In a perfect world, Poets Corner reflected, his nice little book store would be rather quiet eternally. He would perhaps be talking with a customer, or reading a novel at the register, or scribbling on something— a poem, perhaps, a draft of a letter, a book proposal, a chapter. His wife, Star Singer, would be drinking her ever present morning coffee in the café, or using her wings to hover as she restocked a shelf quietly. She’d be whistling and humming a song to herself, at most. Quiet would reign.

Instead, his store was full of foals. Loud, noisy, enthusiastic foals, all of them being herded with only partial success by their teacher.

“Mornin’, Miss Cheerilee,” he greeted the smiling Earth Pony with his characteristic Old Ralniegh drawl, releasing his own cup of morning tea from the hold of his magic as delicately as possible, now mindful of the destructive capabilities of school age foals.

“Good morning, Mr. Corner! Thank you again for letting us use the store! I didn’t expect Twilight to be out of town for so long doing field work!”

The white unicorn smiled as the flood of children on either side of him finally abated, surging on towards the inner part of the store. “My pleasure, milady. Star and I were happy to help. You’re lucky you called when you did! I’m heading out in a day or so myself. Imagine it, Ponyville bereft of its scholarly might!” he chuckled.

“Oh, where to?” That’s what he liked about Cheerilee. She was always so inquisitive and energetic. She’d truly found her calling, teaching the foals of Ponyville.

“A book. I’m goin’ on a bit of a field trip, you might say. I’m gonna do some research, get a feel for the outdoors, live a few days in a new place, and then I’m going to come home and use that all to write more convincingly.”

In the background, he could hear the horde of children navigating his shelves. His worry was an almost physical, tangible thing, but he dismissed it. Star was wonderful with foals, always had been— and was he not a Corner? He was gentlepony after all, no need to lose his composure.

Cheerilee nodded. “Oh, good! It’s been quite a while since your last one.” She paused, and then decided to continue in a more sheepish manner. “Er… I’ll admit, I haven’t really gotten around to reading the last one. I’m a mystery and romance kind of mare, after all.”

“I totally understand,” he drawled, smiling. He really did, at that. The last book that he’d published under his own name had been fairly dark, a long and bleak psychological drama mixed with monsters and shadows of the mind. It had sold decently, but he’d definitely not penned a best seller by any means. “But I wanted to get back to my roots with this one, back to the era of the first book I ever wrote. I’m writing something more… action-packed.”

Star Singer was speaking to some foals at the café. He could hear the others spread about, and he gestured with a hoof for Cheerilee to accompany him back into the store proper.

He’d been glad, for the most part, to let Cheerilee’s class have use of the store for the morning. To be honest, he rarely got any business until after lunch, so it wasn’t quite as much of a sacrifice as the teaching mare thought. But Star and him had talked it over, and the chance to perhaps touch some filly or colt’s life was a good enough reason to host the impromptu book fair.

He’d spent the whole night before with Cheerilee and Star Singer, setting up displays and tables and foal-proofing. All of the interesting and highly breakable knickknacks had been put up for the morning, especially the bust of Books Corner and the rather unique armor from over the mountains, where the Earth Pony tribes roamed a wide and golden plain.

“So… your new book will be a lot more Daring Doo and a lot less Bag of Bones, then?” she chuckled. Poets nodded, though for once he had to force his humor slightly.

“Yeah. Darin’,” he agreed lamely.

As Cheerilee left to supervise some colts who were taking a liking to Daring Do— funny coincidence that, won’t see mine there— he heard five words that brought him up short and put the fear of Celestia in him.

“CUTIE MARK CRUSADER BARISTAS YAY!”

“Aw, Celestia,” he breathed, and hurried before the triple terrors of Ponyville could do anything irreversible or costly.

When it was all done and the store was both safer and quieter, Poets Corner and Star Singer sat at the small café bar together.

“I can’t believe that they were able to get into trouble literally after only being here for three minutes,” she muttered, sipping at her coffee. Once again, as he often did, he marveled at her caffeine habit. As long as he had known her, Star had imbibed massive amounts of the stuff all day every day and suffered surprisingly few side effects. He was simply in awe.

“Anyhow. Poets, you had those letters this morning.”

He’d almost forgotten. He turned and looked for it. Grumbling, he realized that the letters had been left behind at the counter. Reaching out with his magic, he sought for the bundle and scooped it up. His wife watched the little package fly lazily through the air. “It’s so fascinating to me, watching you levitate things,” Star remarked, her wings fidgeting without her noticing. “I mean… I don’t know. It’s so strange.”

The letters landed on the table. He’d have to go through them. Star was insistent in reminding him about those letters. She was ever watchful, knowing that he’d neglect official missives and fan mail alike out of laziness. Besides, reading fan mail and personal correspondence was something of an event for them. Nothing was funnier or more heartwarming than the letter of some excited foal who’d read one of his early adventure novels for the first time. Nothing was more fascinating than reading some of the newer works fans and their thoughts on his darker, more intellectual works. But mostly, reading letters together reminded them of being young and how Poets had just about exhausted himself producing love letters full of elegance and poetry.

“Huh. Darlin’, it’s actually pretty normal to me. It’s the first sort of magic you learn when you’re a lil colt or filly. Flyin’ is bizarre from my point of view.” His voice was light, distracted, as he sifted through envelopes magically. “Corporate… junk… junk…”

“Yes, I know, but I meant specifically flying without wings. Flying sort of equals wings to me. I mean…”

He listened of course, but still he multitasked. Every letter received a muttered comment. “Junk… junk… oh, a fan! You go in this pile…”

Star had continued on despite him. “… and magic is just so strange! I wish I could try it for just a day, just to know, you know? But not really, because I love flying too much. You’re so slow, walking around all the time! Poets, what is it?”

Her husband sputtered, unnerved. His magic faltered and the letter drifted downwards to land on the table between them. Star soon saw what the source of the writer’s astonishment was.

The envelope was practically a work of art, gilded and red with the Seal of the Reunited Sisters on it plain as day. Neither pony knew what to do with it.

“I don’t suppose you forgot your taxes, darlin’,” he managed. She chuckled, but didn’t move.

Finally, she whispered for him to open the thing. “It may just be important, Poets.” Which, he reflected, was a rather inane observation. Regardless, he magicked the wax seal on the back of the missive off and retrieved the letter inside. It, too, was inordinately fancy. A hoof tapping reminded Poets that he was not alone and he read out loud apologetically, starting from the beginning.

“To Our Subject, Poet’s Corner, greetings.

We have heard much of thou, and of the works of thine hands we have tasted and found ourselves satisfied. Your pen is gifted, gentlecolt. We have learned that you are rather closer to ourselves than once we thought and we request your presence in Canterlot tomorrow afternoon for tea and dinner with ourselves and our Sister Celestia.

Princess Luna

He looked up, wonder in his eyes. “How does she know?”

Star looked guilty.

“I… I have some explaining to do, I think. A lot, I think.”

The revelation that his wife had tea with the Princess of the Night once a week was a surreal one.

The story itself was rather heartwarming. He’d of course remembered their visit to Canterlot to see family not long after the Summer Sun Celebration, and he’d remembered as they had laid in bed her stories of the city at night and of how she had met a new friend. She’d been wandering the city while he was locked in intense discussion of W. P. Yeats with his cousin Trinity Corner, loving the night sky and singing to the stars as she often did.

She’d landed to rest for a bit and sit in a nice little plaza without even noticing the princess, alone and sighing. That Luna struggled with her return was rather public: anyone who’d seen the archaic minded Princess at social functions or ceremonies had seen her fumbling and false starts.

“… And so you simply… shared the magic of friendship. With a Goddess.” He loved Star for a reason, he reflected. This was perhaps it.

“What else was I to do? She was so sad, Poets!” The Pegasus’ wings fidgeted. “But I’ve met her once a month since for tea. She didn’t want me to tell anyone, and especially not you.”

“Especially not me? Any reason as to why that would be?” Poets Corner glanced down at the royal stationary again, fascinated by it.

“She read The Fountain when she was newly arrived from exile.”

He couldn’t believe it. He was blown away, his remaining composure gone, his jaw slack with shock. His first book, in the hooves of the princess? He was not sure how to feel about this at all.

Daring Do and The Fountain of Kyrie had not been only his work, of course. Golden Pen had written half of it, but the idea had been his. He’d gotten the opportunity to co-write with such an illustrious name as Golden Pen by sheer accident; in fact, a series of near things and accidents. His prose in the book was definitely not his best, and his style and mind had matured in many ways since then, but that book was still precious to him.

Except that it was precious in the way that one’s scribblings and artwork from the end of foaldom were precious. He loved that book, even if it had only sold decently at best, but he loved it while still being quite embarrassed of it.

“Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“Very. She loved it. Luna almost missed raising and setting the moon reading it and she told me she cried at least twice—“

“Scene with… her father?”

Star Singer nodded. Poets looked away. “I cried too, so I figured. That’s… surprising. I’m not sure how to handle it, honestly.”

“I suppose. But really, angel, it’s not all that different. Celestia and Luna are ponies just like us. They’d love to be closer to everyday ponies. Even Luna, with all her formal air, would love it. She’s just… old fashioned. Celestia’s dignity is a little casual, yes, but Luna can be just as excitable or more so. She’s read all of your books. I get… reports.”

“Oh Celestia’s burnin’ or—“ Poets’ draw became more pronounced in his distress.

“You’d do well to not say such things with her, sweet.” His wife was trying and failing not to find his mortification amusing, and couldn’t help but laugh at him again as he laid his head down on the table and murmured that she was never, ever to let him see any of these reports because the idea of the Goddess of the Night reading his work was too horrifying to even contemplate. With a mind like hers, no book he’d ever penned under his own name nor any of his pen names would ever be safe.

“Cheer up, she loves your books. She’s like a filly in a candy store every time you publish anything under any of your names. Also— remember that you don’t know that part about her liking your books, okay?” She accepted his nod and continued. “Now, tell me about the place we’re going to. You said you were changing our itinerary again.”

“No, I decided ‘gainst it. I was going to suggest a trek through the Andalus foothills, but it’s just too much. We’ll be tired. We always do too much. When you go to a new place, you should make sure you’re free to relax, lay around, enjoy the food and fruit of the land. The best part about a new and unexplored country is the land.” He smiled, not thinking of the jungles and mountains of the south at all. In his mind, he saw Thessaly, and he felt the old ache again, the one he always got when he was about to head off on a journey. “But one part of this whole thing’s still a little fishy to me. Now, I understan’ that she’d not want to meet me— meetin’ my hero, Golden Pen from who Darin’ was birthed full grown, was a little scary— but why now? Did you suggest it?”

But she was shaking her head. “No, I’m as surprised as you are. Last time we had tea, she didn’t say anything about finally wanting to meet you. The only thing I remember talking about last time was Twilight Sparkle and the Princess being happy about the purchase of new telescopes from some pony or another with a long name… Perspicacity I think.”

Poets frowned but said nothing immediately. He’d just have to wait until tomorrow to know, if there was anything to know. It was… just strange. He supposed that he could imagine a princess being shy. It sounded like something he himself might write, the lonely princess who can put on the dignified public face but who knew little or was unsure of private interaction. The more he thought of it, honestly, his initial odd feeling wore off. Perhaps it was just that.

In the end, Star went and ponied the register and counter while he sat in the café and thought for another few minutes. The idea of Princess Luna— the Princess Luna who commanded the forces of the night— liking his work was daunting, but he could deal with it. He thought so. He hoped so. The real challenge was not about what he had wrote, but what she had.

When the Lunar Sonnets had been first published, he’d picked them up solely because of their writer. The idea of a Princess of Equestria writing a small book of poems was a novel one.

He’d love them. He’d always liked free verse more, but his heart had a special soft place for well written formal poetry and hers had been stunning. He’d been blown away by their beauty. It was like resting among the stars themselves. That tiny book had had a strange sort of melancholic beauty on it, an aura of sad and fragile grace and he had been in love with those words. He’d written two reviews that had found their ways into the papers, both under different names and both praising the book highly. His readers had seen it and the sales of that little book had risen exponentially. Perhaps they’d just gotten it because he’d said it was good, but he hoped that they read it.

The prospect of meeting the poet of those words… he was conflicted. He’d felt so close to the soul of the writer when he’d been absorbed in the Sonnets, but now after penning those articles he felt awkward at the thought of meeting the target of all his eloquent and heartfelt praise. What could he say to follow that up, face to face?

Poets liked to think that he was good at masking his emotions when he needed to be calm. He liked to think that he could tap into that natural agrarian, land charm from time to time and that people totally bought every bit of it.

The truth of the matter was that he had terrible composure. His excitement was so obvious it was almost embarrassing. The writerly unicorn’s eyes darted everywhere, taking it all in, mental notes scribbling away behind those star-struck eyes. He kept telling himself that he could use all of this, every detail, in the tale. He could almost feel the fires of inspiration… or perhaps the mass of ponies was raising the temperature inside.

Dinner and a spot of tea meant a slightly different thing when it was the Princess of the Night doing the inviting. Specifically, it meant staying out much later than usual. Luna had petitioners to see just as her sister did. True, there were fewer to see her, but Luna’s visitors were different.

There were no farmers to be found here, and few business ponies. There were, instead, a rather large assortment of bureaucrats and artistic types. To be sure, it was odd watching the Lunar Princess finish up holding court.

He said as much to his wife as they watched from the back of the throne room, behind the crowd.

“I thought so too, but the way she talks about it makes sense. Artists have always sought Luna out, because they felt like she could help them. It’s how she arranges and guides the night sky, it’s so similar to painting.”

“No, I got that. Art has always been a thing of nights and moons. No, I meant the paperwork, sugarcube.”

“Right. Luna may be the more artsy one, but she is also the better mathematician. Much of the more boring requests, the ones that involve technical issues, are scheduled later so that she can be sure of the math. Also, she told me a while back that Celestia has given her more than her fair share as a sort of ‘crash course’ in how much policy making has changed since the Classical era.”

Poets guessed that it was an adequate reason, but it still looked silly to him.

Luna took three more petitioners: a painter asking permission to paint in the gardens and two musician siblings who were working on a symphony as commissioned by the Princess of the Day who wanted Luna’s approval of their work. She accepted the score with grace and was delighted in the painter, slowing down the pace to ask him questions.

“The score? What’re they thinkin’ she can do with just a score?”

Star Singer tsked. “Surely, being a unicorn and all, you know that magic can read text. Luna can do it with musical notation.”

That was actually news to Poets, but before he could answer, Luna spoke to the small crowd.

“We regret to inform our subjects that tonight’s court must end early. Please wait while our guards record your names and your place in line. We are determined that all of our subjects should be treated with fairness and we would not have you forgotten.”

With that, she vacated the throne as her guards did as she had said they would. As Luna approached, Poets’ nervousness finally caught up to him. It was suddenly quite real again that he was in Canterlot’s most illustrious public space, about to meet the stately, graceful Princess of the Night who had read all of his books.

Well, the books he’d published under his own name, which was really only half of his books, but it was still a big deal.

What little of the social grace that had rubbed off on him from country balls and his old life in Canterlot totally deserted him. He fidgeted. She smiled and he imagined that he was sweating, and in fact was not quite sure that he wasn’t sweating. Oh, he hoped he wasn’t sweating. He supposed that he could blame how hot the room was, or mention it was in the summer and that it was quite hot even at night! But, of course, he suddenly remembered that with the elevation, being on a mountain and all… and it wasn’t even summer. It was—

“Oh, Star Singer, we- I,” she paused, and coughed. Her voice changed from a lower, regal timbre into a lighter one. “I’m glad to see you!” she finished, still smiling that smile.

“I’m glad to see you as well, my princess,” she answered brightly, bowing quickly.

And then Luna turned her gaze to him and in awe he saw that she seemed to mirror in a way his own condition. She was fidgeting.

“We are honored to make your acquaintance, Poets Corner. We… I… have been looking forward to finally meeting th— you.”

“As have we— well, actually, I guess just me!” he chuckled a little nervously. “I was surprised to learn that my wife was far better connected than I’d ever guessed.”

“Ah, yes,” Luna managed. For Poets is was remarkable how the graceful and dignified Princess had been so quickly replaced by this alicorn. It wasn’t a terrible change, by any means. Simply a strange one. This Luna was definitely not quite as unshakable. “When we learned that o— my sister needed someone to deliver a package to Jironr, we thought of you and how it was in the area your wife spoke of!”

“Jironr?” Star Singer asked, puzzled. Geography was not her strongest suite.

Poets was first consumed with the first half of the statement. “Your sister needs me to deliver a package? As in, Princess Celestia, Raiser of the Harmonious Sun, wants me to deliver Royal Mail?”

“We too raise celestial bodies,” Luna grumbled, but then spoke louder. “Well, I canst say why, I neglected to ask what sort of thing she needed, Poets Corner. I cry your pardon, for perhaps I spoke too quickly. It was an adage when I was young, in the mountains: ‘A commitment made too quickly is worse than one never made.’” She seemed embarrassed, but then shook her head. “Ah, but where are my manners? They desert me after my sojourn. Will you accompany me? I have but one more task tonight, and it is a rather simple one. We may talk on the way.”

The two much smaller ponies followed the princess out of the large throne room and down the long halls. The palace was a truly breathtaking place. The poet in him, the thing that gave him his name, had a hard time coping with the sheer magnitude and grandeur. How did people ever lose their sense of wonder? Did the princesses ever forget how magnificent stained glass and gold inlay were? It occurred to him that Canterlot itself seemed bigger and more grand than he remembered. For not the first time, he found himself glad that he’d moved to Ponyville to manage the Corner Books branch there, if only so he could appreciate Canterlot that much more.

“So, why can’t Princess Celestia use the regular mail service or her own guards to deliver a package, Luna?” His initial shock over this fairly casual address broke his reverie on his surroundings, and Poets paid more attention.

“It is… unknown to me. I was rather surprised by that myself, but when she mentioned the destination I did a few calculations in my head and—“

“Realized that Jironr is fifty miles at least farther South than we’d planned, but still close enough for it to be feasible for us to be deliverin’ this package of yours.” Poets finished.

“Why, yes,” she answered, faltering for only a moment before recovering. “But we had to help our sister, Poets Corner and we did indeed know someone capable, as she had inquired, and we told her so!”

Star Singer sent him an unpleasant glare. “Poets, don’t be rude.”

“I meant no offense, ma’am, er… Princess. I just happened to be a step ahead on this one.”

“We take none,” she answered reasonably. As they walked, Luna nodded to each of the Night Guards, smiling with a rather pleasant air. Each guard met her with a quick, smart salute. They were different, he decided, from Celestia’s guards. Not any laxer, for sure, but more… decorative. The gold of the Solar guard was rather ostentatious, but whereas adornments were rarer among the day watch, the Lunar Guardspony told his rank by the color of his companion’s gemstone. After hearing Princess Luna talk delightedly with craftsponies and artists, he wondered if she’d designed them herself. Regardless, one could not say their uniform and armor were not elegant. It was rather impressive.

“My princess, pardon me, but I figured you’d said you had some task t’do. May I inquire what it is?”

“Oh, but we are doing it,” she replied with a smile as she nodded to the last guard on the overly long corridor. “Our guards, Poets Corner, must know that we appreciate them. As for myself, it is easy to sleep in the day, when I am naturally more wearied, and to wander in the night, when I am more awake, but my guards are not quite as I am. They have all done well to control themselves and adapt to my nocturnal nature. We have always enjoyed having our guards wear our designs as well. Even in the elder days, Poets Corner, we smithed and suffered over other majestic designs and the Lunar guard wore many types of armor over the centuries I ruled under my sister.”

Briefly questioning whether she could or not, he commented, “Y’read my mind, Princess.”

“Hardly. You seemed to be rather interested and I put many pieces of data together. But… and good evening to you, Captain Silver Corner.”

“Silver!”

The Pegasus mare with a gray coat and wine-red mane similar to Poets’ own grinned at him. “Hey there, cousin. Good evening, your majesty. All is well and the guard are in rather good morale considering.”

Poets and Star looked at each other and she mouthed, “Considering?”

“Thank you. We commend you on being thorough and swift as always. We had no idea that you were related to the husband of our good friend Star Singer!”

“And to her too, majesty, though far less closely.” Silver chuckled and removed her helmet for a moment and shook her mane. “It’s been rather long, so I have terrible helmet-mane, Star, but I hope you recognize me?”

“That I do! You’re the cousin who loves cider!” she cried excitedly. Poets, had he been more prepared, would’ve brought a spell prepared to somehow capture this moment in time forever as his rather rough and tumble cousin flushed.

“Now hun, let’s not be talkin’ ‘bout that,” she said quickly, nervously, her otherwise immaculate Canterlot accent slipping. “Well, I must excuse myself, your highness, the patrol on the East side is due in any minute and I must receive their report.” Luna dismissed her and she took to the air and glided through the corridor the opposite way.

“Who’s bein’ rude now?” Poets said after laughing.

“That’s different. I was teasing. You were being mean!” she retorted, but she laughed as well.

Luna seemed puzzled. “Should we be concerned? I must admit that in my day the ponies of the guard were rather famous for harboring a… love… of cider. Is that no longer acceptable? I’d not have my guards bringing dishonor to the court. With a word I could have Captain Corner barred from the barracks cider.”

But he shook his head. “Nah, milady, t’wouldn’t do much anyhow. No, she’s alright. Cousin Silver is a good gal, but when we have reunions she makes a foal of herself without fail. Unless you intend to employ our whole clan, and force her to attend them, I doubt she’ll ever give you trouble.”

“Good to hear,” she said, allowing herself to smile now. The three were on the stairwell now, ascending. As they reached each landing, Poets noticed that each floor seemed more and more empty until they finally reached a landing with a long hallway with only two guards and a servant far away in the distance.

“We decided, with both you here as our guests, and the matter my sister wished to discuss with you, that a dinner in our private dining hall would be more appropriate. Here we are,” Luna led them a ways down to a door and they entered into the room behind it.

Dinner with the princesses of Equestria was surprisingly not as awkward as he had thought it might be.

Luna was awkward in personal interaction, but still warm… but her sister was beyond words. Celestia was warm and motherly, regal and dignified, and yet totally approachable. She dominated the room, her presence almost a tangible thing. Even as he was charmed and awed, Poets was still aware of it. It wasn’t manipulation— no, he’d recognize that. This was the true force of a powerful personality. He was suddenly very glad that Celestia was a kind regent.

“…and so, this last one wasn’t quite as successful as you would’ve liked? I’m sorry to hear of it.”

“No,” Poets sighed. “It was too dark perhaps. I’ve drifted away from my first real novels, which were never as light as perhaps Daring Do, but were still more tales of adventure. I actually began to doubt my story halfway through, worried that I wasn’t… telling the truth. That I’d misrepresented life, like I’d been too hard on it.” He didn’t have words to describe what he had felt, hunched over that desk one night after midnight, worried and unsure.

“We… well, I liked it,” Luna said softly. He smiled at her thankfully.

“I’m glad. Thank you.”

Dinner was more or less over now. It had been leisurely and filled with talk. Celestia was an excellent conversationalist, perhaps the best he’d ever met, and she had inquired after his life and work with interest. What impressed him most was her curiosity, which he supposed she shared with her sister. But whereas Luna went slow with such things, prodding around the edges and shyly listening, Celestia was like sunlight finding cracks and windows to shine through.

The whole time he found himself under the microscope, like the experiment of one of those advanced magical studies track unicorns back at Canterlot University. Celestia was kind, and she was sincere, but she was also trying to find out something. Only the force of her personality kept him from feeling frightened, and only the warmth of her voice and the complete lack of malice in her eyes kept his flighty sense of self-preservation at bay.

At last, she stood and invited them into another room, onto a large balcony where there was a table. He found himself seated and attended to by a meek young unicorn mare. He took his tea with his magic, thanked her, and she went back to… wherever it was that she went. He’d no idea because he was too busy being addressed by the princess of the day.

Her voice was low, lower than it had been. It had taken such a strange tone, one that put him on his guard. “Say nothing loudly.”

So he didn’t. Somehow he knew gaping at her blankly would not serve anyone at the table’s purpose well, so he sat still and nervously sipped.

“So Luna was practically in a tizzy, wanting to meet you,” she said in a much happier, warmer, and louder voice. Suddenly, his question about why the princess wanted him to do something the royal mail service should be up to was answered. Things were rotten in the state of Canterlot.

Wow, that was horrible. He never needed to use that again.

“We… I was not! Sister, thou art rude!” Luna said, flushing. “We are not strange, do not believe her, Poets Corner. No,” she was regaining her dignity now, adjusting. “we were excited to meet you. We have not forgotten the kindness you did us without knowing us… me. With the sonnets.”

He smiled. “Some time we should talk of it. I would love to discuss them with you.”

Star Singer tugged at his shoulder, and he looked over to find her afraid. She mouthed his name, and he frowned and tried to comfort her without being too obvious. He saw now that Celestia had been glancing back towards the doors stealthily the entire time and finally she sighed.

“I am sorry, my friends. I am beginning to regret this. When Luna mentioned you… I was desperate. I am sure we are alone now, so I can do this.” Her horn glowed with magic and Poets felt the magic aura in his spine tingling. “There, we’ll be unheard. You know I need a package delivered. My little ponies, I cannot trust any of my staff. It wounds me to say so, hurts me, but it is true. The last letter I sent to my beloved student was intercepted… or the courier simply left Canterlot and was himself a traitor. The point is that…” she faltered. Poets spoke quietly.

“I’m a writer, your highness. I’m not Twilight, and I ain’t like the other elements. I’m just a unicorn writer with a tiny book store.”

“You’re a good pony, and that speaks more right now than you can imagine. Somepony or someponies are bound and determined that the royal court be cut off from the border province of Stone Walls. Twilight sent me a letter a few weeks ago, a rather hurried letter and one that worried me. Shortly after she simply… wouldn’t answer. I sent her three letters, but nothing came back. It became clear that nothing I sent was getting to its destination, and no letter I sent to officials in the province were being answered either.”

This was not what he’d expected.

“Poets, I needed someone not from Canterlot, who I could trust. My sister has found comfort and friendship in your wife, and so perhaps that means you and I should become friends as well. I would like that.” She let herself smile, but the worry still was there in her eyes. “It was how she spoke of the two of you that gave me the idea. She told me you’d been traveling before, and that you did this often, researching and what not.”

He nodded. “Yes’m…”

“I do not ask much of you, my little pony. Only that you be brave. I doubt sincerely that there will be danger of any kind. They know that you meet with Luna for tea sometimes, Star Singer, so this whole meeting of ours is being… overlooked. We are safe,” she repeated that last bit to herself again as if it were some sort of mantra. “Will you be brave for me, my little pony, and take this to my student?”

Poets Corner was faithful and loyal by nature. He’d never looked at another mare since university days and Star Singer, but… he felt his heart flutter.

“Yes’m,” he managed. He knew Star Singer would make some sort of petty revenge later, but he didn’t care. The romantic in him stirred at being called forth to adventure.

All of a sudden he felt horrible for every time her name had been a part of some highly inventive and doubly repulsive.

“Brave little ponies, both of you.” She smiled a mollifying smile at Star. “But just in case… I do have a request, to keep you safe.

“Take Luna with you in disguise.”

He wasn’t sure at first how he felt about that, but Luna seemed not to mind. She seemed not to mind quite enthusiastically.