Conversation.

I don’t believe it’s ever been my strongest suit, but it’s an art I’ve learned to share with more and more ponies as the years have gone by — encouraged, of course, by friends and family. And it seems like I’ve something to thank them for once again.

“So, let me get this straight,” Philip says, slouching in his chair with his hot mug of cocoa in hoof. Hand. Whatever. “There was once a unicorn whose best friend moved away — shipped off to a magic boarding school, or what have you — and that somehow sent her into a downward spiral where she eventually, a decade later, started up a cult about making the whole kingdom equally horrible at everything, except she’d be the only one with any power. Correct?”

“Yep,” Spike replies, lying sideways on the rug, gently blowing on his own, much larger mug.

“And when she was found out, she made a break for it and vowed she’d get revenge, stalking the Bearers for close to a year, and her ultimate plan was to dig up some legendary magician’s time travelling spell — which hadn’t already been destroyed, for some reason — and stop the event that brought them all together, going so far as to doom the world and herself to a barren wasteland just to get back at Twilight. Right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“…And Twilight just… forgives her?”

“Yeah.”

Philip stares at him with an open mouth and a bemused eyebrow raised. “She knowingly almost caused the apocalypse, all because she got unreasonably pissy about something her friend had no control over, and she doesn’t even get a slap on the wrist?”

Spike nods and sips his drink. “Mm-hmm.”

A stunned few moments later, Philip looks away with a bewildered scoff, brows high and mouth stretched in an entertained smirk.

“Hey, make fun of it all you want, but it worked,” Spike counters with a smile of his own, lifting a claw defensively. “I mean, she may have been petty, but Twilight likes to see the best in ponies. And really, Starlight wasn’t all that bad when you really got to know her.”

“Oh, so, like, a hard on the outside, soft on the inside kind of deal?”

“Nah, more like… if you got over the fact she did what she did and actually gave her a chance, you’d have been surprised. She was kind, funny, loyal to her friends, and… basically everything the Elements represent by the time she left us.”

“Sounds like quite the reversal.” Philip sips his cocoa, and takes an extra breath in to cool his mouth. “Was there any brainwashing involved?”

“Yeah, you’d think, but there wasn’t.” Spike goes back watching his mug. “It was… quick, I’ll admit, but… she was quite a character. Definitely made this place feel a little livelier.”

“Where’s she now?” I ask, sitting in the chair opposite Philip, forming the third point of a loose triangle set beside the castle’s hearth. My hindlegs and head dangle over and are propped by the armrests, a warm, fuzzy blanket covering my lower body as I hold the final cup in my forehooves.

Spike lingers on his cocoa for a second, watching the marshmallows swirl, then looks off to his right for the window outside and the night sky beyond. “Touring the world with her girlfriend,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Last time they wrote, they were in Fillydelphia, about to hop on a boat for the Griffon Kingdoms. That was about two weeks ago.” He turns to me. “You didn’t happen to see them, did you?”

I shake my head. “Not many ponies in Griffonstone, sorry.”

“But of the few, did you see any towing around a rickety, purple carriage? Maybe a purple robe and hat with gold and silver stars?”

I shake my head again.

“Hmm.” He lowers his gaze to the mug once more and takes another drink. “Well, they’re having fun together, on a honeymoon of sorts, and I’m holding the fort here with Twilight.”

“Feeling neglected?”

He pauses, but eventually shakes his head with a subdued, if good-natured smile. “Nah, just… a little lonely, I guess. Not that Twilight and the gang aren’t good company — I mean… well…”

“You wish there was someone for you too?” Philip queries.

Spike nods, switching to him. “Yeah, basically. I mean, I’m about to reach my late twenties, and the most romantic I’ve ever been with somepony is a few one-way crushes. And Celestia knows they’ve gotten me nowhere.”

“Oh my stars, seriously?” I roll and widen my eyes, chuckling. “That’s what you’re complaining about? Trust me, I’m thirty-two, and I can safely say relationships are extremely overrated.”

“Well, that might be true for you, Fleetfoot, but not everypony’s wired the same.” He looks away and moves to take another sip. “Also helps that you’re married to your job, but that’s none of my business.”

Philip almost chokes on his cocoa.

I’m sure I’d have done the same if I had any in my mouth. Instead, I simply baulk. “Oh, oh, is that how you’re playing it? Talking smack right to my face?”

“I’m just saying, Fleet, it’s not like you’ve had much experience, so don’t go throwing stones in glass houses. Or crystal, in this case.”

An impressed smirk sneaks through, and, deciding to let the friendly jab be just that, I give him a small salute with my mug. “Well, you can’t hurt me with the truth.”

“Didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” I tilt my head back and take a swig. “Just saying, I quit looking when I was seventeen, when I joined the reserves. And really, I haven’t missed it. If anything, dropping it altogether has improved my life.”

“And I’m saying, with nothing to pour my time into besides helping Twi and the occasional mission to the Dragonlands…” he drifts off, watching the fire for a short while with a thoughtful frown, tapping his claws on the rug. “You start noticing things, is what I’m trying to say. Things you might miss out on if you don’t… you know… look for them.”

I quietly sigh to myself. This isn’t the kind of conversation I wanted, but after visiting these two for three days straight — much to my modest surprise — I suppose it’s the kind I’d better get used to. Especially if Mum starts treating this as the new norm, and thinks I should push my boundaries even further. She hasn’t said anything of the like just yet, but it’s a possibility I should prepare for.

“How many?”

Spike turns to Philip. “How many what?”

“Crushes.” He makes a vague, wavy gesture with his free hand, now without the sling. “Can’t imagine a dragon as renowned as you would be short of options.”

“Oh.” Spike seems somewhat taken aback by the comment, widening his eyes and glancing away, perhaps uncomfortably. But he quickly settles down and shifts his weight. “Well, strictly speaking, I’m not. I mean, if I were to actually try my luck, I might convince a couple to give me a shot, but… it’s easier said than done. Besides, there’s… really only one mare for me.”

“Who?”

I raise an eyebrow and look at Philip. “Really?”

He looks at me. “What?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“…I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”

“Besides Celestia’s fat arse, Spike’s biggest crush is the worst kept secret in the kingdom.”

He blinks. “Well, excuse me for being ignorant. It’s not my fault I found myself transported to an alternate universe where I know jack shit about the locals’ history.”

I linger on him for a moment, then return to my cocoa before my smile wanes.

“Anyway, you were saying, Spike?”

The dragon sips his drink. “Rarity.”

Philip sits a little more upright and looks at him more attentively. “Rarity as in… our Rarity? The Element Bearer and Ponyville’s Carousel Boutique Rarity?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a wistful sigh, picking out a marshmallow and popping it in his mouth. “She’s just… a dream.”

“…Oh.” Philip slowly slumps back, staring off into the distance with creased brows and parted lips. He takes a long, quiet drink and savours the taste before looking at Spike once more. “I thought you were talking about ladies of a more, uh… reptilian persuasion.”

“Ah.” Spike lowers his gaze in thought and drums his claws on the rug, perhaps confused or feeling a little awkward. “Well, uh… it’s not that I don’t like dragons, or can’t appreciate them in that way — it’s just…” He shrugs, peering up at Philip. “I don’t know. I’ve spent my whole life around ponies, so I guess things have kind of… misaligned, maybe? But saying it like that makes it sound like there’s something wrong with me.”

“And there’s not,” I assure with another small salute. “As you said, big guy, not everypony’s wired the same. Can’t help being what we are.”

He smiles at me at lifts his mug in agreement. “Here’s to that.”

As we skol, Philip glances between us, an air of neutrality about him, though it feels somewhat… feigned, I suppose. But that’s too harsh a word; more accurately, he seems reserved.

“Something up?”

He turns to me inquisitively, then shakes his head and looks away. “Nothing, nothing, just… cultural differences, I guess.”

“How so?”

He continues watching the fire for a while, finishing off his cocoa with another long drink. “Back home… some people hate others more or less for the colour of their skin.”

I blink in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a bit more complex than that, but that’s the long and short of it.” He returns to me with the same neutral expression. “And that mindset’s influenced my world more than anyone cares to admit. It’s gotten better with time, but… it still has a long way to go. But where everyone draws the line is…”

I wait a moment, then roll a hoof expectantly. “Is…?”

He puckers his lips and lowers his gaze, now less neutral and more at odds with himself, as if he knows what to say, but not how to say it. “Isn’t it frowned upon at all?” he queries, sharing his less than stoic visage with Spike and I. “Liking someone outside your species, I mean.”

I shut my mouth and glance away, not really sure how to answer it myself.

“Well…” Spike replies, rubbing his neck, “it’s certainly not discouraged. Twilight and Rarity haven’t given me a flat out no, and I’ve heard of a few pony-griffon, pony-kirin pairings on the east coast, so… I’d wager interspecies couples are more curious to most ponies than taboo.”

“Yeah,” I say before I have the wherewithal to stop myself. And now I’ve thrown my hat into the ring, I feel obliged to elaborate. “I mean… wouldn’t know anything about interspecies relations, but… you still get the odd few pegasi up in Cloudsdale too proud to court outside the tribe.”

“Really?”

I raise an eyebrow at Spike. “Rainbow and Flutters never mentioned?”

He shakes his head.

“Huh.” I shrug. “Well, there are, but they’re getting fewer every year.”

“As do all old-fashioned ideals.” He lifts his mug once more. “To free love.”

“To being single forever.”

He laughs. “You do you, Fleetfoot. You do you.”

We tilt our heads back and down the rest of our drinks, marshmallows to boot.

“Funny way of saying it,” Philip muses, pensively watching his thumb run up and down the lip of his cup. “Court.”

“Would you rather I’d have said ‘put the moves on’?”

He looks up at me without moving his head, peering from behind brows neither tense nor relaxed. From this angle, he seems critical, even though I’m sure he’s not trying to be. “I’d rather you stop making me think about it, honestly.”

I hold his gaze for a moment, wondering if I’d heard a warning edge in his tone, but eventually shrug again and decide to let the subject be.

“Well then, what about you?” Spike inquires, motioning to him. Perhaps he’d heard what I thought I hadn’t and decided to shift the focus. “How many crushes have you had?”

Philip turns to him, still not giving much in the way of expression. He’s bothered by the question, I can tell; nopony gets that quiet or straight-faced unless they’re hiding something — I know because I do it often enough — and he doesn’t strike me as the sort to hide his enthusiasm. But with an eventual sigh, he looks to the ceiling and regards it thoughtfully. “Crushes? Nine. Girlfriends? I’d prefer not to say.”

“Oh-ho, so you never made it past the crush phase either, huh?”

He moves to take another sip, only to find his cup empty. And with his disappointment as he peers inside, I see what I can only assume is boredom. “No comment,” he murmurs, going back to the fire.

“See, Fleet?” Spike turns to me with his cheeky grin. “I’m not alone. If you want to bash me, you’ll have to bash him too.”

“Fine, fine, you’re vindicated,” I groan, I rolling my eyes and my head with them. “Just… fetch us more cocoa before things get violent.”

“Gladly, milady.” He stands and bows as he backs up a few paces on his hindlegs, a claw on his chest and the other behind him. But then he bumps into somepony emerging from the shadows.

“Ow! Spike! Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry, Twilight!”

As the dragon fumbles about, forelegs outstretched and offering help, the princess waves him off with a wing and huffs to herself, stepping into the warm, orange glow of the fire. It plays well on her purple fur and hair, even if both now seem more frazzled than normal. Her face scrunches up as she nurses a small bump on her temple.

Philip appears to brighten somewhat. “Oh, hey, it’s Twinkle Sprinkle.” He sets his empty cup at the foot his armchair and sits more upright. “Sup, girl?”

Whatever tension was in the air before, it’s vanished now.

“You mean besides my assistant trying to murder me after the reporters had their turn?” she questions cynically, looking at him with lowered brows and eyelids at half-mast. But then she glances away and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day.”

He shrugs. “Well, don’t let me tell you how to do your job, but… I’m pretty sure you don’t have to meet them every time they come knocking.”

“I know, I know.” She slowly, wearily walks between us for the fire and sits down on Philip’s side of it. “But the public deserves answers, and if I can give them, I will. That’s what a good princess does.”

He scoffs with a smile and sits back.

I raise an eyebrow. “You disagree?”

He turns to me and shakes his head. “Nah, just… back in my world, ‘transparency’ and ‘people of privilege’ aren’t two terms that’d normally go together. I’m just laughing at the irony, I guess — it’s actually a breath of fresh air to meet someone important who values honesty.”

Twilight glances at him and chuckles awkwardly, ears flattening. “Yep. That’s me. Princess of Friendship, everypony.”

We both look at her probingly.

She takes notice forces a smile. “It’s been a very long day.”

I raise my eyebrow again. Considering how much time I’ve spent here, and how much I’m looking forward to spending, I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that I’d see her manic side slip through at some point. It may have been entertaining if I hadn’t caught the nervous quaver in her voice.

Whatever she’s not saying, she’s not hiding it well; I meant what I said about her being terrible at poker. But if it’s important enough for a princess to keep quiet — much more a saviour of the world — I suppose I shouldn’t press the issue. I may act all calm and casual around her, but the fact of the matter is she outranks me, and if there’s one thing the Wonderbolts have taught me, it’s to respect the rank. If she has something to share, she’ll share it in her own time.

Philip, however, to the best of my knowledge, has never had such an upbringing, and opens his mouth to ask her something.

“Hey, Philip.”

Before he makes a sound, he looks back to me with an eyebrow of his own raised.

“What did you do before… this?” I twirl my hoof at the ceiling in a vague and half-hearted circle. “I don’t imagine life was so exciting.”

He lingers on me, possibly assessing if I’d interrupted him on purpose, but it’s hard to say; whether he knows it or not, he can be frustratingly hard to read sometimes. But eventually, he leans forward with a sigh, elbows on his knees and rubbing his nose. “No, I suppose it wasn’t,” he says listlessly, looking off to the windows behind me. “Far more… relaxed, I guess. Of course, I’m saying this while sipping cocoa beside a fire in a crystal palace, but you know what I mean.”

I nod customarily. “So, what were you?”

“A motel clerk.” He returns to me markedly more expressive than before, brows high and mouth stretched in a way that says he knows it’s nothing to be thrilled about. “Worked the front desk of my dad’s small apartment complex in Minnesota — did some of the heavy lifting too; cleaning, paperwork, you name it.”

“Was it any good?”

“It paid well, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I angle my head, unimpressed. He knows what I mean.

He rolls his eyes and sighs with a light smile. “Yeah, it was fine. Business was slow, but we got by. Didn’t hurt that I got to be around Dad more. Met my fair share of colourful characters, I’ll tell you that much.”

I nod again. Oddly, I find attention drawn to his smile, and the way the firelight plays on the details of his face, from freshly shaven jawline, chin and upper lip to the reflection of the heart in his eyes. I don’t know why at first, but as the seconds pass, I realise it’s because, even though we’ve only briefly known each other… I don’t think I’ve seen him smile all that much.

Of course, finding yourself in another world, cut off from your family and surrounded by complete strangers wouldn’t be too high up on anypony’s bucket list, so who am I to judge? But still, for some reason… I can’t help wondering if I can’t do better.

“Is that how you learned to be so stoic?”

His smile widens.

Bingo.

“As a matter of fact, it is.” He straightens up somewhat, stretching and suppressing a yawn. “You need to put on a brave face for all those lost souls who’ve mistakenly wandered into your establishment, lest they get a bad impression. Never mind your impression of them, from cigarette smoke to booze to… whatever. If you don’t make them feel welcome, they won’t come.”

“Do you miss it?”

He pauses, staring at me with lingering wistfulness, but with an outward breath, he slumps and looks to the fire, grin wilting. Not entirely, but noticeably.

I shouldn’t have said that. It was a question anypony would’ve asked, but I shouldn’t have said that. Of course he does — why wouldn’t he? For as much of a pain as my friends and family can be, I know I’d hate to lose them all, especially in the blink of an eye. And reminding him of what he lost is just adding insult to injury.

My ears lower and a brief chill runs through my chest as I open my mouth without thinking and try to salvage the situation without knowing what I’d say.

“I don’t know.”

And then I stop, and my ears perk up slightly, and a new, longer-lasting chill runs through me, this time from the back of my neck to as far down as my wingtips and rear hooves.

“I mean, I had a good life.” He shrugs, flexing his toes and clasping a hand around his wrist. “I was… well off. Not rich, but safely above the poverty line. Mum, Dad and I had a good relationship, all things considered, and my sister and I were best friends. But this … feels like any other day, I guess, just with less stuff to do. And I say that when I’m surrounded by creatures… people I never thought I’d meet. So… I honestly don’t know what to make of it.”

During his little speech, I’ve shimmied more to lie on my side, letting me face him without angling my head so much. And I watch him with interest, and a vague, indecisive sense of concern.

He lowers his gaze to the floor for a while, before returning to me with knitted brows. “Does that sound… weird to you?”

It honestly does, considering how I’d be feeling if I were in his place, but saying that to his face wouldn’t help him at all, especially with how blunt I know I can be. But that being said, I don’t want to lie about this, because that’s just plain unfair. Besides, I’ve already taken to long to think of a response.

“Not in the slightest.”

We turn to look at Twilight.

She beams me back a warm, assuring smile, then shares it with Philip. “Ponies react to shock in completely different ways,” the princess continues with a shrug; still a little tense, but calm enough for the occasion. “Sure, some ways may be more common than others, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t dealing with it. You’re doing a lot better than I did, that’s for sure.”

“You?” he queries.

And in an instant, her composure wanes. “Uh, yeah.” She grins uneasily. “There was this mission a while back. Had to pretend to be somepony I wasn’t so the locals would trust me, and I could retrieve a magical artefact and save Equestria. Again.”

His eyebrow rises, more confused than inquisitive.

Twilight shrinks in on herself. “It’s been a very, very long day.”

“…Right.”

With a glance to her left, she spies me, then quickly gestures to me. “What about you, Fleetfoot? Any words of advice?”

I blink, still trying to get over that little episode, then realise I’d been called upon. “Well, uh…” I blink again and shake my head, then look at the floor as I think. “She’s… not wrong, I guess.”

Philip returns to me.

“I mean… back when I was a reservist, you’d get all sorts of recruits. Some had to work hard, some had to study hard, but… really, all it came down to was who could do the best under pressure. And that’s where a lot of ponies faltered.” I look him in the eyes. “I know I did, from time to time.”

“How?” he asks candidly, curiously.

“I was too caught up in what I thought would happen instead of what was happening.” The irony of that line hits me like a tonne of bricks, and I somehow manage to numb my reaction with a shrug. “I never got stage fright, but worrying what came next never gave me enough time to react in-flight. I had to train myself not to overthink things — to… tell myself I’m in control. And no matter what happened, I could handle it.”

He doesn’t reply, but his face slowly softens.

I shrug once more and wave to him. “To be honest, I… kind of envy you, being able to cope as well as you are.”

He remains still and quiet for some time, eyes locked with mine and genuine interest in his gaze. But then, once again, he gradually sits more upright and looks away, brows rising in surprise and a faint, upward curl in the corner of his mouth.

He’s smiling again.

“Well,” he muses to himself, “how about that?”

It makes me smile too. I’m not sure why, and I try not to let it show too much, but it does.

I think I’ll come back again tomorrow.

“I return bearing gifts,” Spike announces, walking from the shadows and holding a steaming thermos. No doubt he’d found a way to use his fire to heat the thing up again. “Hot cocoa for us all.”

“Thank you, Spike,” Twilight acknowledges, still a little shaky from whatever she’d talked her way out of. “But, uh… you forgot to bring a fourth cup.”

“Here, take mine,” I say, making a show of holding it out and placing it on the floor, then I pull the blanket from my lap, turn in place, and hop out of the chair. “May as well get going anyway.”

Spike sits where he used to and fills his mug up first. “You’re not staying?”

“Sorry, big guy.” I stretch my legs and crack my neck, much to Twilight’s displeasure. “It’s late enough as it is, and this mare needs her beauty sleep.”

“But you’re pretty enough as you are.”

“Hey,” I shoot him a feather and a playfully warning frown, “no funny business. You save that for the other girls, alright?”

“Alright.” He nods. “You take care, Fleet.”

“Thanks. You too.” I relax my features and look to Philip. “That goes for you as well.”

He too nods, his smile widening. “See you later, Fleetybee.”

I nod in turn, then look at the princess and smirk. “And as for you, Twilight, I just want to say, living with you must be a nightmare, and I pity these two fools for being your victims.”

She laughs. Harder than I expected — strained nerves finally being unwound, I suppose — but it’s a welcome gesture, and the admittedly cute snort at the end only makes me feel better about it. “Good night, Fleetfoot.”

“Good night,” I echo, trotting off for the exit to the hall. “See you all tomorrow.”

And this time, for certain, I know I mean it.

Next Chapter: 12 | The Weapon of Choice Estimated time remaining: 13 Hours, 47 Minutes