slid to the edge of the pool, his tail followed between the rugs and blankets, wiggling like it had a mind of its own. Its slow, rhythmic waving was near hypnotizing, but then the tail dashed away, the thinner the closer to the tip it got. Azarius turned around, strangely attractive while illuminated by the dancing flickers, his long, wheat-blonde locks falling along his scaly neck and further along his shaped shoulders, and his handsomely muscular—ouch! The pain ruined her moment of daydreaming. What was she thinking about? That was a real and dangerous snakepony, not some imaginary highlander she could objectify like that. She should really cut down on cheap romances with bad covers.

“Welcome to this one’s cave of respite!” Azarius proclaimed. “It is a place where weary travelers can ressst in their trot, even if for a brief moment. It is a place which cannot be found randomly, as every visit is the resssult of the Coils of Chance conssstricting our fates together. It is a place that welcomes the young onesss. Especially if the young one is a she,” he said, his tongue lasciviously passing over his lips. He returned between the furs closer to the mare. “Especially if the young one’s name isss…?”

“Roseluck,” she groaned through her leg’s protests. “It’s—ah—I’m pleased… to meet you.”

“Roseluck. Rossseluck,” Azarius tasted the name. “A most enticing sound to play with. This one is pleasssed to meet you too, Roseluck of the young ones. Ah! But you are hurt! This is a nasssty bruise. Pleassse, allow this one to help you.”

He dived between the blankets and emerged right underneath the mare. She yelped of surprise more than of pain once he lifted her and held close to his muscular chest, her knight in shiny scale armor. He carried her around the pool with due caution and laid her on a kingly stack of soft furs. More lit censers on this side of the cavern made the scent of Leonotis leonurus even more noticeable. Not that Roseluck minded it, much like she didn’t mind being still alive for some reason.

“Hey, that’s very kind of you,” she said and watched the snakepony slither from one cavity to another. “So, Azarius, does it happen often that ponies visit your home, or are you just in a good mood for helping others tonight?”

“It doesss not happen as often as this one would wish, but you are very much correct about the second. In fact, in Mefutzeleshan, or the Forked Tongue as you’d call it, this one’s name means the one who aids. Who helpsss. So, it is this one’s sacred duty to ssserve others in the time of their need. Your need. This one proposes a poultice and a massage to take away the pain away, far and fast.” He returned with a bundle of bandages, herbs and bottles. “This is assster balm. Worry not your head, it is extracted from surface flowers and is safe for the young ones’ sssoft skin.”

Roseluck frowned. In the Asteraceae family only Bellis perennis, or bruisewort was a good enough ingredient for a healing ointment—which was kind of funny since whatever the real Daisy cooked was borderline inedible—but she didn’t say a word. She didn’t want to turn out rude towards her totally not-mangling-her-right-now host. Like Granny Hollyhock used to say, never undercut a gift flower’s twig at the nodes!

“I can stay for a short massage, I guess,” she decided and glanced at the stone bookshelves. “Do you mind if I take something to read in the meantime?”

“Allow this one to aid you. What are your interesssts?”

“Well, since you’ve said that your name has a special meaning and seeing that it can be translated into my language, I would like to learn more about Metzefele—Metzafalafe—about yours.”

“Those ones sssay that no knowledge should be limited for those ssseeking answers,” Azarius chuckled and opened a solid tome wrapped in snakeskin before her. “Here you are, Rossseluck. The Mefutzeleshan-Equestrian Dictionary,” he said, emptying the bottle of perfume-like oil all over her bruised flank. Warm trickles dripped and sank in the furs below. “How about you read wordsss out loud? What this one is about to do may sssting a little.”

Roseluck rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. I’m a big filly, I can handle a little—gahbarsh!” she yelled. “Abarsh! Noun! A gorgon!”

“Apologies,” Azarius whispered over her ear as he rubbed the oil in. “This one did not realize you were so… sssensitive in that area. This one aims sssolely to make you forget your pain, not cause more of it.”

“It’s okay—ah, ah—I’m alright. I know you mean well. So, your dictionary starts with a big, scary monster, huh? Figures. The Equestrian has a fancy word for a badger from Zebrica. Aar-something,” she said and carried on with the lecture. “Abauth. Noun. Conference room. Ab’auvi. Verb. To extract—hey, could you get a little lower? Lower. Lower-left, please, I think that’s where—oh, yeees.” A blissful shiver went along her spine and back. “That’s what I’m talking about. Abauwish…”

Life wasn’t bad for the time being, heck, it was pretty good, actually. Years and years of listening to Mayor Mare’s reminders about how it was strongly discouraged to go into the Everfree Forest, be that by day or night, and it turned out that not everything that lived here was a predator keen on eating ponies. Some were excellent masseurs, Roseluck realized once the session began for good. For every word she read out loud, another dose of pain seemed to be taken away from her. Azarius would correct her pronunciation from time to time, or help when she was stuck, but not even once he broke his pleasure-bringing motion as he laid his hooves on her. So professional!

On the other hoof, she should know better. What was there about meeting strangers in the night? Go for it or run for your lives? There was at least one song advising against such encounters, but probably five more with a more encouraging tone, still.

“It isss done,” Azarius hissed once the bandages were in place. “Yet we still have time, correct? Would you be interesssted in a relaxing back massage as well? You do ssseem tense.”

On the other other hoof, she couldn’t say no to a free back rub. Thus seconds turned into minutes. Sweet, delighting minutes of comfort.

“Ah’sar,” she read. “To aid or to help. Oh, so that’s how one should spell your name! Sh-ah’sar-iush, is it? Sorry for getting it wrong earlier.”

“Your voice sweetensss the limitations of your parlance, this one assures you.”

She giggled sheepishly, feeling her cheeks warming—though she was positive the oil hadn’t been applied there.

“Ehehe—thanks, that’s a really… kind of you to say,” she said and buried her nose in the book. “So we’ve got that. But what does ‘sh’ mean?”

“You have to be more ssspecific, young Roseluck. There are four different ‘sh’s in the Forked Tongue, impossible to be differed with the use of your runes. Those ones have a hard ‘sh’ which simply describes sssomeone of this one’s kind. A muffled ‘sh’ you speak with your lips almost presssed together means ‘to breath poison’… but this one doesn’t do that, so worry not!” he chuckled, or let out a series of chuckle-like hisses and lapses. “Then there a ‘sh’ that you pronounce like a single ‘sss’ or a slightly longer ‘sss’ ”—the mare couldn’t tell a difference—“which means ‘this one himself’ or is the indication of the verb’s passive form, ressspectively.”

“So your name means roughly a snakepony who aids himself? But whom?”

“ ‘Iu’.”

“Me?”

Azarius chuckled. “ ‘Iu’ is an ancient word for a young one, back from the daysss those ones had no knowledge of other races.”

“So, basically—a snakepony who aids a young one himself? ‘Young one’ as is ‘another pony’?”

“ ‘Young one’ as in you specifically, Rossseluck,” he said. “You are a clever cassse, a clever case indeed.”

She waved her hoof. “Oh, you know, it’s nothing. My job has me dealing with a ton of strange-sounding names on a daily basis. Family names, genus names, species names—you name it. Then you have to pair them with common words so that others could understand what you’re talking about. It’s not easy, but, well—not to brag or anything—that’s what you get when you’re one of the maybe three real rodologists in Equestria, and a leading one, too. Oh, and I minored in linguistics, that helps too. Second best choice of my life, honestly.”

“You certainly know your way with wordsss. That meansss you have a skilled tongue.”

Roseluck blushed a blooming case of Dianthus moschatus at the compliment. She rolled on her back. The snakepony’s wide grin was hanging over her, and what a warm and gentle smile it was! Even more so because it was there for her and her alone. She smiled in kind. The combination of incense and oil struck her senses, but even without their influence she couldn’t see Azarius as anything less than alluring. There was only two of them. She, a young one from Ponyville who lost her way in the forest, and a mysterious, charming, protective, handsome snakepony taken straight from her favorite romances. On top of that, his eyes were shining with such intriguing colors, changing in rapid succession as he stared at her, through her mind, and into her very soul.

She throw him a flirtatious look. “In that I majored,” she whispered.

“The first bessst choice…”

When Azarius closed in for a kiss, Roseluck’s heart fluttered. Perhaps there was something else in the censers beyond what she could take? No, impossible—it must have been the serene atmosphere around the pool, maybe the softness of the rugs, or perhaps the snakepony’s otherworldly form looming over her, oddly enticing in its nature. Whatever the reason, she allowed his lips to reach hers. Gladly. When they joined for a brief moment, it felt like her new friend was only testing the waters, or was simply mannered well enough to let her familiarize with the feeling before going all in. That forked tongue could take any mare places.

“Sssomething wrong?” he asked when she pulled back.

That was the moment—the moment she either jumps on that train or watches it disappearing in the distance. She moved her leg but felt no pain. The bruisewort extract did its job to the letter and, in theory, she should be able to make a run and stop the night from getting any weirder. She was an earth pony, so one straight kick to that paramour-tier face was all she’d need. It felt wrong to stay, to be caressed by a snakepony met by chance. They weren’t even from the same species, for Celestia’s sake! Such an interracial interaction was far from proper, the thinking part of her suggested, once again enkindling an internal debate. It wasn’t right, Rose!

Shut up, Roseluck. Good things in life rarely were.

Thus the debate ended.

“No, it’s just… I never kissed a snakepony before,” she replied.

“How did thisss one do?”

What was there to lose, anyway? Nothing, that’s what, safe for some time outside Ponyville. Of course her friends were bound to start worrying soon, but it serves them right! They dared to question her courage in front of that cute, hopefully still single guy. She so wanted to talk to him without her friends making double entendres. Snoopy Daisy and Lily! They wanted him for themselves, that’s for sure. Well, let them have him! Did they think that was some sort of a game, to make an idiot out of her back at the bar? Then the game was on—and young Roseluck was after a much bigger prize!

Yes, she thought. It was a game, it wasn’t happening for real. It was just a little bit of role-play in which she was acting out a hopeless victim of her strong, scaly captor of such wonderful eyes.

She chose to play along. She simply could not refuse those eyes.

“I’ll let my skilled tongue speak for me.”

—make a dc 14 wisdom spell saving throw. On a failed check, the creature becomes charmed (see appendix a: conditions). Note: the snakepony does not—

“…difficulty class—fourteen,” Spike murmured. “Appendix… A.”

—does not require somatic or verbal components to cast its spells, but it must maintain eye contact for them to take effect.

After one too many growls of his stomach, Spike put the book aside and reached into Twilight’s private emergency snack basket.

Sinking his claws into the peach, he began splitting it in two, carefully pulling the halves apart as he was making his way inside. A streamlet of liquid sweetness traveled down his wrist. Drip, drip, and drip again to the rug below, fell the juices along with their strong feminine scent. He pushed deeper in return, exploring the fleshy insides with curiosity. He felt the fruit’s core at the tip of his claw. The two halves not unlike lips guarded the treasure tight, but he was too deep already to back down now. He nibbled the core for a moment, played with it, tried to go around it. The peach was his to take—his and his alone.

The climax came once the peach surrendered and gave up its form, rewarding the cunning explorer with a violent squirt of sweet and sticky. He slurped the juices like a feral, impossible to sate beast, but careful not to waste a single droplet now. The mess he’d made was impressive, but the taste erected his state of bliss too high for him to care. He licked his claws and shivered.

So delicious. So rewarding.

As Spike was about to return to his lecture—Marey Hijinx’s Monstrous Manual and an essay The Language and Culture of the Serpentequorum—he peeked into the basket once more. Despite his efforts he could not cheat nature, and so his hunger and rightful desire took hold. So pleasant in touch. So peachy. The youngest ones of the season were always the fullest. Yeah, writing the outline for his next big O&O game could definitely wait.

Yet he threw one more glance into the book.

creatures that are blind, blinded, don’t rely on the sense of sight or are otherwise unable to discern the changing colors (see table 23: the colorful magic of snakeponies) are immune to its spells.

“Immune? Huh,” he said, helping himself to another peach. “Neat. Gotta remember that.”

The sensation had been building up for some time now, focusing straight where it was meant to be unleashed.

For a brief, or perhaps quite lengthy moment, Roseluck was standing on the edge of the world, ready to skydive. She was in a free fall, reaching out with her numbing hooves, her back arching to have her grasp the prize in its entirety. She took it with her heart pounding. A moment of dizziness, likely from the continuous, liberating motion she did not want to break. Her eyes were deceiving her more than usual, but she didn’t need to look, to see, she only wanted to feel. Then the release came. For that one perfect moment in time she felt like she had a cotton candy butterfly trapped between her flanks, only that it was flapping so furiously it quaked the rest of her body.

A moan of pleasure echoed over the pool.

Time had passed, but she knew not how much she had been resting—a few seconds, minutes, maybe a whole hour. She shivered with bliss. As far as the dreamt out, chance night encounters went, that one was definitely something to remember. She drew her hooves and tail under herself, enjoying the sweat-and-oil-steeped furs. She felt dirty, but so relieved all the same, and she just wanted to lay in warmth for a while longer.

Azarius slithered between the rugs and around her. “This one trusssts you’ve enjoyed your massage, Roseluck?”

“Very much so,” she said with a silly smile, stretching under the covers before balling up again. “I visit our spa after hours sometimes when I’m stressed, but it’s nothing compared to what you’re serving. Ever thought about going full pro? No? Well, give it a try, you’re way too good to stay underground,” she said and chuckled. “It’s hard to believe what they tell about your kind, you know.”

“And what do they tell, this one wondersss?”

“Well, that you lure young and lonely mares into your underground caverns to seduce them,” she said. “In the stories I heard the snakeponies use a variety of tricks to do that, like trance-inducing incenses or oils for relaxation. They go as far as playing their gentlecolt—sorry, gentlesnake card as they offer to bestow care and help the poor fillies who stumble upon their secret lairs.” She giggled. “Yeah, my friends would probably run away the moment they’d meet you, thinking that you wanted to mess with their heads or something. Charm them with your magic. I mean, how silly is that?”

“Extremely,” Azarius hissed, seemingly amused. “And what would you tell about thisss one?”

Roseluck cracked a grin. “Honestly? I don’t think you’re that kind of a guy.”

Azarius performed his kind’s equivalent of raising the eyebrows. The mare shrugged innocently.

“Good! The Coils of Comfort have ran their full courssse and the binding is now complete!” He straightened up, towered over the petite in comparison mare, and cackled for all the cavern to hear. “The night is ssstill young, though. What shall this one do with you next? Show you what wonders lie beneath the waters, or have you attend this one’s carnal needs for a while longer?” he asked before leaning over the mare with his fangs bared in a lavish grin. “Know that should you do well, we will arrange another massage, together, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodiesss. Ah, the blush on your face is pricelesss. But perhaps you want to do sssomething else entirely? Tell me, how will you ssserve this one tonight?”

For Roseluck, it was the moment the line on the hot-crazy scale had been crossed.

“Yeah… you do all that and I’ll just go home,” she said.

One of the lidless eyes twitched. “To whom is this ssspeak?”

Roseluck threw away the topmost blanket and dug herself out. “I mean, no offense, but I don’t suppose you’ve planned a dinner—which, for the record, should go first, but given the circumstances, well, anyway—I’ll be on my way now.”

Azarius watched her from behind a mask of fear that crept onto his face. “You’re not under this one’s ssspell? How can it be?”

His eyes shined again with the same three colors as before. Roseluck withhold the stare with ease, half-unimpressed and half-curious what was causing the glow. One into another and another to next, the hues surrounding the slits waved like a lake on a windy day. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself, but she was pretty sure Lily and Daisy would brand them as azure, purple, and periwinkle while she would say, in order: Moluccella laevis, an average rose, and, well—to be perfectly honest—a rose again, only with a tad lighter chalice.

Azarius didn’t seem happy about her resolve or the fact she was indeed preparing to leave.

“Ssstay!” he hissed.

“Nah, my friends are waiting for me, I really-really should be going now.”

“Sssleep!”

“I’m rested already and well awake now. Thanks to you, actually!”

He gazed at her with even greater concentration, his kaleidoscopic eyes changing rapidly.

“Sssubmit!”

“Nuh-uh.” Roseluck winced, rubbing the back of her head. “I mean, you’re a charming fellow and all and I’m sure you’ll eventually find the company of sssomeone interesssting”—she allowed herself a drip of humor to brighten the mood, with no avail—“but I’m afraid I can’t be that mare. It’s about me, not you. I mean—you have this lovely place, a job too, I guess, if you could afford all these rugs, I love them. Most every mare’s dream, definitely. But I just don’t feel the alchemy between us, you know.”

Azarius shook his head. “No, you don’t underssstand! You’re not supposssed to have an opinion on the matter by now!”

“Uh, rude much? You’ve helped me with the leg, but I’m a strong and independent mare,” she said, flashing her Suffragists Club membership badge. “So if you could kindly remove your tail and let me go, I would wish you a pleasant night. We can even forget about all that luring, trapping and trying to hypnotize stuff. Just—just treat it like old times when we were young and stupid, how about that?”

Instead of doing so, Azarius slithered around the mare, replacing the tail blocking her path with even more length of his body, mounting as he constricted her small form. It must have been his way of walking in circles without a clue, evident in the accompanying lament.

“What has thisss one done wrong? He had it all in place—his gentle touch and oils to relax the young one’s body, the scent of incense to confuse her mind, the sweet complimentsss and liesss told to her heart’s content to make her feel unique and important, and yet she ssstill defied this one’s charm all the same? The young ones are not… they are susssceptible… is it really happening again?”

“Hey, the back rub was divine, I give you that,” Roseluck reassured him softly. “But, heh, it would take more than burning some lion’s tail to take down this filly.”

“You! You resisted the ssscent? How so?”

In a surge of bravado, Roseluck casually climbed on the snakepony’s tail. Throughout her numerous experiences with the opposite sex she had learned that after but one night they were all prone to doing whatever the sweet and delicate flowers whispered to their ears. Stallions, regular, crystal and bat-like as well, griffons, zebras, yaks, a minotaur—alright, the sample was unscientifically small with that one—but the point still stood. She sincerely doubted that snakeponies were any different in that matter.

She also made a mental note to get her life together and to not spend every other night at the town bar. Bars. Towns, too.

“Well, I don’t know,” she said reluctantly. “This is something I learned from my mother, and she’d in turn learned it from her mother, and the mother of her mother before her. I don’t know if I’m allowed to talk about such things with strangers…”

“This one is no stranger to you! Share your sssecret! This one must know!” Azarius cried out desperately.

“Oh, but you know, in case there was a grain of truth in those silly stories about the mares and the serpents, I am still but a hopeless pony here. Surely you understand that I can’t take my chances like that.”

“Insisssts!” he pleaded.

“Do you promise to let me go if I tell you?”

Azarius wiggled anxiously, fighting his own battle within. “The conditionsss are demanding,” he hissed under his breath, “but the prize is enticing still. Perhaps this one can finally trick someone elssse with the new knowledge.” He turned back to the mare. “Agreed, young Roseluck. Share your sssecret. This one swears on the Infinite Coil, upon which the Coils of Chaos and Order slither, upon which the Coils of Comfort, Cognizance, Chance and Conduct have been making their way through eternal slide for as long as this world has been, and until it sheds its physical form at last. This one swears!”

Taken aback by such a zealous vow, Roseluck sighed dramatically and gave up.

“Alright. I accept your oath on your Infinite Cogs—here’s the secret. Are you ready for this?” she asked, to which the snakepony nodded. “I, Roseluck, arrange bouquets for a living. Do you know what they are? Pretty flower bundles?” She peeled off some of the bandage to reveal her cutie mark. “This is a flower. I imagine you don’t have many of these in… in Wherever-You-Come-From-Town.”

“This one knows what flowersss are! Are you saying that they are the secret of your strength?”

“You could say that, yes!” Roseluck replied eagerly. “I work with flowers everyday—planting, growing, collecting and arranging them into bouquets basing on their shape, smell, symbolism, heck, sometime I go crazy and do colors! I’m not saying there’s a lot of competition in the market, not in Ponyville at least, but I have to make sure that every flower smells good. Quality control, you know. Only last month I smelled more flowers than most ponies will in a lifetime,” she said, looking into the censer and inhaling the smoke. “Mhm. After some time you simply grow accustomed to even the most potent scents.”

“But… but… this one was promised that the lion’s tail would bend any mare to his will!”

“Oh, I feel bended alright, trust me on that,” Roseluck snickered. “But for the record, you should have used Leonotis nepetifolia, or lion’s ear instead—not tail. Lion’s ear is more potent, especially if you extract its essence into water. Just wash some of your rugs with them, let them dry and voila, you have a great set of sheets for your little love nest.”

If Azarius wasn’t confused already, the mare’s suggestion left him utterly dumbfounded. “You’re giving advice on how to ssseduce others, knowing that this one’s intentions might have not been respectful? To what end?”

Roseluck jumped off his back. “When I’m not selling my flowers, I’m a sucker for cheap romance novels. Most of the time they’re terrible, they’re like parodies of other romance stories and the genre itself, but at least they have that emotionally satisfying and positive endings without too much complication,” she said and dug out the dictionary she’d been reading earlier. “This—this is hardly a romance, but it gave me an idea for a positive ending to this night. According to the dictionary and to what you’ve told me, your name’s meaning splits like your tongue. It’s a phonetic pun.”

The snakepony was quick to deny that. He slithered around the pool and under a pile of pelts like an offended child. “No! Not true! It’s… it’s Azariusss with a short ‘Sss’! Short! One meaning! Azariusss!”

“You’re doing this again, see?” Roseluck called over the water. “It’s not a single ‘S’. Say it with me—say your name with a quick, sharp ‘S’.”

“Stop talking! It’s Azariusss! Azariusss!”

Shouting his own name with ire, the snakepony sprung out of the pile and jumped into the pool in a clean dive without any excessive splashing.

“Why are you fighting?” Roseluck shouted after him. “Your name is also beautiful when you pronounce it with a long end. Of course that changes its meaning, it puts”—she leafed through the first few pages of the tome—“it puts what is translated as aiding and helping into the passive voice. Spoken like that, it means no longer a snakepony who aids or helps a young one, it means—”

Azarius emerged with a furious splash and a long line of hissing snake expletives on his lips. He was breathing heavily, a great burden on his shoulders, casting a wrathful glare on Roseluck.

She accepted his anger with a cute, warm smile. “It means a snakepony who is helped by a young one,” she said. “So here I am—helping.”

“Less than you supossse...”

“Why is that?”

He wheezed a melancholic sigh.

“This one knows about hisss name’s other meaning, and curses the day the elders read the runes for him,” Azarius admitted on a sadder note. “In this one’s culture, the young ones are perceived as a lower species, purposed to servitude and slavery. The names the Coils of Conduct grant this one’s kin often bear storiesss about abusing the young ones, about glorifying those ones’ rightful place above them,” he said. “There are those who hunt and those who deceive, but there are none who feed or visit your kind in need, as that would be beneath them. There should be no sssnakeponies helping, or being helped by the inferior young ones. The first one is a cruelty, but the sssecond—a disgrace.”

Though the concept was offensive on so many levels Roseluck didn’t even know where to begin, she couldn’t help but sympathize. Yes, yes, he kind of wanted to hypnotize her and all, but that was just what he was. Whom he was underneath—now that’s a different story. Some flowers could be fully appreciated only after their chalices opened, Granny Hollyhock's wisdom struck again.

Roseluck neared the edge of the pool. “You poor thing. Your name’s different, so you’ve probably heard a ton of stupid jokes in your life.”

“More than you can count,” Azarius replied, leveling with the mare. “When this one failed his rite of passage, when he failed to bind a young one to himself, he couldn’t swim anywhere without facing ssscorn. This one chose the life of seclusion, hoping to one day sssucceed in what the tradition tells him to do, but the Coils of Chance have turned on him again!” he exclaimed. “This one can understand your conditioning, but how could the youngest of the young ones, one with neither wings nor a horn, withssstand the most refined magic of this one’s kind?”

“Like, the magic of friendship? Because if you throw in some benefits I’d be—”

“Not friendship!” he retorted. “The magic of mind, the magic sssubtly influencing your outlook on reality, the magic convincing you to one’s will and desssire! Making your dreams and wishes rule your life, and turning all that you know about your life into dreamsss and wishes never to be made real again. Ssstronger ones have faltered upon those kind’s might and magic, yet you have not.” He glanced and assaulted the mare with a series of colors flowing across his eyes, but it didn’t move her in the slightest. He chuckled sadly under his breath. “Sssomehow.”

“I guess I’m special,” Roseluck said with a shrug.

Azarius looked at her with neither anger nor hypnotic images in his stare. It took him a longer moment, and Roseluck couldn’t discern whether he spotted something on her nose, or was genuinely appreciating her looks. Wordless, stunned by her beauty, maybe. Quite honestly, it was like that parting scene from Enchanted Paradise 2: The Isles of Doe, only with less beaches and love oysters.

“Yesss,” Azarius finally hissed. “Yes, you are, Roseluck. Now go! This one sworn on the Infinite Coil to let you go, and he’d rather not have his immortal sssoul dry out for breaking thisss promise.”

“Are you sure? Because you look like you could use someone to talk to right now.”

Like a pathetic pile of scaly snake meat he was, Azarius followed the gravity of his tail and sunk into the pool. “Yesss, leave this one be. Leave him in his sorrow, in him knowing that no scent, no touch, and no magic tricked you to fall for him.”

“What about honesty? Ever thought about putting your bag of tricks aside and just talking to mares, being honest?”

He hissed in disdain. “There can be no honesty in ssseduction. That would be against the rulings, that would be cheating. Neither the elders nor the Coils look kindly on those who cheat,” he said. “For a brief moment this one hoped… this one deluded himssself that he would reclaim his place among his kind, but the day has not come yet. You’ve won your freedom according to the Coils of Conduct,” he decreed, “and instead of this one honoring the tradition, you’ve deceived this one in turn. It was all a ruse. All fake.”

Just before he submerged completely, Roseluck grabbed his chiseled cheekbones. “I wasn’t faking all of it, love,” she whispered tenderly and laid a gentle kiss on the snakepony’s forehead.

Though utterly defeated on all fronts, Azarius went underwater with a satisfied smile.

Roseluck giggled. It turned out she hadn’t been eaten in the end which was more than enough reason to be happy, but she didn’t want to push the luck behind her rose any further. She left the caverns with haste. With her leg working again and her flanks, dock, thighs—her entire backside warmed and wonderfully relaxed, she had no problem climbing back to the surface.

The foliage of the Everfree Forest was getting pierced by the shine of the moon watching over her.

“Well, that was something, Who knew that being color-blind would save my life someday?” she said. “Now I better find that flower for the girls before some other weirdo tries to hit on me.”

As luck would have it, there was a bouquet of star salvias right down her path.

In a firm grasp of a muscular, devilishly handsome, tuxedo-wearing timberwolf.

Author's Notes:

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Done already? Here's a few more stories for you!
Starlight Glimmer's Shop of Sameness - if you want to see a real brainwashing expert in action!
Dune Goddess - if you are brave like Roseluck and like discovering ancient magic!
Cheersalis - if you're in a mood for something completely different, like Queen Chrystalis and her shenanigans!

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