It hadn’t taken long for Luke to pack. A quick scavenge around his bedroom revealed most, if not all articles of clothing he owned within about five minutes, but they weren’t exactly clean. If he had known the prior evening that Fleur was going to insist on ‘saving’ him from his crappy abode, he’d have made the effort to stop procrastinating and go down to the laundry room in the basement.

Never saw much use, that laundry room. It was, of course, to be expected. Ponies that weren't into the Canterlot fashion scene rarely wore clothes for aesthetic appeal. But even if they had, the place would have probably still been underutilised, given the smell of some of the inhabitants of the complex. They were nice ponies, but some of them had fallen on hard times, and their personal hygiene had taken a bit of a hit as a result. Brockhoof was a prime example of that.

Luke was glad to be leaving the place behind, but the prospect of going to live on Fleur’s estate was not something he could ever take lightly. She hadn’t thought this through—not like he had, anyway. The press were bound to find out at some point. Just what awful things were they going to print about her when they did? The rumours were already flying like shit off a griffin claw, but the mare was just too damn nice to care about their libelous scribblings.

His gaze had never strayed from her during the walk to the Equinox district, the long graceful waves of silky mane and tail swaying gently with her practiced gait. The gentle clip-clop of her hooves echoed through the deserted, pristine streets, leading him far deeper into the ‘posh end’ of the district than he had ever needed to go. The castle entrance was situated next to the east side of the upper plateau, where most of the shops, restaurants and bars were located, but Fleur had strolled through the thestral-guarded gates and passed all of that by.

Now, Luke found himself walking on polished freakin’ marble enchanted with some sort of anti-slip spell, and this was just the street. The houses grew in size and grandeur the further the supermodel led him, going from large detached buildings with modestly sized, perfectly manicured lawns to huge mansions mostly hidden within multiple acres of walled off land.

And, the gates—it was as though the residents were trying to outdo each other with the sheer size and imposition of their gates. Huge, towering wrought iron masterpieces of metalwork set between marble pillars seemed to be the running theme. They would of course, give way to crystal-lit gravel paths leading through blooming gardens that rivalled those of the royal palace.

“Luc, you are awfully quiet. Are you okay, mon cher?”

“What? No… I mean, yes. I’m fine… Just tired,” Luke muttered, eyes still taking in the sheer extravagance of the neighbourhood. Some of these rich fuckers had their own personal water fountains. Not the tiny crappy ones, either. Freakin’ huge statues of various creatures—ponies, hippogriffs, manticores, even a full size dragon, set in the center of large circular pools.

A warm pony cheek pressed against Luke’s hand, making him jump a bit. He smiled, a set of even warmer lilac eyes gazing up at him. “It is okay, mon amour, we are ‘ere,” Fleur softly spoke. “We just need to acquaint you with the gate. Once it learns you are welcome, you may come and go as you please.”

Resisting the urge to give her a good scratch behind the ear, Luke gave her a bemused look instead. “Acquaint me with the gate? Does it have a mind of its own, or something?” he chuckled, glancing around for said gate.

There was a marble archway at the end of the cul de sac that looked like it could’ve housed a gate, but apart from an elaborate depiction of a sleeping unicorn expertly incorporated into the metalwork, the wrought-iron barrier in the archway looked as though it was just another part of the fence. There were no visible hinges at all.

Fleur stepped up to the arch, face emotionless, eyes studying the frontal view of the unicorn contained within the metal. Eyes, Luke couldn’t help noticing, that were already starting to change colour. In a matter of seconds, the switch had been flipped. Trident glowing from sapphire, Fleur opened her fanged mouth, her mane and tail dancing in the sudden breeze that swept through the neighbourhood.

Luke drew in a breath, automatically taking a step backwards. He knew what was coming before it even happened. The last time she had sang, there had been a bunch of street performers backing her up. Not this time, though. The harsh wind whipped through the leaves of the many trees lining the estate, the rustling crescendo rising and rising, until the eerie sound of a music box cut through the din.

“Uh… Fleur? Is this normal?” Luke yelled, but he could barely hear his own voice. Fleur’s, however, rang loud and clear:

The siren’s beautiful voice downplayed the rustling of the leaves, the howling of the wind, the creaking of the ornate copper street lamps—all but the mysterious chimes of the phantom music box were suddenly muted as though they had never been.

Luke fell to his knees, the cold sting of marble barely registering. There it was—that urge to hold her close, as close as he could get her. To run his fingers through her gleaming coat, to lay with her for an eternity. But, something was different this time. It wasn’t just Fleur he craved—no. An equal longing for the dark creature dwelling inside of her was just as apparent. The dark creature that was supposedly born of evil. A beast that had killed time and time again, fed upon the emotions of others, and was said to care for very little other than her own welfare.

Yet, in that moment, all of it just seemed like a bunch of minor details, holding no real significance. This beautiful creature was simply misunderstood.

As if sensing his very thoughts, the siren turned, that half lidded, fanged smile delving into his soul in the blink of an eye. “Ouvrir.”

The music box faded, leaving behind only the relative calm of the night that had pervaded the walk. A metallic grinding sound was quick to break the semi-silence, and Luke snapped his gaze to the gate. It had not opened, but the unicorn woven into its peculiar design had awoken, and she was staring at Fleur though embedded gemstone eyes as blue and endless as the sea.

A nod, and the solid iron bars ceased being solid at all, fading to a light haze, before evaporating completely, like smoke, leaving an empty archway.

“Zere. She knows your face,” Fleur beamed, all traces of the siren now nowhere to be seen. She made a move to step through the arch, but paused. “Luc… Why are you kneeling on the ground?”

Luke remained motionless, his jaw hanging lopsided for a second. “All of that… just to open a gate?” Talk about needlessly complicated. Then again, this was Fleur. Casual extravagance was kind of her thing.

The supermodel raised an eyebrow, hips swaying as she made her way through the arch. “This is a cullis gate. It needs only simple voice command, spoken by the siren zat enchanted it, to allow access to an ally.”

“Okay,” Luke said, pushing himself to his feet. “But what about all the singing?”

Fleur blinked, her gaze flicking back to him. “Singing?”

“Yes. Singing.”

“I sang?” she squeaked, her ears flopping adorably.

“You did.”

She turned, her eyes wide. “What was it zat I sang?”

“I dunno, I heard a music box, and I think you sang something like… ‘forever we shall live, for never shall we die’. Then something about the sea, then your search was at an end, and then…” Luke trailed off, the last part of her heavenly verse replaying in his mind. He felt his cheeks redden with the recollection, and promptly opted to omit that particular part from the recital. “Is this seriously not ringing any bells?”

Fleur’s ears flattened further still. “L'éternel enchantement,” she breathed.

“Come again?”

“It is… getting late, mon cher. We should really go inside,” she said, her voice soft, hooves already crunching down the gravel path leading further into the estate.

“Okay, so I guess that’s another thing we’re not talking about. Fair enough. It’s cool.”

Her ears lifted. “Luc, please. I know you want answers, and I shall give zem to you, in time. But it ‘as been a long day. I would just like to settle into the retiring room for a glass of wine. I am ‘oping zat you will join me, no?”

“You have a retiring room? Wait—what am I talking about? Of course you have a retiring room. You’re a multi-billionaire.”

“Well, actually, zere are six-”

“Six? Just how big is this pla-” The gravel path curved around the last towering sycamore tree blocking the view of the estate, and Luke’s jaw fell open, hanging like a dead kipper at the sight before his eyes. “Never mind…”

Fleur’s house was always going to be big. That was to be expected. But the sheer size and extravagance of the building laid out before him arguably rivalled that of the royal castle. The structure consisted of several wings constructed of gleaming white marble, attached to a main section that must have been around seven stories high. No less than three towers were incorporated into the architecture, the tallest of which stood alone, its foundations built into the cliff-edge boundary of the city. It was connected to the top floor of the main building by an ancient-looking white-stone viaduct hallway bridge, complete with windowless white-stone arches and an umistakeable supervillian-lair vibe.

The grounds surrounding the castle—because calling it anything less would just be ridiculous—were mostly flat. A deep plain of unwavering green separated the thick tree line from a… “Is that… Is that a freakin’ moat?”

A suspiciously narrow bed of shimmering, tropical blue water enveloped the entire circumference of the building, terminating at two waterfalls cascading over the cliff either side of the ominous-looking tower. A golden drawbridge spanned the water, giving access to a thirty foot tall archway barred by a thick iron portcullis.

Fleur’s smile suggested Luke was perhaps the very epitome of naivety. “You are once again forgetting zat I am a siren, Luc. Through the ages, not everypony ‘as been so graciously oblivious to zat fact as zey are today.”

She trotted serenely around a larger-than-lifesize statue of a rearing unicorn, not unlike the one in the headquarters lobby. The only difference was that this one was a water fountain, set not upon a plinth, but in a large circular, gem-lit pool, the water cascading from the unicorn’s horn. “I needed a place zat would ward off any glory seeking vigilantes. Zis castle fits zat purpose quite well.”

Luke stepped up to the drawbridge. The rocky depths of the moat were also strewn with gems of varying shapes and sizes, all of them illuminating the clear, colourless water. “There isn’t even any water flowing in here. How does this thing not drain?”

“Zis ‘moat’ is in fact what is known as a ‘soul bridge’. It is self replenishing. Any who seek to ‘arm the inhabitants of a dwelling it protects shall be cast away for zeir efforts. It breaks all forms of deception, sees through the most iron clad of lies,” she said, with the tiniest hint of playful suspense, hooves clunking over the golden drawbridge. “It is infallible.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “A soul bridge?”

Fleur stopped just shy of the portcullis, spinning on her hooves to face him. “I did not name it,” she muttered, eyes a hair trigger away from rolling. “Now,” she sat on her haunches, suddenly beckoning with a dainty forehoof. “Come to me, mon amour.”

“You still haven’t told me what that means,” Luke said, already halfway across the drawbridge. “Is it the same as mon cher?” he mocked, in a ridiculously butchered attempt at her accent, “or mon ami?” Fleur’s eyes did roll this time, but she was smiling as he stopped beside her. “Or is it something else?”

Springing to her hooves again, the supermodel’s horn flashed, prompting the heavy iron portcullis to grind into action, slowly lifting. “It means you are terrible at Prench.”

Beyond the still lifting portcullis, an equally large set of polished oakwood doors, complete with thick iron hinges, swung open without prompt, revealing a spacious entrance hall. An open plan staircase leading to a first floor balcony dominated the centre.

Luke’s gaze flicked around the room, its priceless paintings, masterpiece sculptures and long hanging wall banners of red and gold all competing for attention. “I feel like I’ve just stepped into the Gryffindor common room.” This space alone was perhaps three times the size of his whole apartment.

“Ahh, mademoiselle Fleur, you are ‘ere. Would you like me to-mère de céleste, qu'est-ce que c'est?”

The grey unicorn that had just stepped through one of the many side doors slapped a hoof to her face, her irises inflating to the size of grapefruits and her ears tanking. A pause, and she quickly adjusted a small crease in her otherwise pristine maid uniform. “Forgive me. I did not realise you would be bringing ‘ome company.”

Fleur tilted her head, ears pointed to the ceiling, a look of mild disbelief on her face. “It?”

The maid pony took a horrified step back. Her eyes now looked as though they were about pop out of her skull. “I-I-I’m sorry, mademoiselle Fleur, for my outburst. Zat was v-very unprofessional of me. I was just… startled,” she squeaked, gaze flicking up to Luke for a split second.

“What’s happening here?” Luke muttered, even though it was pretty obvious. Unfamiliar ponies did this all the time.

Fleur’s eyes darkened, azure creeping in. Her lips thinned. “My ‘ead maid thinks you are a monster.”

“No, F-Fleur, please.”

“Eva, you should know zat Luc is no more a monster zan you are,” Fleur began, her voice already morphing into the dual-tone affair that always sent shivers down his spine. “Le seul monstre ici est moi!”

The trembling unicorn maid let out a small shriek at the sight of bared siren fangs. Spinning on her hooves, she disappeared back through the side door so fast she may as well have left a smoke silhouette of herself.

Luke took a few steps toward the door, but the mare was long gone. “Was that necessary?”

“Argh… no,” Fleur all but growled. “Stupide sirène. Non. Zis ends now.” Her horn suddenly summoned a fleeting flash of pink so bright it nearly bleached the china. “Tout personnel. Réunion dans le hall d'entrée. À présent,” she called, her magnified, booming voice shaking the walls of the castle.

Luke flinched, ringing eardrums and half-singed retinas making his head spin. “Jees woman, you trying to blind and deafen me at the same time?”

Fleur did not answer. Instead, she simply sat on her haunches in front of the doors, which had since closed themselves, and waited. Barely twelve seconds passed before a portly blue stallion wearing a very smart looking tuxedo appeared from a hallway to the left. He gave no reaction whatsoever to neither Fleur nor Luke, instead trotting to the center of the room and standing at ease. He was joined not long after by three mares, all of them wearing maid uniforms. One of them might have gasped upon spotting Luke, but a second glance revealed absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. They joined the stallion in the center of the room, imitating his stoic silence.

More and more of the castle staff congregated in the hall with each passing moment, until around thirty ponies stood before Fleur and Luke, all dressed to the nines in fancy tuxedos and maid gowns that made Luke look like a street urchin. The head maid, however, was absent.

Fleur got to her hooves, ears flicking in a way that suggested she was agitated, but suppressing the emotion. Luke was getting more and more clued up to her mood just by observing her ears. They were oftentimes a dead giveaway. “For zose of you zat are unaware,” she began, addressing her staff, “zis is Luc. ‘Ee is both a colleague, but more so a friend of mine, and ‘ee shall be staying with us for the foreseeable future. I only ask zat you treat ‘im with the same kindness and respect you would show to any pony invited to stay in zis castle. Now, even though I ‘ave never made a point of openly discussing it, I am very much aware zat all of you ‘ave figured out for yourselves the true nature of my being. I ‘ave turned a blind eye to many a fearful glance, and a deaf ear to countless ‘ushed whispers over the years, and I will certainly continue to do so. But I would be remiss if I did not warn you of the potential consequences you may face if you ‘appen to insult my tall friend ‘ere.”

“Fleur,” Luke intervened, already sensing the metric fuckton of crazy she was about to dump on her servants.

“No, Luc, it is important zat zey hear zis. I… ‘ave a lot less control in situations concerning you zan I am usually accustomed to,” she said, turning back to her staff. “I cannot be ‘eld accountable for what might ‘appen when I am not myself. Be sure zat you give me absolutely no reason to be anything ozzer zan myself. Do you understand?”

Thirty ponies nodded at once, their expressions resolute, and this seemed to satisfy the supermodel. “Dismissed.”

Not fifteen seconds later, and the vast entrance hall was as empty as when Luke had first set foot into it. “Good talk,” he muttered, though his tone was practically swimming in sarcasm.

Conveniently, Fleur appeared oblivious as she trotted swiftly over the thick red carpet. “Yes, quite. Now, ‘ow about zat drink, mon cher?”

Luke shook his head, letting out a small chuckle. “Sure.”

So early was the morning, that Fleur—only ten minutes previously fast asleep in her vast super-queen-size four poster bed—could practically hear the very crack of dawn. The phrase was not to be taken literally, she knew, but the glass of wine she had shared with Luke in the grand retiring room the previous night had swiftly been followed by another, and that one by several more as well. It was only when several bottles of Château Farriere had been liberated from the wine cellar that Fleur finally managed to drag herself to her bedchambers.

Luke had not lasted long in the grand scheme of things. The human had passed into peaceful slumber after his sixth slowly consumed glass. The siren, perverted as she was, viewed this occurrence as something of a missed opportunity to steal a few snuggles, but Fleur was above such unchivalrous behaviour, and had instead carefully levitated him to the vacant Manehattan suite.

“Will zat be all, Miss Fleur?” asked Lily Fern, the makeup artist’s lit horn applying the final finishing touches to the signature flowing waves of Fleur’s mane and tail.

Bow Tie, Fleur’s faithful butler of over thirty years, telekinetically pulled back the heavy satin drapes of the bedchamber, allowing ruthless rays of sunlight to filter unapologetically through the spacious room. Fleur squinted. “Yes, zat will do fine, ma chere. I ‘ave business to attend to-”

Knock knock.

The door was thrown wide, the ever-effervescent and punctual Photo Finish trotting into the room with no less than three maid mares in tow. The maids busied themselves tidying and organising, making the bed to such perfection that not a single crease could be seen and taking away the small bowl of oats that Fleur had hastily nibbled at upon being awoken by her butler.

“Guten Morgen, Fraulein,” Photo said, tone unusually curt. She pulled a rolled up copy of the Canterlot Herald from the neckline of her dress, unfurling the newspaper out onto the freshly made bed, much to the carefully concealed chagrin of the maid mares. “You should have came straight to me after your little outburst at ze amphitheatre yesterday. I could have run a little bit of damage control if you had bozzered to tell me. Now zat insufferable nag of a noblestallion is milking ze situation as much as he can.”

Fleur glanced down at the paper with a look of disgust. Most of the front page was taken up by a photograph of Top Hat being levitated out of the amphitheatre in a spinelock sphere enchantment. There was even a grim look seemingly permanently etched on the face of the doctor casting the spell. “I did not ‘urt ‘im anywhere near zat badly. If I ‘ad, she would ‘ave rejoiced for hours.”

It was true that her darker half often took pleasure in the suffering of others. Not something Fleur cared for, but true all the same. Though through years of subtle conditioning, she had managed to narrow down the siren’s interest in such potential victims to only those who truly deserved it.

“It matters not! He will still spin his web of lies regardless. You know how much he hates Luke. Such blindsighted racism is an ugly agenda, especially for a stallion,” Photo muttered. “I’ll have sompony make a statement to ze press on your behalf.”

“Speaking of racism,” Fleur said, her eyes darkening a shade. “I ‘ave an unscheduled appointment to attend at the Crown Bank zis morning. I would very much like it if you would accompany me, no?”

“Vhat appointment? I vas not made aware of any bank appointment today,” Photo challenged, perplexed.

“Zat is because I was only made aware of it myself last night.”

“Vhat do you mean, Fraulein?”

Fleur did not answer. Instead, she charged her horn, eyes shimmering with a subtle blue underglow like sunlight shimmering over the surface of a vast ocean. “Ve go!” she cried, and both the supermodel and her confused manager vanished in a bright flash of pink light, leaving the maid ponies to finish their work.

The resounding crack that echoed upon Fleur and Photo's sudden appearance in Mane Street was enough to startle the few ponies that were present at such an early hour on a Saturday morning. Early shoppers beating the rush, savvy business ponies on their way to weekend meetings, tourists keen to explore the Capital city from dawn till dusk, all gave a start at the teleportation.

Fleur knew it was indeed customary for a high profile client such as herself to have had an appointment made when making a visit to the Crown Bank. The higher ups running the place much preferred plenty of notice of time and purpose, mostly so they could have their most capable staff present, and query any topic ahead of time. But considering the circumstances on this occasion, Fleur very much thought they deserved nothing more than a surprise visit.

Photo Finish flicked her gaze from left to right, as though she was surprised to suddenly find herself standing in the middle of Mane Street. “Fraulein… Zis is not like you. Vhat has happened?”

Fleur’s horn flashed, and the siren gave a low growl inside her mind as the scroll appeared. “Read zat. Quickly,” she muttered, thrusting it to Photo's hooves. A moderately sized gaggle of Manehattenite mares were in the process of making a beeline straight for them.

“Oh my stars! That's totally Fleur de Lis!”

“Sweet Celestia! It is, it's the immortal supermodel…”

“Can we get a photo-”

“NEIN! Miss Fleur is extremely busy. Get out of here before I tan your flanks!” Photo snapped.

Whether it was because they hadn't encountered a raging middle-aged Germaneic mare before, or that they just weren’t used to such sudden confrontation, the Manehattenites scarpered from Photo Finish like rats from a flood.

“Hmm… Ah, yes,” Photo murmured to herself, walking along three-legged with her muzzle inches from the parchment. “So zey are raising ze deposit. I guess zey were always going to try to keep him out of Uptown. Bad business not to keep the majority happy, and ze ponies zat live in zat neighbourhood aren’t exactly xenophiles.” Photo barked out a sudden joyful laugh. “I bet zey never thought you’d see zis letter.”

“Non. I very much doubt it, mon amie.”

The towering double doors of the bank swang open silently and without prompt, giving way to a lavishly decorated interior. Whilst the exterior was the epitome of aged, yet imposing stone architecture, the inside of the building had been renovated so many times through the years it had lost all of its old world charm. A young unicorn stallion, fresh out of school, by the look of him, was stood behind a small welcome booth, its flashy gleaming marble enchanted to emit a welcoming azure glow. Despite the emulation of daylight right under his muzzle, the colt’s eyelids and ears were drooping as though he had mastered the act of micro-napping whilst standing upright.

It was only when Fleur had stopped right in front him, a businesslike, yet still warm and friendly smile on her muzzle, that he realised the bank had customers. “Bonjour, mon jeune ami. I am looking for Equity Rose. Could you go and find her for me, s'il vous plaît?” she chirped, with just the right amount of endearing inflection.

The young stallion blinked, his eyes widening so much they may have popped out of their sockets if given half a chance. Jaw flapping two or three times before any sound came out, he managed to croak out a barely audible. “I… I… F-F-Fleur de-”

“Yes, yes, it is Fleur de Lis, beautiful, immortal, eternally youthful, blah blah—just go and get zis banker for us already!” Photo Finish snapped, waving the rolled up scroll threateningly at the poor stallion.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Within five minutes, he returned with a dainty, off white, bespectacled unicorn in tow. The young stallion proceeded to keep his gaze glued to anything but Fleur, but Equity Rose was eyeing Fleur with a look of utter bewilderment.

“You requested to see me?” she timidly asked, her voice decidedly mousy.

Fleur gave the mare a wide smile. “Oui. If you would like to follow me, ma chere.”

With barely a thought, Fleur’s horn ignited, and a sound rather like lightning tearing through the skin of an airship helium chamber rocked the bank for a split second, prompting a series of shrieks from the tellers behind the counters who had been pretending not to eavesdrop. The poor receptionist stallion nearly jumped out of his coat, but Equity Rose was too busy staring at the twenty-hoof wide portal that had just appeared in front of her. Born of shimmering blue flames, the unmistakably demonic anomaly looked grotesquely out of place hanging in the air, smack bang in the middle of the glitzy bank. It looked, in fact, as though it should lead anypony that stepped into directly to the deepest and darkest pits of Tartarus, but as it happened, it lead only to Fleur’s office.

Turning glossy tail, Fleur deftly stepped through, her ears popping at the sudden change in air pressure. It was fairly obvious Equity Rose was about as guilty as the poor receptionist colt now attempting to hide behind his welcome booth, but she had a high enough position in the bank to have a voice. A voice that Fleur needed to scream at the top brass as loud as equinely possible.

“Well, zat’s new,” Photo Finish muttered. She eyed the portal warily for a second, but ultimately followed Fleur through into her office.

Equity Rose looked to be on the verge of hyperventilation, but Fleur merely widened her eyes a shade, and the middle aged unicorn hopped through the casually pierced wormhole like the blue flames encircling it were nothing more frightening than a glow in the dark jump rope.

Relaxing the physics-defying torrent of magic rushing through her horn, Fleur allowed space time to heal itself with the same thunder-like CRUNCH as before. “Please, do not be alarmed, ma chere. I wish only to discuss a piece of correspondence you sent to my colleague. Photo, if you would?”

Photo Finish unravelled the scroll onto Fleur’s desk.

“I am given to understand zat you raised ze deposit on zis apartment no less zan four times.”

“I… I…” Equity stuttered, eyes darting from the slightly curled parchment to Fleur, then back to the parchment. “I am not at liberty to discuss these matters. C-Client confidentiality, you understand.”

“Well,” Fleur replied, leisurely taking a seat behind her desk, “considering the J’adore Corporation holds by far the Crown Bank’s largest account, I would suggest zat you… liberate yourself.”

Equity Rose gave an audible gulp, anxiously shifting her weight between her hooves. “Miss Fleur, please, you have to understand that I-”

“Who told you to hike ze deposit?” Photo interrupted. “Tell us zis, and we will guarantee you keep your job.”

Equity’s resolve wilted under Photo’s piercing glare. “It was Platinum Ring. Every application Mr Nona sent in, Platinum Ring instructed to me to raise it. I didn’t ask questions, I just did what was asked of me-EEK!”

CRUNCH!

The smouldering portal erupted once more into being with a flick of Fleur’s aura. “Would you kindly go and fetch ‘er for me?” Fleur asked, a hint of sweetness to her voice.

“Y-You want me to-”

“I know she is zere. She invites me to every quarterly board meeting, and if I am not mistaken, zere is one due to take place in ten minutes, no?”

Equity paused, steeling herself for a moment. “I’ll let her know you wish to see her.” With an air of relief, the mare swiftly jumped back through the portal, which Photo was busy examining in more detail.

Her forehooves probed at the edge, but could get no closer than an inch or so, blocked by the built in safety element of the enchantment. “Everytime I think I haff seen all of your cards, you pull something even more ridiculous out of ze hat.”

Fleur smiled. “Zis one is actually nozzing special, mon amie.” As wise as Photo Finish was with her vast knowledge of fashion and cutting edge photography, like all mortals, the earth mare was truly blind to the infinite potential of the magical aura.

A portal was just very primitive form of magical transportation, which fell out of fashion thousands of years prior when the hugely more efficient and easier to master teleportation spell was discovered. It was so rarely used in modern times in fact, that to a modern Equestrian, it often appeared quite alarming.

“Ahem,” came a small, high pitched voice from just through the portal.

A tan coated unicorn dressed in a smart black blazer and tie combo, brown mane tied up in the tightest of buns and a tail cropped uncommonly short stepped quite gracefully through the portal. A look of trepidation flashed over her features, but it was gone almost instantly. “Greetings, Miss De Lis. Miss Rose informed me that you wanted a word, yes?” The thick platinum ring encompassing the base of her horn glinted in the light from the portal, which imploded with the usual CRUNCH. Platinum Ring didn’t even flinch.

Fleur had never really cared much for jewelry. Her sapphire and platinum spiked collar were more than enough. Platinum Ring, however, not only wore her signature hornpiece, but many other items as well. Diamond earrings, a golden necklace, and even a golden dock ring banding the base of her tail. She was probably wearing more bits than the price of the apartment Luke had been trying to purchase.

A low growl rippled through her mind at this particular observation, swiftly followed by demands to make the mare eat every last display of wealth decorating her body. As tempting as that was, it would just cause more problems than it was worth.

“Oui. Do take a seat, ma chere. I would very much like to discuss a mortgage application made by a colleague of mine,” Fleur said, motioning to the swivel chair in front of her desk.

Platinum Ring perched herself on the edge, wasting no time in clearing her throat. “Yes, Miss Rose mentioned you were curious as to some of the bank’s policies regarding-”

“Cut ze scheisse, Platinum,” Photo Finish interrupted, a hoof slamming down to the desk. This time, the banker did flinch. “Ve vant to know why you raised ze deposit on Luke’s application.”

Platinum paused. It was a long pause, as though the mare had exhausted all avenues of possible explanation. Her vacant, businesslike expression quickly morphed into one of sheer desperation. “I had to do it, Miss De Lis,” she spluttered, choosing to ignore Photo altogether. “Some of the residents of Uptown got wind of Mr Nona’s application and spread the word. It took less than two days for the petition to start, and it had over a hundred signatures within the first few hours. My hooves are tied, Miss De Lis. If I was to approve Mr Nona’s application, the repercussions for the Crown Bank would be immense.”

Fleur let the mare ramble out her reasoning, but couldn’t really find it in herself to pity her position. Being an enabler of racism was just as abhorrent as the act itself, when it came down to it. Platinum, apparently done talking, merely sat with a pleading look on her face. “Well. It appears zat you ‘ave a decision to make, Mrs Ring. I do not know the combined value of the business the Crown bank is set to lose if you decide to stop zis discrimination against my colleague, but I am willing to bet zat it is not more zan the Crown Bank will lose if the J’adore Corporation transfers accounts to Hooves Fargo.”

The fur on Platinum’s face suddenly bleached itself. “Y-You wouldn’t… You can’t,” she gasped, clutching the desk for support.

“I do not wish to brag, but if I wore clothes with pockets, Mrs Ring, J’adore’s board of directors would practically live in zem.” Not entirely truthful. Some would rock the boat, especially if pressured with such a questionable decision clearly influenced by a personal matter, but Platinum didn’t need to know that.

The bank mare stared blankly at the carpet for the better part of a minute before looking at Fleur again. “All of this, for a… a colleague?”

With no warning at all, Fleur’s field of view suddenly widened, the room elongated, and a sharp pain pierced her jaws in four precise places. Both Platinum Ring and Photo Finish were bathed in a shimmering azure glow. “Tu oses m'interroger?” She felt the words leave her mouth, and fought ferociously to wrest back control, lest there be a dead banker in the middle of her office.

Either Platinum was fluent in Prench, or the dual toned words put the fear of the gods in her. With wide eyes, she began to babble a mile a minute. “Zero percent deposit. Five percent interest. I’ll be happy give Mr Nona the keys myself. Anything for a friend of our most valued client, Miss De Lis, and of course, I’ll be happy to facilitate the ongoing partnership between the Crown Bank and the J’adore Corporation, Miss De Lis.”

One forcibly recalled image of Luke’s smile to placate the raging siren later, and Fleur blinked, the room appearing normal once more. A quick swipe of her tongue failed to reveal any fangs. I told you to leave the talking to me, she hissed internally, but the siren had since progressed to planning out the logistics of mating with Luke, and precisely how their bodies would fit together. Fleur blushed, quickly driving the inappropriate fantasy from her mind. Thankfully, neither Platinum nor Photo seemed to notice.

“Problem solved,” Photo Finish cried triumphantly. “You can go now,” she added to Platinum, casually waving a hoof at the door.

“No,” Fleur said, before she could stop herself. Merde. It’s not like she could blame it on the siren this time, either, engrossed in such lewd indulgences as she was.

“No?” Platinum repeated, a look of horror on her face.

“Luc no longer ‘as need of zat apartment,” Fleur continued, cursing her pitiful resolve.

“But… But you…”

“I wished to see where your loyalties lay, Mrs Ring. Be thankful of the knowledge zat I am satisfied, for now.” Fleur nodded to the door, opting not to disturb her Saturday morning workforce again with the unsettling noises of archaic spells. “You may go.”

Platinum Ring’s business mask returned, most likely a facade, of course. “Good day, Miss De Lis.” She swept from the office without another word.

Photo Finish slowly shook her head as the door swang closed, hitting Fleur with a look that made her feel about fourteen years old. “You’re like a Diamond Dog with a big shiny rock, you know zat?”

Fleur let slip a small chuckle. “I really don’t think ‘ee will mind, in the grand scheme of things, mon amie.”

Let me know if I derped editing this, eh?