We understand you wanting more
A chance to shine, a chance to soar
Soon will come the day it turns around
Know that your time is coming soon
As the sun rises, so does the moon
As love finds a place in every heart
You are a princess; you'll play your part
– You’ll Play Your Part, composed by Daniel Ingram

New York City, USA. November 22nd, 2024 CE.

To Comdt. Cherry:

Earth Date & Time: 22.11.24CE, 15:00 (EST)
Local Date & Time: 19.06.03EH, 15:00

Time Elapsed Since Arrival: 18 days

First transition of PHL to parallel universe, Codename: Sunny Equestria, effectuated this morning. Reported success rate: 100%.

Specialist Amethyst Star informs me that with the existing gateway on the other side – read: Crystal Mirror – future transitions hypothetically performable on a regular basis.

Crystal Mirror presents following advantages;
– no required fuel supply of crystals,
– ergo, high probability of permanent activation

Crystal Mirror presents following disadvantages;
– only 1 exemplar available
– proportions inefficient for transport of multiple units
– proportions inefficient for transport of sizeable units

Recommend diversion of resources to Sunny Equestria for construction of extra portal-stations. Per Specialist Amethyst Star, with local materials & infrastructure, minimum construction time for 1 portal-station est. 15 weeks.

Presentation by PHL held today at 1200-hours in Public Assembly, Hall of Unity, before international representatives of Equus. Reception; majoritarily positive. PHL reported to be psychologically adjusting to presence on Sunny Equestria. By agreement with local government, PHL shall be quartered in spare rooms at Watchtower building adjacent to Hall of Unity, until further notice.

I have been in remission for 18 days from injuries sustained prior to arrival;
– loss of motor function in 2 legs
– 2nd-degree burns on chest
Local medical services predict full recovery after 40 days total, accelerated by runic enhancement.

Regards,
~ Col. Alexander Reiner

P.S.
Junebug, I believe this is it. Our miracle chance.

Finishing her reading, Cheerilee set aside the report, examining the seven other faces at the circular conference table, to gauge the reactions of her fellow members in High Command. Two for the PHL’s paramilitary divisions, five for the PHL’s many departments. Captain Thunderwing, tied down by a renewed surge of activity in the Pacific, would have to be informed after the fact.

“So, that’s Amethyst’s final word?” asked Time Turner. “Their only known means of transfer is the Crystal Mirror?”

Cheerilee nodded. “Think that’ll be a problem, Doc?”

Turner huffed wearily. “No more than what Amethyst says…” he began. “Frankly, it’s a miracle they’ve got the Crystal Mirror at all. Great whickering stallions, goodness knows where it vanished to in our time... If the Tyrant got it…” He shook his head. “We were lucky we could trace back the residue of Discord’s manifestation.”

“Not so lucky,” Pina spoke up. “Remember? The Empire captured Discord, yes.”

“Always look on the bright side, don’t you, Miss Nectar?” commented Olivine Jewel.

Cheerilee had to respect the young mare’s attempted flippancy. Whereas the sitting members of High Command were all long-accustomed to Pina’s inscrutability, she didn’t think Lady Cadance’s substitute as Head of Psychological & Spiritual Well-Being had dealt with her before. But Olivine’s experience in Cadance’s old staff would have given her a crash course in sly words.

Pina gave Olivine a condescending smile. “Merely a realist...” she said. “Commandant Cherry? Why don’t you read what our new friends are promising? Then we’ll know whether to look on the… sunny side, yes.”

Naturally, Cheerilee had privately read the documents. As she brought out the next one, she hoped it didn’t show that perhaps Pina was right to expect an unenthused response. Clutching the parchment, a duplicate of the original from the other side, she began to read.

We, the Concordat of Equus,

Do hereby declare our recognition of mankind as the Thirteenth Family of Equus.

It is the judgment of this Concordat that the Thirteenth Family’s identity is its inalienable right as a fellow sapient species. As of this document’s signature, we the undersigned pledge ourselves to the formal acknowledgement and defense of said right of identity.

On this occasion, though strifes may separate the Families in times past and in times to come, we welcome the introduction of the Thirteenth Family as symbolic of the right of identity, and vow that should any seek to strip the right of identity from any one Family, we the Concordat stand together to uphold this right.

Signatories,
~ Princess Ember of the Dragonlands (reprs. Dragon Lord Torch & Spykoran the Chaoskämpfer)
~ Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Realm
~ King Sint Erklass of Adlaborn
~ Proxenos Philip Darkhoof of the Tauren Isles (reprs. The Ecclesia of 60)
~ Chief Thunderhooves of the Featherhorn Tribe
~ Queen Zolomare of the Ezebrantsi Tribe
~ Dame Grizelda of the Redcloaks, Pretender to Griffonstone
~ Queen Novo of Mount Aris

There was more, but the rest was a series of clauses Cheerilee saw no interest in reading aloud. She lowered the parchment and awaited the reactions. As expected, they weren’t great.

“That’s it?” said Vinyl. “That’s our miracle? That was a strongly-worded letter of the UN!”

“Diplomatic fudging, is what it is,” Saffron Masala grimaced. Despite unassuming origins as an exotic Canterlot restorateur, Cheerilee conceded those origins allowed her the savviness for Moondancer to appoint as her deputy. “Even the Empire formally recognizes humanity as the Thirteenth Family– they’ve built it into their whole ideology that that’s why humans deserve to be converted!”

“Yeah…” said Time Turner. “‘Inalienable right as a fellow sapient species’... Honestly. If they hadn’t put that in, where’d the difference be?”

“I mean, fuck.” Vinyl slammed the table. “Fuckity-fuck-fuck! Is this a joke? When I saw the footage of an alicorn Cadance speaking to the Security Council, I was hoping great armies, badass warriors coming down the heavens and kicking the Tyrant’s flank to Kingdom Come! What’ve we got? One measly portal that couldn’t ferry a squad, and a letter that says jack-shit!”

“To be fair,” said Saffron, “there was Princess Luna doing her thing, just last week."

"Yeah, but one alicorn's not enough," noted Spitfire. “We’ve seen how that worked out. Even Cadance and Luna together mightn’t be enough against the Tyrant.”

Gladmane pushed back his mane. “Commandant,” he addressed Cheerilee. “Is that really all? I… I noticed the hippogriffs’ names at the bottom of that list. I’ll admit, that’s pretty impressive, given I believe they were in hiding, at around this time. But I kinda was hoping for more equines.”

“Well, from the notes Lady Cadance and Dame Moondancer sent back as well,” said Cheerilee, “we may soon see Saddle Mareabia add its name to the Concordat. Apparently, the Saddle Mareabian ambassador currently is in negotiations for satisfactory terms.”

As she’d expected, this wasn’t met wholly with welcoming.

“Saddle Mareabia,” repeated Gladmane. “Hm. Who was their ambassador, again, in the… What was it, the Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae?”

“Lady Amira-bint-Ramaha of House al-Husan,” said Cheerilee. “Their present Vicereine to the Co-Harmony Sphere.”

Several faces around the table darkened.

“Sounds like political manoeuvering, if you ask me,” said Spitfire, with barely-hidden contempt. “Making sure not to bet on the wrong horse– Hah!”

But Olivine stared at the others in bemusement. “Just now, you were complaining we don’t have enough allies,” she said. “What I’m real curious about is, how the heck did they get Queen Novo to sign? The Storm King would be out and about, in their time, and Queen Novo was keen on the Co-Harmony Sphere. I’m gonna guess their Princess Celestia’s got a way with words. If she’s got the hippogriffs onboard, bet more’ll follow.”

“You sound darn confident there,” said Saffron. Olivine shrugged, flicking away her pink bangs. They shimmered delicately under the light.

“Call it crystalpony intuition, Saff. The Crystal Heart taught us much.”

“Well.” Pina smirked. “Hope your ‘intuition’ can help us out of a bind, Miss Jewel. This Concordat promises everything and tells us nothing. Do we know if they have some grand plan to save the human race? Can they stop the Solar Empire? Quite likely not. So... Take in refugees? Give humans a new home? How would that work? Do any of us know?”

As was her wont, Operative Pineapple Nectar had voiced what others on High Command, including the more brash members like Vinyl or Spitfire, didn’t like to think or mention aloud. Yet in their position as defenders of humanity, these were the very sort of questions they had to wrestle on a daily, nay, an hourly basis. Everyone at this table, at one point or another, had experienced up close the nightmare of evacuating a human city.

Cheerilee forced herself not to think back to Paris, and the Purple Mist. Huddling with a terrified group of human children who’d been on a school outing to a place of worship, Sacré-Coeur de Montmartre. When the mist had spread from the city’s heart, which they could see only too well from atop one of the higher surfaces in Paris, there’d been only one imperative – keep looking for higher ground. It was pure luck that Sacré-Coeur was among the highest places in the city. Even then, there’d been a mad scramble to reach the dome…

“That’s a good question,” said Saffron. “Commandant, have we got a strategy?”

It was a noble sentiment of the parallel Equestria’s, offering to take in humans, and Princess Celestia would probably get it through Parliament. But it was pure fact they couldn’t possibly take in all three-billion-or-so surviving humans. Unlike the Solar Empire, they didn’t have the benefit of half a planet’s newly-liberated real estate, plus what infrastructure the Empire had been careful to thaumon-seed so the Barrier wouldn’t wipe it out. And even if practictality got ‘Sunny Equestria’ to specify they’d only receive around forty-thousand, the median human population required for sustainable genetic diversity, what then?

Wasn’t this the age-old painful question, choosing who lived and who died? The vast scope of the human population was further complicated by national divides, which remained an issue, even under UNAC. Wouldn’t countries like the United States or China argue their cultures and population count deserved priority over, say, Lesotho or Timor Leste?

They’d already witnessed a similar problem with the Russian Federation, of which the most habitable landmass had been consumed by the Barrier. Although the United States had, grudgingly, agreed to grant Russia the same favor as the European Union nations by creating Special Administrative Zones for them on North American territory, Cheerilee suspected it wasn’t entirely due to preexisting ethnological distribution that said Zones were placed in Delaware or Maine – both areas closest to the approaching Barrier. Not that you could feel sorry for Russia’s leaders, if half the rumors were true of President Putin and his oligarchical lackeys going behind UNAC to set up corporate fiefdoms throughout the African Continent… Galling though it was to admit, the People’s Republic of China had done as much, if not more than the Americans to slow them in their tracks.

“Who’d have thought, after all that hullabaloo on Earth about refugees a few years back,” Cheerilee said to no-one in particular, although the room, she was sure, had all ears on her, “now everyone knows what it’s like to be without a home, or fearing to lose it.”

“Commandant?”

It struck Cheerilee that she hadn’t answered Saffron’s question.

“Sorry,” said Cheerilee. “I’m just running through our options. We’re still unsure how the Solar Empire will choose to move against these newcomers. After all, they’re fighting on two fronts… If you can call their cold war with the Storm King a front.”

“And the Barrier is a front, is it?” Spitfire said wearily. “More like a steamroller. But why are we even wondering, Commandant. The Solar Empire already struck a blow to the newcomers when they captured Discord. They’ll press their advantage. It isn’t like they’ll tolerate any opposition.”

“Hm… Not necessarily…” said Olivine.

Seeing all eyes turn to her, their youngest and newest member shrank back, blushing.

“What do you mean, Miss Jewel?” asked Pina.

“W-well,” Olivine started, “By taking Discord out the picture, the Solar Empire already removed the biggest possible threat to their power. A-and, how eager d’you think they’ll be to open up a new front… especially against, well, Equestria, of all places? It wouldn’t just be a logistical headache, but an existential one as well. Propaganda can only do so much. I… you know what I’m talking about.”

They slowly processed her words.

Finally, Gladmane spoke. “It’s possible the Solar Empire may largely ignore… Sunny Equestria, if our new allies restrict themselves to humanitarian aid. It won’t make much difference in the end, with the Barrier.”

“That’s possible…” Saffron allowed. “But isn’t taking in humans just going to give the Empire the excuse to paint a target on their backs? If only to prevent a human-led retaliatory strike, several generations from now?”

Cheerilee sighed. “I’m afraid such response from the Empire isn’t off the table,” she said. “If they think there’s any chance that, even in a scenario of their victory here on Earth, humanity might rebuild elsewhere… But it’s down to us for what facet of humanity Sunny Equestria will see…”

She glanced at the third document, a list of the dozen PHL staff chosen to make the transfer into the parallel Equestria. Two names caught her eye.

Björkman, A.
Research & Development
– Chemistry
– Linguistics
– Long-range Firearms

Pinfeather, F.
Field Operations
– Statistics
– Cartography
– Internal Politics

Those were the names of the sniper team stationed in Boston – callsign ‘Nordlys’, from what Cheerilee recalled – who’d taken the shot at Archmage Twilight. Amethyst Star had personally vouched for the woman.

“We’ve got limited time,” said Cheerilee. “Our envoys should get to work soon. Then we’ve got Captain Gibbous heading there, too, next batch. A special envoy from the thestrals, to their Princess of the Night.”

“Baby steps,” Olivine chimed in.

“Baby steps,” agreed Cheerilee. She looked around the table, beholding these merry few, those who stuck by the PHL. “And, ‘right of identity’, well… Looks like we got our green light, everyone. They’re fifteen years behind, they won’t be ready off the bat. Food, medicine remain our priority. Saffron? Ready Cultural Preservation for this. They’re gonna have a lot to send across.”

“Understood, ma’am,” said Saffron.

It was Vinyl Scratch who spoke next, and her words gave Cheerilee pause.

“...What about Lyra?” Vinyl said softly. “Their Lyra. Any word on her? Cos’ if, if Lyra’s still there then… then Tavi…”

Her voice trailed off. Spitfire reached to pat her shoulder.

“She’s alive there, Vinnie,” Spitfire offered, with a hopeful, if forced smile. “She’s alive… So’s Fleetfoot… So’s everyone.”

While Fleetfoot hadn’t been one of the defectors to join Spitfire’s splinter group, the former Wonderbolts Captain had never stopped thinking about her. Yet after last week’s battle, her body had been recovered in Charlestown, the Boston no-one’s-land...

Both Vinyl and Spitfire’s gazes fell upon Cheerilee. She took a deep breath.

“Cadance wrote that we again owe a lot to Lyra…” Cheerilee began to say. Only to feel her voice wobble with each new syllable. “She… she says the Lyra Heartstrings of that world is actively working to garner interest in the cause. Getting international support, for… an expedition, following in Howie Waggoner’s steps. Going looking for Dream Valley, and proof of human visitation to our world, millenia ago…”

Silence.

“Yeah,” said Spitfire, “that’s Lyra, alright…”

In private, Cheerilee too wondered about whom she might have found in Sunny Equestria. Not only the departed, but those who were living, yet lost. Such as her own sister – such as Berry Punch. But it was the departed who weighed on her most. Cheerilee found herself staring at the empty chair by her, engraved with the mark of the lyre, wondering if one day, that chair might be filled once more.

Boston, USA.

Aegis was of the opinion that post-battle was always the least glamorous part of being PHL. You could star in the propaganda ads, with some quip like “I’m doing my part, are you?” But, as Aegis knew well, after a suitably large battle with sensitive news the public might not want, you ended up in bureaucratic limbo. The first thing that’d happened was them climbing a mountain of NDAs promising they wouldn’t reveal Discord, Princess Luna and Princess Cadance had been in Boston until “such time as the PHL deems relevant”.

Of course Viktor Kraber had asked, using his colorful language, just why the intel shouldn’t be made public. Official stance from high-up had merely been that it was sensitive information, and would be revealed in due time.

Once that was over, Yael Ze’ev had taken the whole squad to a room that served as a bar. Now, here Aegis was, sitting on a stool besides the rest of his squad.

Lorne stood behind the bar. Johnny C and Fiddlesticks had scrounged an assortment of drinks from who-knew-where, and Lorne was passing them out to anyone who asked. But, despite that, the mood was surprisingly sober.

“So,” Johnny C asked, “What happens now?”

“I…” Yael began replying to her cousin, then looked down, “I don’t know. I’m assuming this means we get some reinforcements, more farmland, and somewhere to send artifacts. I think… I think I feel hopeful.”

“Weird feeling, isn’t it?” Kraber asked, taking a long sip from a can of beer. “Nice change of pace.”

“I wonder if there’s another me there,” Aegis said. “I…”

‘What do I tell him? That Woven Sugar might lose her mind at any point? That she’s not trustworthy, even though you thought she walked on water? Is that true if she hasn’t done it yet? How would I feel seeing us in love again? Seeing me?’

“It’s a disturbing thought. Another… another me. It just… feels wrong. If it’s all similar, then why? Is it fated to go the same way?”

“I get what you mean,” Fiddlesticks said. “But… just think of all the things we’ll get to see again. I could go to an Apple Family Reunion where half the family isn’t at the other’s throat!”

“Of all the things the war gave you,” Johnny C said, “I still can’t believe racist uncles at Thanksgiving were one of them.”

Fiddlesticks shot him a withering look.

“There’s just one thing that bothers me,” said Heliotrope.

“What’s that?” Kraber asked, nursing a large pitcher of beer.

“The Solar Empire’s always taken it for granted they’ll win,” Heliotrope said. “What happens when they decide their flanks might be to the wall this time?”

The whole room went silent. It was, to say the least, a sobering thought.

“One thing’s for sure,” Aegis said, “The war just changed in a big way.”

People clinked their glasses together. In the quiet that followed, impromptu, a song emerged from amongst the patrons. A song from the last century, celebrating the foundation of a nation for people long used to diaspora, people like Yael, Johnny or Kraber, now perhaps consigned to that fate evermore, like the rest of mankind.

~An autumn night descends on the Negev,
And gently, gently lights up the stars,
While the wind blows on the threshold,
Clouds go on their way.~

~Already a year, and we almost didn’t notice,
How the time has passed in our fields,
Already a year, and few of us remain,
So many are no longer among us.~

Yael, the one person here to be professional military prior to the War, took up the tune...

~But we’ll remember them all,
With their beauty,
Because friendship like this,
Will never permit our hearts to forget.~

~Love sanctified with blood,
Will once more bloom among us,
Friendship, we bear you with no words,
Gray, stubborn and silent.

And Aegis bobbed his head along to said tune, whispering it in tandem with his friends…

~From the nights of terrible terror,
You remained clear and lighted,
Friendship, as all of your youths.~

~Again in your name we will smile and go forward,
Because friends that have fallen on their swords,
Left your life as a monument,
And we’ll remember them all…~

Prison of Erebus. Day 10 of the Concordia – Nineteenth Day of the Month of Rophon, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae.

No matter how many times she visited Erebus – which admittedly, wasn't as often as her age or position would suggest – Celestia felt surprised at how the dullest aesthetics could seem unsettling and unfathomable. Right now, she found herself in a small room, surrounded by weathered walls of uncut stone. Like a cave. The ceiling showed signs of being carved, though only because of a storm lamp within. Despite efforts to clean the stone, it was still grey and drab. At least the floor was tiled. Celestia and Lady Amira waited at a wooden table lacking decoration, except for a notepad, inkpot and quill.

From what Celestia had learnt on humans, it was risky to leave sharp writing implements within prisoners’ reach. But Erebus had never known an incident where a prisoner gouged out eyes or took hostages. Even the worst were not that desperate. Or psychotic.

Lady Amira sat upright, with poise that matched Canterlot’s most uptight elite, although Celestia privately acknowledged she carried herself with far more grace. Her expression could only be called controlled and tight. She felt uncomfortable here, and Celestia knew why. Amira had a chance to reduce her husband’s sentence, but didn’t wish to raise her hopes.

The sound of keys broke the tension that filled the room, whereupon the door leading to the prisoners’ cells swung open. An armored thestral of the Night Guard walked in, followed by Qabil al-Husan.

“My love,” Qabil greeted his wife, a smile on his face that was small and guarded. He turned to regard Celestia, a slight glimmer in his eyes “Your Royal Highness. May Fortune and the Lady be with you this day.”

He bowed – and then rose up just as quickly, to press down his black-and-white cap before it could slip. As Qabil straightened himself, the Guard indicated him to take a seat. Once he had, the Guard turned and left, closing the door without locking it.

“It’s always a joy to see you again, Amira,” Qabil began, his smile softening. Celestia saw Amira’s mask break at the sides under his gaze. With his cocky air of confidence, the stallion continued. “I’ve such trouble putting in words how I miss you, miss our family. To see you so soon after your last visit… Verily,” His tone dropped as he looked her in the eyes, “it is good to see you.”

“And I’m happy as ever to see you, my love,” Amira said in response, demuring a little.

“Your Highness,” Qabil then added, turning to look at Celestia. “Now, seeing you is a surprise. A pleasant one, but unexpected, nonetheless.”

The stallion cut a changed figure from when Celestia had met him two years ago. His coat was not quite so fine, his goatee not so trim. Still, even though he’d swapped elegant textiles for the black-and-white uniform, Qabil’s golden coloration shone in this grey environment.

Celestia gave him her customary smile. She knew he’d recognize it for what it was, as would Amira, but it was only polite.

“Master Qabil,” Celestia said, by way of greeting. “Thank you for your graciousness. It has been how long, two years? Nonetheless, though I understand many Moons may pass before I find welcome in your home again... I hope we’ll one day meet under nicer circumstances.” She glanced at Amira. “I regret this place falls short.”

“Indeed, it does,” Qabil intoned. “But I trust it’s safe to assume that neither you, nor my love, are here for a courtesy call?”

“I’m sure you were meant to get a visit soon,” Celestia said, to a token nod from Amira. “Yet I fear that you’re correct. Someone in my position doesn’t often meet a stallion for his honeyed words.” She sighed. “A pity. You’re probably wondering, though. Why me, and not my sister.”

“I am,” agreed Qabil. “This is nominally her realm. It is stationed by her guards, carries a sigil in her likeness…” With a brazenly questioning expression, he raised his head and puffed his chest. “So, if you’ll forgive my boldness, why are you here?”

On her way to Erebus, and even within, travelling by cart with Amira, Celestia had run through how she’d answer this.

It still felt no easier.

“The reasons are inordinately complicated,” Celestia said, reflexively stroking her satchel as she placed it on the table. “A jigsaw-puzzle I doubt the three of us could solve if we spent years locked in this room.” With these words, she gave Amira a knowing look. “Once we’ve spoken, I’ll grant you and Her Ladyship all the time to cover the rest.”

Qabil blinked, eyes changing from suspicious to interested. “And what is this matter?”

From her satchel, Celestia pulled out the sketch Headmaster Nexus had given her. She only briefly paused to admire its calligraphy, which proved Miss Rarity’s eye for beauty, before sliding it across the wooden surface to Amira.

“Amira?” she asked.

Silently, the ambassador turned the sketch, so her husband could read it right-side up. “These were found inscribed, my love,” Amira said softly, “etched directly into the skin of a hitherto-unknown being.”

“This is why a Concordia was called,” Celestia explained. “The Thirteenth Family has resurfaced on Equus. And we know them now to be human beings.”

Qabil raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Yet so much remains a riddle, wrapped inside an enigma,” Amira finished for Celestia. “The human creature was discovered to bear runes, the very runes on this paper. Which, following research by the Headmaster of Celestia’s School… and my insight, we believe trace back to your father’s lineage, Qabil.” She met his eyes. “Would this be true?”

“I cannot read them,” added Celestia. “This, as you can imagine, is a rare occurrence.”

Qabil stared down at the sketch. His eyes narrowed and his jaw set.

Celestia could tell he was debating. Not whether or not he knew, which he clearly did, but how much he was willing to tell. Glancing at Amira, Celestia sensed the other mare was thinking the exact same thing. There was a frown on her face, likely because her husband was wasting time mulling over this.

“Yes,” Qabil finally said. “These runes are a product of my lineage’s… research, I suppose you could say. How did this…” He stared up. “...Human, come to possess them?”

She’d known he’d ask, yet it felt strange to tell him.

“Ponies,” Celestia said simply. “There are ponies who discovered the Thirteenth Family, far before I or any of the world’s leaders knew of it. And for reasons of their own, an artisan of crystalline arts saw fit to tattoo these runes upon the human, using powdered crystal, so he’d be granted great power… Apparently, it worked.”

“Hardly anyone knows about my forefathers’ runes,” Qabil said. He lowered his voice, muttering. “Now they show up with a species long-believed mythical? That’s concerning.”

“That aside, my love,” Amira interjected, “We… that is, I need to know just what these runes are capable of.”

Qabil returned to gazing at the sketch intently. “The symbols here match those in tomes my father showed me of our lore. Although imperfect, they’ve been adequately replicated.” He looked up at Celestia. “They are symbols of endurance, designed to strengthen the body. My great-great-grandfather employed such runes during the… Farasi War of Independence. The others are for channeling magic, a useful ability to those tribes who possess no natural ability for spellcraft.”

He glanced at his horn, inert in Erebus, before taking a breath.

“This one, however...” He pointed out one image. “This has been modified.”

“And what is it?” Amira asked.

“It’s a counter-rune for transformation magic,” Qabil replied. “It was crafted to chain ghuls– my apologies, Changelings, into their given form and prevent them altering their shape. Normally, we would’ve had to forcibly brand the crystal into their hides.”

He stared Celestia in the eye, a genuine curiosity on his face. “I can translate most of these runes. I suppose the human is a warrior of some kind?”

“He is, yes,” Celestia answered.

“But why would he need a rune for countering transformation?” Qabil muttered. “Was it forced upon him? Or does he possess a dangerous ability?”

The image of her own face, split into a cold smile with flashing eyes, swam before Celestia.

“I’m… not entirely sure.” Which had some truth to it. “For one, it’s still unclear why he’s the only one we know of to bear these runes…”

“Only? Then there’s more?”

“Yes,” Celestia said. “But their time on Equus is yet to come. What you’ve said about countering transformation intrigues me, though… Knowing your own skillset.” She placed both forehooves together to mime a push-pull gesture. “This magic isn’t wholly alien to me. Can one use another rune as a counter, or do you remain stuck in a different shape forever?”

“I’ve yet to read all of the tomes my forefathers wrote,” Qabil admitted. “The runes they made to counter transformation had the express purpose of trapping a being in their present form. For instance, if a... Changeling were given one, when transformed, they’d remain as that being.”

Celestia could tell he wasn’t telling the whole truth, or perhaps hid the truth in his explanation. And here came, however she tried playing it, the delicate part.

“The Archives in my palace are expansive,” Celestia said slowly. “But Equestria’s assorted knowledge of magic likely covers a mere tenth alone. Since the human and those who gave him these symbols don’t appear to fully understand what they’re dabbling in… For time’s sake, we may have to request access to your forefathers’ library, sir.”

Qabil’s expression turned stern. “I’d be lying if I said I felt comfortable with the idea,” he told her, crossing his forehooves. “Those tomes are ancient, a personal property of my family, a legacy of our greatest achievements...”

“We understand that,” Celestia insisted. “We really do, but this is important–”

“How so?” Qabil interrupted, a bit curtly. “Is this human a threat? Are the runes killing him? Your Highness, I’m afraid I can’t open my library to idle curiosity. Especially without my supervision. The human won’t be going anywhere, will he? You could easily come back to me once my incarceration is over.”

Time. In Erebus especially, time was the great mountain-grinder.

“Sadly, that’s wrong. They may not be around by then– and nor may he.” Celestia delivered this news without fanfare. Only cold fact. “Time is a luxury they do not have, so, neither do I.” She let her eyes roam over him, then Amira. “Nor does your wife… nor does anyone who was called for the Concordia. I could ask Amira. She knows your books well. Yet though you are here, I wouldn’t consult your library without permission.”

“And I thank you for that,” Qabil said, his face still flat. “But I’m afraid I can’t just–”

“My love, please,” Amira cut in, her tone firm, but not stern. “You can’t imagine how important this will be. I myself have trouble comprehending the scope of what was revealed at the Concordia Maxima, and I was there to witness it. They– no, we all need this knowledge. We need the family library.”

Amira’s voice never rose beyond its steady, calm tone, yet her eyes implored her husband.

“But I asked Princess Celestia, and the Malikah, to seek your permission to enter the library. Because I know how important this collection is to you.”

“...Even though I put our family in danger for it?” Qabil’s face dropped and he looked away from his wife, ashamed.

“That alone makes clear how dear you hold the family’s tradition,” Amira said. ”And we are going to talk about this, someday... but not now.”

“Yes,” Celestia agreed. “I don’t like to interrupt, but we’ve got important matters to consider.” She turned to Qabil. “I ask you, sir, if you’ll let my ponies access your forefathers’ library. Its contents could be key to what decides the Thirteenth Family.’s fate”

“Imagine what it could mean for us,” Amira added, lips forming a shrewd smile. “Your ancestors’ work saving the human tribe?”

He showed an ambivalent cringe. Whether due to Amira’s bait, or because the spirit of altruism had won through, he was conceding, that was apparent. Celestia smiled, giving him the radiant beam which inspired so many of her ponies.

“Equestria values the pursuit of knowledge, when wielded responsibly,” she said calmly. “You can be assured I’m prepared to repay your pursuits as warranted.”

Exactly like when Qabil’s pursuits had warranted this sentence, but of course Celestia avoided mentioning that part.

The stallion raised an eyebrow, his moment of self-reflection over. “And what kind of repayment can you offer me in here?”

Although it was a loaded question, it was not difficult to answer. “Well,” Celestia began, “a change in your current circumstances, for starters. You still have three years until your sentence is up. But I can arrange to have that sentence reduced.”

“Reduced?” Qabil said, eyeing her warily.

“Yes, reduced. Not overturned.”

“No more than another year,” Qabil shot back, tugging at his goatee. “And I want permanent transfer to the First Circle.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple,” Celestia said smoothly. “True, for your family’s sake, I could shave it down to one more year. But, while you have risen swiftly from the Fourth Circle for good behavior, it doesn’t yet merit the First Circle.”

Qabil slouched in his seat and, for the first time, groaned in frustration. Amira was frowning too, though Celestia couldn’t tell if it was at her husband or the news.

“With this new workload…” said Amira, “I don’t know when I’ll next be able to visit. Please don’t punish us both.”

“I understand, Your Ladyship,” Celestia nodded sympathetically. “This is going to be a busy, trying time for us all.”

As it was, time passed as Celestia discussed terms with the two horses.

Time and again they reworked the offer, with Amira dancing back and forth between supporting Qabil’s demands or dialling them back.

… Finally, after much haggling and negotiation, things came to a settlement.

“So we are agreed, Your Highness?” said Amira.

Celestia nodded, her long experience keeping her weariness from showing. “I’d say we are. Thank you. Well then, if that concludes negotiations, I shall bring out the necessary forms…”

She reached for the remaining contents of her satchel, but found herself stopped. Celestia blinked twice. To her great surprise, Amira had lain a forehoof upon her own – there was a familiarity to the gesture which Celestia hadn’t expected.

Even Qabil was staring at his wife, startled by her forwardness.

“Actually, Highness,” said Amira. “Pray forgive me, but there is one final matter.”

“Amira,” Qabil said, sounding spooked. “Surely you’re not thinking of requesting study time on the Tree of Harmony? It was difficult enough settling for what little we got on the Castle of the Two Sisters.”

Celestia muttered under her breath, “At least you got something to look forward to, sorcerer...”

But she let Amira keep her forehoof on hers. This was obviously something different. And Celestia suspected Amira was trying to give herself the strength for it.

“Alright, Your Ladyship,” she said, back at audible range. “What more is there to say? Is it a proposal, or a request?”

“Both, I think,” said Amira, removing her forehoof. “This isn’t a matter I could ever broach without my husband. I’ll spare you the preambles, but before reaching the heart of the matter, I must address one of the finer points. Princess Celestia, it is our understanding that, not long ago, Equestria’s old vassal-state of the Crystal Realm was reclaimed by Princess Cadance, of your royal sister’s lineage, newly come into her birthright as an alicorn. Both Their Highnesses were the first to open relations with the human tribe, were they not?”

Celestia nodded carefully. “That is correct,” she said. “I gather your unspoken question, Ambassador. Yes, my niece is entering new responsibilities in this changing world.”

“Of that, I’m convinced,” said Amira, pressing her forehooves together. “In the past, relations between my country and yours have lived off our exportation of crystals and spice. With the return of the Crystal Realm, a shift is inevitable.”

“Yes,” Celestia said slowly. “But our countries have been friends a long time, in spite of frictions.” She glanced at Qabil. “And I believe it’d be of mutual benefit not to fall into competition, but to combine the strengths of our crystal-based resources.”

Amira smiled. “Then we arrive at what I wished to say. In Saddle Mareabia, the noble families maintain an old and respectable tradition to strengthen their bonds, short of marriage. Your Highness, in my family’s name, I wish to extend that offer to Princess Cadance, on your behalf.”

It took Celestia a quick think for Amira’s meaning to become clear. “Your Ladyship,” she said. “You speak of fosterage?”

“Amira,” Qabil interrupted. “You know we can’t do that with royalty. The Malikah is supposed to offer foster to another nation’s leaders.”

“Which is why I already discussed the matter with Her Esteemed Majesty,” Amira replied. “She has agreed that one of our children would be naturally… suited to the magical nature of Equestria, or its satellites.”

“I wouldn’t refer to the Crystal Realm as a satellite...” Celestia muttered.

“I’ve made the arrangements,” Amira continued. “You have to trust me, Qabil. This’ll be good for the child, our family, and our nation.”

Qabil leaned back, a frown on his face. “And I can trust you to take care with their provisions?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up extensive lists for their care, both for our child and their foster-carers,” Amira replied. “Don’t worry, they will be fine… Won’t they, Your Highness?”

“Oh, certainly they would,” Celestia said reassuringly. “My niece is an excellent carer, and has experience with children. I’m sure your child would do fine… if Princess Cadance accepts. Still, I have a feeling she would.”

“But you don’t know who to send,” Qabil protested.

“This will work,” Amira said gently. “After how much we gained today, how much more do you think you’ll be able to achieve, through such a close relationship with the Amore dynasty? Whichever child we send will thrive. They are your children, after all.”

Qabil sighed, staring at the table. “Very well... You have my consent.”

“It will do, in the absence of any formal documents, my beloved bookworm.”

Celestia felt moved to speak. “Sir,” she said kindly. “Believe me when I say your wife’s offer came as a surprise to me as well. Yet what she offers has much to back it up. And you will find no better carer than my niece.”

Sighing, Qabil glanced up. “Alright. Then… let us fill what documents we have.”

This took less time than one would have thought. Once they were done, Celestia rolled up the papers, placed her quill back into her satchel, and stood up, nodding to both horses that they could do the same.

“I thank you for your aid, Master Qabil,” she said, inclining her head. “If all turns out for the best, I believe you’ll find our world a yet more fascinating place than you left it.”

“That’s beautiful to contemplate, Highness,” said Qabil, bowing very subtly. “But, if I may… I’d now like the time for a private talk with my wife.”

“Of course,” Celestia said, smiling knowingly. “And I know a better place for it. I’ll have the Guards lead you to the Sunroom shortly.”

“Many thanks, Your Highness,” Amira intoned with a deep bow.

“Indeed, many thanks,” Qabil said in turn, though he still frowned as he bowed a little deeper.

“Fortune and the Lady be with you,” both their voices echoed after Celestia, as she turned to head back to the visitor’s reception area.

But she threw a discrete glance behind her, to see Qabil and Amira were being led by a Guard to the door on the right. As the Guard opened it, Amira looked around briskly, then leaned into her husband, who rested his head on top of hers. Celestia saw Qabil give his wife’s ear a cheeky nip, before they had to pull apart when the Guard turned back.

Celestia smirked as she headed away. She supposed, after such good work today, those two had earned a little playtime.

The Hall of Unity.
Princess Cadance waited patiently behind Aunt Celestia’s desk, taking a moment to share with Alexander Reiner in what the future seemed to hold. Although little Spike’s absence limited the capacity for instant communication with Celestia, they hadn’t even had to dream-converse, thank goodness. The telegram she’d received a few hours ago from an undisclosed location, a gateway to Erebus, had said matters were advancing smoothly.

A telegram which Alex currently held in hand, staring at it like he didn’t believe it was real.

“I know this must sound strange,” said Alex, laying it on the desk, “but that’s one of the weirdest things I’ve seen in my time here. To me, telegrams are outdated. You’ve got magic, yet you still use telegrams.”

“Well, there are spells,” said Cadance. “But in this regard, telegrams are often the safest, most reliable means of communication.”

“Fair enough.” Alex smiled weakly. “Guess we won’t be getting into the debate of magic versus technology today, then. Pity, I’d have liked to bring it to Captain Armor. Shame he’s returning to the Crystal Realm.”

A small, yet noticeable rapport had developed between her husband and Shining. Even with Celestia’s reassurance he wouldn’t be leading all Equestria’s military as it expanded, Shiney had needed encouragement from a fellow-soldier who commanded larger groups.

“I’ll have to join him soon,” said Cadance, “Matters there await us both. Just like many other leaders at the Concordia must evemtually return to their homelands. And I hope to begin the… Spike’s healing before too long…”

Alex looked at her regretfully. “I’m afraid,” he sighed, “once Nurse Cross says I can get my ass off this wheelchair, I’ll have to leave too. Report back for duty… To Hell.”

“What about Lyra’s Expedition?” said Cadance. “Don’t you want to be there to see her off?”

“I do,” Alex said, rubbing the wheelchair’s handles. “I’ll try to stay until then. But I cannot put this off forever. The Barrier will reach Boston in weeks… and even if it’s futile, I can’t abandon my post.”

Cadance placed a forehoof upon his hand, thinking of Shining Armor. He accepted it quietly.

“Pardon me, Colonel,” Cadance said after a time. “I’ve still got an appointment.”

Alex nodded resignedly, pulling away. “I understand. I’ll leave through the side-door.”

Somewhat humorously, as Alex wheeled towards said door, it was opened by a figure whom Aunt Celestia had frequently called a ‘jack-in-the-box’, for reasons Cadance now understood. Exchanging nods with Alex, Headmaster Nexus strode in, meeting his cue.

“Greetings, Headmaster Nexus,” said Cadance, while the door closed. “So, will you fill me one last time time on whom I’m going to meet? Amazing coincidence, isn’t it, that he should be from your hometown and have gone to live in my Realm.”

“Is it not, Your Highness?” Nexus said eagerly. “But as I say, there’s a narrative thread–”

“And you say,” Cadance cut in, “he’s got the qualifications to join Twilight on her research in Saddle Mareabia?”

“Oh, he does some tutoring, good with kids, I’m told,” said Nexus, nodding. “And he was close friends with my goddaughter as a child. Phew, dinners with her family sure got awkward once he moved and she entered that gloomy phase…”

“Anyways,” Cadance said, heading for the main door. “I’m sure he’s a perfect fit, Headmaster.”

The orange, white-marked stallion in the antechamber was paying her no attention, so focused was he on levitating and stacking a few tea plates. But upon sighting her, he fumbled, scrambling to let the tea plates stabilize within his horn’s aura.

“Y-your Highness, hello!” he greeted brightly. With a white-socked hoof, he adjusted his pin, keeping the starry-blue robe he wore fixed on him, glasses hanging precariously off his nose. “I’m sorry, I was…”

“Filling time?” said Cadance, offering him a smile. “Don’t worry, I got a bit busy back there, too.”

Her own horn lit up, her aura joining his in settling the tea plate stack. Cadance’s gaze drifted to his clothing, a robe that wouldn’t look out of place on Headmaster Nexus. Only, judging from the wear and tear at the seams, it wasn’t one worn exclusively for ceremonial reasons.

“Do you want me to–”

“Oh no, no,” Cadance said, “it’s fine, I’d say you’ve been waiting a while. So, Sunburst, was it?”

There wasn’t much distraction in Galatea’s room. But her room sat atop the Watchtower, its windows granting her a view of the Hall and the windswept landscape beyond. Once Galatea thought she’d seen all she could see this quiet night, she turned away from the window, gently closing it with a flick of her horn. Her gaze settled on the coffee table – one of very few pieces of furniture there, apart from the bed, the old nightstand to its right side, and the empty cupboard. Yes, Galatea found it just right. Pity she’d had to turn down Celestia’s generous offer of a room closer to hers or Luna’s, though.

Only the large, fluffy white pillow Celestia had given her was an indulgence. Her mattress was enough to pad, nothing more. Not that Galatea particularly minded. She was used to sleeping with less. And the pillow was comfortable, she thought, settling in snugly to examine the books Luna had brought back from Earth.

It was a gentle read. A child’s writing could be so imaginative. But Megan Williams hadn’t had to imagine much, for her tales were those passed down here.

Dear Diary,

Today was crazy! There was a rainbow that came out of nowhere and then there was this pegasus named Firefly in the well. I got her out, but then she said she needed my help. Next thing I knew, we were dancing on air in the sky. Her land was under attack by someone called Tirek.

I’d have been done for when a bunch of dragon-things attacked after Firefly landed. If it wasn’t for Scorpan– who was a good guy actually, just pretending to be a bad guy– rescuing me when one of the dragons grabbed and dropped me. We managed to escape and get help…

Sloppy, swift, and so very young indeed. Luna had spoken of a poet. Perhaps, Galatea mused, she had presumed a little much of a teenage girl… Yet...

‘Scorpan… Scorpan…’

The name was familiar. Galatea leaned back, resting against her bed’s headrest. An old name. One with hardly any descended forms. Faces, old and young from every Family, passed her mind’s eye. The name ‘Tirek’ had also popped up plenty. The Lord of Midnight Castle. It brought to her the same degree of familiarity as ‘Princess Platinum’ or ‘Clover the Clever’. A long-forgotten name that resurfaced.

But ‘Scorpan’ was a different matter. It jumped to her like an old friend or family member would, like ‘Celestia’ or ‘Luna’, ‘Broadleaf’ or ‘Snow Mist’...

Galatea blinked. ‘Of course it had to be you… Where else could I have looked.’

Now she remembered old Scorpan. An aged, decrepit figure, with batty wings and tired eyes. A twisted, gem-topped purple staff in hand. Neither friend nor foe, but an acquaintance of the past. Polite, kind, elusive, persistent. Ever-so-slightly curious.

Galatea’s lips twisted into a tired grimace. She should not have parted ways, left him alone, without ascertaining that he–

There was a knock at the door. Galatea frowned.

“Yes?” she called, affecting the rough, worker accent of her habitual disguise. “Who’s there?”

“Tis I, Sister,” came the tired voice of Luna. Galatea paused for a moment. Her horn had glowed light grey, beginning to shift her form into that of the earthpony ‘Shale’. She breathed out a sigh.

“I’ll get the door.”

When the door swung open, Galatea met her youngest sister’s gaze. This night, Luna wasn’t wearing her usual regalia. Only a pleasant violet, wide-brimmed gardener’s hat. Under her wing was an envelope. Galatea’s gaze drifted to the bags beneath Luna’s eyes, mixed with the dark freckles that now showed beneath her eyes and upon the bridge of her snout, then to the light-blue tuft of mane sticking out beneath the hat’s brim, and finally the rough patches of fur concealing bruises yet to heal.

“Have you gotten your rest?” asked Galatea. She reached to where the tuft of mane hung over Luna’s eyes, pushing it aside. Her sister did not react. “I see your mane hasn’t got its color back. And your freckles are showing.”

“Astute as always, Sister,” Luna deadpanned. “But, yes. I don’t know yet when I shall return to what I ought to look like. Why, what is the matter?”

Galatea’s forehoof returned to the stony floor. She shook her head. “Even with caution,” she muttered, “it was not enough, I see.”

All Luna had was a tired laugh. She lifted the large, brown envelope she’d been carrying.

“The Empire proved cunning,” said Luna, giving her the envelope. “Here are your credentials. It was trivial of Tia to arrange for them.”

“Indeed,” Galatea replied with a nod. The envelope was large, but she held onto it. “I would expect no less.”

“She is the best,” agreed Luna. Then she cocked an eyebrow. “But… geology. Of all things, I did not expect that of you.”

“It is a proper science, Luna,” Galatea lectured on instinct, frowning. “The knowledge gained is as important as any other science, thank you very much.”

Perhaps she was too quick to retort. Yet her sister’s tired eyes held only bemusement. “Oh, no, no doubt on that, Sister. But truly, that you’ve found the time…”

“I have,” Galatea replied. She took a quick glance at the lavender pot hanging in her room, and back to Luna. “I hadn’t expected you to take up shears, either. But your work speaks for itself.”

“Let us hope so,” said Luna. “May I come in?”

Galatea stepped out the way. Her room was fairly spartan. Luna scarcely had to move anything in her stride, straight towards the lavender window-pot. It was one of many similar pots throughout Mount Metazoa, but it didn’t evade Galatea’s eye that this pot was of higher caliber. Luna’s tender care ensured the lavender seamlessly moved between the old pot and the new.

It was Galatea who soon broke the silence. “As I’ve mentioned, your work speaks for itself.”

Her sister chuckled. “At this time of day, I would have expected you to mingle with the staff,” said Luna, adjusting the hanging pot. It gently swayed in the wind, the pleasant aroma of lavender keenly felt in the breeze.

Galatea bit her lip. She shot Megan’s journal a quick glance. “I’ve had other… matters, to take care of, Luna.”

“Well, these are interesting times,” said Luna, setting her can down. She turned to look at Galatea, wearing a thin smile. “Your day went well enough, then? Another day of observation.”

“Usually, mine workload is heavier…” remarked Galatea.

Something flashed behind Luna’s eyes, then. The weariness was all too familiar to Galatea, from the eyes of many workers she’d mingled with.

“Always,” whispered Luna. She lifted her watering can. “But a little gardening takes my mind off the duties of the Dream Realm, arduous task that it is.”

“Indeed,” said Galatea. “On dreams… I believe I am in need of your aid there, Luna. I believe I’ve been imparted with knowledge from mine counterpart, regarding the present Headmaster.”

This caught Luna’s attention. “Knowledge?” she said. “I cannot look into your dreams, Galatea. You know that. But you said your counterpart, prior to her… death, let some of her knowledge transfer to you.”

“Via the Plane of Images, yes,” Galatea said grimly. “And appropriately enough, I believe it touches upon necromancy.”

An odd light gleamed in Luna’s eyes.

“Luna,” said Galatea, “what is it?”

“I think I may have heard of this,” said Luna. “While on Earth.”

“I know a man–” said Samantha Yarrow. “Well, sometimes he’s a man– who was brilliant at answering questions, but he’s not been around here for a while. Something about ‘bad atmosphere, needed to go back and tweak something’.”

“A man? What kind of a man?”

“A scholar of sorts, with a particular fixation on the souls of the dead,” Yarrow remarked. “In fact, if I may tell the truth, Princess Luna, when we saw you and that Discord guy appear in the heavens above this city, my first thought was that our man had wrought something… Until I remembered you’re not dead. Merely petrified.”

Luna had liked hearing about that even less than her own fate in this other-world.

“...And do you have any idea where your… man, might have gone to?”

“Through the looking-glass, I expect,” Yarrow said with a chuckle. “He always was a card.”

“This does trouble me...” Luna said. “I’m not sure what trust I’d place in those who fixate upon the souls of the dead. Necromancy is considered a dark art of the highest order by my people. Father Kontagion has been remembered by many names, but merely the memory of the Lord of Tambelon brings nightmares that even I struggle to ward away.”

As Luna concluded her swift explanation, Galatea had nothing immediate to say.

“And so,” said Luna. “You’re telling me that in the other-Equestria, the Headmaster became a… a necromancer, and took up contact with your alternate self?”

Lips thinned, Galatea nodded. “That is what I’m telling you.”

“Necromancy is a foul, despicable art, one whose path I dare not tread,” said Luna. Her eyes met Galatea’s in a sharp glare. “Not even when temptation lay so close to my heart.”

“The dead must rest,” Galatea said, nodding. “No matter how tempting it may be.”

“Clearly,” Luna continued, bile lacing her tone, “some saw fit to wield it as they so wish. Celestia, my sister… our, sister… who is no tyrant… and delivers justice… fairly…” As the bile receded, each word was more a struggle against emotion than the last, “Had the Saddle Mareabian court sorcerer arrested, with the Malikah’s approval, for the mere possession of the Liber Grogar...”

“Hm,” Galatea said. “He wasn’t planning on using it?”

“No,” Luna said simply. “But illegal purchase of such a tome was deemed cause enough to spend five years in Erebus.”

“Yet even so, politics being what they are,” Galatea noted, “Our sister Celestia believes she can reach an agreement for her student and fellow researchers to consult the al-Husan Library… Wait, hm. Didn’t you say it was Headmaster Nexus who led you back to that family?”

“He did,” Luna said. “But more importantly, if perhaps a little ironically, was that he led us to an Equestrian mage we may wish to keep an eye out on. Of course, Tia’s got to be clever, assigning the young Sunburst as one of Twilight’s research partners.”

Galatea smiled mockingly. “‘Keep your friends close’, isn’t that so?”

“And hope it makes them closer as friends,” Luna replied drily. “Methinks that’s Tia’s thinking.”

“Maybe she should do the same with Headmaster Nexus,” Galatea said. “Just to be sure. But I understand he’s planning to accompany Madame Heartstrings’ Expedition. In which case, all the more reason that I go along, to keep watch on him.”

“Then I… shan’t waste anymore of your time, Sister,” said Luna, still with that joyless tone.

The bite, Galatea noticed, had turned out sharper than when Luna had spoken her name to Celestia one morning. She did not tip her hat this time, nor look back as she strode past. Another missed chance. Luna would be disappearing down the staircase soon. No, that should not be. Her sister was right here where she needed to be.

Galatea levitated the envelope to her nightstand, knocking the lamp aside. “Luna, wait.”

Her sister paused in her steps. She glanced back, with a raised eyebrow. The words died in Galatea’s own throat, as gears turned inside her head.

“I… if it isn’t too inconvenient,” Galatea murmured, pawing at the ground, “perhaps… we could have tea time after, at Gallopoli. We’ve much to discuss. And… Celestia is not here,” she added, feeling a little fuzzier. “We should do it with her.”

Luna blinked, furrowing her brows. “I don’t see why not,” she said. “I’ll inform Tia. I’m sure she will be thrilled.”

With neither seeming sure what to say next, they both settled on quick nods.

“Goodnight, Sister…,” Luna said uncertainly. “Happy reading, and… try not to stay up too late? Our sister’s an early riser, as you know.”

“That she is,” agreed Galatea, “Goodnight, Sister...”

Perhaps there was something about the way Luna carried herself, with her gait, and the way her mane was neatly brushed beneath her gardener’s hat, that caught Galatea’s attention a moment. She’d seen it plenty of times before, in many different times.

“And good luck with your talk,” finished Galatea.

Luna turned back, blinking. “How…?”

“Sisterly intuition,” Galatea answered, feeling a little curl of her lips, “Do not worry. I won’t tell Celestia. It’s your news to tell.”

“Ah,” Luna said, sounding awkward. “I… yes. Very well. Thank you, Sister. Rest well.”

With that, Luna was off, leaving Galatea alone in the doorway. She sighed, and turned, closing up behind her. Gone were the musings of old stories for now. Galatea had never considered, for all Celestia spoke fondly of the brew, what sort of tea she might personally like. It was hardly a concern of hers, not when coffee was more valued by laborers. An acquired taste, but she did like it, especially when her co-workers would offer a cup if she’d forgotten to pick up her share. And perhaps tea, like chocolate, would become a new favorite of hers.

Galatea went to her bedside table, where the envelope lay unblemished. Perhaps she should request a frame. Celestia wouldn’t mind, not when it would be... convenient, to protect her credentials here. Practicality. Not sentiment.

‘Not sentiment,’ she told herself. The hesitation remained.

She laid on the bed, legs folded. She reached for the envelope, and opened it with care, peering at the words by candlelight.

My dear sister,

I hope this letter finds you and Luna well. How are you both faring?

It was no problem at all arranging for the changes you’ve requested. A rocktorate this old, I’m sure none of your future colleagues would mind. If anyone takes a closer look, Madame Heartstrings or Prince Blueblood can help you with your cover.

Would you be up for tea time, before your eventual departure? You don’t need to answer this now. I’d love to hear it firsthoof, yes or no. I do not mind. I’m not sure if she’s mentioned this or not, but Luna has told me of your whereabouts from when she and I had breakfast with Sint and Elsa, on the first day of the summit. I wouldn’t have minded if you joined us.

I can promise you there will be chocolate cake. I know you like it. And you still have a lot of birthdays to catch up on.

Our doors are always open, and I know Luna would agree.

Much love,
~ Your Sister, Celestia.

And there as promised, her revised credentials. A document which declared that the recipient had been bestowed the title of Doctor of Geology, from the University of Manehattan. A mare named Shale. Only, it wasn’t always Shale. Celestia had certainly needed to explain away that part to the university board. Yet she said it was no problem at all.

Galatea did not look up from the letter, for some time.

It had been a pleasant surprise for Twilight when she’d learned of the Hall of Unity’s Grand Archives. Even the greatest libraries of Equestria paled in comparison.

She pushed open the wooden doors. A great sight welcomed her, just as it had in the first days of her stay. Towering shelves loomed over the Archives. Rows upon rows of bookshelves, the largest of them so tall they were accompanied by their own staircases. A good three storeys beneath the tallest, solitary archivists could be seen mingling on the balconies, their claws or hooves or magical auras holding ancient books and scrolls to review. To Twilight’s understanding, many of these were copies of each species’ records, stretching back more than three thousand years ago, for the Minotaurs who’d founded the Hall wished to retain their memory in the event of catastrophe.

Much like humanity, Twilight thought in passing.

She continued her walk, passing by the table rows. Even these had scrolls stacked on them – undoubtedly reviewed by archivists from far and wide. Twilight had gotten to know some of them personally. There she replied in kind to a friendly wave given by the griffon archivist, Glenda. One of Grizelda’s followers, she was a young griffon of passing resemblance to the snow leopards who roamed the mountains of the Far East. She and Twilight had been engaged in a passionate, yet friendly debate days ago, about the throne of Griffonstone, land disputes, and a claim held by the Young Pretender.

A good five minutes later, having turned down Glenda’s offer for another archive-binge as politely as she could, Twilight found her spot. A small, makeshift hideout compiled from pillows lined all along a few seats she’d claimed from several rows. It was hidden here in the tax-collecting rows, between the Kirin’s disputes with Neighpon or the Griffish Isles’ old scandal with Manehattan. Boring, some would say, but not Twilight. Perhaps she did have to take a longer walk to the Equestrian and hippogriff rows, but it was a worthy trade-off for privacy.

Still, with much on her mind, from strange creatures to evil mirror-versions of herself, Twilight kept quiet for the longest time, with only a coffee-table a couple of tomes on the history of the zebra tribes for company. They weren’t the only books there, either. Flanking her, she had placed one of the collections of bedtime stories Luna had brought back. The other, Luna had told her, had been given to Galatea. Canterlot, A History, Nature or Nurture – Professor Dartwing’s iconic book on ponykind’s role as caretakers of the environment, famously defended by one of his colleagues, Professor Huxley the Diamond Dog – and even Lyra’s crackpot compilation on Dream Valley by her beloved Professor Shriek. Finally, Howie Waggoner’s Ponyland: Dispelling the Myths of Dream Valley. Back during its republication, Twilight hadn’t given it the time of day. But plenty of legends had since turned out to be true, like when the book Supernaturals had proven surprisingly useful.

‘How’d I ever come to this…’ Twilight thought, looking at the book’s unorthodox cover. It resembled a stylised drawing of a valley, question marks scattered all around it. ‘Well, guess legends have… truth to them…’

Ultimately, nothing could take her mind off Spike. Both of them, for even as she thought of the little drake she called brother, whom she’d left in Canterlot, her thoughts drifted back the twisted, pitiful creature lying unconscious in the Hall’s medical wing. He didn’t speak, Cadance had told her. Twilight doubted he could tell anyone his story. And what was done to him…

Horrific.

Celestia had established laws against the majority of body-altering spells, and from what Twilight had heard, the Solar Empire had systematically broken every single one.

‘He probably won’t even want to talk to me… Not when I… she did this...’

Twilight tapped the table, as she tended to. She couldn’t forget how she, and all others there, had been stunned silent when Cadance and Luna, accompanied by two mares from another world, one a flawed mirror of her old foalsitter, and the latter a friend she’d lost a long time ago, had emerged from the mirror’s portal. Among the four, they carried Spike, injured and unconscious. It had felt like she was dreaming, seeing her little brother like this. But none could compare to whatever nightmares must’ve gone through his mind…

‘Spike…’ she thought, unsure if she was thinking of hers, or theirs. ‘Why…’

“You seem awfully quiet, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight snapped out of her train of thought. Outside her hideout’s borders, there stood Princess Luna, who stared at her, unblinking. She wore a gardener’s hat.

“Forgive me,” Luna said evenly. “I… presumed that perusing the Archives would ease your thoughts after… yesterday.”

Her freckles somehow flushed a little darker. Come to think of it, Twilight thought, she hadn’t noticed Luna even had freckles before.

“Oh, sorry,” replied Twilight, after a moment’s pause. “It’s just… there’s so much to think about.”

“I can imagine. May I come in?” said Luna. She patted a large pillow. “You do have fine tastes in pillows, Twilight.”

“Well, y’see, heh,” Twilight replied, chuckling. “Someone ordered pillows from Canterlot, the Guard told me, but there were too many for one room. So I asked if I could have a few and…” She patted her own pillow. “Here we are! Just a nice… comfy place to read, Princess.”

“Hmpf, I’ve a suspicion who ordered these. But I do like them,” said Luna, entering the perimeter. “I should… try it for my place, too.”

“Oh, you should, you should…”

Luna rested on her side, facing her across the coffee table. It struck Twilight that Luna wore neither her shoes nor her peytral. Not even her crown remained. The locks of light-blue mane hanging over her forehead and freckles on her snout completed her unusual look, yet she still looked graceful and elegant. Perhaps even more so, Twilight thought, warmth in her cheek.

“How do you feel, Twilight?” Luna asked softly, her expression turning somewhat shadowed. “How are you, and your friends doing? I’m… I’m sorry I haven’t really checked on you all in the waking world, past Nightmare Night.”

“That’s alright,” said Twilight. “I know you’re busy, Princess, and… I guess we all are, now. I’m… I’m doing okay, I guess. Fluttershy’s… everyone’s fine. We just had a lot to talk about.”

Pushing the thoughts of the broken Spike away, Twilight let out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. Luna had visible eyebags. At the mention of Fluttershy, Twilight noted a quick, downcast look full of what may have been shame.

“Goodness, Princess, you… It’s been three days. You look like you didn’t get any sleep at all.”

“I do, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, nodding. “I mean uh, I… didn’t know you had freckles before.”

“Freckles?” Luna repeated, arching an eyebrow. Her cheeks flushed a little darker, forehooves moving to touch her own nose. “Yeah, but– they aren’t supposed to show!” she grumbled. “Not now of all times.”

“Well, when are they supposed to?” asked Twilight. She rested her chin, to watch Luna shift her body shift slightly. And there, on Luna’s back, there were also darkened spots. Dapples. “Also… um, you got some on your back, too.”

Luna let out a loud groan. “Autumn, Autumn, they should show most clearly during Autumn! They do not show so prominently this early– blasted interdimensional time differences! If you’ll excuse me...” Her horn glowed. But that was all it did, before its light dimmed and faded. She cursed. “Blast, I must be more exhausted than I thought.”

“Were you going for a glamour spell?” asked Twilight, stifling a giggle.

“Makeup usually sufficed,” Luna bemoaned, hanging her head and averting her gaze. “But the Autumn dapples can be so annoying to hide.”

“Well, for what’s it worth, Princess?” Twilight snorted, interrupting Luna’s grumbling. “I think they look nice.”

That brought pause to Luna. She reached up to brush away a few of her now light-blue bangs.

“Do you mean it?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Twilight retorted, offering a little smile. “It does, really.”

“Ah, um, yes, you see,” Luna stammered out, “Tia thought they looked silly, when we were fillies. Children’s banter, I assure you. But they can be distracting, I must admit.”

“Well, Princess Celestia isn’t here, you know,” Twilight said, shrugging. “And hey, this isn’t the Royal Canterlot Voice or anything. Really, I… think you should keep them, freckles and dapples.”

Luna bit her lip, hooves tapping the pillow in a rhythmic beat. Then, she nodded, ever so slowly.

“Very well, then, ah… um, thank you, Twilight.” She shook her head, before Twilight could follow. “Right. Well. If I may ask, in turn, ahem… I’m asking a lot, aren’t I? Sorry, um, yes– how goes your research with the Amulet?”

She had asked this before. But Twilight didn’t particularly mind. “Oh, it’s fine,” she said, smiling.. “I know, I know I… probably need to finish it, don’t I? Just… I don’t even know if it matters, really. I mean, after… this.” Another pause. Twilight sighed, pushing a book aside. “To be honest, I don’t know if I can continue, knowing just how horrible everything is, Princess. Spike, Discord… now we know war’s coming for real and–”

Twilight glanced at Luna’s light-blue mane, distractingly unmagical. If she had to guess, the battle between Luna and the other-Twilight must have been draining even for the Princess of the Night. Not for the first time, Twilight wondered if Luna’s covert gazes were to compare her with her counterpart.

“What was she like?” Twilight asked, after a pause. “The Archmage.”

Luna didn’t say anything, at first. It was difficult to tell what lied beneath her stoic, regal mask.

“She was… like you,” Luna said quietly. “Different, but much alike. She’s done terrible things, I won’t sugarcoat it, but… she’s… she thought it was the for the best. The Empire, the serum…”

The thought of the ponification serum brought a shudder to Twilight.

“From what I’ve… gleaned from her memories,” Luna continued. “You– I mean, your counterpart, she did not… she tried her best to help. Help, in her own way. But some part of you lived on beneath the mask of the Archmage. And deep down, she’s… sad.”

“Sad?” Twilight asked, ignoring the growing lump in her chest. It was only logical, though Luna wouldn’t say it, to assume the Tyrant had tasked her – counterpart, Twilight reminded herself – to create the vile serum at the heart of this war.

“Aye,” Luna affirmed. “The Bearers are still together but, she’s lost so much. Lyra… Cadance…”

Luna’s voice trailed off, and she averted her eyes. Who else, Twilight wondered, did the Archmage lose, that Luna wouldn’t speak of? Then, she remembered, a child turned into a weapon of war. The drake whose broken form lay slumbering, tended to by the Mikado’s finest. Her own little brother.

“Spike,” Twilight finished. “That’s what you were gonna say right, Princess?”

Luna meekly nodded, still looking down. Twilight shook her head.

“She hurt Spike,” she concluded, icily. “We saw him. Or what… what happened to him. I don’t understand why anyone could do that to Spike and-and think they did him a favor! Gah, sorry, I know it’s a library but… Starswhirl’s beard, I… how could I-she do this…”

She was starting to hyperventilate now, a forehoof placed on the table, one on her chest. Cadance’s breathing technique was failing her. She saw what became of Spike, how she – no, not her, the Archmage – had turned him inside out.

“She pulled him apart a-and put him back together. Why? I– I don’t understand, and I won’t, because, because he’s, he’s just a baby and… and…”

She was going into an aria soon, she could feel it. Yet, sudden warmth flushed within her, as she felt Luna’s forehoof touch hers.

“I keep telling myself I’d never do that,” Twilight said, “That… that he’s family, and I love him. But I did!” She looked up to Luna with tears in her eyes. “How could I... how could anyone...?”

“Twilight,” said Luna warmly. “It’s… take a deep breath. In, and out.”

So she did, for a few moments. And when she was done, Luna was looking right at her, again, with a gentle smile.

“Right… right, sorry,” said Twilight.

She withdrew her forehoof from Luna’s, resting upon the coffee table. There, they sat in silence once more, quietly considering one another, and neither knew what to say . Luna’s blue-green eyes, cool and tranquil as the Moon she raised, seemed as warm as Celestia’s today… perhaps warmer still. Or were they always like that? Twilight shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn up.

“Sorry, sorry,” Twilight said, swallowing. “It’s not everyday you get to hear about… you, doing things you haven’t done.”

“Oh, do not worry… These are strange times.”

“Strange times, isn’t that an understatement,” Twilight said, deadpan. “Isn’t that a Kirin proverb? I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. Well, there was that project I had in mind, for a school, but… I don’t know, it’s silly.”

“School?” Luna asked, tilting her head.

“To open a school of… friendship.” She gave a short giggle. “You know, get everyone to… understand one another. It’d be a waste if we all just parted ways, after this is over. Sorry, it’s… Yeah, it’s kind of silly. I just… you know. I just had the thought that, with Princess Celestia’s exhibition plans and Lyra’s expedition… I should chip in, too, back home. But… I don’t know, Princess. I don’t want to waste your time babbling.”

“Oh… Well, on the contrary, Twilight,” said Luna. “I’d love to hear it.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” said Luna, smiling, “I dabbled in educational reform after Discord’s fall, you see. And the work doesn’t stop at the war’s end. On that, I’m sure both my sisters would agree.”

“Yeah, eheh, it’s… I thought I had to do something, right, Princess?” Twilight said, nodding. “Though, Princess Celestia must’ve covered it already.”

“Nay,” Luna said. “Perhaps she did, but nothing is new under the Sun. It’s what you’d do that sets it apart. My sister pulls many strings, but she believes everyone has their part to play.” She reached forwards and tapped her chest, then retracted quickly, looking a little shy. “This is yours, Twilight.” She managed an awkward smile, one that Twilight returned.

“Right, right!” Twilight exclaimed, flicking her mane aside. “Okay, okay, I’ll have to draft a curriculum, I’ll… I’ll have to ask around more. Glenda, maybe Glenda’s got a few suggestions too! Gotta take all the cultures into account, goodness, there’s so many! All the tribes, all Twelve Families, and then there’s also humanity. I also need a permit, convince a few teachers and…”

She continued for a solid minute, by her estimate, but in all likelihood, it was probably an hour. Wild gestures were a-plenty as she spoke of the Archives’ own mysterious history, how they’d all come together at a moment’s notice. Luna had a few questions of her own, quizzically inquiring what activities this school would perform, teamwork and games and so much more…

And when she was done, Twilight felt her mind clearer than it had been. Based on the shushes from down the aisles, she might as well have sung an aria.

“...And this isn’t even going what my friends would think! Gah! So much to talk about…”

“And so little time,” Luna finished. Her smile wasn’t mysterious at all, from the way she rested her chin upon her forehooves.

“Right? Hah, and they say we can’t teach friendship. Well, not exactly teaching it, but we’ll encourage it!”

Another shush from down the aisle prompted Twilight to step off the coffee table, sheepishly. Luna clapped her hooves.

“I cannot say I’ve ever seen a performance like that, but well done! I think,” she said approvingly. “Do you… feel better?”

“Yeah! Yeah…” Twilight replied. A few intrusive thoughts still passed by – Spike, the Empire, the Archmage. Even Moondancer. She shook it away. “There’s still plenty to figure it out, but… I know what I have to do. Just look at all this, Princess. Everyone’s… everyone’s history is here. Who’re we if we don’t share it?” She looked at Luna eye-to-eye. “And we’ll prove the Empire, and their Co-Harmony Sphere, wrong. We can make our own bonds, without destroying memories.”

“I think,” Luna said, smiling serenely, “I’d love to see that. A bond not on their terms.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Twilight, matching Luna’s smile. “Though I should… probably hold off on it, I mean, with Princess Celestia busy, I’m sure she won’t have time to read–”

“Oh, or you could write to me,” said Luna, suddenly. “I, well, I suppose I can make suggestions, even a few arrangements! In addition to my sister, of course, as you usually do.”

Twilight tapped her chin. “Well, if it’s okay with you? I mean… I’m not sure I’d want to keep you busy either, Princess. I’d love to! I just… didn’t think you’d be available, is all, sorry.”

“Fret not– if any, I should’ve tried reaching out to you as well...” said Luna gently. “It… I will always have time for you– nay, I will make time, and I shall listen to what you have to say, whatever it is...”

And the Princess’ smile could have melted glaciers now, despite her tired eyes. Twilight did not hesitate in returning it. But it had occurred to Twilight that Luna hadn’t spoken much about how she was faring. And for the past few days, nothing suggested to Twilight that the Princess had found much rest.

“Oh, Princess Luna?” she said. “Thank you.”

Luna tilted her head. “Pardon?”

“You brought Spike here,” remarked Twilight, smiling despite the tears that welled up. Luna looked away for a moment.

“I had to, after what he’s been through,” she said stiffly. “But I could have done more for him.”

Instinctively, Twilight held Luna’s forehoof, comfortingly. “You’ve done enough. He’s here, and he’s safe. That’s on you and Cadance. I’ll never forget that.”

When Luna looked, Twilight saw nothing but kindness and relief etched across her face, and her beauty shone through weariness.

“If you say so, Twilight,” said Luna, gently. “I do hope you are doing just fine.”

“Well, so-so, but, I’ll… I’ll be fine, really. You need your rest. But thanks for the talk. We can, you know, we can talk again later, when you’re doing better. These books aren’t going anywhere. We’ve got time.”

“But I hope I am not taking away your time.”

“Well, no, you didn’t. In fact, I’ve been keeping you awake, haven’t I? Don’t worry, I always have time for friends, Princess.”

“Oh. Am I… your friend?”

“Of course!” Twilight said, beaming. “You are, and we’ve got catching up to do. After you rest.”

Curiously, Luna simply glanced around, as if she was avoiding her eyes directly. “Ah, yes, I guess that I should get my rest, the clock is ticking,” she said hurriedly. Another fake cough, and she turned her gaze away to look at the clock. But that didn’t make sense, Twilight realized. The Archives did not have any clocks on this aisle.

Luna turned back, fixing her gaze on her. “But… I was wondering, Twilight,” she said softly. “When will you be leaving?”

“Around the time Lyra will be, Princess,” said Twilight. “I’m hoping I’ll be back here soon... Saddle Mareabia won’t be a walk in the park. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… I’ll miss you,” said Luna. She cleared her throat. “I, ah, you wouldn’t mind, then, well, if I stay here a little longer and catch up. Besides...” She patted her pillow. “You have wonderful taste.”

“Oh, if you prefer, Princess,” Twilight said, giggling. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere then. Maybe you could show me a few books? I got a couple questions, too, if you don’t mind.”

That brought a mirthful laugh from the Princess of the Night. “Perfect. And… you can call me Luna. Ask away.”

“Okay, Luna,” answered Twilight, beaming. “Hmm, well… first… how’d you figure you had those?” She pointed at Luna’s nose. Luna’s smile grew wider still.

“Very young, you see. It was… it was Sint who’d first remarked on them… but it was Lady Mistmane who saw that they were most prominent under the autumn moon, when we went out to garden…”

So the talk went on, for hours and hours, but never did either of their smiles waver.

Gallopoli, Equestria. Day 11 of the Concordia – Twentieth Day of the Month of Rophon.

The ponies of Equestria may call this quaint seaside town somewhere they liked going to, a place to let life’s worries pass. But it dulled the senses, attracted complacency. All the things Ember thought didn’t fit a dragon. Once she and Madame Heartstrings’ contingent had arrived, Ember had excused herself to find a perch, on the ancient walls of the citadel, at a fair distance, but still within earshot. This place was a fortress once, standing proud in facing whatever invaders would dare approach from the waters in the West.

Now it was a tourist hotspot, its cracked walls covered in flowers. Ember groaned. Ponies! So close, yet so far from her understanding. She clutched the burlag bag countaining the Chaoskämper’s precious canister. It was only at Spykoran’s insistence she’d come here.

‘What a waste…’, she thought, ignoring the inane discussions of Heartstrings’ crowd.

But then the air changed. The winds turned. The scent of seawater and coal mingled. The rumble of machinery mingled with the crowd’s noises until only it remained.

There, gliding across the sea, emerged three vessels she’d only seen above Kirin waters. Great vessels of metal and wood, woven together by screws and welding. A figurehead emerging from the bow, a dragonhead, its piercing gaze cowing all within its sight. Enclosed, the vessel’s squat form protected from the rough weather it was constructed to withstand. A dozen windows of crisscrossing metal offered their occupants the sole sight of the outside world.

Ember had seen sky-whales before, the real-life beasts, rare as they were, on the occasional excursion aboard the Mikado’s private barge. She’d never seen sky-turtles, but if she’d had to guess, this was as close as she could get.

For such a stingy folk, the sky-turtle ships, Ember admitted, were works of art. The crowd that gasped and clapped below her certainly agreed.

Gallopoli was a familiar name to many beachgoers from across Equestria, and even the odd foreign visitor. The town, with its temperate climate, offered a pleasant seaside experience, its windswept cliffs and tranquil, white-sand beaches a highly-sought destination, with plenty of options among its old, rustic homes for those who wished to spend the night. And, for the more historically-minded, there was the old fortress situated by the coast, its large, stony walls facing the sea to counter pirates and raiders.

Thorax wondered if it had been breached. Perhaps the tour guides had something to say about that topic. But Queen Chrysalis had little need for tours. For now, she seemed content with lounging at the beach. And where Chrysalis wished to go, her entourage would follow. For a weekend, it was a quiet day at the beach. There was no-one else there with them, in these late hours, save for a grey earthpony, minding her own business on a sunlounger. So quiet was she, lying on her belly and reading a book, one could mistake her for a statue, were it not for an occasional flick of the ear, or inquisitive, piercing-blue gaze thrown their way.

Then she would return to her book, leaving Thorax with the pain he felt in his back, so vividly.

Naturally, there was no way he’d complain. Chrysalis wouldn’t like that much. So he could only wish she’d shift her legs to a better position. Which she did every so often, but never enough. Thorax would steal glances, enviously watching the Queen sip from a glass of orange juice on her own sunlounger. It was one of a couple things she’d ordered from the inn. What a surprise it had been for the poor old innkeeper to see her standing there, flanked by Thorax and Pharynx, and so casually request the menu. And a bigger surprise when she took the time to pay.

A courtesy, she’d said, and just about the only courtesy she’d offer.

“Oh, move a bit to the left, would you?” Chrysalis asked, sweetly.

Thorax obliged. It wasn’t a question so much as a command. She adjusted her hindlegs, pressing her hooves down harder on his back, forcing him to dig in deeper into the sand. Grains of sand poured into the holes in his hooves. It stung. He bit his lip, stifling a whimper.

“Much better,” said Chrysalis, letting out a satisfied sigh. “My… what a lovely day this is, Thorax.”

There wasn’t much Thorax could do except nod, very slowly. Thankfully, that seemed to satisfy Chrysalis, who resumed drinking. He looked away, his eyes seeking a distraction, any distraction. There were plenty of sights, between the cliffs, the fortress looming in the distance, and the comfy seaside inns dotting the town, even those newly-arriving ships… Yet little love to be tasted on the mostly-empty beach.

He didn’t feel like stealing. But the pain in his back left him no choice. Thorax smelt the air, hoping to catch a whiff of freshly-cut grass. He had caught its scent from the earthpony, briefly. He didn’t know what sort of love it had been – perhaps she was an avid reader. Despite her dull, grey colors, he had found her a sight for sore eyes. But Thorax’s heart sank upon sighting an empty sunlounger. In the time it took for Chrysalis to ask for an adjustment, the mare must have finished reading.

Now Thorax felt truly alone… were it not for the little Changeling further down the beach, closer to the water. Aphid, he remembered. Aphid was here, too, if a little busy. Still making sandcastles in the wetter sands, humming to herself. Ostensibly, Chrysalis had put her there on lookout duty. Still, the Queen didn’t seem to mind Aphid’s sandcastles. And neither did Thorax. They were nice little sandcastles, although the tides would claim them in the morning. It didn’t matter to the peppy Aphid. She always had time to make more, and Thorax would watch.

The pain stung yet again when Chrysalis shifted. Thorax whimpered.

He focused, without turning his head, upon one of the castles. It was built on a sand-mountain, meticulously shaped to resemble the Canterhorn. The castle itself was an approximation of Canterlot Palace, its distinct ivory towers sticking out. Here, Thorax wondered how much time it had taken to build the true castle, a feat of engineering matched by few in history. A castle and city the Ebony Hive had ruthlessly assaulted. A throne Queen Chrysalis had desired above all, a proud symbol to be claimed for her own.

Princess Celestia, by contrast, seemed to regard a throne as a mere chair. Thorax wondered just then how many castles Celestia had built, and how many more she was planning to, in the days to follow. How many more bridges were to be built amidst the Concordat. How she had so readily offered help.

There, in the Gallopoli beach, Thorax wished he too could build bridges.

Life was good, Chrysalis mused. Here, in the shade of her umbrella, by the Gallopoli seaside, there was nowhere else she’d rather be. Fun as it was to toy with the Concordat proceedings, a Queen needed her rest. Gallopoli wasn’t the prettiest of resort towns, she felt, but nevertheless it would do, and Chrysalis found it just right. No meddling spywork. No troublesome princesses. No looming wars to worry about. Only her, always. Only her…

She leaned back onto the sunlounger, taking a long sip from her glass of juice, and purred. Her gaze panned over the waves, moving twardso the beach. She frowned, tilting her sunhat. Empty beaches were scarce in love. Any other day, she’d have gladly feasted, tasting the delicacy of tourists from everywhere.

‘Bah,’, Chrysalis thought. ‘Perhaps I should’ve stayed in town. Ugh.’

Carefully balancing the sunhat upon her horn, Chrysalis looked to Gallopoli’s old fortress, and the gateways that led into the town proper. It was a few hundred paces away. Nominally, she’d come here to view the sky-turtles’ arrival herself. Heartstrings… she vaguely recalled that little green former stooge of hers. She rolled her eyes.

‘Eh, I can wait.’

So wait she did, adjusting her hindlegs upon her footstool. He whimpered. Chrysalis scoffed. At least this time around, he wasn’t too much of a distraction.

Then, upon sighting Pharynx, marching over with a cage on his powerful back, Chrysalis’ lips twisted into a wicked little smirk.

‘How about this for a distraction, hm?’ she thought. Her footstool’s little misadventures with the Dragon Princess hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. She had the bruise from Lady Cadenza, that stunted wretch, to prove it.

With the swiftness and discipline of a Hive soldier, Pharynx set down the obsidian cage, giving Chrysalis full view of its occupant. Who, naturally, didn’t look happy, lying down with his arms crossed and throwing her a scornful glare. But that glare got replaced by a confused look, when Chrysalis gestured at Pharynx to open the cage.

“Well, go on, then,” said Chrysalis.

She watched Garble stand to take his first few steps outside what had been his home for the past few weeks, onto the white sand. He looked around, bewildered, before settling his gaze on Chrysalis.

“So… no catch, nothin’?” Garble asked.

Chrysalis groaned. “No,” she said, baring her fangs. “Now, shoo, before I change my mind.”

It was all she had to say. Garble only took the time to rapidly duck back inside the cage, grabbing that mystery package he’d got a couple days earlier, before he scurried away along the beach, tail hanging behind him. Chrysalis watched his figure retreat, shrinking, until he disappeared into the cliffs.

Snorting dismissively, Chrysalis lifted her hindlegs off Thorax’s withers, stretching and yawning. She saw Thorax gasp for air, wobbling feebly onto his legs.

“You too. Run along, Thorax,” Chrysalis said, cracking her neck. “How about you go follow that princess of yours in town. You’re a Changeling. Act like it. Won’t that be fun?”

Chrysalis noticed Thorax glance at her in surprise, then nervously towards Pharnyx, who’d put on his most inscrutable expression. All Thorax did was give a quick, desperate nod, bowing at her in abject gratitude, after which he finally took flight.

It hadn’t taken long after that for Chrysalis to bemoan her loss of a footstool. It also hadn’t taken long for Pharynx to take his place. Perhaps Thorax had a point about Chrysalis’ hindlegs. Heavy, they were. And he knew the Queen was only putting him through this indignity as punishment for losing the duel with the human, Reiner. But Pharynx was a loyal soldier of the Hive, and it was his duty to carry out. Even something so menial as propping up the Queen. If Thorax couldn’t do this, Pharynx would stoically perform the task as only he could.

For that matter, Chrysalis didn’t seem too concerned with pressing him down. He noticed the Queen signalling a few new figures coming up the beach, one of whom he recognized as the Harlequin Queen-in-Waiting. By her side was her heavyset Red Hive bodyguard, Mandible, walking the Timberwolves they’d captured in the Macintosh Mountains.

Seeing Chrysalis signal, the Queen-in-Waiting started, and fluttered over.

“Papillate,” said Queen Chrysalis, “could you be a dear and show me what you’ve practiced?”

The little Queen-in-Waiting tilted her head, prior to nodding. Rapidly, the green flames enveloped her, reflected upon the beach’s sandy white. What re-emerged was an equine figure with a blocky muzzle, a striped mane and equally striped frame.

Chrysalis sighed. “No, not that,” she said, although the lecherous feelings radiating off her did not escape Pharynx. “The other one.”

The zebra’s face grinned sheepishly, whereupon Papillate let the flames of transformation engulf her anew. When Pharynx saw what she’d turned into this time, he momentarily thought his eyes were tricking him.

At Chrysalis’ request, a familiar lithe, blue dragonet stood before them.

“Good,” cooed Chrysalis. “You know what to do, my sweetling. Those two fools can’t yet have gone far. You ought to pick up their love-scents. Now to test how well you can emulate another creature’s love-scent.”

Papillate silently nodded again, but Pharynx’s ears had perked at the word ‘fools’.

As he saw the false blue dragonet set off, there was no question what his Queen’s game was. He hadn’t been able to hide from Chrysalis what his fight with the Dragon Princess, the one which had led into the official duel against the human, had been about. Far from being upset there, Chrysalis had found this amusing. Like him, she knew there was nothing so cock-eyed as a Changeling in love.

Worse, though. While the cretinous red drake who “guarded” the Dragon Princess might not even know it, he did have feelings for Ember as well.

Pharynx grimaced. Whatever prank Chrysalis wanted Papillate to play, there was no outcome where this ended well for Thorax. And although he was rough with his brother, Pharynx had never liked anyone else getting rough with Thorax. Even the Queen. He’d always sheltered his little brother from her wrath or cruel games when he could. But what could he do now, while Chrysalis had her eye on him?

‘Eyes…’ he thought. ‘That’s it!’

A bit further along the beach, Aphid still played with her silly little castles. But she must have heard everything. The girl hung onto the Queen’s every word, no matter how trivial. Sure enough, Pharynx saw her looking their way. Normally, he found her habit of miming instead of talking to be annoying – but for once, Pharynx felt thankful his self-appointed “adoptive sister” was an expert in non-verbal communication.

Concentrating, Pharynx focused his magic so only his eyes would transform, in a subtle flash, to mimic the red-pupilled eyes of the Dragon Princess, then Papillate’s yellow eyes. It startled poor Aphid, who took a step back. But she seemed to quickly get his drift, from her vigorous nod.

Aphid sauntered off to the Queen, happy as she could be. She shot Pharynx a glance. A little forehoof reached out to Chrysalis, and tapped her shoulder.

“Huh-what?” Chrysalis exclaimed, eyes darting around. “Oh, Aphid. Yes, what is it, dear? Need a new scoop?”

Aphid shook her head, pointing at her saddlebags, by Chrysalis’ sunlounger. Then mimed a glass. Or a bottle. Pharynx couldn’t tell.

“But… you know you’re short a year for drinking,” said Chrysalis. Her grin widened. “Who cares. Here, my little sweetbug.” The saddlebags were summoned to her. Chrysalis reached her purse. A few bits trickled into Aphid’s forehoof. “Go have a sip or two. But save some for Mother, will you? Wouldn’t want to get too tipsy, dear.”

So Aphid leaned forward and nuzzled Chrysalis, rubbing against her chin, still beaming. But when Pharynx’s eyes found Aphid’s, a wink followed.

Thorax had quickly picked up Princess Ember’s love-scent. When he’d sensed it stemmed from the same ruined fortress he’d been admiring at the beach, he’d felt a moment’s apprehension, realizing there’d be crowds there. A crowd of Madame Heartstrings’ burgeoning expedition, beginning to file down the staircases to take a closer look at the freshly-arrived sky-turtles, which loomed imposingly over the town’s harbor.

But then he’d spotted that the Princess was perched a way away from the crowd, showing no inclination to go and join them. And now he wondered what he’d say to her.

His heart skipped a beat when Ember’s eyes found him.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Thorax!”

Good going. He’d got too close. She swooped down from her perch, landing perfectly on the grassy knoll with hardly a crack. Now or never. With hesitant steps, he approached her, until he was within reach.

“I…” he began. His voice faded.

“Yeah?” said Ember. “What’s up?”

Her brow was raised. But her stance was relaxed, her shoulders loose. Thorax steeled himself. His brother had told him much. What to do, and what to think. He had to keep promises.

“Princess Ember,” he said, his tone neutral. “Your bodyguard has been released.”

Ember blinked. “Uh-huh… right. So. Garble’s been released, I get you. She looked around, huffing. “Listen, um, I… remember the mess back at the Hall and… I just want to move from it, y’know? So, here. I think I’d want to play the guitar soon. You wanna come?”

Tempting. Why was it so hard? But Thorax knew his duty. What Pharynx expected from him.

“No… No, I don’t think I can,” said Thorax. His jaws, tight as they were, felt as if they should be loosened. He pressed on. “I’m just here… to tell you about Garble. Your bodyguard. Yes.”

“...O-okay,” Ember answered. Her shoulders fell, Thorax saw. Then she glared. “Fine. Guess I’ll go find him, then. Where is he?”

“Last I saw him, he was heading for the cliffs, I think…”

And that was that. Shaking her head, Ember beat her wings and went. Thorax stayed staring at her receding form long after. Sudden impulse then seized him. He couldn’t leave it at that. His wings began to buzz as he prepared to follow.

Freedom, at last. Hidden away in a dense patch of foliage atop the cliff, Garble finally allowed himself a breath of relief, clutching his care-package to his chest. Before tasting freedom, he’d thought he’d want nothing so much as revenge upon Chrysalis. Now he was finally out, he realized it felt just too sweet to be here, enjoying a moment’s peace. His wings, after being cramped in a cage for weeks, had ached terribly once he’d stretched them anew. But, oh, the bliss of getting to fly once more!

Wings… So much trouble in his life could trace back to when he’d molted, getting wings.

His relief fading, Garble set down his package, contemplating it. He wanted what was inside. Yet ever since he’d found this hobby, he’d suffered for it. Not all dragons rigidly followed the code that a molting dragon be kicked out of the family nest. His own parents likely wouldn’t have – if it hadn’t been the perfect excuse, after his un-dragonlike side came to light. Filthy hypocrites.

Garble had struck out on his own for years, and if he had tears to shed, he'd spent them long ago. Let his parents be Smolder's business. She'd got to stay home even once she'd sprouted wings, whereas he'd been kicked out because he refused to have his wings clipped, so to speak. Sometimes, he felt he may have resented her for this, weren't it for her unwavering support, when few others would offer it.

It wasn’t his fault the best role model he’d found out in the wild was a drake who’d let himself get shooed away by ponies. The only way the mockery could have been worse, was if dragons learned a pony had driven Razer to tears. Boy, how the old dragon had acted so on-his-knees towards him after that, telling him how sorry he was, how he’d changed his mind about his hundred-year nap and how Garble would be welcome back. Too little, too late.

Feeling his lip curl, Garble decided to finally get to what he wanted. He began to unwrap the package, retrieving one of the items Smolder had sent from the Dragonlands, which he treasured more than other dragons treasured their hoards

A pair of rock bongos. Despite everything, Garble now smiled crookedly at the sight.

Following the red drake’s love-scent, or any scent of his, hadn’t been tough for Papillate. With his cage in Queen Chrysalis’ bedroom, she’d spent enough time close by him to know it well. At first, his presence hadn’t helped Papillate’s anxiety any, despite Queen Chrysalis’ reassurances that a tarp pulled over the cage provided them sufficient privacy. With the sort of requests the Queen made every other night, it’d taken Papillate ages to dispel her discomfort. Eventually, however, the caged drake had just become part of the scenery.

But the Swarmarch had told her early on that, as the next step in her education, Papillate would one day be expected to test her charms on other subjects. That day was here.

In her disguise as the blue Dragon Princess, Papillate observed the drake from a safe distance, peering through a patch in the foliage. Queen Chrysalis hadn’t given her any easy beginner’s test. Dragons weren’t known as lovestruck creatures. Still, Papillate had seized her courage, and resolved to go in. Teenagers of any species were malleable like putty.

Yet this was the last thing she’d expected. The red drake in front of two stone drums, she thought was what they were. Tapping at them slowly, musically. It made her hesitate. And in her hesitation, Papillate sensed someone had snuck up on her in the foliage. With a surprised gasp, Papillate turned abruptly to face another Changeling. She saw it was a drone, a tiny thing, yet one she’d met before. One of the Ebony Hive, the silent yet energetic Aphid.

Cutting across her way, the little drone stood on her hindlegs, stretching out her forehooves in what Papillate discerned to be an attempt to hinder her.

Papillated looked at the drone. “I-I’ve got something to do. Please just… just step aside.”

Aphid shook her head. She tapped both her hooves on the ground. A flash of green fire, and a little orange dragonet stood where she’d been. The dragonet waved at Papillate, then sat down. She tapped at the ground, two rhythmic beats. Another flash, and little Aphid stood there. She mimed two items on the ground, then resumed the orange dragonet’s form, waving goodbye.

By the time Aphid pointed towards the red drake, understanding dawned. Papillate was getting a grasp for the little drone’s strange way of communicating. It helped that she remembered the sign Aphid had used to describe the formidable soldier, Pharynx, as her brother.

“...From the drake’s sister, huh?” But Papillate shook her head in turn. “I’m… I’m sorry. It’s the Swarmarch. She gave me a job to do.”

Whereupon she pushed past Aphid before the drone could stop her.

Garble was surprised, and displeased, to see a certain blue dragonet emerge into his hidey-hole.

“You?” He bared his teeth. At that moment, he couldn’t care that his bongos were in full view. “Fancy seeing you here, Princess.”

“Yeah?” Ember said slowly, sultrily. “Well, fancy seeing you here, Garble…”

He blinked. “Huh?”

Tittering, the blue dragonet stood upright, showily rubbing her face with one claw while the other rubbed her hips, in a demeanor that wouldn’t have been out-of-place against saxophone music in a Klugetown bar.

“Oh, I’ve been missing you all that time, didn’t you know?” said Ember, sashaying towards him, to place her claw beneath his muzzle. “How sorry I felt for you, stuck in that cage… A strong, handsome drake like you, all alone… But I can take care of you now…”

Her words, and her touch, did send signals along his scales pleasing to his teenage mind. Garble couldn’t deny that. It was why, for an instant, he wanted to believe it. Yet only an instant.

“Yeah, right,” he said flatly. “How dumb do you think I am?”

The blue dragonet stopped cold. “Pardon?”

Garble sighed. “There you go again… The real Princess don’t talk like that. You’re a Changeling, ain’t ya?”

She gasped in horror, which told him all he needed.

“Figures,” Garble muttered, standing. “Shoulda known the Roach Queen weren’t done with me… Well, don’t just stand there, fake, show yourself!

Whether out of fear or on instinct, his words had an effect on her. Abrubtly, the Changeling flames that were green, like the Chaoskämpfer’s but not proper dragonfire at all, took over ‘Ember’. And after that, she was replaced by a metal-green bee-thing, of diamond-marked chitin.

“Hey, I know you…” Garble started to growl, remembering his so-called vaccination by Chrysalis. “You’re the roach who brought that needle. It hurt like Tartarus. What’s your deal?”

Her lip trembled. “L-look, I got-gotta do this! The Queen will be very unhappy if I don’t have any love to bring back to her!”

“So?” Garble snorted. “What’s it to me, roach?” He rubbed the sore spot on his thigh, contemptuously. “Serves you right, far as I’m concerned. But you’re in luck, I can’t even be bothered scratching you for that. Get lost.”

He sat back down, ignoring her. The Changeling stood there, then, hanging her head, she prepared to fly off. As she raised herself, however, Garble gave her another look. She seemed rather lonely and sad.

“Hm…” Garble snapped his fingers. He’d just had an intriguing idea. “Wait. I know, you could…” But then he deflated. “Ah, forget it.”

She turned to stare back at him, confused. “Eh?”

Garble waved her off. “Nah, dumb idea. I was thinking, you could be my sister… ‘Cept you don’t know what she looks like.”

The Changeling’s brow creased in thought. Suddenly, the green flames surrounded her, and to Garble’s great surprise, there stood a perfect imitation of Smolder.

“How’d–”

“We all got our tricks,” she said wanly. Which sounded weird from Smolder.

He shook his head. “Never mind. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

What he wanted to do didn’t require her not looking, Garble knew as he picked up his leftover care-package, retreating into a denser foliage patch bordering the cliffside. After all, she’d see him soon enough. But this still wasn’t really Smolder. He didn’t feel comfortable changing in front of her. Funny, given she was a Changeling.

Under safe cover, he reached in and pulled out what was left in the package. He’d missed these nearly as much as the bongos, but once he’d got them, without Smolder around, he hadn’t seen the point of putting them on. Actually, in her absence, he’d felt something missing to his beat. Perhaps, Garble hoped as he began pulling an arm through a sleeve, this’d make the difference.

When he returned, ‘Smolder’ was still there. She gazed at him, nonplussed.

Garble raised a claw. “Here’s the deal, ‘sis’. We sit together. I play, you listen. You do that, and we’ll both keep mum. You won’t tell you saw this, I won’t tell Chrysalis how you got love. We clear?”

‘Smolder’ nodded, thoughtful-looking. “You know… This is kinda like transforming yourself, too.”

“Bah,” Garble said as he sat by his bongos. “Just shut up and listen.”

So he began to play anew, in full attire.

And for a while, he could pretend it was just him there with his sister, nothing hanging over him, least of all other dragons’ judgment.

Or his mission from the Chaoskämpfer.

The first thing Ember noticed was Garble, sitting down, with two rock bongos. The second was a smaller orange dragonet, sitting with her legs pressed to her chest, watching Garble play in awe. The third, most distractingly, was that Garble had clothing on. A blue-and-white striped shirt, like a sailor’s, and a beret.

Then Garble, mid-beat, saw Ember, and his voice came out like he was strangled.

“Em-ber?”

Ember looked at him, up and down. “...What are you wearing?”

“I… uh, it’s nothing,” said Garble, hastily stuffing away his beret.

“Nothing?” Ember repeated. She gestured to all of him. “You look so… so wide! Where’d you get this stuff?”

She reached out to grab at his sleeve, but Garble snatched it back, rubbing at it as if her touch were contagious.

“Hey, careful!” he shouted. “It weren’t easy getting these here…”

Ember shot the little orange dragonet by his side a quick glance. “Yeah, sure,” she said, scoffing. “How do you explain her, then?”

The little dragon squeaked, turned into a Changeling and flew away. Initially feeling surprised, Ember then saw things become clear.

“Admit it, Garble,” she said, faintly amused. “You like to dress up.”

“Whu-?” Garble’s nostrils flared. “Hey, this isn’t a dress, this is authenticity!”

That threw Ember off. “How do you know that word?”

“How do you not?” retorted Garble. “Okay, so I keep this stuff secret. But I do have one person I share it with.” He gestured at Papillate. “Sure, I’m making do with what I got. Still, Smolder’s a real dragon. All you got is a roach.”

Ember stiffened. “What?”

“Oh, I was there, remember? When you were playin’ guitar. Or what, “ Garble leered at her, “don’t tell me you liked performing for roaches?”

“W-what? No! No it’s… it’s not the same. It’s…” She stiffened up. “It’s not like I cared about him, just like you cared ‘bout her over there, huh?”

And of course, in the foliage, two other Changelings overheard.

“But we’re friends…”

Aphid grabbed onto Thorax, shaking her head as she tugged him. She withdrew, and mimed.

‘Don’t be a doofus! read her signs. ‘You know she doesn’t mean it. She’s only saying those things because she’s a dragon, and wants to save face.’

Aphid rummaged through her saddlebags. In her aura, she held a bottle of water. It looked expensive, the price a good few bits. But Thorax pushed it away when she gave him puppy eyes and offered it to him.

“Does she?” Thorax whispered, in a cracked voice. “Well, that… that still doesn’t make this right.”

He left then, going where Papillate had gone, not hearing how the rest of the dragons’ argument was to unfold, nor caring.

The Hall of Unity.

Evening in these gardens felt different, somehow, to Prince Blueblood.

Back in Canterlot, he knew Aunt Celestia’s gardens, famous for their array of flora and fauna – especially the birds of every color, the toucans, the hummingbirds and the flamingos, or the jays. Wallaroos and kangaroos. If only they’d dare show themselves more. But there was one lesson Celestia had drilled into him from a young age. Be patient with these animals. They are not yours to pet, for they were rescued from poachers and others who’d mistreat them, and they’d have little chance to survive in the wild anymore.

His one attempt at disobedience was also the rare time he could remember Celestia punishing him with severity. The lesson had stuck. Ironic, then, that a few years later, the stampeding of these same creatures at the Grand Galloping Gala had coincided with him getting more than he’d bargained for in taunting a gold-digger.

Those gardens were Celestia’s. In those gardens, he’d found his skill at the center of the Maze, But he’d known what he was looking for then. Right now, he couldn’t say he did. With Awesome Fire and Shieldwall busy on their own projects, and Basil away in Gallopoli, Blueblood was left to his thoughts. Maybe he was looking for tranquility of mind. Beyond the pillars of the pagoda, the Sun began to cloak along the horizon, as the cycle transitioned from Celestia to Luna’s rule. In the last two weeks, Luna had made the Hall’s gardens her own. Unlike Celestia’s, they held no living creatures he knew of.

The sound of running water alerted him that he was coming to a fountain. Stopping, he considered it, then went ahead. If he couldn’t drown himself in a bottle tonight, perhaps the water’s sound could drown out unwelcome thoughts.

It was to his surprise, when he stepped around a hedge to the fountain square, that he found he wasn’t as alone as he’d believed.

The human woman lay facing away from him, on the great fountain’s plinth, basking in the last rays of sunshine. Squinting, Blueblood strained to recognize her face. Less than a dozen humans had crossed over from Earth since Luna’s return, of varying ranks and purpose. He did not think this was one of their leadership. Too open to exposure here, even if the Hall of Unity was nominally safe.

He wondered if he should just turn back. Obviously she’d chosen to be alone, likely for reasons he dare not imagine. But compulsion overruled him. This could be his first, if not his only occasion to approach a human outside a formal environment.

Thus, brushing his snazzy new longcoat, he walked over.

“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”

“WAH! Oh–” the human yelped, catapulting up. In seconds, her hands dashed to cover her chest, her legs crossed. She turned to face him. “Oh, my go– I am so, so very sorry…”

She drew her legs up, pulling them against her chest, leaving her seated in a foetal position upon the plinth’s rim.

“Hi, um,” said the human. “Y-yeah. Beautiful evening. How’re you? Sorry, erm, I… I should probably, probably– gah, I’m so sorry,”

Her hand reached towards a piece of armor on the ground. It was odd, Blueblood thought, to happen upon a human outside their omnipresent armor or fabric. This one looked oddly small without them.

That was when he noticed her head of hair – he wasn’t sure if humans would call it a mane. It was a shade of brownish-red, a pleasing color, and cut short, which was less pleasing. But neither of those were what caught his attention. Although it had dried quickly in the Midsummer heat, tiny droplets of water still matted her hair, too many to just be splashes from the fountain. Enough droplets covered what else he saw of her to confirm his suspicions.

“Ah,” he said. “Apologies, I didn’t realize.” He paused, considering teasing her along, but decided this might be a conversation-dampener. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul. It isn’t allowed, true, but I’ve bathed in fountains a fair few times myself– with a bottle stuck over my horn, more often than not. Crazy nights.”

“...Aah, you… you snuck around, too?” Her hand stopped short of reaching for her armor. She kept it held out, fingers trembling, before slowly pulling back. She had big, warm blue eyes. “Yeah, erm… thanks for… covering for me, I guess. It-it’s been a long few m-months, and... well, I c-couldn’t resist.”

Blueblood nodded, feeling more sympathy than he’d suspected. “I understand war doesn’t do much for creature comforts…” he said, taking a seat a small distance from her on the plinth. “It must be a shock, going from that to… Well, this.”

His forehoof swept over the intricate garden.

“Luxury,” he finished. “I’ve known it all my life, you know.”

“Th-that’s nice...” the human said, shakily. “One of my f-friends is rich. Well, um, richer than me. Or… or my other friends. Actually, I d-don’t know if she s-still is. But she’s still around, so that’s… that’s good.”

While she’d got over her surprise, he picked up on her continued nervousness. Aunt Celestia had explained that in war, it wasn’t uncommon for fighters to develop what she called a ‘twitchiness’. Yet the human was speaking plainly enough. So, could it be his station which made her nervous? Now wouldn’t that be a change from his would-be suitors...

Idly, Blueblood dipped his forehoof into the pool, watching the ripples trace.

“Oh, I’m not just a loafer, I’ll have you know,” he said casually. “Took the initiative to earn my own bread once, me and some friends. For a whole year. ‘Course, it was meant to be fun, too. We’d… borrowed ourselves a big ship, see, and went storm-hunting around the world… Know what prices they’ll offer for harvested lightning, on the Ryupponese black market?”

The human shrugged. “Mmm, no, not really,” she said. She remained tucked up in a foetal position, but her shakes had receded somewhat. “How much were they offering for… lightning?”

“More than enough for bed and board,” Blueblood smiled. “And a month’s worth of supplies for twenty mouths. The authorities didn’t like it, obviously…” He chuckled and slunk down to rest. “But isn’t that part of the life? The thrill of having them on your tail at any moment.”

While she remained in her position for now, the human smiled crookedly.

“I can relate to that,” she said wistfully. “Well– the thrill. I get different sorts of thrills, but… out in the ocean, being pursued n’ all that? I know the feeling.”

“Huh, really?” Blueblood said, looking at her curiously. “What are the odds? Didn’t think it was exactly a common experience.” He whetted his lips. “Are you saying you’ve been around pirates?”

“Mmh, kind of,” she said, with matter-of-factness that sounded forced. “We don’t… don’t really have swashbuckling pirates anymore. But I dealt with Imperials out at sea with a… well, a rag-tag bunch. Soldiers, smugglers and… me, a chemist.”

This was getting more and more interesting, and in such a small space of time.

“Yeah,” Blueblood acknowledged. “Auntie made it clear that it’s a mess on Earth, everything a life-or-death situation… I suppose my pirate talk must sound quaint to you.”

She was a chemist, was she? On instinct, Blueblood glanced at her hip. He found himself a little taken aback to see nothing except a few water-drops clinging to her skin.

“Ah, my bad,” he muttered. “They don’t have cutie marks either… Had to be sure.”

Her cheeks had gone red, he noticed.

“N-no, no we, we don’t,” she stammered. To Blueblood’s regret, she had tensed up once more. “We… we don’t get cutie marks, um...”

She quickly glanced at his own flank. “I, ah, see yours is… fitting, eh-heh, heh,” she said, maintaining her grimacing smile.

Yes, there was a discomfort here. Maybe now was his cue to paper over it, make this more than a Prince indulging a nameless commoner.

“Well, I’m sure you know who I am,” Blueblood said amiably. “Prince Blueblood by title, Astron by first name. And you’re right, mine’s a fitting mark for the high seas. Now, it’s going to be of great service to Equestria, on this expedition of Madame Heartstrings’. You must’ve heard of her. But, tell me. What’s your name?”

She didn’t say anything, at first. Then, softly, she spoke.

“Ana.”

She shouldn’t have done it, Ana thought, tightening her grip. Shouldn’t have pranced her way into the gardens. Shouldn’t have basked in the evening Sun. Yet… Somehow, the guy didn’t seem to mind at all, in spite of her current shameful state.

“Ana,” he repeated. “That’s an easy name to remember. Even shorter than Auntie Luna’s.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Ana said, letting out a small chuckle. “It’s actually longer than that, way longer, but Ana will do for now. Ana Bjorgman. That’s with a ‘j’, by the way. Sorry. Force of habit. I’ve had to go through lots of ID checks.”

“ID?” Prince Blueblood sounded confused, before he apparently remembered. “Ah, yes. Fascinating cultural distinction… You know, passports aren’t too common on this world, except for Ryuppon and some other places. So... in a way, you do have a mark.”

“Oh,” Ana said simply. Something about how he said it, she found rather welcoming. “That was… kind of you, really. I suppose we do have our marks, in that we… make them.”

Blueblood nodded. “Sounds like the Minotaurs and their artisanship.” He glanced upwards. “I never did ask if I was named after that character, Asterion, from their myths… My father didn’t like people much, but I think he had a soft spot for Minotaurs.”

There was an old tone in his voice, of longing and remembrance of days gone by. She was beginning to feel her arm’s grip around her legs ease up. After a hesitation, she let go, letting her palms slide down to the plinth’s rim.

“Asterion is a fine name,” Ana said sincerely. “Perhaps your father… well, I assume he was well-read, perhaps he intended for your name to be a well-remembered one.”

Never mind that she didn’t know anything about an ‘Asterion’, but the little voice in her head was guiding her way.

“My name… isn’t as old as yours,” Ana began. Tentatively, she unfolded a leg, lowering it to touch her foot upon the grass. She shifted to sit with one leg still covering her groin. “But I suppose my mother also had a soft spot for the old days.. I was named after a princess… Duchess Anastasia. She died young, and… and my grandfather and mother agreed to name me after her. So that even in death, she’d be remembered. I suppose that’s what she– we, that’s what Ann– it’s what all of us want, really. Remembrance.”

For a moment, Ana recalled the ambitious, grumpy yet loving Hanne Adler, who’d gone on and on about human legacy, during the times they’d spent together as friends and more in their university days.

“What’s so funny?” asked Blueblood. Ana realized she must’ve burst out laughing.

“Nothing, nothing just… an old friend. Well, I say ‘friend’ and we’ve… argh, she’s weird in her own way.”

‘Look who’s talking, silly.’

“Weird,” Blueblood repeated.

Ana brushed away a bang, pondering. Only as she did so did she realize she’d let her hands relax.

“Well, she’d go on about how legacy is most important,” Ana began. It was easy to recite, considering Hanne’s penchant to reiterate her ambitions. “So she went on to do the one thing that fits. Photography! Goodness, she’s got such a keen eye. Oh, you should see her photos... the Barrier one is everywhere! She hit it big. Everyone’s seen her photos, read what she writes... I ought to read her columns more often. She’s… she’s one of the only friends I’ve got left, and...”

Her hands fell to her sides, dejectedly.

“Would that be the one you said was rich?” Blueblood said curiously. “Sounds like someone who chose not to simply let life offer her things on a silver platter.”

“Yeah. And I… guess she didn’t.”

Blueblood sighed, casting his gaze down at the grass before the fountain.

“Enviable,” he muttered. “You know, in three-thousand years of unbroken lineage… well, fair enough, nothing’s ever that neat, but still… I’m the one-hundred-and-eighth Prince of Equestria to bear the name ‘Blueblood’. It’s hard to find what makes you stand out, with heritage like that.”

Ana saw him look towards what was left of the setting Sun, a gold outline tracing the hedge tops. She wondered if he was thinking about his ancestors, or Princess Celestia.

“The last Blueblood to bear a nickname was Blueblood the Challenger,” the Prince told her. “And he was an explorer… Can I even claim that, or measure up to him? All I’ve got is what my friends call me, ever since our little joyride aboard Auntie C’s flagship… Bluenose.” He chuckled weakly. “Sure, I’m fine with it. It’s cute. But is that going to make the history books? I doubt it will.”

Looking at him, Ana thought he looked like a child, whose dreams had slowly eroded over the passing years. Slowly, she reached out to place a hand on his shoulders, and formed what she hoped was a comforting smile.

“Wouldn’t know before you tried it, would you?”

Blueblood asked himself why he was being so open with this human. Perhaps there was a side to this ‘Ana Bjorgman’ which he found invited frank presentation, a sense of baring yourself. If he was honest with himself, while both males and females had their attractions for him, he’d always felt easier in male company – Cadance and his aunts being honorable exceptions, or his father, with whom it had been the other way around.

Most females were too blinded by his princely title to see the real stallion. With males, like sweet Basil, he’d usually be given the chance to seek them out, and see if they genuinely reciprocated. He had the feeling that, whatever her anxious reaction when he’d come across her, Miss Bjorgman’s worry had little to do with him finding her enjoy personal use of the Hall’s grounds. That made him inclined to like her more.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t know it before you try,” Blueblood acknowledged. “But... You know, I used to believe it was so daring, taking off on that ship with Sooty and Wally. A year on a Grand Tour, like the gentry used to do… I thought that, if I never experienced anything like it again for a hundred years, the feeling would last forever... But then I came back. And nothing had changed.”

He sighed and looked at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m talking about myself again,” he said. “I do hope that, however short your respite here may be, Miss Bjorgman, it’ll help you in this war.”

The serene smile she wore tugged at her lips. “Oh, don’t worry, Your Highness,” she said gently. “I like hearing stories, much as Hanne likes recording them. Any rest, well, I’d take anything for a good night’s rest, every day of every week. And I’m sure all of us do, really.”

She leaned back, but Blueblood thought he saw faint traces of a blush.

“I mean, look at me! I mean–” Ana said, rapidly. Her arms had been outstretched, as if she were presenting to the whole wide world. Blueblood wondered at how she flipped back and forth between a common sort of wisdom and whatever this was. ”I-I’m sorry you saw me like… this,” the human said, folding her arms across her chest. “Just… there’s no easy way to put it. We’re all tired and… and I thought I’d indulge a bit, in what I used to do before all this. Being free.”

“Ah,” said Blueblood. “What did you use to do, before all this?”

“Well, uh, music?” she said quickly. “Playing the guitar under the stars, with friends and– don’t mind me, this is just– me indulging, how I prefer to be. But I like music.” She giggled. “There was this one time when… I decided to play a song. It’s a good one and I might show it to you one day, but anyway– so, I played it, right? Everyone sang along and… there it was. Reindeer in the fire.”

Blueblood stared at her. “Pardon?”

"Sometimes I feel like there's something weird, y'know?” Ana continued glibly. “For most people, life on Earth, well, it seemed so… so normal, they’d sort of wish something weird would happen. Then, once it did… Well. But I wonder... when the same weirdness keeps happening to you, does that make it normal?”

“Like what?”

“Like Reindeer...” said Ana. “Always, always there in my head. What’s their deal here? I feel it… got more, um, frequent when the war started. Do you, uh, have any idea why that might be?”

“No… I have no idea,” said Blueblood. “Sounds like it’s another mystery.”

She met her gaze with the Prince’s. His eyes, she thought, were remarkably blue. Here, though, they darted left and right, briefly, as if he’d rather be anywhere else. He seemed stricken. As though something in her words had reached out to him, more deeply than any other they might have shared in all of this. An intimacy which she hadn’t suspected. And yet, look at her, talking like she was. To royalty, no less… Mind you, this was Equestria. From what she’d seen, all the Princesses showed the same openness as Lady Cadance. She just thought it wasn’t what she’d have expected from this Prince.

As it was, he opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. She let it pass, and shrugged.

“Maybe,” Ana pondered. “Ah, well, not all questions need answering, eh?”

“Madame Heartstrings would disagree,” said Blueblood. “But what I can agree to, Miss Bjorgman, is that sometimes you just need to take a break from it all… if our little chat here hasn’t made it blindingly obvious.”

He stood up.

“Often, I’m good at a quick sip of the bottle,” Blueblood said. “Still, I’ve been trying to cut back on this trip… Sailors drink often and plenty, anyway. So I’ve sought relaxation in other places, some more acceptable than others,” he winked slyly. “Lyra Heartstrings is a gifted musician, though. Shame she didn’t make it to the Royal Orchestra. But as it happens, she… had suggested a small get-together this evening.”

And now, Ana felt sure her smile was finally genuine.

“If it’s… not too much to ask,” she said, tentatively. “Any room for a guitar?”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Blueblood said genially. “I know for sure Madame Heartstrings would be pleased to have a human around.”

“Oh, I’m sure she would be,” Ana said wistfully. The memory of Ambassador Heartstrings resurfaced as it often did.

Once again, Ana saw him give the fading sunlight an inquisitive glance.

“I’d say we have half an hour,” Blueblood commented. “Enough to set you up. If you don’t mind. I won’t take offense should you decline.”

“Sure,” said Ana, shrugging. “I don’t mind. I... just need to stretch a little first, if you don’t mind?”

“Naturally,” said Blueblood. Right as Ana stood up, his eyes fell upon the gear she’d left lying in the grass. “Hm. Some of this equipment looks quite heavy. If you’ll allow me…”

He didn’t wait for an answer before his horn shone gold, lifting the whole of it in a glowing aura, which he brought to circle around him in a ring of levitation – then close in on itself, as the material appeared to compress into thin air.

“Wait, wait, WAIT!” Ana cried, reaching out frantically. “W-what are you doing?”

Blueblood smiled and didn’t stop. “Oh… I thought you’d seen magic before. Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. “This won’t damage it. I’m merely storing it in my null-space. A trick known to all the most gifted unicorns.”

He gave a single flick of his horn, and before Ana’s bewildered eyes, everything he’d picked up – her combat fatigues and armor, her new cap, even her basket and guitar – vanished into a tiny white dot, with a single, chiming gleam before dissipating.

“There,” Blueblood said happily. “Much easier to carry things this way.”

“That’s not– that’s not what I–” Ana stammered, chewing upon her knuckle. Then she let her shoulders slump. Looked as if she’d have to make do without any clothes for now. Hanne would be so proud.

‘Sure she would,’ tittered the voice in her head. ‘Nice going, ya big goof.’

She shuffled nervously on her feet. The grass felt coarser than ever, tickling her soles. At least Hanne or Harwood wouldn’t be there to scold her silly.

“I… I probably should put something on–” Ana began, but Prince Blueblood cut her off with a casual nod.

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Bjorgman,” said Blueblood, not unkindly. And Ana realized he must have thought this a courtesy. “This is not a ball or anything, there really is no need for formal attire.” He tugged at his jacket beneath the longcoat. “I just keep this on out of habit. I prefer the naval dress code, frankly.”

“I-ah– alright, um.”

Ana thought about it. She shrugged. After all, this was not Ambassador Lyra Heartstrings she’d be going to meet, she told herself.

“Thank you for agreeing to this,” said Blueblood. “I’ll show you the way, Miss Bjorgman.”

“Just call me Ana, yeah?” Ana said awkwardly. And deep down, she could somehow hear the little voice in her head giggling with impish mischief. “...Actually, uh, may I borrow your longcoat, please? I like coats.”

Gallopoli, Equestria.

The day was practically spent, yet the streets of Gallopoli in Summer remained warm at night. Lamps began to light throughout the town. Together the two dragons strode through the streets, undisturbed by passers-by. So too had Ember and Garble been giving each other the silent treatment, since the embarassment at the cliffs. But his beatnik gear was now tucked safely in her burlap sack, next to Spykoran’s canister.

They entered the harbor office. It was mostly empty, this time of day. Only a tall, grey earthpony mare was there, fast asleep at the porch. Her braided mane and tail hung to the side, her forehooves covering a large brown envelope.

“Looks like someone’s had a long day, huh?” Garble opined, but Ember said nothing.

A long wooden desk, going from wall-to-wall, cut the room in half. A wall of filing cabinets occupied the space behind the desk. As did a kakhi-coated Kirin in naval uniforn, with a notepad upon the desk.

“This one expected we’d see you here a lot sooner, Your Highness,” said Commander Katashi.

“I’ve got someone for you,” said Ember. “My bodyguard.”

Garble nearly choked. “What–”

“Hm.” Katashi tapped his pen against his notepad. “A military vessel is no place for tourists, Highness. You may be dispensed as royalty and ward of our Mikado, but this one doesn’t need extra mouths. This one needs sailors.”

“Oh, Garble here’s a sailor,” Ember smiled. “Ain’t that right, Garble?”

“But– no, I–”

“Sure you are,” Ember nodded at Katashi. “Check his bags, Commander.”

Before Garble could react, the Kirin’s aura pulled out the striped shirt. Katashi nonchalantly examined the attire.

“That’s good enough for this one. You’re in the crew now, dragon.”

“But that pony–” Garble protested, pointing out the sleeping earthpony.

“–has to go through customs,” Katashi said curtly. “She’s a citizen of Equestria, and you are not. You don’t have a passport. Fair game.”

The Hall of Unity.

Music was a delicate art. Lyra Heartstrings knew that quite well. And although she had a reputation as an oddball theorist with a passion in cryptozoology, in Ponyville, many knew her for a busking musician. The lyre within her aura’s grip sounded a gentle melody, as its strings plucked in harmony with her thoughts. It was her calling. Here, away from the stage where she had spoken to the world, she was in her own world.

For this strange little gathering, she sat atop a table covered in white cloth, her legs crossed and eyes closed, lightly bobbing her head, following the melody she played. It was a song she’d discovered one day, in-between perusing tomes to back her ideas down at Golden Oaks Library. A song that playfully told the story of a hapless prince and the flower with which he sought to charm a princess of old.

Lyra wondered which of the two Royal Sisters it could have been, but if she had to guess, she’d have said it was the very Princess of the Moon now in attendance by Twilight’s side, listening to her play the soothing tune in awestruck silence. Well, time to impress, then.

The melody picked up. It flowed, rose and fell, it following her will and dancing as Lyra saw fit. She knew Bonbon was watching, too. Best to make her prouder still. Her magic weaved, plucking the strings. It coursed through her, enticing, embracing. In a company of old friends and new visitors from strange lands, Lyra Heartstrings’ talent shone bright as her mark. Just as it rose one final time, the melody slowed, ending with the last few gentle plucks. All around the dining-room, her audience applauded, whether by hoof, hand, paw or claw.

All of it the same to Lyra’s refined ear.

“Thanks,” she smiled abashedly, setting down the lyre to take her bows. “And that was The Winds That Move The Aurora, which I came across one day while researching the history of the Crystal Realm, and the Frozen North.”

Bonbon went up to plant a small kiss on her cheek. “Beautiful, love.”

This made Lyra blush, but the scattered laughs this attracted were benign.

Afterwards, amidst the gathering’s varied attendees, it didn’t take long for Lyra to lose Bonbon in the crowd again. But it didn’t matter. There were plenty of faces to see, to mingle with.

Kiku, the Captain of the Expedition. Princess Luna. Headmaster Nexus. The Erklasses and the Darkhoofs. The two hippogriff delegates. Prince Haakim. The other-Moondancer....

Or the fellow who’d spotted her just now.

“Lyra!” called the scruffy thestral stallion, who wore a hat with its brim pinned against the sides, exposing large, tufted and incredibly soft ears.

Lyra gasped, both forehooves to her cheeks. “Is that…”

She gasped, taking in the stallion. He was a dull gray-blue, with a gray mane streaked through with brown. On his flank lay the mark of a bookshelf.

“It is!” the thestral said, a warm smile on his face.

“Professor Shriek!” Lyra cried out, her face breaking out into a grin as she jumped towards the batlike pegasus. “It’s been too long!”

“Tell me about it,” Shriek laughed. “I was thinking you would’ve upended Equestrian history much earlier! You, in Ponyville, living near the Bearers of Harmony?”

“The time sort of gets away from you in Ponyville,” Lyra said sheepishly.

“Ah, don’t worry,” Shriek said. “Had I a bit for every day I didn’t upend Equestrian history, I wouldn’t have to beg for grant money! And isn’t that mud in the eye to ol’ Catseye!”

They laughed, as if sharing a private joke, although mention of her old classmate did give Lyra a twinge of unease.

“Oh, I’ve missed your classes so much,” said Lyra.

“According to campus police, anyway!” Shriek said, and they both let out a hearty laugh.

“I mean, honestly,” Lyra wheezed, “Dunno how wearing a buckball cap and prescription glasses fooled them so long!”

“And… the… the mustache!?” Shriek choked. “How… why…. Where d’you even get a mustache in your mane color!”

“Pinkie Pie,” Lyra said. “She’s, ah…”

“The Bearer of Laughter? Planned my niece’s mark mitzvah?” Shriek asked, his lime-green eyes twinkling with happiness. “Wait, wait. Never mind. That explains everything!”

He burst into laughter yet again. Lyra, after a moment’s pause, joined him. She didn’t understand it herself, but they’d shared laughter so often before that it didn’t matter at all. Between bouts of laughter, forehooves around one another, Lyra’s eyes panned left and right, taking in the sight of the attendees, all busy in their corners, but as content as she hoped they would be.

There was Bonbon, who’d gone off to converse with Professor Nexus near the door. Perhaps she was prying for stories from him. No matter. Lyra could certainly ask around for her embarrassing stories, too. Then there was Twilight, chatting animatedly and excitedly with the Princess of the Night, who looked glowing tonight, in spite of her all-too-evident exhaustion, and Elsa the Snow Maiden, both of whom listened with vested interest. It’d have something to do with amulets, Lyra wagered.

‘Never change, Twi’…’

Luna and Elsa weren’t the only leaders present, but from the way they carried themselves, one could be forgiven for thinking this was as Lyra wished it to be, a gathering between friends.

As she parted ways with Shriek, however, one thing gave Lyra a pang of regret. She no longer could see the PHL’s Moondancer.

“They’re over there, for the love of…”

It was a sleek-grey griffon by her that spoke, jabbing a claw in the direction of Queen Novo and General Skybeak, who looked as comfortable as any of their reclusive kind could get, chatting over a few drinks at their table. The hedgehog before her nodded hurriedly, and went away, tray in hand.

But it was the longcoat-clad, guitar-bearing figure by her side that caught Lyra’s eye.

“Hey, Professor? I got some… research to do,” said Lyra. “Catch you around later.”

“Anytime!”

Lyra turned, approaching the figure with confident stride. This one was not Alex, but a human was a human. And by her luck, the human was only with her companion, the fierce-looking griffon. Who looked fiercer still with heavyset brows and a sneer upon her beak.

“I swear, Ana,” the griffon grumbled, magenta eyes still trained on the hedgehog waiter, “those guys are pretty fuckin’ oblivious.”

“Aw, Frieda, come on,” the human replied, plucking her guitar, “he wasn’t that bad.”

“Hey, I dunno how you can mistake me for a hippogriff, Ana. Only that hedgehogs don’t exactly have the best eyesight,” said the griffon, her tail flicking at the human’s nose. “Nor does anyone else here, apparently. You’ve really gotta put something more on.”

“Easy for you to say, psh, just, don’t worry about it, I’m feeling just fine...” the human began. But then her eyes, large turquoise-blue eyes, fell upon Lyra. “Oh my, here she comes… Ahem, Madame Heartstrings, good evening!”

By Celestia, her voice was so warm. She didn’t look as heavily armored as Alex was, with her pale skin only partially covered by the longcoat. Her kind eyes and short-cut, strawberry-blonde hair completed a welcoming image.

Lyra broke into a friendly smile. “Hi! I’m Lyra.”

Pause. They’d already known that. Stupid, stupid. But the lady chuckled. “Heh, been a tiring day, I’ll bet,” she said. “I’m Ana, Ana Bjorgman, and this is Frieda.”

“Howdy,” said Frieda. “Yeah, not the only one busy today, ma’am. Ana’s here been busy.”

“Oh, quiet, you.”

“Ahah, just Lyra is fine, thanks, ahem…” said Lyra, chuckling. “So, uh, how’d you guys, sorry, whaddaya think of, you know, this Equestria?”

“Oh, it’s been fun!” Ana said eagerly. Frieda’s sly glance at her back didn’t escape Lyra’s notice. “Just, you know. Lotta, lotta stuff to think about, gosh…” She cleared her throat. “So um, wonderful performance you got there, ma’am. Lyra. Lyra, yeah. I liked it. Frieda, too.”

“She plays the guitar,” Frieda cut in, thumbing at the woman’s instrument. “What she means, is that she appreciates music.”

Lyra shook her head. “Who doesn’t? I mean… it’s a fine art and all, and…”

She drifted off. Her eyes fell upon Ana’s left hand, upon her hip. Then down to her fingers holding the guitar...

“Hey, wanna know the funniest thing?” Lyra said. “I actually liked hands way before I’d heard about you guys. See, I got curious about this lyre-thing after reading about in some book on Minotaurs– I’m sure Twilight recommended it to me or something. But I figured I had to… Y’know, I wanted to try it. So I tinkered around with a couple of spells, until finally, I’d molded a nifty floating hand… Kind of like a familiar, you could call it? I named him ‘Handy’. And then, just in time for show-and-tell, I turned up with Handy and a lyre, and…”

She glanced at her flank, where she knew Ana’s eyes would be looking.

“Ooh~” said Ana, nodding.

“Yeah. Personally I thought the song I played wasn’t that amazing, but the class disagreed. Clearly, so did destiny. Funny thing, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, well, heh,” said Ana, pausing for another musical giggle. Frieda rolled her eyes. “Not exactly our thing, you know. I mean, you can see… Well, um, actually, I hope you don’t…”

Seeing her blush, Lyra waved her off. “Nah, don’t worry about it,” she assured. “I can tell ya right now that anyone who calls you a blank-flank is probably just a kid, or hasn’t grown out of that phase yet.”

Ana laughed, and so did Lyra. Frieda looked befuddled, but Lyra didn’t think much of it.

“What is it that you do, exactly?” Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m, Frieda and I, sorry,” she stammered. “Ahem. We’re here to test the waters. So to speak. I’m not sure I have the clearance but, that’s the gist of it– see how things are, reports back…”

“She’s here cos’ she speaks Equish, ma’am– Lyra,” said Frieda. “Eases things, you know. I’m here cos’ I can crunch the numbers.”

Somehow, Ana managed to look a little serious. “But I used to teach chemistry, you see, before the war,” she explained. “And… Well, Cultural Preservation’s planning this big exhibition, right, to commemorate humanity here on Equus. I was thinking… No, requested that I might take a teaching job once more.”

“Ah. Fancy,” Lyra stated. “I know Twilight would like that…”

A polite cough interrupted them. Lyra turned, and saw Lady Cadenza and Twilight stand there. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been around.

“I’ll take it from here, Agent Bjorgman, Agent Pinfeather,” Cadenza said primly. Twilight waved at Lyra, accompanied by a friendly little smile.

“Oh, oh, I’m sor–” Ana began, but the PHL superior shook her head.

“No, it’s… quite alright, actually,” said Cadenza. “I recognize the longcoat.” Could that be a cheeky grin shimmering beneath the surface? “This is so like Astron, he always did like the exotic. And goodness knows everyone here needs a release… Especially if they’re human, Miss Bjorgman. But, I was hoping I could talk to Lyra for a bit?”

“We got a table,” said Twilight. “Princess Luna said we could take it, she had to leave early. You wanna come?”

There wasn’t much anyone there could argue against that. Before long, Lyra found herself walking by Twilight and Cadenza, towards one of the tables already prepared. The mood wasn’t exactly tense, she felt. Just a little uneasy. When was the last time, she thought suddenly, that Cadenza had spoken with her Twilight…

Most of her worries faded, when the three of them took their seats, far away from the murmurs of the crowd. Lady Cadenza rested her hooves on her chin, eyes moving back and forth between Lyra and Twilight.

“So! Lovely performance, Lyra,” said Cadenza, smiling. She nudged Twilight. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hush, of course I do!” Twilight retorted. “I haven’t heard Lyra play in a while either. I probably missed a lot, too.”

“Thanks, Cadance, and don’t sweat it, Twi’,” said Lyra. “Didn’t get much chance to pluck strings either these past few weeks… But I’ve still got it.”

“You know, honestly,” Cadenza said, shaking her head, “I’m not surprised Astron's got a threesome planned already.”

“Really?” said Lyra. “I'm sure he wouldn’t jump to that so quickly. Pretty sure Miss Bjorgman's just friendly with everyone. She seems the type.”

Cadenza gave her a curious look. “Um, Lyra… I don’t know if this ever came up in your research… But, ah, you know humans usually wear more clothes than that, everyday, right?”

“They do? Wait…”

Lyra nearly choked on what she’d just drank, as only now did something she’d never thought of, but which should have been starkly obvious, catch up to her.

“Yes, I…” said Cadenza. “You know what, don't worry about it. I’m sure whatever Astron does with his partners is his business.”

Now Twilight, on whom a look of bewilderment had grown throughout their exchange, piped up.

“Uhhh, what’s a threesome?”

As she felt her shock subside, Lyra saw the funny side of this, and had to hold back laughter. “You'll find out later, Twi’,” she told her friend. “So, Cadance. You.. You should totally set them up, by the way.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know,” said Lyra, nodding towards where Ana stood with the Prince and the young Minotaur. “those three over there. Bluenose and his two paramours. Throw in Frieda too while you’re at it. Admit it, Cadenza.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “You were imagining them all together.”

“I was not!” Cadenza spluttered. “I’m the Princess of Love, not… whatever this is!”

“Hey,” said Lyra. “If you’re gonna matchmake, go for it! I ain’t judging, heh-heh.”

But Twilight was still looking querying. Only now, her attention was focused on Cadenza. And Lyra, having known Twilight in school, recognized this as Twilight’s look when she had a knotty problem she was trying to solve.

“Twi? What’s up?”

“One thing bothers me,” said Twilight, staring at Cadenza. “You… you’re Princess of Love, right? Where you’re from.”

Cadenza looked back at her. “Yes?”

“Well…” said Twilight. “Cadance… Princess Cadance, you say she told you the Prismia story. And… that didn’t ring any bells.”

Sighing, Cadenza shook her head. “No. Sorry. All I know is that, one day, Celestia– she was still Princess, back then– came for me in Florentina. There was no mysterious traveller. No harsh Winter… No Plane of Images.”

“Here’s what I don’t get,” said Twilight. “How come… you got a horn?”

Cadenza eyed them, a calculating look.

Wordlessly, her horn began to glow, but it wasn’t the familiar baby-blue of Princess Cadance. Instead, Cadenza’s horn glowed a pleasant rosey pink. As it glowed, Cadenza reached up and brushed her mane aside. She fumbled a little, nudging something. And when she was done, she leaned forwards, giving Twilight and Lyra a clearer view of the horn’s base.

Lyra’s eyes widened. It was no unicorn’s horn. It was crystal, beneath what she thought was skin.

“Fancy, isn’t it?” said Cadenza. She pulled back, her hoof fixing the fibre back to where it was, and brushed her mane back. “Celestia had it gifted to me, a few years after the Crystal War. It was either this or a pair of wings and… well, I didn’t want to take up two prosthetics, not when one could be given to another in need.”

“Whoa,” said Twilight. “Is that… is that some sort of fiber covering it?”

“Mhm. Maretonian, at first. Then after I’d joined the PHL, the guys at R&D improved it further. As for the aura’s color… well, it reminds me of Florentina. Just a little bit of everything, you know.”

“I’ve heard of Saddle Mareabians doing something like this…” said Twilight. “This kind of… of horn graft. But it only works on stallions, who are a product of generations of artifical magical-imbibing, thanks to powdered crystal…”

“I am a pegacorn, descended from Luna,” Cadenza noted. “That’s why it took to me so well.”

“Turned out this went further than we knew, though, didn’t it?” said Lyra. “With those runes of Alex’s. Which you’re now going to learn more about, Twi’. Betcha Rarity will be pleased her guess was spot-on. Not to mention… Saddle Mareabia! I can just hear her,” she grinned, affecting Rarity’s most excited voice. “‘Ooh, darling, how wondrous! The household of a greater sorcerer!’”

Her friend looked cross. “Technically, it isn’t the stallion’s household in Saddle Mareabia…”

“It’s so like you, Twilight,” Lyra remarked, “to know about Saddle Mareabian herd dynamics and politics, but need to be told what a threesome is.”

Twilight’s frown was deepening. “So. Is anyone gonna explain, or...?”

Lyra smiled tolerantly. “Twi’, pal, there's a lot you need to catch up on.”

Holy City of Farsina, Saddle Mareabia. Day 12 of the Concordia – Twenty-First Day of the Month of Rophon.

The al-Husan Estate was massive, covering a large space of land in Farsina.

The corridor Amira strode down was rich, floors of exquisite sandstone sheathed in marble, and lined by the alcoves that held plinths for old statues from around the world. All purchased at great expense, naturally. The surrounding walls were painted the familiar orange, while redstone lined the mantles that separated the walls’s tope from the vaulted ceiling. The arches were classically Mareabian, with only the slightest hint of Minotaur influence visible in the mantles attaching the stone arch.

It was a visible symbol of her husband’s wealth and privilege, demanding awe from those who visited or even lived within these walls for the head of this household. And yet, none of this had kept him from being taken away, imprisoned for his own negligence and arrogance.

“After a year of damage control, this family still has to make sacrifices...”

Amira was muttering as she walked. She knew the conversation ahead of her was a necessity, but that didn’t make the prospect any more pleasant, or less challenging. At the end of the corridor was the great door that led to the reception parlor.

Years ago, she and Qabil had agreed that when the time came for serious family talks, they’d be held in that room. Anything which required consulting all other members of the household was, in her eyes, as important as hosting guests. But short of Qabil getting taken hostage or him passing away – the Lady forbid – Amira had never imagined such a discussion would be in her husband’s absence.

Stopping in front of the golden heartwood doors, Amira took a moment to compose herself. For this situation, she had to be at her most authoritative. For a moment she read the script inscribed into the doorway. The old Mareabian writing spoke about the al-Husan household’s great achievements and right now she was responsible for them. Prince Haakim’s support was welcome but token.

Finished, Amira let out the breath she’d been holding, and pushed the door open.

The parlor was beautiful and well-lit and in the middle were several silken sofas. Over in the far corner was a small pool, surrounded by potted plants and shaded by a stately palm tree, Naiya’s favored haunt. It sat serene and clear at the moment, the faintest of ripples being set off by the flow of freshwater slowly piped in. Sunlight streamed in through a glass-sheathed skylight, illuminating the room.

The others were waiting inside, sitting attentively on the sofas. Heads turned as Amira entered, most of them looking curious. They were all here. Naiya, Haifa and Tahira, the other wives of her husband’s harem.

‘Those left of it, anyway…’ Amira thought to herself, trying not to go sour.

“Greetings, my dears,” she said, moving to take a seat on her own private sofa. “I thank you for heeding my message. If we are all four of us assembled, as wives of the al-Husan family, I’d like to open this discussion.”

It was the barest formality, but a requirement to start on.

The three’s reactions ranged along the gamut she’d expected. Despite knowing the portentous nature of the event, Haifa gave her a cheerful beam. Naiya’s head-bob, by contrast, was rather more sluggish – already she looked to be nodding off. Tahira merely inclined her head, not trying to hide her frown.

“Very good,” said Amira, reclining into a comfier position, so both her forelegs stretched upon the sofa’s armrests. “Now, as you are aware, two weeks ago, I was summoned by Her Esteemed Majesty, to serve as her companion and her voice to a… familiar acquaintance of ours, Princess Celestia of Equestria.”

She waited to see what reaction this’d provoke. Not surprisingly, even Haifa’s smile faded. But Amira was intrigued as to what Tahira would say. Her curiosity was left unsated, though, when Tahira only steepled her forehooves and remained silent.

“The Sun Princess has sent out a Call to all in our world who’ll listen,” said Amira. “A Call heard by our Malikah, of which the duty to interpret would normally fall to her… court sorcerer,” she faltered a little. “Though, in Qabil’s absence, she had to ask me to lend her Jabir and Hanan.”

If there was one thing all the wives agreed upon, it was their low opinion of Qabil’s royally-mandated apprentices, so she was able to carry on without interruption.

“I’ll keep this brief,” Amira stated. “We travelled to the Hall of Unity. There was a Concordia. Over three days, much was said which might sweep in great changes… If you haven’t yet, soon you may hear what news the Concordia has to send… And as I wrote in my message, I was given the chance to petition Princess Celestia to review our beloved’s sentence.”

This caused some stirring, including from Naiya, whose eyes suddenly showed no droop. True to form, Haifa was back to smiling, a proud, glowing smile. Yet it was, as she foresaw, Tahira who finally spoke up.

“And what was this Concordia about… milady Amira?” Tahura said softly, a sharp intent in her eyes that didn’t match her tone. “We all know our beloved would have dearly attended… But, out of us all, you were privileged to go, and be his eyes there.”

“You will learn today,” Amira said evenly. From beneath her caparison, she drew three envelopes. “Yet, before we tread the parched sands of business, a little something to refreshen our hearts… I bring messages from Qabil to all of you.”

Haifa, Naiya, Tahira, each picked the envelope with their name on it, peering at it inquisitively. Amira waited patiently as they opened up and read. A husband they may share, but some things were for one wife’s eyes only. Or their ears. She smiled fondly, resisting the urge to rub her own ear where Qabil had last nibbled it.

Reading the letters was quickly done with, however. Somewhat to her surprise, Haifa was the first to fold hers up. Perhaps Haifa just couldn’t bear the feeling of separation. Tahira was next, Naiya was last, which was no surprise – one was swift and sharp where the other was languid.

“Any questions, before we proceed?” said Amira.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” said Haifa. “But… this letter, it’s sweet and all, but he makes no mention of what you talked about at the Concordia.”

“Same here,” grunted Naiya.

Tahira again did not speak. Yet from the look in her eyes, Amira suspected Qabil’s letter had hinted at their personal news.

“Alright,” Amira said. She’d speak with Tahira soon enough. “Then here is the great news from the Concordia, in which our family will have its part to play. The Thirteenth Family has returned to our world… and it calls itself ‘Man’.”

“You can’t be serious?”

Amira turned to Tahira, to find the dark-coated mare’s usual composure had dropped.

“I’m most definitely serious,” Amira said in response. “One of them was introduced at the Concordia, where they petitioned every delegate for aid.”

“And what does that mean?” Naiya asked. Her eyes were still open and alert, but Amira could see her azure-colored spouse was already leaning back to lounge in her seat.

“That the world is going to change, and our family will be at the forefront of this new era.”

Amira knew her spouses would be confused – and so they were, if the looks on their faces were of any evidence, but she’d decided a little bit of dramatic gravitas was necessary. She needed to emphasise the political benefits that were going to come their way, especially if she was going to get Tahira onboard.

“There’s too much I cannot talk about yet,” Amira continued, leaning forward as she could in her reclined stance. “Nor am I certain you’d understand it. It’s taken me long to understand it myself. The focal point, though, is that the Thirteenth Family’s… dying.”

Until she’d put it this way, it had not seemed like the apparent thing to say. Yet in spite of what she knew, that Man’s fate was no death in the physical sense, calling it their death felt like the most honest assessment.

“Dying, but defiant,” she added. “And they have so much to offer. It just happens not to be in their power to stave off their fate, unless Equus offers help in return.”

“What exactly do they want from us?” Tahira asked.

“She means us, us, by the way,” Haifa added, getting a nod from the younger mare.

“Well,” Amira paused, carefully thinking over what she was permitted to reveal. “Whether you believe it or not, the human visitor had runes embedded in his skin, our husband’s runes.”

It took a second for her declaration to sink in. But once it had, each their eyes widened in shock.

“But… how?”

Haifa was Qabil’s second-oldest spouse, having married him at nigh the same time as Amira, and knew well how secretive their husband was about his family’s mysterious arts.

“I don’t know,” Amira lied. “They could be zebra counterfeits, or something they acquired with their own abilities, but what matters is that their representative possesses them and lacks any real understanding of them. He has no actual idea of the powers he is channeling into his body.”

“That’s a problem?” Naiya asked. She was sitting upright and attentive, but seemed to be more interested in being told the news, rather than figuring it out for herself.

“For him it is.” Amira saw Tahira’s eyes light up as she figured out what was going on.

“So, we get to be responsible for saving the life of a recently rediscovered tribe?” Tahira practically declared. “Is this representative their leader, or some other figure of importance?”

“He is a warrior,” Amira replied carefully, “but an important one tied to their highest leadership.”

That seemed to dull Tahira’s enthusiasm. “Then I suppose this endeavor will be some kind of… confederacy, an effort shared between the nations, won’t it?”

“Why would you say that?” Haifa asked, more for the sake of improving her younger spouse’s mood again. Amira knew she preferred it when Tahira was feeling happy and inoffensive.

“Do you really think that a strange creature warranting a gathering of the Concordia would just leave the matter of saving, possibly, his life and race to one family, from one nation?” Tahira’s voice was even, but everyone could feel the hint of condescension in her tone. “There’ll be a committee overseeing everything, at the least.”

“That may be the case,” Amira interrupted before Tahira could continue, drawing a deeper frown from her spouse, “but the fact is, the Concordia cannot actually access our family’s archives without our permission. Qabil has already given his consent, yet I want all of you to be involved in this decision.”

The room returned to silence. Haifa and Naiya were looking to one another for any hint of what the other was planning, while Tahira was staring off into the distance, a calmly ambivalent expression on her face.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” Amira said quietly. “Yes, the runes were what Celestia had to consult Qabil about. And as repayment for giving her access to the archives, we got her to reduce his sentence to just one more year.”

“Inside, or outside?” Haifa asked glibly.

Naiya gave her an odd look, but Amira knew that if it’d been her asking the question, she’d have lacked the jokey, self-aware spin Haifa was trying to put on it.

“Outside, of course,” Amira stated reluctantly. “But his record’s been clean enough that it won’t feel much longer for him, either.”

“A fat lot of good that does us,” Naiya grumbled. “After two years already…”

“Will you please be quiet?” said Tahira. “I say Lady Amira got more out of it than we dared to ever dream of.”

“It’s wonderful news, Amira,” Haifa said, hurrying before Naiya could reply. “But surely you must’ve managed to get a few added goodies thrown into the bargain.”

Amira felt she had reason to smile. Despite Naiya’s grousing, things were going alright. Tahira had spoken positively of her results, and Haifa knew her well enough to see she had done more... Haifa, sweet thing. For the longest time, Amira had thought finding a suitable bachelor for them to marry would only be a formality, a means to appear together in the public eye. Yet Haifa had insisted it must be a stallion they both could love, or it’d be a marriage to drain their souls.

She had strongly doubted it, but chosen to follow Haifa’s wishes. Then she’d met Qabil, and her greatest worry had become that he’d have eyes for only one of them… Or worse, Amira reflected with some mischief, that he’d overshadow Haifa in her eyes.

Fortunately, it had turned out a perfect wedding and a perfect marriage. At least, this was what she’d led herself to believe. Right until she’d witnessed Princess Celestia come forward to say, even with all the cool politeness and compassion Celestia was reknowned for, that her husband was being taken away for a while.

“Amira?” Haifa called from afar. “D’you hear what I just said?”

The words cut into her consciousness. “Sorry,” said Amira, shaking her head. “You’re right. A reduced sentence– it’d feel a bit paltry as the only reward, wouldn’t it?” She gave a carefully-studied smile, but sensed Tahira had noticed her slight hesitation. “Well, there are a number of advantages I managed to secure our family. Priority on delivery from the al-Husan owned crystal mines, travel permits to Equestria’s national treasures, such as–”

“This was all approved by Her Esteemed Majesty?” interrupted Tahira.

Amira felt taken aback by her bluntness. “Nothing was discussed that the Malikah hadn’t formally told me she’d approve of.”

“Well, that’s good,” Tahira said lightly.

Yet when Amira stole a look with Haifa, she saw the golden mare could tell she hadn’t yet told them all she had to tell. Haifa provided her a subtle, intentional nod.

“Then we’re done here?” Naiya asked, yawning.

“Not quite.” Amira gave them all a look. “I just have two questions. The first is, will you support me in opening up the family library to the Concordia? This will mean our estate will be hosting representatives from Equestria and elsewhere, should they send them.”

Everyone nodded. The matter had been settled, but Amira wanted proper confirmation. It helped settle her stomach for the second question.

“Alright then,” she began. “Now that’s out of the way… do you trust me?”

“Of course, my dear,” Haifa said unhesitantly.

“Of course,” Naiya parrotted.

“Yes,” Tahira replied, suspicion in her voice. “Why?”

“Well, you see… I recently made a proposal to Princess Celestia, a very important proposal.”

Amira paused to take a breath. She could speak for her nation in front of the most powerful beings on Equus, or manage a family that, at its largest, had nine spouses including herself, not to mention fourteen children. But right here and now, she felt nervous.

“I requested that we send one of our children to be fostered by the new Royal Family of the Crystal Realm,” Amira finally admitted. “It would improve relations with Equestria, revive our family’s ties with the crystalponies, help us recover our reputation in the eyes of the Court and the wider world, and show the Concordia how ready we are to enter this period of co-operation between the peoples.”

“Which of our children will you be sending?” Tahira asked. Amira sighed. Her youngest spouse’s tone was low and the frown on her face had already become a sharp glare.

“I decided Hadia would be our best choice,” Amira said in response.

“And you didn’t think to consult me first?” Tahira hissed.

“Tahira’s right,” Naiya said. “This is just… not like you. Why didn’t you tell us about this?”

“I had to run this by Her Esteemed Majesty first, and Princess Celestia, and our husband,” Amira undauntedly answered. “I’m sorry. I really am, but this is important, and Hadia’s the best choice.”

“Why don’t you send one of your children?” Tahira spat. “Why should my daughter be thrown at the Equestrians?”

“Tahira, please…” Haifa began, only to be cut off.

“Oh, don’t you try to defend her,” Tahira snapped, turning to her spouse. “This is exactly what…”

“Stop it! All of you!” Amira shouted. Every face in the room turned towards her, and when she realized what she’d done, she sighed. “I’m sorry,” Amira said contritely. “I’m sorry for springing this on you so suddenly, but I had to move quickly. Everything I told you, all of my reasons why I’m suggesting this, are true. This is our chance to take part in the changing world. Your part, Tahira. And Hadia’s.”

Amira saw Tahira’s glare turn back into a mere frown. She had to suppress a grin as she knew the dark-coated mare was beginning to come around.

“Tahira, the Princess has assured me her niece is experienced in raising children, second to none, practically.”

“Is she a mother?” Tahira drawled, her frown deepening again.

“No, but she has taken care of other ponies’ children.” Amira was a little hesitant to answer, yet honesty was now the better policy. “And Hadia will be in the center of a realm saturated in magical power, likely more well guarded than she is here.”

“She has a point,” Naiya said.

“I thought you were on my side,” Tahira whispered.

Naiya shrugged. “You said you liked me better quiet. Pick one.”

Tahira glared at her fellow spouse, before turning back to Amira. “If this princess isn’t a mother, then are there any in her court with children? Will my daughter have any peers in this place?”

“You normally seem so worried about dear Hadia being distracted by things like that, Tahira,” Haifa spoke up.

“She’s just trying to get out of sending Hadia away,” Naiya drawled.

“Naiya,” Amira snapped, drawing an apologetic nod from the mare.

In truth, the issue of peers was one that concerned her greatly. From the inquiries she’d made, Amira had learned children were not lacking in the Crystal Realm, at least. But except for the Crystal Princess, she’d found no evidence they bothered with families of old blood.

Letting out a tired sigh, Amira rubbed her forehead, then turned back to Tahira.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m afraid I don’t know if there are any children in Princess Cadenza’s Court. It’s only just returned from a horrific limbo and tyrannical grip of a monstrous sorcerer.”

Haifa chuckled. “Heh. Sorcerers. Don’t we know ‘em.”

Amira’s gaze flicked to her closest spouse and silently begged her to stop. She then fixed her youngest spouse with the strongest, most sincere look she could produce, the kind she broke out for the most delicate of negotiations.

“It will be perfectly safe,” she said, “and I’m sure Hadia will thrive. You’ve worked hard to ensure she is strong and intelligent.”

“And independent?” Tahira said, stating what Amira wouldn’t have said. “Yes. That, and what else you’ve listed, is true enough. But a palm tree standing tall amidst dwarven palm trees is no feat. If I had to do this, I’d want peers for my daughter who can meet her halfway, at least.”

Amira had to give her allowance on that. The same worries floated about her mind regarding Qabil. Sometimes, she wished Celestia could have done them the favor of being less indiscriminate with the structure of Erebus. Simply because he was to be sequestered from the world for years, didn’t mean he should lose out on social equals.

She occasionally wondered if Qabil had told her about all the company he kept in prison.

Naiya frowned. “And how undiluted is the Amore bloodline, really?” she said. “Quite apart from having had no realm to rule in centuries, from what I understand, Cadenza wasn’t even raised by Celestia. She grew up in a village.”

They each stared at her in surprise.

“You’ve been paying attention, Naiya,” Haifa commented, an eyebrow raised.

“They say she’s got dreamweaving skill,” Naiya stated, with an airy yawn. “This does interest me. I still have no idea if it’s true, but if it is, that’s a mark of quality, I’ll grant you.”

“Again, I cannot say,” Amira admitted. “This isn’t a matter Celestia would share easily. But Princess Cadenza is an alicorn, like her royal aunt. To answer your question, I doubt it gets any less diluted than that.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” said Tahira. “For one thing, her husband. A captain in the Equestrian Guard…”

“The Captain of the Guard,” Amira corrected her. “From a Canterlot family that has also produced his sister, Celestia’s personal student, and one of the people we’ll soon receive. I believe those credentials ought to suffice.”

Tahira huffed and leaned back.

“Fine,” she said. “Then the Crystal Princess is in good standing, both on her own merits, and by her male spouse. But here’s the problem.”

There was a pregnant pause. Ominous, yet Amira suspected it was in fact the dark-coated mare who was gathering her own courage. Then she went for it.

“You’ve given me no assurance that Hadia couldn’t be any lonelier, milady Amira,” said Tahira. “The sacrifice a mother makes, when they choose to send their child to live as a ward, is one long-accepted to those of our rank. The beauty of it is that, whereas the child’s guardian may not fill the role of mother, there are others who can. But the Equestrians do not live that way.”

She let them digest what she’d said.

“So,” Tahira concluded. “How can you convince me my child won’t be lacking maternal affection, or the company of those peers her age? Will our family truly gain from it, if my Hadia returns from this a malcontent?”

Amira thought on the issue. Then, after several different ideas ran through her head, she spoke.

“When I brought up this proposal to Princess Celestia,” Amira said, “she confirmed that her royal niece was dedicated to caring for children, and never lost the desire or the talent.” She fixed Tahira with a soft glare. “If you worry about Hadia’s attitude, however, you could always send her off with a full curriculum. You do love to plan her extensive education, after all.”

Tahira blinked in confusion, before she rose an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re so involved in raising her, you have made it clear you are her mother,” Amira continued. “Think on the presence you must have with her. No other mare in this household has directly watched over her like you, and you’ve made it clear what you expect from her. I’m confident your lessons are quite ingrained. She will remember her manners.”

“She also might enjoy the chance at new company,” Haifa added. When everyone turned to her, the golden mare continued. “Honestly, how often has she been taken to court, since our beloved was imprisoned? She’s been locked in her room or the library, taking her lessons, coming out only for meals, or to wander the grounds. She hasn’t left the estate in over a year and I can’t remember the last time I talked to her by myself.”

“Yes,” Amira concurred, feeling a little ashamed and troubled. “I did notice.”

“Maybe,” Haifa continued as she turned to give Tahira a comforting smile, “it will do her some good to get out the house. She may not get to meet many peers in the Crystal Realm, but would that be so different to what she has now?”

And there it was. What Amira had couched in diplomatic language, Haifa stated more openly – but always with a smile. Tahira shifted in her seat. It was clear she felt a circle closing in.

Yet despite her stubbornness, Amira hated to think of Tahira feeling ganged up on. They were meant to be a family. There was good reason all in this room, including Naiya, hadn’t abandoned Qabil after the misfortune that befell him.

A reason in which Princess Cadenza was well-versed, incidentally.

“Tahira,” Amira said, leaning forward, her tone more gentle. “Maybe you’re right. It is a risk. Despite what Haifa just said, Hadia is used to a certain environment– an environment that’d be very different in the Crystal Realm, where families comprise only two spouses and the land is one of ice and snow. But she’s our youngest daughter, and you know what Princess Cadenza can offer that we cannot?”

As Tahira had done before, Amira waited so the others could contemplate. Interestingly, Naiya’s eyes were the first to light up in understanding. Perhaps it had to do with missing Mahala. Amira hadn’t overly cared for that spouse, but she’d had the virtue of making Naiya a little livelier and far happier, back in the day.

Amira let the coin drop. “Hadia needs more than a mother or mothers, Tahira. She needs a father. I was able to shave off another few years for Qabil, but…” She sighed. “At Hadia’s age, a year still is a long time.”

It looked like Tahira had also figured it out, or if she’d already thought of it long ago, and was finally acknowledging it. Princess Cadenza was married to a stallion of repute, if his military career was anything to consider.

He wouldn’t be like their Qabil, a consummate scholar and explorer. But a masculine authority figure could provide plenty in and of itself. What’s more, he was a powerful unicorn, the older brother of Princess Celestia’s protegée, and so had to be adept enough in magic to help in Hadia’s lessons if she needed.

Tahira still looked like she wanted to argue, but the conviction behind it was wavering. The younger mare’s mouth opened a few times and snapped shut. Despite the inadequacies she likely perceived in the Crystal Realm’s rulers, it seemed she agreed some kind of nuclear family was better than what her daughter had now.

“Very well,” Tahira conceded. “But if I am consenting to this, then I’ll be planning her curriculum, in detail. I will also be informing her what’s expected of a daughter of this family. If she does return as a malcontent or troublemaker, I will not tolerate any of you interfering with my right to correct my daughter as I see fit.”

“That’s acceptable,” Amira said in response. Spare the rod, spoil the child.

‘She’s posturing,’ Amira thought as Tahira raised her head in haughty self-righteousness. ‘And Qabil will intercede if she does actually get out of control. Hadia is his daughter as well.’

“I guess that just leaves one more thing,” Haifa piped up, her expression bright and relieved. “Who is going to tell Hadia?”

“I will,” Tahira declared.

“Of course,” Amira said. “That is perfectly alright.”

With that, the room settled down again. Tahira was still grousing, yet overall Amira felt everything had gone well. Without a word, typically, Naiya was the first to peel off, heading for her pool. Tahira looked like she still wanted to say something. But eventually, she got up, muttering she’d go find Hadia.

Then Haifa walked over to Amira’s side, taking the seat next to her.

Amira smiled warmly as the mare she’d shared so many years with settled down and leaned upon her. She did the same, settling her chin over Haifa’s as Qabil so often did with her. Not everything was well, but at this moment, she couldn’t complain. Setting aside the innumerable matters she had to work on, Amira shut her eyes and simply took comfort in the horse that she loved second only to Qabil.

Gallopoli, Equestria.

Captain Kiku, Ryouchi of Ryuppon’s skies, bane of all pirates who dared to sail the heavens blue, grey or black, let out a sigh. It was her only indication of how tired she felt that she’d reveal to the world around her. She was reaching the end of a week filled with frantic activity like she hadn’t experienced in several months. With the new lack of piracy in Ryuppon’s territories and investments, she’d been left with little more to do than patrol. But old habits died hard, and were it just active duty, she wouldn't have been anywhere near as exhausted.

No, it was the ‘special circumstances’ she was being ordered to deal with, and the paperwork that came with it.

‘At least something is finally happening,’ she thought to herself, as she wandered down the corridors of the Kaikishoku to the primary holding bay.

The ghost of a smile crept on her lips. The last few days had been so busy, she hadn’t had any real time to think, merely obey. Supplies had to be requisitioned, maintenance had to be cleared, checked and rechecked, and everything had to be prepared so the Kaiki could be crewed with the bare minimum of personnel. All of her old energy had returned once the frustratingly unchanging routine had been upended. Placing no truck in rumors, Kiku had refused to allow idle gossip to spread, and had informed every Kirin under her command of the bare facts about their mission. Still, it felt good to do something different. She almost felt like the Ryouchi again, even if she wasn’t going to wage war on piracy this time.

That last thought that killed her smile in an instant. She’d never been the type to wish for war – never complaining when pirate wars came her way either, mind you – but the fact she and the Kaiki were being given a civilian assignment did get under her skin. Then there was the fact the Kaiki, her Kaikishoku, was going to be retrofitted, by foreigners no less. That particular piece of news had almost made her consider demanding Commander Katashi lodge a formal complaint to His Majesty.

The few members of her crew she did come across moved aside to let her by, making way so she could finally make it to where the new replacements were waiting.

Pushing open one last bulkhead, Kiku stepped into the spacious expanse of the primary hold and beheld the fresh meat that stood awaiting her. There were about three rows, all told. A quick headcount of the first row, which matched the two behind it in length, indicated just enough people to supplement the skeleton crew she’d been forced to ship out with. At least whoever in Equestria organized this had remembered to do the math.

What a waste that’d be, if she had to kick anyone off.

At first, Kiku felt some small reassurance to see the expected equine figures in the crowd. While the average pony was smaller and stockier in than a Kirin, their body structures were similar enough that, once whipped into shape, they should adapt to a sky-turtle without much difficulty.

But her heart sank as she focused, and saw distinctly non-equine figures jutting from the lot.

Two bipeds, the taller one standing head and shoulders above the rest, while even the shorter one exceeded those around him by about a head-and-a-half. A Minotaur and a dragon, both barely out of adolescence. Although the Minotaur stood straight, bronzed arms behind his back, eyes gazing forward, Kiku would sooner have ten more like the slouched and surly red drake. You could trust a dragon to be moody. You couldn’t trust a Minotaur to be anything. And then Kiku started when she noticed the next outlier. Her forehoof was halfway to reaching her sword, before she realized this wasn’t a pirate who’d had the audacity to board her ship. Not a parrot, but rather a bright-eyed young griffon, her plumage an oddly inviting shade of grey.

Resisting an urge to shake her head, Kiku swept her gaze over the rest. She found only ponies. Yet whereas many ponies displayed hints of nervousness – twitching hooves, chewing lips – the three others showed anything but. There was the Minotaur’s placidity, while the dragon gave a contemptuous snort. And unless Kiku was mistaken, the griffon girl was actually smiling, as carefree as a sky-whale riding the lightning.

Her frown must have turned into a glower by now, Kiku thought to herself as she saw nervous looks convert into anxiety. Stepping away from the bulkhead. she walked up to the new recruits.

Commander Katashi was already there, a clipboard in the grip of his magic as he marched along the front row, checking off whatever items were on the inventory. He didn't seem to have noticed her arrival, or the sudden shift they made in her presence.

“Commander,” Kiku called out in a stern tone. “What do we have with us today?” She had called out in Ryupponese Kirin, and could see a few individuals in the rows blink as her likely-incomprehensible words registered with them.

“Captain,” Katashi responded, turning to face her and bowing his head. “It is an honor to witness your presence. This one has finished orientering the recruits to the basic requirements of the mission and completed their individual evaluations in preparation for your arrival. Every one of them is awaiting your assignment.”

“Good,” Kiku replied. Flicking her head a little, she dismissed the commander and turned to properly regard the ranks.

“Listen up,” Kiku shouted, switching to the Common Tongue. It always felt hard on her to use the language, but she had no excuse for letting Katashi do all the talking. “Every single one of you is now aboard the Kaikishoku, my Kaikishoku! And as long as your hooves, your feet or whatever it is you crawl upon, walk its boards, you take orders from me. I am the voice of the Heavens for all of you now, and you will take every word I say as if were given by the Lady Herself. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma'am!” the ranks replied, most of them standing to attention. Those who didn’t at least looked like they were paying attention.

“The Kaiki will be put in the ground-docks in one day for…”

She trailed and proceeded to curse under her breath as the right word escaped her. The flow of her speech had been broken.

“This one believes the word is ‘retrofitting’, Captain,” Katushi whispered helpfully.

“Yes,” Kiku continued in a tone that, whilst still stern, was much slower and more deliberate. With the dressing-down she’d originally planned no longer an option, better she just state her message and finish the whole ordeal. “The Kaiki will be sent for retrofitting to make it fit for this expedition to the Frozen North. You will all be assigned important duties for this. Any failures or incompetence will result in you getting kicked off of this ship.”

Despite the slight hiccup, it seemed the recruits understood the gravity of what she declared. Turning to Katashi, Kiku gave him an expectant look and he nodded in turn.

“Commander Katashi has your assignments listed down,” Kiku then said. “You shall be given them along with a billet aboard the Kaiki. Make a note of them and where each and every one of you is supposed to be and where you shouldn’t. If I find any of you in a…” Another pause before the word came to her, “in a restricted area, you get kicked off. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the response came loud and clear once again.

“Good,” Kiku snapped, giving them one last stern glower before turning away from them all.

“I want them billeted and ready to work by tonight,” Kiku said to Katashi, switching back to Ryupponese as he walked back to the front. “The sooner we get this over with, the better. I also want it clear that I expect the best.”

“This one understands perfectly,” Katashi said in response.

“And keep the dragon away from the lightning relays,” Kiku added almost absently. “The last thing we need is a thunderblast before we leave. In fact, keep him away from any of the exposed wiring while the Kaikishoku is getting retrofitted.”

“This one will make sure to assign the cabin-boy Garble to safe areas,” Katashi replied.

“Keep the griffon away from me, too.”.

“Of course, Captain. This one understands completely.”

In the lull that followed the Captain’s pronouncement, there was time for mutters to arise.

“Well,” said the griffon girl. “Boss’s a tough customer, ain’t she?”

Several around her grumbled in agreement, but Galatea offered a mere nod.

She began tapping the wooden deck, gently, letting the sound fade into the crowd’s noises. The familiar texture of Ryupponese pine welcomed her chapped hooves. Relatively soft to the touch, though not built for comfort. She glanced to the metallic plates covering the ceiling, ornately carved with scales, arranged to be aesthetically pleasing, yet designed for protection. All around her this pattern repeated, with a wooden deck reinforced by metal, woven within the other...

The newly-minted crew were dispersing, one by one, to where they were needed. Galatea was, for the most part, standing alone on this deck. So she walked off at a brisk pace, taking the sight in of all around her. The Kirin had changed throughout periods of stagnation and progress. But what never eluded them, even as they grew driven by profit motive, was the artisanship which marked their culture so distinctly, in peace and in wartime.

The sky-turtle was worthy of its name. Few windows offered a look outside, and what little it did have were reinforced, crisscrossing metal and shutters substituting for fragile glass. If Galatea’s eyes didn’t deceive her – and they rarely did – only a few, retractable platforms offered access to the outside world on this deck, for protection remained of paramount importance. Whatever earned the Kirin’s wrath, Galatea mused, would have to be a patient foe indeed.

Gingerly, Galatea followed the steps leading to the lower decks. It was a different story here. Metal overcame wood, and as she walked, the crew’s steps were interrupted by a metallic ‘clang’ whenever they stepped on the metal plates that separated the compartments. She did not mind the cold emanating from the hull. It was a familiar feeling to her, shaped by centuries of sleeping beneath the stars, accompanied only by the cool night air and the dying embers of a campfire.

Shaking her head clear of those memories, she strode up to the Kirin that stood by the doorway, leading into the main hold.

“Excuse me, guv,” she spoke up. The Kirin stag looked at her. “D’you know where I can be givin’ me noggin’ a rest? Could do with a kip.”

‘A touch too blunt,’ she though, as soon as the words left her lips. ‘I suppose it has been two years. Longest time I’ve spent away from this lifestyle of mine…’

The stag, thankfully, was familiar enough with the accent to give her a nod. Good. He was a well-traveled stag, then. But his eye turned towards what she wore on her forehead, and he raised a brow in askance.

“Ah, ah,” Galatea spoke up hastily. “Don’t worry, I got a permit for this. Got the ol’ princess’s hoofprint and all tha’. So don’t mind the goggles, jus’ a lil’ bit o’ a personal touch from the Isles.” She looked down her own form, clad in the same, blue-and-white striped shirt worn by the common crew, and back to the stag. “I’ve got the uniform part ‘andled right, yeah?”

The stag considered this a moment. But her explanation seemed to satisfy, if a bit reluctantly.

“It’ll pass,” said the stag, in a rough, gravelly voice. “Just be sure to stick to what you need.”

“Aye, well,” Galatea said. “S’ppose you will be seeing more o’ mine face ‘round ‘ere. Anyways, what I needs is a lil’ shuteye. No offence, guv. But I got time before me shift.”

After an indifferent shrug, the stage gestured curtly at a door to their right, with a staircase leading further down into the ship’s belly.

“Much appreciated,” she said politely. “‘Ave a good one, lad, and cheers.”

The stag granted her another prim nod. Off Galatea went, passing various faces on her way. Many seemed just as uncertain as she’d been, scrambling to find their way from the loading bay. She could not blame them. New environments were new experiences. Blinking, Galatea reached up to absent-mindedly brush against both her braid, and her safety goggles.

Even she could not so easily let go of a few old mementos…

So distracted was Galatea, she didn’t see the griffon flying down her way. Or she did, in the last few seconds, at least. But the griffon did not, tumbling into her, leaving the two of them sprawled on the wooden deck.

“Oi, careful, lass,” Galatea said, hopping back to her hooves, dusting off the griffon. “You good?”

“Sorry! Dunno how I didn’t see ya there, lady,” the griffon replied hurriedly, flashing her a cheerful smile. “Guess I am a little jumpy today– sorry, gah, just, it’s all so exciting!”

The griffon, by now, had hovered up in the air without a feather out of place, gesturing wildly, her satchel forgotten on the floor. She too was clad in the same uniform Galatea wore, albeit one tailor-made to match a griffon’s build.

“Can’t say I blame ya, lil’ bird,” said Galatea. She lifted the griffon’s satchel, with a small smile offered too. “Hold on to tha’, experience tells me it won’ be a walk in the park, ay?”

“Absolutely! Thanks! Catch up with ya later, uh…”

“Shale,” said Galatea smoothly. “Jus’ Shale will do.”

“Gabriella!” said the griffon. “But you can call me Gabby– oh, I need to hurry, see ya later!”

And she was off, dashing along the boards in a grey blur.

Watching her go, as it now occurred to Galatea, the grey griffon couldn’t be that old. Fifteen at the most, a year below the age of accountability.

Serving at her age was nothing unusual. Galatea had witnessed youths of many years less working aboard ship, on the fields and in the factories, around the world. But Galatea was, at heart, a denizen of Equestria, and there were places where it always felt wrong to see children work so young…

“Such is the way of the world,” Galatea muttered, unwillingly slipping out of her accent.

She checked herself. In this form, the old worker dialect, native to the Griffish Isles, was second nature to her. Slipping up like this was unusual. Meeting her sisters for the first time must have influenced her mindset past expectations. Then again, change was always the world’s lot as well. And unwavering as she was, she too was part of it.

A snippet of conversation reached her ears. The griffon girl’s voice and another, male but young, barely even broken yet.

“I can't believe it,” whined the teenage male. “I'm being made to work on a Sunday.”

“Oh?” said the griffon girl, in a tone clear of guile. “That's rough, dude. I didn't know dragons had work days."

What else they said was lost to her. Galatea waited a moment, then moved on. Still, she decided, it seemed the griffon girl had perseverance. She’d do fine.

Her walk resumed, and it did not end, not until she’d reached her lodgings for the time being. There were a few others here, but Galatea paid them no heed for now.

A hammock was a far cry from the soft, sinking feeling of a mattress, the fabric thin to her touch. A little part of her did enjoy the suspended feeling, aboveground with its gentle sway, following the waves. A sky-turtle was no luxury yacht, rougher in sustained flight, and not at all designed for comfort.

Most of all it reminded her that, often, this came at the end of a hard day’s work. And there would be many days like that in the future. Although plenty welcomed the relief it gave them from their harsh, driven lives, Galatea welcomed her rest as a sign at least one more brick had been laid down that day. Or mortar poured.

She took off her goggles, placing them over her chest, along with Celestia’s resealed letter. She’d have time to read it again, discretely, when the Sun rose. With a flick of her braid to her side, she permitted herself to recline, staring up at the ceiling, accompanied by evening’s wind and the creaking of the sky-turtle. Then, she stretched out one rear-hoof, and pushed the hammock, letting it swing gently from side to side, and only then did Galatea truly feel satisfied.

All Along The Plane of Images.

In the realm just before the beyond, all is silent. All is well. It has been ever since she arrived here. She is free from that which bound her in the remainder of her life. No longer duty-bound in service or by oath. Her mind and soul, unshackled.

In life, her name was Redheart. And since her life’s end, she rests in peace.

Without regret, or conscripted to act.

All is–

“I see you there,”

Redheart’s eyes opened, or rather, figuratively became aware that she wasn’t alone. There was someone here. Someone else who could see her.

‘Who is there?’ Her question came, simple to ask when facing an unknown.

“Just someone who needs your help for a moment, Nurse. A bit of unfinished business, that had been left behind before your untimely passing.”

‘What business could that be?’ Redheart found herself asking in turn, ‘I was resting soundly before your intrusion.’

“You were, and for that I apologize. The silent ones were never something I was allowed to grow accustomed to. It’s the restless that tend to associate with me.”

‘You have my sympathies, but you haven’t answered my question.’

“It concerns something missing, something deceptively simple. Apparently, in life, you gained possession of a locket. There are those who would very much like it back.”

‘I see. Are they associated with the human?’

“They are; no lies offered, no lies spoken. By equivalent exchange, provide me the truth I require.”

Redheart’s non-existent mouth twitched in response. This request was a bit demanding to force an honest answer.

‘The last keeper of the locket I saw in life was Icewind.’ Redheart answered and yet felt something. A twinge of regret, perhaps?

“Native to this Equestria, no doubt; if he had the blasted thing, then it would have been felt.”

Redheart couldn’t help but notice the frigidness of the figure’s voice. Whomever this “he” was, those two had bad blood.

‘Who are you?’ Redheart found herself asking again, ‘and why do you care?’

Somehow, despite the nature of this realm and the boundaries between, Redheart could see the figure’s tight and worn fake smile and feel the coldness surrounding him.

“As I said, I’m just someone who required your help, nurse,” the figure said, a coldness in his words hardly concealed. A coldness harsher than any Winter that Redheart could recall in life. “And I care in service to the dream. A beautiful dream that will become truth in time. So, resume your rest. You have fulfilled your service.”

And like that, the other presence was gone. All that remained in this realm beyond was the everlasting trace of Redheart and her lingering regrets, over the goodbyes she never had with her family, nor the date that never came to be with the stallion named Icewind.

Before Redheart’s tomb at the Hall of Unity’s pagoda gardens, an equine figure sat still on the ground as his horn dimmed. His eyes were glassy yet focused on the tomb. The only tell that he belonged to the living was the blood running down his snout. This stillness did not last forever – the quiet was broken by the figure exhaling. This act was followed focus returning to his eyes.

“Easier, but not by much,” he muttered, before a nearby rag, suspended in his magic, attended to his bleeding snout. The throbbing in his head wasn’t that bad, which gave him some time. Some time to think and reflect on what he’d gained.

His eyes closed for a moment, allowing him to embrace a wonderful sensation.

‘A scent of lavender, oh Moon Princess?’ the figure thought, with a sad smile as the rag continued its work. ‘If only it were true for us.’

Prematurely aged and so tired, his eyes opened wearily to see reality as it was.

A name. He had a new name now. Icewind. But in a world where information still had yet to experience digitalization, going on a name alone could still lead to a prolonged, faltering search.

‘A dream like this shouldn’t be sullied,’ he thought, lavender’s scent still in his mind. The rag removed itself, its job done, but was now rather filthy with his blood. ‘A beautiful, most wonderful dream of Harmony.’

While this Equestria had flaws of its own, this was still an amazing place to him. It was almost exactly like the dream, but moreso. Three alicorns, rather than the two sisters. Well, three publicly-known alicorns… No extermination, no wars that scarred the lands, or perversion of what he knew. Of what he remembered. His heart didn’t feel like it was going to be marred any further than it already had.

“Trixie…” He sighed, lowering his head. “You just had to be a troublemaker, didn’t you? Who’ll be her friend now?”

Pained, he tugged at his Amulet. The ultimate tool of the Architect’s. Elusive as ever nowadays, but only the Watchmare had mattered to him, and she was dead in his world.

Of all things, Miss Lulamoon had managed to get sent a whole year earlier to Erebus here than in the world he knew. For different reasons, to boot. She was but one name, though, amongst those who at different points had studied under him at Princess Celestia’s School.

Lyra and Twilight, each victims, one way or the other, of the Solar Tyrant. Or the fiery-headed girl whom the once-Princess Celestia had for a student, who’d disappeared once through the Mirror. That last girl, once they’d met, who reminded him so much of another little girl, the most precious one of all, yet who’d never been a student…

Or, and this made him shudder, the pale creature who’d once been his own student. No doubt his path would cross again with the Weaver’s. He didn’t know what he’d do then. Yet he would find the Watchmare, and he would act. The chorus demanded such after everything.

“If by shadow, or by light, there must be action done,” the Headmaster said, as if reciting a nursery rhyme. He stood, his spell fading away, as he began to leave the pagoda gardens.

This he’d do for Equestria. For his students, his charges, his allies and the dead. For Sire’s Hollow, and his goddaughter.

‘Till the dream comes true for all.’

In Night’s Garden.

The Princess of the Night drifted in her sleep.

Though she had her duty to vanquish nightmares, there was always time to unwind. Time was irrelevant in her realm, for it was as she willed it. She rarely truly dreamt, though. Her memories were enough – there were plenty to relive, lament and celebrate. Then she heard her sister’s voice, the first memory of Princess Celestia in a thousand years, flow past her, and embrace her as she had on the dawn she returned as Princess Luna.

“I saw the signs of Nightmare Moon’s return, and I knew it was you who had the magic inside to defeat her. But you could not unleash it until you let true friendship into your heart…”

Memories of days long since passed. Memories she’d treasured. She was not like Twilight, as she let them roam free in the stars. Here she sat in the open moonlit field, amidst tall grass, sunflower and lavender drifting lazily in the wind, watching windows open and close, the stars greeting her with tales of old. They descended, they mingled, flowing around her in a cloud of stardust. Many drifted in and out. More than a thousand years of life to cherish.

Her oldest and newest memories were those she treasured most. Her first time raising the Moon, her first planted flower, her first telescope...

She saw the first snowball fight she had with her sister, a glorious battle for the ages. She smiled upon seeing their nanny Elsa, stuck upside-down on the ceiling, thanks to her, her sister, and Anna. She saw Celestia and herself atop a mountain, wishing upon the first lucky star she ever saw, and she wanted to be with her sister forever.

Her first garden, planted and nurtured by her under Mistmane’s tender guidance, in one secluded corner in their home at Canterlot. She saw herself chant and dance and laugh, to Starswhirl’s ire, one starry night. Strict as Starswhirl could be, she missed him, as she did Mistmane, and so many. None ever knew where the old Pillars of Equestria went to.

“Loosen up, forget your worries,” Luna sung softly. “Dance with me, the night is young...”

Luna laughed. She saw herself at the Crystal Realm, many years before Sombra’s time, singing that very song to Orion, her beloved, as they taught and danced and bestrode mountains, beneath the constellation that would one day bear his name. She saw her family flourish, her daughters, the warrior Tranquility and healer Equinox coming into their own, defending the land, curing the sick. Sacrifices made in blood. Sacrifices for a peace they never lived to see, for the good of Equestria, even as their mother started to turn, little by little.

Then Amore, the Realm’s greatest leader, one borne of Equinox’s line, stood before her and Celestia, beaming happily, with her daughter Radiant by her side. She presented them both with her creation, a Heart of Crystal, to shine as a beacon against the forces of darkness encroaching from the Frozen North, and to cleanse the Crystal Realm, this garden she called home. Little Radiant Hope, so gentle, loving and kind, sung a lullaby to let the Crystal Heart shine bright, even as her friend grew twisted into the Dark King.

All of them, gone too soon. Only Cadance, sweet Cadance, remained. But she too would flourish and blossom as they all did.

A window opened, and there Luna saw a young saffron pegasus, untouched by war. As she should have been. Luna wondered what became of her little friend, in the battle that had raged.

“I’m afraid Rainbow Dash will find out I’m not as tough as she thinks I am...”

“Everyone has fears. Everyone must face them in their own way. But they must be faced, or the nightmares will continue…”

Nightmares. She had to face her own, puppets without strings, crawling at her from all sides, reaching onto her– She blasted the Newfoals apart, as they crawled out of one of the windows. Here, she reigned. Here, she was untouched. And yet, here, she was alone.

Alone after a fashion. Cadance was busy around this time, and they hadn’t yet arranged another walk through dreams together. Her descendant had such potential. It had been a welcome surprise for Luna when Cadance had unexpectedly marched into this realm of hers. Figuring out where Cadance belonged in the convoluted family tree was another matter entirely, and they had settled on calling themselves aunt and niece.

Cadance was family, through and through. That was all that mattered to Luna. But, perhaps Luna never was alone. Especially whenever she gazed into one of her favorite memories of recent times.

”See? They really do like you, Princess!”

“Can it be true? OH, MOST WONDERFUL OF– I mean, oh, most wonderful of nights.”

Now, Twilight was a curious mare. Literally and figuratively.

Luna giggled to herself, letting the memory dissipate and embrace her. Twilight was not her first nor her oldest friend, but she was one she cherished the most in the time since her return. And… perhaps, something more.

She sighed. There were other priorities to handle.

Equestria, Earth, the war… The Plan.

Celestia’s plan, now that too felt like a distant memory, with the changing times. She looked up at the orb that held it. It had not yet faded into the starry fields. She stood there with her sister, with news of Sombra’s return fresh in their minds.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go as well?”

“Yes. Princess Cadance and Shining Armor are already there. The others will be joining them soon.”

“The Realm's magic is powerful. It cannot fall again, my sister.”

“She will succeed at her task. And when she does, we’ll know that she is that much closer to being ready.”

‘Ready…’ Luna echoed.

She remembered how at first, she’d scoffed at Celestia when she spoke of her plan for Twilight, and then had gone back to tinkering with her telescope. But Celestia kept bringing it up time and again, with little prompt, until Luna had settled on it being very important to her sister.

Perhaps she ought to ask her about it again. Perhaps it should be important for her, too. But then, with everything coming together so hastily… Twilight need not another burden upon her mind. And, after her talk with Cadenza, perhaps she ought to put more faith in her descendant, too...

A defiant voice passed her.

“I’ll tell you what we’ve learned, Discord. We’ve learned that friendship isn’t always easy, but there’s no doubt it’s worth fighting for!”

‘Wait.’

This was no memory of hers. For it was none other than Twilight Sparkle’s voice that she heard. She glanced around. In the starry skies, not a light shone above the others… Save for one.

Dreams could so often drift past so quickly, she’d fail to latch onto them. But this was her realm and it belonged to her. She stood up, and spread her wings. The voice had come from a lonely star – there, up amidst its brethren.

It echoed on, and on, and Luna knew what to do.

She soared, high up in the air. Her dream was hers to control, but to pursue a lost memory, her thrill-seeking side yearned for the chase. The star remained where it was, lavender light twinkling. It wasn’t in Twilight’s nature to let the library within be so lost, this far and wide. Maybe this was her own memory, a passing thought turned reality.

But Luna knew better. She pursued her flight, her wings leaving traces in the starry night. She flew, to where the star resided. Only, it wasn’t a star at all. It was an open window.

Luna did not hesitate for one moment. She stepped through. The light grew more distant, for she now stood in a void. Before her, the light shone, a starry path forming in its wake. Guiding her. And it wasn’t the only light, though she knew what to seek. Aall around her, spread in the void, stardust, in every color. It coalesced, danced, and flowed to an unheard melody, painting the void so vividly with luminescent glow.

She heard Twilight’s voice again. The stardust whispered to her, its voice familiar and welcoming.

‘No, Luna,’ she said to herself, shutting her eyes. ‘Don’t let your path be cast astray…’

The voice that guided her here faded, but the first light remained. Even as she pressed on, the allure was great, and her eyes drifted to the stardust. It showed memories and dreams that weren’t hers to own or to create.

A lonely childhood, a faithful student...

Luna trode on. She saw her sister and Twilight stand before the stained glass windows of Canterlot Castle... It must have been after the Crystal Realm had been saved–

“You weren't willing to risk the future of the citizens of the Crystal Realm in an effort to guarantee your own. Far better that I have a student who understands the meaning of self-sacrifice than one who only looks out for her own best interests.”

“Does this mean...?”

It passed in a flash, and soon more followed.

Six Elements. A Gala. A Nightmare Night. The Canterlot Wedding.

Then, she saw the stardust coalesce into a battle. A titanic figure of red and black, clashing against someone that flew past with a speed that would have done Rainbow Dash proud. But it wasn’t a memory she knew of. For Twilight Sparkle had never stood taller than she did in this one.

Nor did she have such a crown and–

“You’ve been wondering what you are meant to do as a princess. Do you know now?”

“As Princess, I believe I have the power to spread the magic of friendship across Equestria. That is the role I am meant to have in our world. The role I choose to have…”

The vision disintegrated into stardust, joining the eternal dance surrounding her. But what she heard and saw lingered. A Princess. A future yet to come. Truly, how absurd to see Twilight dash across the battlefield, meeting a great foe in a clash of magical prowess that eclipsed even Tia’s…

‘Focus, Luna, focus, this is not your path to tread…’

The light was there, at the end of the tunnel. Something pulled at her once again. The light grew brighter, brighter still, the tug was such that Luna felt compelled to take a look. So she did, turning to her side, breaking into a run.

Before her lay a vast field, under cover in starlight. Shadows stirred, and she saw the forms of the three tribes of ponykind, hippogriffs, griffons, even yaks, dragons and Kirin and Changelings of many colors. And Luna witnessed Twilight soar up high above them all, surrounded by faces old and new, before three shadowy figures that could only be her foes.

Luna flared her wings, taking flight. All those around her flickered, faded in and out, but Twilight, only Twilight remained, speaking so triumphantly, her voice a melody to her ears...

“The Elements showed me and my friends how strong our friendship could be. Together we work to bring harmony to Equestria! But there will always be more to do, which is why we teach others about the magic of friendship…”

Stardust flowed through Luna, pulling her to all sides. But she felt neither pain nor despair, for she flowed with them and embraced them. She was torn away from the memory, overwhelmed by the images that passed.

All the races, together in harmony, taught and guided by those who came before. And at last, Luna beheld her in full. A lavender alicorn, as tall as Celestia was, standing on a hill at sunset, together with her closest friends…

Then all was quiet within the void. The voices that had followed her, the memories that belonged to neither her nor Twilight vanished into stardust, with the first steps of her hooves past the open gate, welcomed by the light, into the library she had visited not so long ago.

Right there in the rotunda, Twilight Sparkle stood before a bathroom mirror.

Canterlot, Equestrian Solar Empire. Twenty-First Day of the Month of Ocyrhoe, Year 19 – Anno Imperator.

As daylight ended and night began, Archmage Twilight Sparkle lay restless, for the pain in her head bit into her. It had begun as a simple headache, as these things usually did. The doctors had warned her of recurring pains, both from her lingering injury, and the depletion of her magical reserves in battle. She’d replied it was a calculated risk.

‘...Me and my big mouth,’ Twilight thought, resignedly. ‘I need… argh, a shower. Yeah, that’s what I need…’

She hopped off her bed, staggering when she fitted her hooves into her slippers. Still aching in every joint and her mind still scattered, she made her way to the bathroom downstairs carefully, holding onto the railing. But it was there, near the bathroom sink, that she stumbled. She reached for the sink’s edge in time, fighting the urge to slump. The stinging pain grew and grew, until she could no longer hold it back, when her eyes fell upon her reflection.

She was looking haggard, with dark circles beneath her eyes. The hole where her ear used to be had healed, they had told her. That the numb, stinging feeling in it would dissipate with the healing process.

Yet even Philomena’s tears could only do so much now.

‘So much for that,’ Twilight thought angrily. She stomped upon the bathroom tiles.

“Aaaaarghhh! I can’t take it!” she yelled at her reflection. “Okay! Okay. Twilight, focus, get some… painkillers…”

But as she reached for the bottle next to the sink, something caught her eye in the mirror.

Right behind her, stood the Princess of the Night, faded yet present, unchanged save for her light blue bangs upon her forehead, and her brilliant, glowing eyes…

“AH!” Twilight shrieked, falling onto her back. She scrambled unto her hooves and looked where the alicorn had stood.

There was no-one there.

Luna's eyes fluttered open. With bated breath, her eyes darted around her room. Empty, save for her belongings as usual. Nothing was out of place, as it should be. Nothing lurked in the dark corners of her room. Only the cold chill of the wind blowing from the open window interrupted the stillness.

Whatever it was that she had seen, nonetheless, made her chest feel tight, naked and vulnerable as she was without her armor.

She released her held breath, her voice gentle and soft when she whispered into the evening.

“Twilight?"

Author's Notes:

Sledge115:

(Credit to Amarynceus’ artwork for the freckles inspiration. And the folks in the Fimfiction Discord, SockPuppet and Raleigh especially, for convincing me (directly and indirectly) to go through with it. Yeah. She has freckles now. And dapples. I just felt like it, honestly )

Hello there! This chapter was truly a delight to write, from Luna’s time with Twilight, Ana and Blueblood’s hijinks, and, of course, the dreamwalk. A rather quiet chapter, for the most part, but that’s why it was such an enjoyable one to write

Apart from Luna and Twilight’s scenes, I’ve found Galatea and Thorax’s scenes to be quite the standouts to write, too, with their introspective outlooks. Poor, poor Thorax...

The scene in Luna’s dreams is perhaps the most complete summary of Spectrum!Luna thus far, who I’ve come to define throughout Moonrise and stories outside of Spectrum, such as Moonbug and The Dreamwalker’s Lament, though this scene’s initial draft precedes both of them.

The characters of Equinox and Tranquility are based on SockPuppet’s Luna’s Daughters– with some adjustments, of course, given the considerably different time scale. It’s an excellent story, and I thought it fitting to give it a seamless tribute here

Speaking of Luna’s descent - yes, you read that right up there. Radiant Hope, in the Spectrum continuity, is Amore’s daughter. We do like to streamline things.

The scene between Ana and Blueblood was the first one completed, and remains mostly the same - an exploration of two rather quirky characters, and some old fashioned poking at social norms. Also, no, I have no idea what the hell we were thinking but I do hope it reads about as much fun as we had in writing it

Now, the final scene… well, what more can I say? It came to be soon after the series finale, and now coincidentally, the chapter’s published almost a year to the day the show concluded. I thought it fitting to give a love letter of a scene to the wonderful show that brought us all here, as it deserves. No matter how long it’s been since it’s started, never shall we forget it.

Oh, and one last thing; The First Second of Eternity has updated at last, and Galatea’s story thickens, ever so slightly. Have a look

Cheers, and stay tuned!

~Sledge

P.S.

How the Magic of Friendship grows...

RoyalPsycho: Hello everyone. I’ve never been a major member of this group but several scenes have been included introducing my contributions to the story – the scenes involving the Saddle (M)Arabians and Kirin: brilliantly co-authored with regular SPECTRUM writer VoxAdam (thank you for all the help Vox) – and so it seems like you’re going to see a lot more of my work in this story.

I hope you all like it and have a great time.

VoxAdam: Well. Where do I begin with this chapter?

I’ve written longer author’s notes for previous chapters, yet this is one of the chapters in all of Spectrum which feels the most personal to me, following Chapter Twelve (‘To Seize The Day’) and the ‘Child of Crystal’ Interlude. And now I’m here, not knowing what to say. I guess that much of it was already said my fellow writers in the notes preceding mine, though.

This chapter was always intended as a more slice-of-lifey chapter, the middle part in a three-parter, bridging the gap between Chapter Twenty-One (‘So Say We All’) and Chapter Twenty-Three (‘Here’s To You’) as the PHL establish contact with Earth and Lyra prepares to leave on her Expedition Into The Unknown, to the Sunken Dream Valley. Perhaps most interesting to note is that there’s a lot of material in this chapter which was months in the making, even a couple years in some cases, going so far as be written way before Act Two started publishing, let alone was fully planned.

As Sledge has stated, well, we could begin by talking about Ana Bjorgman’s comic-relief scene with Prince Blueblood… But, let’s say the scene speaks for itself and call it a day, right? For the ever-required purposes of posterity, I’ll only state that I recall us co-write that scene back in April and May 2019. So, you can see how long we’ve been sitting on that one, heh-heh…

While Royal is not one to write lengthy author’s notes, there is so much I could tell about the background to the three scenes co-written with him which appear in this chapter, if I had the time or the space.

It’s possible the most attentive readers might recall they’ve met the al-Husan family before, in the opening scene of Chapter Eleven (‘Those On Pilgrimage’), in an extended Early-Bird Cameo to continue showcasing who was coming to attend the Concordia. Qabil actually made his original appearance in a collaboration of mine with Royal, Inmates of Erebus, retroactively combined with the Spectrumverse. About half the exchanges I’ve had with Royal have involved building upon our imaginings for Saddle Mareabia, and though you may only see so much of it in the finished Spectrumverse, the worldbuilding is there.

As a final note, I may have mentioned this before, but Garble’s secret hobby of beat poetry only became canon in early 2019, ergo when TheIdiot and I had already written a couple scenes for the character accompanying Ember to the Concordia and had our own characterisation in mind. However, I’ve found it not that hard to integrate this surprisingly appealing canon addition to the Spectrumverse. And I hope this chapter earned a few chuckles with it.

Cheers,
~Vox

TheIdiot: I won’t lie in saying that doing this chapter was not easy. There were things that needed to be paced, scenes considered, ideas determined, and all manner of prospects to look at. While the real world has been getting quite scary (even though we’re a week or so from October), we hope you all continue to enjoy our bizarre Fimfiction story. And hey, we managed to update monthly (kinda) this time around. So, that’s a step forward, don’t you think?

As per usual, my thanks to you, our loyal readers, for sticking with us in the meantime. We here on SPECTRUM are grateful for your continued support.

Also, my thanks to VoxAdam and Sledge115 for their continued efforts. Especially since the latter has a sidestory or two you should give a read if you haven’t given it a chance.

And lastly, my thanks to RoyalPsycho and Doctor Fluffy for pitching in here and there during production.

With nothing else said, try and remain fortitude until November. Because if we’ve survived this year this far, then we can make it to November and then December. Just one foot infront of the other, one step at a time. As we all continue our journey into the unknown in this fimfic and in real life.

Without else to say,

Carpe diem, everyone.

(P.S. Yes, I’ve updated my icon. It’s always been an eye.)