I went to Bluette’s that morning before I would attend the Prince’s dinner with the Count. That was the balance that I needed, sharing my time between him and her. To find solace in a menage-a-trois, a diversion from being bored by him in conversation with her, moving from being played with to the one who pulled the strings and back.

I'd have to be careful, of course -- I did not want the little prince to know, and even the nobleponies would have raised a scandal should they have found out. They’d have called it an abomination, a perversion. But for me -- nothing I did in Griffonstone felt so innocent as this little crime.

"Wait.” Rarity raised a hand. “You were still with that count of yours? Why would he..." she blushed a deep red. "Err… be with you after what you did to him? Did you make him?"

"What? No!” Sunset recoiled at the idea, “That'd be majorly messed up. He slept with me because he loved me, and I let him because I liked it well enough. I mean he was quite good at it."

"Why'd you say that he loved you? You lied to the poor fella!"

"I--I think you hurt him. With that awful thing you did, and you er.. kept ordering him around, and you keep calling him names in your story. That's not nice."

"And you totally betrayed him." Rainbow Dash added. "He trusted you and you used it!"

"You stole his heart, darling," Rarity noted. "Quite more literally than it is usually done, I must add."

"I don’t understand it either. Why would he love you?" Twilight asked. "It makes no logical sense!"

"You don't get it, you stupid little girls.” Sunset laughed, bitter and angry. “That’s why he loved me, why I took him into my rooms. That's what love is. Burns was smarter than Feud -- sex is nothing compared to the rush of command, to the sublime sweetness of servitude. Love is nothing compared to it -- nothing but another field of battle for dominance.

"When I took his heart, when I bound him with my magic, I made him free. Free of responsibility for what he knew had to be done and yet was afraid to do, absolved of any crime. For this power I had over him, for stealing away from him the poison fruit of free will -- for this he loved me, desperate and true."

"But you didn't love him back, did you?" Rarity didn’t so much ask as state it.

"No." Sunset sighed. "I remember one night after I came back from my little tour with the Prince, as we lay, sweaty and tired in the darkness, I looked at him.

“I looked at him and I saw nothing of the stallion I liked so but an evening ago. He was as dashing as ever - blue mane with bits of silver, a matching moustache and a perfectly white silver coat. Wide shoulders of a linebacker, the radiant, piercing eyes with a perpetual sly little twinkle of a rogue… Yet I felt nothing.

"You can only truly love -- or even like -- an equal. You cannot love a slave, someone who is yours to command, someone you could set aside with a wave of a hoof and the simplest spell. Once conquered, he was like a thing to me now, no more interesting than a lamp post or a toy. But as toys go -- he was very good. And so I let him stay."

But I could not love him, and perhaps that was why I went to Bluette that morning, and on my way to her cloud home, I stopped on one of the Gormenghast’s marble arches and watched the Prince train in the courtyard. In his red cape of a matador, he stood his ground against some bull, his cape swishing on the wind, his wings behind his back.

He shouted something, his wings angled in an angry flare and waved for the bull to make another pass.

The bull shrugged, his giant shoulders rising and falling, a huge wave of muscle rolling across his back. He lowered his head, pointing his horn at the Prince, and charged.

Gideon tried to dodge -- almost the same coiling-uncoiling movement he used in the corrida, but it did not come off as smooth as it used to. He misstepped, his legs confused and just a second too slow, and the bull checked him. Not with a horn, with a side, sliding along like sandpaper, turning Prince's pirouette into a clumsy spin, and passing on.

The bull turned on the spot and rumbled something. An innocent tease, a familiar mockery, I presumed, even having heard nothing but the tone. But it was enough.

The Pince howled and jumped -- not an elegant move of a matador, not an eagle's dive towards the prey -- he pounced like a lion, landing on the bull's face claws first, raking and cutting. The bull bellowed in pain, rearing and bucking like a rodeo pony, but Gideon held fast clawing further and further along the bull's spine, and his beak has found the soft spot in the bull's back, ripping chunk of flesh with a savage screech, before he dove again, blood splashing in every direction.

I moved on, even as the referees and teachers ran to separate them. It looked like the Prince was getting his fill of meat and blood this morning. For me, subtler pleasures awaited.

A winter afternoon in Bluette's cloud-house was a fragile, lazy thing made of little pleasures and gentle touches.

That day she fed me grapes before she would make love to me. She plucked them one by one from the bunch. and brought to my lips, as I let the feeling of the soft, moist flesh on my lips, mingle with the feeling of the silk of her wing on my skin, the warmth of her body next to mine, and the scent of her perfume, the permanent sweet summer peaches.

"...there are five gems like that, the White Queen said, and sixth to be brought by the spark..."

She was telling me a story -- an old story, and a true story, as all good stories are. And she was a great storyteller, but I wasn't listening, too preoccupied with my thoughts.

The plan was clicking together, and the pieces were falling into place. The biggest hurdles were ahead, but I already felt it, the delicate balance of lead and silver, knew where to push and what to say. All of Griffonstone was wrapped around my hoof like a cat's cradle.

All I needed was to pull the right string -- drop a few words, release the binding that held Galad’s power hidden...

But then the same old rub was still there: I had no then. All was ready but the means to escape from the power the bloody goat sitting in the Gormenghast dungeons had over me, over my magic.

"..and since that day, the Great Queen sleeps in her cave, beneath mount Ratnagari, where no magic works, hugging in her sleep the precious gift of her love. And since that day her faithful search for the gems that will lead the way to her lair..."

She fed me a grape.

"You're not listening, child," she chided. "Something's bothering you."

“It’s nothing.” I tried to avoid the topic. “Just stupid politics.“

"You trust me, child, don't you?" she said, her voice growing softer and richer, full of strange overtones. "You can tell me."

I... I did. Doubts evaporated from my mind, and I told her everything -- about the arimaspi, and the Count, and the Prince and the Idol.

"...I almost have everything!" I whinnied. It felt strangely cathartic to whine to someone understanding, like a little filly complaining to her mother. "If not for that old goat sitting in the dungeons. If he didn't have my magic!"

"Oh, is the big bad arimaspi bullying my little lady?" she teased.

I flicked my ear in irritation. Her teasing tone was not appreciated -- unlike the gentle kisses, she placed on my ear to soothe my wounded pride.

She chuckled. "Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened my little lady? Perhaps I can help you."

"He took my magic," I explained. "I cast a spell at him...well, more like raw magic really -- I was too dizzy to put a proper spell together. And he used something, tattoos and scarring under his coat." I drew the ugly Coltec hieroglyphics in the air, "and he swallowed it. As long as he has it, he can use the connection against me, like calling to like, my magic connecting to my magic. He can draw on my power for his own spells, or just hurt me by pulling the magic out of me." I sighed. "and the worst part is -- I can't defend against his spells now. Like calls to like, and my own magic bypasses my defences.”

She considered my words carefully. "You say you're close to your goals, child. That you could snatch the Idol from those griffons" She looked at me, her emerald-green eyes burning with subtle light "How close are you?"

"I have almost everything now! I know the things I need and how to get them, I know the way to the heart of Griffonstone. I can just reach out and take it," my hooves grasped at thin air, and I settled back, closer to her warm body. "All I need is a way to hold it."

"You did well to confide in me. I can help you, my little lady. There is a way to protect you from the arimaspi’s little spell. But you have to trust me, and do exactly as I say..." Her kisses trailed, behind my ear and down my neck “We may need a few things and a little magic, but the first stage of this process is surprisingly physical...”

I woke up cold and alone, Bluette nowhere to be found. There were voices coming from a room nearby -- she must’ve left to talk to someone, though it was too far and muted to hear them properly. I deliberated for a second, listening to the murmur of distant voices.

I could go join her. Or at least listen in on who it was and what they were talking about, but Bluette did tell me not to get out of bed and not to eat until she came back. And the blanket was way too warm and cosy to abandon. Then again, I was a magician, and I could very well go have a look without leaving the bed. Wriggling deeper into the down-and-cloud little nest Bluette had made for me, I summoned my magic and whispered the secret name. The familiar spell echoed with a sudden dull throbbing right beneath my eyes just as I left my body, and looking at myself from outside I saw a trickle of blood under my nose.

Stange. I must be more tired than I realized.

Well, the hardest part was already done either way, so I might as well have a look. Silent and invisible, I wafted through the hall as a little breeze, seeking her familiar low, velvety voice.

She was downstairs, talking to some griffons I've never seen before. There were three of them, nigh-identical: black-feathered, grey-crested with eyes as green as hers (a thought that for some reason did not sit quite right with me).

"Is that why you summoned us?" the griffon asked impatiently, "You're putting us at a lot of risk meeting like this."

There seemed to be an eerie similarity between all four of them -- the pegasus and the griffons; the same smoothness of motion, the similar inequine grace.

"Yes," Bluette said, her voice full of exaggerated patience usually reserved for children and morons. "I just need the tools. A piece of Her throne to take away the magic, Hindu bracelets and Vibhoofty-ashes to keep it from coming back..."

"Those are hard to get. The Hind bracelets are hard enough to procure, and pieces of her throne are precious! I can't just give them out willy-nilly. We did not even know who you were until today -- how can we trust you without knowing your real face?"

"I gave you my word to the third layer of truth, you insolent bug!"

"That's not enough! We need orders and proofs..."

"Isn't that precious," She stepped forward, her motions becoming liquid, as if her form was not constrained by mere flesh, and stretched in a languid, luxurious motion, making her coat waver with a subtle green haze. "You wish for seals and proofs. Why I could just-- " her words came out with a sound, a click or a hiss, not like something anything warm-blooded should be able to produce. "-- gobble you up."

The other two griffons fell on their bellies, trembling in fear.

"Is that now enough, or do you still want to know who I am?" she asked softly, and the leader-griffon recoiled away --or at least he tried to, but his own limbs refused to listen, and his eyes grew glazed over. "The great search demands unity," her feather slipped under his chin in a caress that made my whole body long for it to be me receiving it. "The great search requires obedience and I may just find you lacking. Should I?"

"N-no."

“Good,” Bluette relaxed her pose and released the griffon who almost flopped on the floor in relief. “Good. You will now do what I say, won't you?"

"Yes!" he nodded eagerly. “We will! We will!”

"With the gem, we will find her. Wake her up. Soon she will come back to her daughters. "

“She will come to us…” the three of them echoed back to her in unison, “We will find her.”

"Go."

He bowed so stiffly I was half afraid he would break something, and the three of them stepped back, falling off the cloud and taking flight and then they were gone.

I slipped back to my body ahead of Bluette. The talk left a heavy feeling in me that I could not quite shake. There was something at play that I did not understand, and for some reason, though I trusted Bluette I did not want her to know that I witnessed it.

She followed soon enough, joining me on the bed with a bowl of honeyed fruit that made my stomach growl with hunger. "Don't worry about it, my little lady," she patted me on the head with her wing, when she saw me awake in bed. "Just getting the items we will need for your little work." I nuzzled into her neck, getting a most wonderful little giggle and another tickly wing-pat from her. “Now, now, child, settle down and let’s see about preparing you for that dinner…”

The Prince seemed to have calmed down by dinnertime. He still looked feverish, clutching to his wine, and glaring daggers at anygriffons who could possibly bring up the morning incident, but at least he was civil, even adding an occasional word to the small talk of the table.

“You should try this:”

Prince Gwyr -- ever a good host, -- poured for me and for his brother, as I watched. All the signs were there, just as the Count had taught me: the blush in the cheeks, the shiver in his wing, the twitch of his eyes. His alchemy was excellent, but his delivery gave him away.

His brother did not benefit from the instructions I had. He drank, and so had I, feeling the metallic taste in the wine. I imagined it -- I knew I imagined it, with all the masking agents and false trails the younger Prince put in that poison of his, -- and yet I could feel it's bitter tang on my tongue, sure as day.

Smiling, I drank deep, thinking of copper deficiency, alterations of blood lipoprotein levels, increased levels of LDL and decreased levels of HDL. The kidney failure, shocks reverberating through the body in muscle spasms and nausea, the brain-blood barrier unable to filter the creeping toxins, the poisonous metal infusing my brain, killing memory, magic, intellect...

It was silly of course -- the dose was not sufficient to hurt a pony. Even a unicorn, even before the spells I put on my bones and the alchemy in my blood, I would not have been hurt by this much of it. And the wine was quite good in spite -- or perhaps because -- of the poison.

"The fish is excellent," I offered. Perhaps I was just my hunger talking, but the chef had outdone himself that day. “Goes very well with the wine.”

"Thank you, lady." Prince Gwyr moved his wing to Gratitude and passed me another plate. "You should try the mouse-blood pudding."

It seemed -- it was -- surreal how quickly I was getting used to it. Future enemies, on the cusp of war, sitting at one table, drinking poison and exchanging pleasantries and lies. And never a reason to leave, always a new dish introduced, and the friendly Prince will pour a fresh glass of poison and there’s always a chance to give another nudge, to step closer to the brink of the abyss...

And speaking of the next step.

“How goes the investigation?” I leaned towards Gideon. "Which one do you think may be involved?"

"I do not know," the Prince growled in response, also sotto voce.

"I suppose any one of them could've done it." I nodded in agreement. "Even if you were not their Prince, you have a lot to be envious of."

His eyes grew darker, as he looked at the other griffons, chatting idly over their own food, and said nothing.

“What will you do once you find him?” I asked, when I had a moment free from Gwyr, occupied temporarily by the Count.

He finished his glass. "That is an excellent question, little pony," the Prince said loudly, looking at his father. "I wonder what the punishment for High Treason is in Griffonstone these days. "

"The punishment for High Treason is death," Gwyr said, his face pale and voice hoarse. “That is the law."

"They say the law of the Griffons is immutable as their word, and just as strictly followed," the Count noted carefully, "but I cannot believe that in this day and age..."

"The ponies would never..." I said, fake-shocked.

"Grant me this, Father," the Prince demanded, rising in his chair. "He who did this to me, he who tried to take the power of the Idol. He must be punished."

“And he will.” the King said calmly, his wings moving to Displeasure, “as I see fit.” but the Prince was undeterred.

"I want their blood! Or are we not eagles? Are we little ponies now?"

“Enough!” King’s wing shot out in anger, and the blast of cold wind raced through the hall. “You forget your place, boy.”

For a moment Gideon said nothing, and nothing was said, silence hanging like a heavy fog above the table. The griffons looked at each other in unease, watching two of their lieges fight. Whispers rolled, and wings moved, discussing, measuring, weighing, trying to find which of the two was lacking.

"Hear me!" with his anger and his power the Prince spread his ragged wings, raising off his chair on a blast of cold wind, and all eyes turned to him. "Hear me, eagles. On the Claw and the Wing, on the Ice and the Storm, on my power and the Idol of Boreas, I promise death to him who did that to me!"

"Foolish child!" the King swore and the air grew cold, but the words were said, and they were witnessed, and all the King's power could never unsay them. "What have you done!?"

"Something you don't have the guts to do!"

Griffons shifted by his sides, claws suddenly free of utensils, wings ever so slightly raised, leaning towards their Prince.

The King rose, opening the wings and his power, the great and powerful wind, to tear the very mountain of Gormenghast apart and shatter the rocks of the castle came before the Lord of Griffonstone. He raised his claw…

Gideon lowered his head stubbornly and began to rise as well, his claws unsheathed and wings unfurling, his own power waxing like a tide. A line of power was drawn across the table, separating the flock of Griffonstone into two armies, as clear as if they each wore their own colours.

NO!

Galad jumped on the table and spread his wings. My spell upon his wrist snapped like a piece of string and a blast of air threw both the King and the Prince apart, Gideon smashing into a wall with a thunderous crash.

"I'm sorry!" Galad's wing drooped, as he reeled from what he's done, his voice small in the shocked silence of the court. "I'm sorry! I just didn't want you to fight..."

The Court descended into chaos.

For I have dreamed of a youngling kid, still weaning from his dam 
For I have dreamed of a midnight sky, and a midnight call to blood. 
And red-mouthed shadows racing by, that pull me to the rood. 
’Tis an hour yet and an hour yet to the rising of the moon, 
But I can see the black roof-tree as plain as it were noon.

Sunset Shimmer
Found on the margins of a work on Old Magic
Currently in Royal Canterlot Library
Access Restricted (Authorised Personell Only)