Everything was perfect.

Twilight's toga was perfectly woven in the classical style from proper Etruscan wool. She personally sewed the loincloth to be accurate to period designs. She dyed both with Saffron Croci imported from Iberia. The candles that bathed the room in sumptuous orange light were made from the beeswax of the Gaulian genus.

Her room had been enchanted so the walls were adorned with graceful alabaster archways held up by delicately detailed Corinthian columns framing ocher stucco and detailed frescos of the Twelve Trials of Celestia. Twilight prefered Ionian columns, but accuracy was of paramount importance.

Her bed was adorned with delicate purple silks imported from Zhonghua. The pillows, endowed with the Mark of the Royal House of the Sun in golden thread, were filled with the finest downs from some helpful swans. Fluttershy was a bit reluctant to allow her access to her swan friends, but collecting the down over the course of several months proved to be an enjoyable experience for the birds.

Or at the very least they stopped trying to poke her eyes out after the first try.

In the corner, behind some conspicuous draperies, one of her only inaccuracies sat. A gramophone played a recording of Lyra and her playing on traditional instruments. The eccentric musician was overjoyed to get her hooves on a faithfully reconstructed cithara and took to the archaic version of her own lyre with her trademark gusto. Twilight’s performance on the other hand was slightly off, her Aulos flute being made of a particularly sturdy piece of mahogany instead of the traditional ivory. She was perfectly willing to sacrifice a bit of accuracy for that. Finding voluntary ivory objects was near impossible, most being stolen from the graves of Hathi.

Everything was perfect.

Twilight sighed and closed her eyes. She inhaled the the frankincense and let go.

Crepusculia Honorius opened her eyes and sank into the decadently plush mattress. A moment of respite from the terrible news being constantly relayed to her through the senate was all she asked. The Gothic Queen Alaria was marching south, her greedy eyes set on the ancient city of Rome. Most of northern Latium had already been ravished by the savage queen.

No doubt within days the Goths would be at the gates and Crepusculia had scant soldiers to defend the ancient and decaying city walls.

The senate, delusional as always, cried up and down that the venerable walls would hold as they had against Hannibal and had since the dawn of Rome. The Empress was no fool though. The walls were old vestigial artifacts of a time before Imperial power stretched along the entire coast of the Equestrian Sea. It had been nearly three centuries since any force threatened Rome.

But that was long ago. Well before Crepusculia was born. Back when the armies weren’t filled with illiterate barbarians loyal only to the glint of gold.

Hooves thundered down the hallway to Crepusculia’s chamber ruining any hope of peace. No doubt general Clavum had some ‘clever’ plan with which to turn back the inevitable penetration of our gates. Yesterday he proposed we give the general stock of plebeians weapons to hold back the goths.

Indeed, in our distant past, the plebeians bore the blades of Rome, but those days were long past. The plebeians were no longer the hearty pure latin folk of old. Instead they were a motley mob of unwashed mutts. Furthermore, even if we were to arm them, we had scant time to train them for the rigors of battle. A fool’s gesture, sure to only kill more of our people. It was a far more merciful gesture to cast them from the city, to send them south away from the jewel of The Empire.

The oak doors smashed open, flying from the hinges. In the doorway stood The Gothic Queen Alaria herself, her black coat standing in stark contrast to the white pelts she draped over her back, barely concealing a gold hilted sword. And that was all she wore. Her entire powerful body exposed to the naked air. Exquisite musculature rippled through her legs as she marched over the splintered remains of the door.

Crepusclia sat and gawked at the magnificent specimen of Gothic physique, too stunned by the speed of her incursion to speak.

“I should have known to find you hiding in your silken sheets, Honorius,” Alaria cooed in her velvet voice. Her beautiful turquoise eyes ran trails over Crepusculia’s lithe body. “Especially after you made gestures of peace and set my sister’s soldiers in ambush.”

“Is revenge what you seek, Goth?” Crepusculia said, mustering what courage she could in the face of such a awe inspiring woman. “If so, take it upon me and spare the plebeians. They did nothing to you.”

Alaria’s laugh echoed in the sumptuous chamber, a bone rattling but enrapturing sound. “My soldiers will have their way with Rome as they have with the rest of Latium.”

A finely maintained hoof cupped Crepusculia’s chin and forced her to look Alaria in the eyes that mirrored the need in her own. “And you, my beautiful Honorius, are my prize,” Alaria whispered. The candle lights shone in Alaria’s eyes, turquoise dancing with orange across Crepusculia’s own reflection.

She opened her mouth to protest, to offer some resistance to this barbarian, but she was quickly silenced by Alaria’s mouth slamming into hers. The Goth’s powerful tongue forced its way through Crepusculia’s lips. A hoof along her belly, eliciting a deep, needy moan from her that gave Alaria the opening she needed to drive all the way into her prey’s mouth.

A jarring thud knocks Luna and Twilight both back into the present.

Luna looked under and behind her. “Did I kick something?”

Twilight craned her neck around her substantial lover. “I don’t think so, I didn't put anything on that table that would make that kind of sound.”

Another thud resounded through the bedroom, this time clearly from near the window, obscured as it was by the glamours.

With a low growl, Twilight wormed out from under Luna and stomped over, mumbling things inappropriate for polite ears. A spark from her horn caused the illusion shatter and window to fling open. She poked her head out into the suddenly bright afternoon sun.

“What in the name of Celestia is goi-” she started to shout before she’s interrupted by a rubber dart bouncing off of her horn.

Below her castle’s window, in a field she kept neat for picnics with her friends, Cadance of all ponies was sitting atop her brother, both clad in furs. An incredibly fake Fu-Manchu fluttered in the gentle breeze on Cadance’s nose, only slightly obscuring her grin. That kind of ear to ear grin that even Fluttershy would have a hard time not smacking right off its owner.

“What are you doing here, Cadance?” Twilight asked. “and why are you riding Shining in public?”

“Sacking Rome.” She said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Sacking Rome?”

“We’re Huns apparently, Twily.” Shining said through his bit.

A quick kick to his side shut him back up. “I’m the Hun, honey. You’re my mount.” Cadance said, nocking another dart into her tiny toy bow.

Shining simply neighed the most depressed neigh to ever be neighed.

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “Could you sack Rome,” she waved a hoof off towards town, “literally anywhere else?”

“Well tell me who else is dressed in a toga and pretending to be Roman, and sure!” Cadance said. A quiet twang sent the rubber dart arcing up towards Twilight.

Twilight’s horn flared to full life and the poor dart, conscripted into a war it never wanted to fight, was incinerated. Drops of flaming rubber sparked out and landed smoldering in the dirt path leading before the castle.

“Just go! Luna has to be back in Canterlot soon and I would really like to finish this time!” Twilight bellowed, her voice echoing through the gentle rolling hills of Ponyville. A flock of birds lifted from the Whitetail woods in surprise.

She was certain she heard a plate shatter in the distance.

Her escapades with Luna would be on the tongues of every pony within 30 miles by this time tomorrow. Great.

For her part, Cadance looked like she just heard the greatest joke in all of history, but was trying her damndest to not bark with laughter. She tugged on Shining’s reigns, barely making out “Let’s go” between chuckles.

“Sorry, Twily.” Shining sighed, “I tried to tell her this was a bad idea.”

Twilight simply watched them walk away, her eyes drilling daggers into the back of Cadance’s head. As the pair disappeared onto Bridle Street, Twilight slumped down onto the window sill, leaning a single arm on it. A gentle breeze fluttered her bangs, bringing in the soothing scent of wildflowers. She turned back to Luna.

“So, same time next week?”