Tangerine’s hooves tremble just enough to spill a few drops of soup over the edge of her bowl. She brings the bowl to her lips and takes a reluctant sip. She giggles as the crisp taste of leeks and pepper rolls down her throat.

“Another day or so and I’m gettin’ out of bed, whether my body wants it or not,” she says to Rosemary, who stands stiffly by the door. “I hope Dragonrein arrives before then. I’d rather they be as prepared as possible for the journey ahead.”

“Or you just want somepony else to dust the pottery for once,” Rosemary mumbles. She immediately switches to a much sweeter tone of voice. “Hoooow’s the soup?”

Tangerine has already drained half the bowl. “Delicious. You’ve become quite the cook. I’m impressed. I’m glad to know that Nutmeg and Cinnamon were in good hooves.”

Rosemary’s eye twitches. “Let me know if you need anythin’ else, Tangerine.” She turns around on the spot to leave, and ends up slamming the side of her face into the door frame. She silently backs away, redirects herself, and walks out successfully. “You forget you saw that.”

Tangerine sets her nearly empty bowl aside and lies down, beating her pillow a few times to fluff it up. As she rustles the sheets and gets comfortable in the her-shaped hole she’s been creating in the mattress, she muses on the happy thought of returning here with Nutmeg and Cinnamon in tow with their new father, Wolf River. A happier thought is the abstract concept of Rosemary standing alongside them, smiling for once.

~Rosemary~

I pour myself a glass of sour grape mead and slam the bottle down on the counter. I haven’t looked at the label to see how old the brew is, but that’s irrelevant to me. I raise the mug to my lips and lean my head back, letting the soothing liquid run down my— “AGH!”

It burns like a wad of acid. I spit it out, spraying drops of orange liquid all over the window and counter. I cough until I can breathe again, fumbling for the pitcher of water. I grab it and drink a few sips, which helps the burning a little bit. “Fuck’s sake…” I pick up the bottle of mead and actually read the label. “Wow, you aged seventy years for nothin’.” I leave that accursed liquid, chug a few more mouthfuls of water, and leave the kitchen.

At least, I try to, but Nutmeg is standing in the archway, blocking my path. “You know, Mum was going to let Cinnamon and I have some of that mead, on the day we got our marks. Shame that’s not going to happen, huh?”

I shove her out of the way, but she just reappears as I walk past the stairs. She’s now sitting on the bottom steps, alongside Cinnamon. “Hm, I wonder…” Cinnamon says. “What does alcohol taste like? It must be good if you have to wait so long to drink it.”

“It’s horrendous,” I confess. “All it does is silence parts of your mind.”

“Then why do you drink it?”

I glare at Cinnamon. “Because there are some parts of me that need to go away.”

“We already went away, sister.” Nutmeg wags her hoof at me. She and Cinnamon stand up and walk up the stairs in unison. “You saw to that.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” I yell, clutching my head. My hooves dig into my temples hard enough to make me want to squeal, but it feels so right. It keeps me from thinking about things. Once the pain becomes too much for me to take, I let out a breath and speak calmly, calling upstairs. “Do you want anythin’ to drink?” I ask Tangerine.

“No, but thanks for offering!” she calls back, her voice still hoarse.

There’s a lycan upstairs. I keep repeating that to myself. I’m not angry at Tangerine for being one, I actually find lycans to be rather fascinating ponies, even if I could never picture becoming one myself. But I can’t muster the courage to ask why she would do it, beyond wanting to marry Wolf River. She’s strong enough in her own right. Why would she ever go through such a transformation? Wouldn’t turning her body into an aggressive living weapon be a far cry from the honor she so desperately clings to? This isn’t my mother… Wait, am I actually pining for the emotionally distant, stone cold statue that I used to know? Who am I?!

I hear laughing coming from behind me. For a moment, I fear that Nutmeg and Cinnamon are laughing at me again, but when I turn my head, I realize that it’s coming from much deeper voices outside. Two stallions, and one mare.

Yes.

Smiling like a child, I gallop to the front door and shove it open, stepping out into the sunny day. The villa has long been abandoned by the help, leaving the lawn haggard and overgrown, and making the shops and living quarters below seem like a ghost town. But I don’t care. My world is right in front of me, at the end of the tiled walkway. A turquoise earthwalker, a white pegasus, and lavender heaven on legs. I burst forward, nearly tumbling down the stairs as I gallop to them.

Shae stops and waves. “Hi, R—” I silence her with a hug, spinning her around until we both fall off the tiles and into the weed-filled grass. When I let go of her, she rolls off of me, laughing jovially. “Wow! Somepony missed me.”

“Well, one of the four ponies here had to,” I say, gesturing to the front door of the plantation house. “Come on, let’s get you all inside.”

Tohro whistles, taking in the size of the villa and my home. “I took you for granted, Rose, but then it turned out you had more or less a whole kingdom under your belt! I’m surprised you don’t have suitors breaking down the door.”

“That’s because we reinforced the door.” I knock on it to prove my point. “Heart of pine. Took my daddy a whole year to gather everythin’ for this, and the rest of the house. We could sell this place off and be set for life.” I pause and backpedal a bit. “I mean, Tangerine could. Anyway, come on in.” I beckon to my friends, take Shae’s lovingly smooth hoof, and lead the way inside. The place seems a little brighter with them by my side.

I’m struck with an incredulous frown. I sit on the couch next to Tohro and say to him, without irony, “If you would please elaborate on ‘emotion eatin’ insect queen,’ I would be most appreciative.”

“She and her drones kidnapped me, Caro and Shae saved me. It truly isn’t that complicated.”

My stare intensifies. “Barrin’ the insect queen. How does somethin' like that exist?”

Caro sits on the other side of Tohro. “She was a Precursor construct, a servant of the dragons. Her emotion eating was something she developed later on, after the Precursors were wiped out.” He looks sour about something. “But… well, she’s dead now. It’s irrelevant.”

“She crossed the line,” Shae says with fervor.

“Yes…” Caro surveys the lounge and the many glass displays of my daddy’s arsenal. He seems just as smitten as anypony should be. I have a feeling that his master might have made a few of those weapons. “We should get you back to Everfree, Rosemary,” he says. “Your shop is likely collecting dust as we speak, and we’re running low on bits. The carriage ride over here was not cheap.”

“Count your blessings,” Tohro says to him. “If I weren’t part of the Thieves Guild, Altair might not have let me take a new set of leather for free. Wish I could say the same about the crossbow and blades, though.”

“That’s not a shock. Have you ever tried to actually make wing blades?” I ask. “An inch off and you end up warpin’ the whole thing, and pegasi like you go through them like a baby through rags.”

Tohro approaches me with an overly saccharine frown, dramatically swaying his head and body. “And it would just make you a true friend if you were to supply me with enough blades to last us the trip back home?”

“I’ll do you one better. Just one.” I point to the stairs. “Follow, all of you.”

Shae is poking around my admittedly messy and cramped abode. This will be her room as well for however long Dragonrein stays here, so she might as well get familiar with her surroundings. She levitates my old clothes off the floor and puts them up on the window. “Will this present be another of your fine creations, Rose?”

“I wish!” I laugh, though I know the joke is only funny to me. I’m the only one who knows what’s in the weapon crate under my bed, after all. “Some shadow pony gave this to me. I don’t even know how she came across this, but she entrusted me with it, and she mentioned, uh, she was a Nightingale?”

Tohro lowers his head. “Mistral, you clever mare.”

“But, wait…” Caro tilts his head. “Why couldn’t she have just delivered Excalibur and Muramasa in person? It could have saved us a lot of time and heartache.”

“Might be that someone didn’t want her to give them away,” I assume.

“And you’d be right,” Tohro says. “From what I’ve scraped up about the Nightingales, they don’t let Hephaestus’ weapons leave their grip so easily, for the sake of keeping stability in Equestria.”

As I pull out the weapon crate and open it up, Caro follows up on that. “I’m glad Altair changed his mind. I always felt you deserved this more than anypony else.”

At the bottom of the crate is the black katana of anger and death I briefly wielded, and wish never to wield again. I dare not touch it, even with it being covered by its sheath and wrappings. I instead simply push the crate over to Tohro.

“I always knew Muramasa was a weapon of aggression,” Caro continues. “Its wielders would always pick the wrong fights, and treat the blade as more than a tool… like an entity that needs to feed. It takes a particularly kind heart to quell that entity.”

“Well, if all else fails, I can sweet talk it out of dinner.” Tohro doesn’t hesitate. He brazenly reaches into the crate and picks up the blade.

“How does it feel?” I ask.

Tohro’s eye twitches. He makes a gargled croaking sound. Then, he belts out “I AM THE DEMON BELTHAGORE! BRING ME YOUR VIRGINS!”

Caro, Shae and I all make the most cowardly falsetto screams we can muster before we all burst out laughing.

Tohro latches Muramasa onto his belt. The long, thin blade suits him well. It appears just as quick and deadly as he is. “Yeah, you’ve got a point… Bring me prostitutes instead. They’re far more experienced.”

More laughter courses through the room, the sort that makes my skin crawl. I turn and see Tangerine leaning against the doorway. She’s never done that before, in sickness or in health. “You know, if I had heard talk of demons and prostitutes comin' from my child’s room, I’d normally be worried.” She pans over Tohro, Caro and Shae, her smile broadening slowly into she’s full-on beaming. “Now I just take comfort in knowin’ you hellraisers have finally arrived.”

“Ah, Tangerine!” Tohro approaches her with boisture. “Help me out here. Given the unkempt condition of the outside, next to how large and beautiful your home is, would you still consider this place your humble abode? Even so, we’re happy to be here.”

Despite his approach, Tohro doesn’t seem to expect Tangerine moving in for a friendly hug. “And I’m happy ta see ya, ya fack bastart.”

Tohro holds out his forelegs in confusion. “...Uh, what happened to your received pronunciation?”

Tangerine lets go of him and walks past Caro and Shae. “I’m Scoltish, don’tcha know? I’m surprised you didn’t hear I was fakin’ it, what with Rosey havin’ the brogue.” She winks at me, and I wince. “It was just so the Imperial Legion could take me a little more seriously in Oregano’s absence. But there’s no need for it anymore.”

“I see we’ve all had our share of changes as of late,” Shae says. “So… are you feeling better?”

“On top of the bloody mountain,” Tangerine says, flexing her foreleg. She admires her new black coat, then notices the continued surprise of the rest of Dragonrein. “Looks good on me, don’t it? I like bein’ a wolf.”

“Why’d you do something so drastic?” Tohro asks.

“A mission many months in planning…” Tangerine says forebodingly. “Honestly, I’d rather not spoil this reunion with a dreary confession. There’ll be time for that later. Let’s just say that I’ve bitten off a little more than I thought I could chew, and I need all of your help. Now, shall we all get some grub? I bet you’re all starvin' for something homecooked.”

“Excellent, I’ll get Nutmeg and Cinnamon!” I shout, trotting past everypony and heading for the door. I slam my muzzle into the wall on the way out.

~Vision End~

~Shae~

“Who does she think she’s kiddin’?” Tangerine asks as Rosemary walks out of sight. “I know they’ve been gone for months now. Even if I didn’t, I’ve been bedridden in my own house for at least a week. She thinks I wouldn’t notice that my babies were kidnapped?”

“They’re gone?” I ask. “I was so looking forward to meeting them… But why...”

I briefly wonder why Rosemary would skim over such a horrible thing. But then it all comes together. Why she ran off from home again, her avoidance of Tangerine, her strange non sequiturs… No wonder she was so obsessed with gathering wealth and opening up her shop; she was building an arsenal to go and rescue her siblings, all the while suffering in silence.

“Your children too?” Tohro asks Tangerine, pondering what that could mean. “Looks like the pieces are all fitting together. I’ve been investigating strange disappearances across Equestria. It seems we have a common enemy.”

“We should go over notes later,” Tangerine says, nodding in Tohro’s direction. “In the meantime, I need to force a confession out of my poor daughter. Seems dinner will have to wait.”

Tohro raises his hoof. “I’ll take care of that. Caro?”

Caro smiles. It surprises me to see him excited about this. “The Dragonborn. Slayer of the wicked. Gourmet chef.”

“I thought you’d be more worried about the children?” Tangerine lowers her brow. I can see a little bit of the old her in that glare, but it quickly subsides with Caro’s apologetic smile and bow.

“Sorry if that seemed insensitive. I am concerned, truly, but I know we’ll get them back. It’s under control. All we can worry about is food at the moment, and I know you and Shae will give Rosemary a proper talking to. I don’t have the experience to get her to open up. You’d be better off pointing me at the enemy instead.” He ducks out of the room, with Tohro giving a small, solemn nod before trailing after.

I place my hoof on my chest as I address Tangerine. “She’s your daughter… I don’t think this is my place to intrude upon.”

“Nothin' of the sort. The day you two first met, you got through to her in an afternoon more than I did her entire life. What makes think you’d be intrudin'?” Tangerine asks. “I’m not asking you to be an asset, I just think it’s good for you to be there.”

“I’m not sure about that. Isn’t this a matter of family?”

“It is a matter of family, and you’re my soon-to-be daughter-in-law, so you’re as much a part of this as I am. Come along.”

Despite my rising dread over the mental state of my Rose, my heart still has the capacity to flutter at the sound of such a simple, reassuring blessing.

Tangerine leads me through the back door, which brings us out into the garden. Much like the rest of the villa’s flora, I can see regality and beauty hidden beneath its overgrowth. The many kinds of flowers planted here shine bright in the aura, but they’re hampered by the faded static of untamed nature. The statues are still up, standing tall, and it’s not as though the plants are big enough to make this place a jungle, but it’s obvious that this place has fallen on hard times in the help’s absence.

“Hm. I just now considered the perks of having a unicorn in the family,” Tangerine says, surveying a patch of roses that have been overtaken by weeds and grass. “Ugh, what a joke. I loved this patch. Oregano planted it himself when I first got pregnant.”

“Was Rosemary really an… accident?” It hurts to say that word.

“More that she came along when I didn’t expect her to. It was before Oregano and I were truly married, and we tried to see if a spark would form between us…”

Rosemary steps out from behind a distended bush. “Somethin’ formed, alright.” She brushes her hoof through her hair. She sounds like she’s been crying.

Tangerine puts on the most genuine, sad smile I’ve ever seen from her. “Two things, really. A strong, yet emotionally removed mother, and a dream weavin' father who died too soon, leavin’ the mother to be off-balance and on-edge, wonderin' idiotically why her daughter was so eager to hit the road.”

Rosemary, however, still seems distraught. “Well, I did leave, but I swear, it was for a good reason this time.”

“I can’t help but wonder how you or Nutmeg and Cinnamon would have turned out if Oregano were still here. But, we can’t dole on what-ifs.” Tangerine stands in front of Rosemary, who is deliberately looking past her. “Now, answer me honestly... Are you okay, dear?”

“Yes,” Rosemary says, despite all evidence to the contrary. “I’m just a little worried is all… Nutmeg and Cinnamon must have wandered off.”

“To where? The abandoned servant quarters?”

Rosemary is far too quick to agree. If I hadn’t known she was lying before, I’d know now by her deluded urgency, as well as her aura. It’s flickering like a candle burning away in its last seconds. “Possibly. I’ll go have a look!”

I cast my hoof out and erect a magical wall in front of the open door, just in time for Rose to bump into it.

“Agh, Shae!”

“They won’t be there,” I say, matter-of-factly. “Anywhere you claim they are, they won’t be.”

“Shae, please, don’t do this to me…” Rosemary pines, desperation clinging to her every word. “Just let me go get them, and then we’ll eat lunch, we’ll all have a good time…”

I shake my head. As a mare of higher learning, I can’t tolerate denial of facts.

But, much like most who live in denial, Rose will do anything to make her lie real. If she had claws, she’d be scraping at my constructed wall, to no avail. She can only paw at it now, hoping against hope that I’ll let it fall. That’s not happening.

“Shae…” Rosemary whimpers. She leans pathetically against the wall. “S-Shae…” I can hear her breaking down. This is a good sign.

“We’ll have our lunch, after you talk to her,” I say, pointing commandingly to Tangerine, who is waiting with the patience of a saint. “Please? Can you at least do it for me?”

“NO!” she belts out. “NO, I HATE YOU! LET ME GO!”

I advance on her, stricken by her words. “Rose, so help me…!”

“It’s fine, Shae,” Tangerine says. She taps her hoof to the cobblestone and beckons to herself. “Be a lamb and bring her over here.”

I grab Rosemary’s hoof. If it were any other day, I’d make a big note out of how I’m now innately stronger than her, but that isn’t much to write home about considering her weak will. I appear stern, but inside, I feel sore all over. This isn’t my Rosemary. This is some other flightless bird that’s holding her hostage.

I leave Rosemary kneeling in front of her mother, step back, and wait for my future bride to be rescued from herself.

Tangerine adjusts her robe, straightens out her hair, and takes a deep breath. Her aura changes, in just a second, from a soft cloud of orange to a hardened, solid sheen. I believe I just saw her revert to a state I haven’t seen her in for a long time. It’s just like how she was when I first met Rosemary.

Tangerine speaks with sheer raw force, dropping her Scoltish accent entirely and returning to her bohemian baritone. "It's taken me a decade to finally come out and say it, and I do not apologize in advance: You are insufferable, Rosemary. You are the most imperfect, disobedient, contrarian offspring any mother could ever have. You act like Oregano was a perfect being, like he bled ambrosia and could have singlehoofedly won this war. I'll tell you the truth: your father drank too much, obsessed over his weapon collection, garnished his war stories, and left us alone. I hate to curse his memory, but Wolf River is a better father than he ever could have been. And yet, you think I'm the mad one for wanting to marry such a wonderful stallion? Are you so unsatisfied with yourself that you have to undermine my happiness?!"

"No! I didn't mean any of that!" Rosemary shrieks.

"Well, you damn well sounded like you meant it when you thought I was sleeping! There is no taking back what you said about Wolf River, and you've made it fairly clear that you don't care how I feel unless you're kneeling like the coward that you are in front of me."

"No! I'm not a coward!"

"Is that so? Then tell me, where are your brother and sister?"

Rosemary looks queasy. Her aura is building in her neck and stomach. I think she’s keen to vomit. "THEY'RE HERE!" she screams instead. Her aura doesn’t change.

Tangerine steps forward. "You can’t lie to a wolf. If they were here, I would smell them. Unless, of course, they were buried six feet underground in our graveyard further out back, which would be the only way they could possibly be here. So, go ahead.” She lowers her head to Rosemary’s level. “Show me their graves.”

Rosemary quivers and covers her head and eyes. "NO! NO, NO, NO!! They’re.. they’re alive..."

"Then tell me the truth.” Tangerine walks around Rosemary, like a preying bird. “You of all ponies should know I don't punish for telling the truth."

Rosemary’s aura is like a sea on a rainy day. It flashes as she slams her hoof into the pavement. "Fuck you! You always found a reason to unfairly punish me!"

“I punished you for breaking and stealing, sneaking out, and hurting Cinnamon and Nutmeg while playing. When you lied, your punishment was worse as needed. You’re the one hurting me and yourself by lying right now, so don’t talk to me about fairness. I might’ve been a hardass, once upon a time, but I was never unfair."

"I didn't do anything wrong! Why are you yelling at me?!” Rosemary looks up. I’ve never seen her cry so pathetically. Part of me does want to intervene, feeling she’s had enough, but that’s just not what needs to happen here. It’s awful, but it’s true. I know she would suffer more without a confession.

Tangerine clicks her tongue. "You're the only one yelling, young lady. I just want you to tell me where your brother and sister are.” She sits down in front of Rosemary. “Please.”

"H-how... will I know you... won't punish me?" Rosemary mutters.

"I would only punish you if you actually did something wrong, so do the right thing."

Rosemary’s aura is still rippling, and showing no signs of steadying. She isn’t speaking at all, and it seems that she would remain that way forever, if it were possible. Still, Tangerine and I are patient. We stand and wait for her to do something, even if that something isn’t going to come any time soon.

Several minutes pass. Still, nothing is said.

I see something shine in Tangerine’s aura. She remains sitting, but she turns to me and says, “Shae, I need you again. Would you please go into the lounge and retrieve my antique vase? It’s by the window, you can’t miss it.”

“As you wish,” I say, turning and walking back indoors.

I make my way to the lounge, trekking through the long hallways. I can smell old produce and crisp, well-aged spices, with a hint of old alcoholic beverages… and a lot of salt. I pass through the kitchen, where Tohro is skillfully chopping up two carrots at the same time. He tosses the bits to Caro, who catches them in a bowl he balances on his muzzle. “Good news, we found enough unspoiled food to make us about two gallons of soup,” he says, setting the bowl down on the counter. “But I’m not about to cast a fire shout on a pot.”

“I’ll help you in a moment,” I say. “I’ve already got a lot on my plate, and it doesn’t have the decency to be food.” I point to the top cupboard, above Tohro. “Oh, and you’re using too much salt. There are potatoes up there. Cut one in half and put it in the soup to absorb the salt.”

I leave before Caro and Tohro respond. I am rather impressed with myself, but I’m too occupied to dwell on that.

I find the vase easily, the instant I step into the lounge. Even at a glance, I can see its value. Not in whatever materials it's made of, but in its aura. I can sense the faint lasting Fae of warriors past emanating from within it. I don’t know whether this is from Tangerine or Oregano’s side of the family, but whichever it is deserves whatever fame they have. Few things leave their Fae behind when they die, and never in much capacity.

The thought of what will happen to my Fae when I die, now that I hold such power, gives me pause.

I put it aside and pick up the vase in my aura. It shouldn’t be physically touched, it’s clearly so sacred. I’m careful to keep it away from any walls as I lead it back outside.

“Here you are, Tangerine,” I say, bringing it over to her. She and Rosemary are just as I left them, and their auras have not changed.

Tangerine stands and takes the vase as I dispel my aura. “Thank you.”

“Which side of the family does it belong to?” I ask Tangerine, probably against my better judgment.

“...Daddy’s,” Rosemary answers for her.

“Indeed,” Tangerine says with a sigh. “When Oregano and I were betrothed, this was the tribute he chose as a wedding present, despite my insistence that I had nothing to give in return. I knew I could trust him as a good stallion when he gave this to me anyway. Everything else that belonged to him, it was brutish, associated with the wars he and his ancestors fought. I cared not for them.” She taps the vase for emphasis. “This? This is different. It’s everything I want to remember Oregano as, in his best moments. Poised. Dignified. In a way, beautiful. There when I needed him. Please understand, Rosemary, I didn’t get angry with you for endangering some old expensive artifact. This vase is Oregano’s life and ancestry given form.”

Tangerine’s aura blurs for a moment before returning to its strong, resolved state. She lifts the vase up high and throws it down, shattering it into pieces.

Rosemary shrieks and covers her mouth, backing away from the shards of the vase as they clatter to a stop. I see the wisps of aura that were within the vase float away.

“Why did you…”

“I don't need it anymore. I'll carry your father's memory in my heart until the day I die. But I don't want my babies to just be memories. I’ll admit it, I've been a terrible mother, always leaving you three to the maids, and it's time I did something as a parent, so please... Where are Nutmeg and Cinnamon?"

Rosemary is still looking at the pieces in disbelief. Her aura has frozen, and I think she has as well.

Tangerine leans towards Rosemary. Her soldier act dissipates as she gently holds her. “Please. Tell me. I know you’re scared, but you have to face your fear.”

Rosemary’s aura begins to crack like glass. “I’m not a coward… I’m supposed to be strong...”

“Is refusing to accept reality really strength?” Tangerine asks.

More cracks form in her aura.

“They were...” Rosemary says, as softly as she breathes. It’s only because of my heightened senses that I can even hear her in the first place. “They were…”

Tangerine didn’t hear it, though. She leans in closer. “Please say it.” She draws her ear close to Rosemary’s mouth. “Be brave, like your father.”

“Nutmeg and Cinnamon were kidnapped.” Rosemary’s aura is nothing but shards.

Tangerine nods approvingly. “I know.”

“...Please don’t be mad.”

Tangerine smiles and hugs her daughter, like a mother should. “I’m not.”

Rosemary’s aura shatters completely. In its place, I see a new aura form in her, one that reminds me of a tranquil lake. I hear more tears begin to fall as she collapses. She can’t hold it back. All she can do is surrender, clutch her mother tight, open her mouth, and scream.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!” She cries out to the heavens, and lets her voice descend into inelegant sobs and gasps.

Tangerine continues to hold on to Rosemary for dear life.

“I-I-I C-COULDN’T S-STO-OP THE-EM!!” she cries. “I DID E-EVER-RYTHI-ING!! I WA-WATCHED THEM D-DRAG THE-EM AWAY!! I-IT WAS HO-ORRIBLE!” She buckles, clutching her stomach. “I… I c-can still hear them... scream, ev...every n-night… I can’t g...get them out of my head!”

“It’s okay…” Tangerine whispers.

“What w-world i-i-is this?! Why do I live in a world where... I f-fight and su-suffer and bleed and no...nothin’ c-comes of it! WHY?! Why couldn’t I save them?! I… I’m so…” Rosemary’s eyes start to bulge. “M-Mum, let me go, I need to…”

“Oh.” Tangerine relinquishes her grip as Rosemary turns around, hiccups, and vomits into the dandelion patch. “Oh, my dear…” She pats her on the back. “Let it aaaall out.”

Rosemary tries to speak, but all that comes out is more sick. I hope I forget that she ever looked like this, but at the very least I’ve found another place to intervene. I gallop to her, getting down to her level. I quickly summon an orb of water and bring it to Rosemary’s lips. “Rinse and spit,” I ask.

She does as I say. “Th-Thank ya…” she whimpers. “Ugh, I taste blood…”

“I’m surprised you didn’t lose more,” I say, stroking her mane. “You might have an ulcer, or three. Depends on how long you’ve been holding that in.” I make my voice as soft as possible. “I can understand why you kept this from Tangerine, but why me?”

It just now occurs to me that she was seeking my help with something… I suspect that she was going to find a way to tell me eventually, but it’s also possible that she’d lead me into a rescue mission with my tail between my legs. But that’s all theoretical now.

“I knew… you’d understand, but…” Rosemary wipes her mouth and drinks more water, then spits it out. “I’m sorry. I… I just… I-I’m supposed to be a g… good soldier…”

“A good soldier would have known when to fold her cards and ask for help,” says Tangerine. “For you, it would have been the instant Nutmeg and Cinnamon left your sight.”

“B-but… Y-you would’ve been m-mad…”

“Why would I be mad for things happening beyond your control? You think I don’t know you did everything you could to stop this from happening? Wolf River was with me when I saw the damage. He could smell the blood and fear for days afterward. I almost wish you hadn’t disposed of the bodies.”

Rosemary looks up at Tangerine with wide eyes. Everything below them is soaked in tears and water.

“I’m more proud of you now than I’ve ever been. And that’s sayin’ a lot.” Tangerine embraces her again. I’ve noticed that her accent has returned. “You never needed to prove to me that you’re a good soldier.”

Rosemary collapses, falling forward. I can hear her sobbing into her forelegs. Tangerine gently rolls her over so her face isn’t stuck in the dirt. As her face comes back into view, she swallows, finally able to stow her tears. “I l...love you…” she gasps. “M-mum…”

“I love you too.”

Guilt is the worst thing anyone could possibly feel, next to hate. I’ve had quite a few bouts with guilt in recent times. Killing Clover, not doing more for Sacred Rite’s captives, leaving my children in Everfree… It’s all in hindsight, though. My guilt is nothing compared to what Rose has been through. She will forever hold triumph over me when it comes to misery.

Even so, I’m reminded of why I love her, as she sits on the couch and nestles against my wither. Despite her still-present tears, she’s smiling. This has been one of the hardest days of her life, with a great physical struggle ahead of us, and she still has the capacity to smile. She is amazing, truly. I levitate my blanket to wrap around her.

She clutches a bowl of vegetable stew in her hooves, taking slow sips of the broth. She deserves something warm right now. The world has been too cold to her for so long.

“So… What happens now?” she asks Tangerine, who sits across from her. “What do we do?”

“Nothin', at the moment.” Tangerine replies. “We’re stayin' here, until Wolf River finds us, you recover, and we’re fully prepared to waltz into Blackwing territory.” She’s shuffling through documents in her lap. Others sit on the table next to her, stacked in a pile at least half her height. “Hm… Tohro did well. Temerity Blackwing has a lot comin' to him, if I have anythin' to say about it.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask. I remember the splash of green blood dousing from the neck of Chrysalis.

“Throw him into where he belongs, an Imperial prison. I’m sure Her Majesty will appreciate it.”

“Oh.” I feel my heartbeat slow. Why was it beating so fast in the first place?

Tangerine stops reading the letter she just picked up. She peers up at me. “You sound disappointed.”

Even now, her eyes demand respect and truth. All of Fauste’s power is nothing compared to her stare. I cower a little. If I’m to tell anyone how I feel, I might as well tell someone as honest as her. “I should expl—”

The front door flies open. Tohro gallops in, several leather-bound journals clutched under his hoof. “Tangerine! I can’t believe I missed this!”

“What is it?” Tangerine asks. “Most information we can gather about Temerity is superfluous at this point. I’m just looking for anything that can help us further.”

“And I might’ve found it.” Tohro lays the journals on the table, and opens up one of them. “See, back when I was investigating an Imperial soldier who was indulging in slave trade, I came across his sales logs. Captain Gauntlet had copies written and he let me keep the originals so I could continue the investigation.”

“Is there anything special the scribes might have missed when making the copies?” I ask.

“Hidden messages, maybe…” Rosemary mutters.

“You’re going to love it.” Tohro opens the journal to its last page. He’s awfully cheery about it being completely blank, at least at first glance. “Shae, could you have a look at this with your magical gaze of wonder?”

“Most definitely,” I say with fervor. I’m excited to see if my aura vision goes beyond peripheral senses. Then again, if I can detect salt in a stew, who’s to say I can’t detect hidden messages on parchment? This should be easy pickings.

I concentrate on the two pages before me, trying to discern the consistency of the Fae around and within them. Through the Fae, I can feel thicker concentrations of physical material spread across the pages. “Hm… There’s something. Etchings in invisible ink, I’d reckon.”

“Thought so,” Tangerine says affirmingly. “Shae, give us some fire and hold it up to the paper.”

I do as she commands, concentrating a slow flame into my horn. It comes out as a sudden, blinding burst, lighting up the whole room. Rosemary jumps away from me, falling onto the floor, and Tohro shields himself.

“Gah! Put it down, lass!” Tangerine yells.

“Sorry!” I command the Fae in me to calm down, and the fire dwindles to a softer glow. “Sorry.”

“That’s somethin’ uncanny that’s happened to ya,” Rosemary says with a smile. “I like it.”

“Save the wild inferno for Temerity, won’t you?” Tohro asks of me, taking a deep breath. “Right, about that paper…”

I levitate the paper up to my horn while it burns. I haven’t been able to do that before. It’s rather liberating, not to mention just plain useful. I hold the paper as close as I can without setting it ablaze, tracing over it with my horn, and then set it back down on the table.

“I can only sense the shape and texture of the ink. I can’t actually read it,” I explain. “Did it work?”

“Yes, it did!” Tohro says, turning the page around. He peers at it with a huge smile. “...Oh, am I good or what?!”

“The latter,” Tangerine says quickly. “Go on.”

“I suspected this ever since I found these logs. Fade used a hidden passage of his own creation to sneak beneath Fillydelphia and deliver arrested Blackwings back to Shokenda. We can get into Fillydelphia under disguise, and use this passage to…”

Tohro’s voice fades out for me, as something particular has just crossed my mind, and it only hasn’t before because I never said it aloud… I can’t read. I am physically unable to read and discern ink.

I swallow and try to maintain a steady heartbeat, but I can’t contain this moment of panic. How could I? I’ll never read a book again… How am I supposed to be a scholar or a future headmistress if I can’t read? I couldn’t possibly rely on a translator for my entire life, however long that will be… Oh, Fauste, what did you do?!

I get off the couch and walk... somewhere. My hooves move on their own, my mind completely away from the rest of my body. Somehow, I end up back in the hallway, and it seems longer and emptier than it should, because at its very end is a black void. I should see the end of it, but I don't. I don't see that way, anymore. The world is a faded, colored mass of Fae and shapes. No visible textures, only what I can see and feel with heightened senses. In many ways, I am still blind, lost, and in the dark.

It's a moment of clarity, but the worst kind. I am suddenly, and all at once, aware of what's happening to me. I am not just a unicorn anymore, nor am I an alicorn. I'm something else... What was it I said when I took Chrysalis' life? I don't know why I said it, it just felt right, like I was supposed to say something profound and powerful.

"You don't fuck with a god."

Why did I say that?! I'm not a god! I’m not... But, I have the power of one coursing through me. Not just one, the Divine of Magic. It's not just that I’m powerful beyond reason, it's that the power isn't just my own. I'd already thought that might be the case, but to know it's affecting me in such a way… Where is this leading? What if I can’t stop it? What will I become? Does Fauste want an heir? Did she make a mistake? What I saw, the battle between her and Epona, was it even real? Or was it all a delusion brought on by this excess?

What is a god? What is a unicorn? Hell, what’s the color of the floor I’m walking on?!

“What am I?!” I shout, pulling on my locks.

“You’re talkin’ out loud again,” Rosemary says. I turn around as she approaches me. She still has her blanket wrapped around her, until she gets close to me. She takes it off and wraps it around my head and neck, like a scarf. The wrinkled fabric is still warm, and it’s bristly enough to comb through my mane… At least those senses work as they should.

“Rose… could you help me again?” I ask, my voice weak, and muffled by the blanket. “I’m... scared, and I feel alone…”

“I know what that’s like.” She tugs on the blanket, bringing me close to her. She pulls me into her strong grip, which has much less of the tension or hesitation that I had felt before. “Come be alone with me,” she whispers. “We’ll figure this out.”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

I pass by Shae and Rosemary as I go down the stairs. They’ve formed a sort of emotional cocoon with how close they keep to each other, so I don’t interject. If Shae wants my help, she’ll ask for it.

I turn the corner into the living room, where Tohro is rolling up his documents and putting them away in his bags. “Evenin’, hon,” he says with a smile. “You missed out. Tangerine and I just put the finishing touches on our plan of attack. Do you plan on making things up as you go, as usual?”

“No, I’ll follow your instructions,” I say. “Just tell me what to do on the way to Fillydelphia.”

Tohro looks at me snidely. He approaches me as I shrug in confusion. “Caro of Riverhoof!” he exclaims. “Are those sensible thoughts I hear?”

“This is a sensitive mission. I want Tangerine’s kids to be safe as much as you do.”

“You have no idea,” Tohro says. His smile fades away. “I don’t want to go back to Fillydelphia. I don’t think I’ll like what I see… The last time I was there, I was still a Blackwing.”

“In name and in loyalty.”

“Yes. And even then, I knew Fillydelphia wasn’t as glamorous or serene as Everfree. I still felt, in my heart, that I would be able to shape it into something better. Now that the veil is long gone, well… I don’t think I’ll like what I see. Odds are it’ll be worse than I remember.” Tohro looks up at me through his thick bangs. “Stay close to me, okay?”

I cross my neck against his. “Why do you even ask?”

“Hm….” I feel Tohro’s breath slow. “You’re so calm, Caro. You sometimes remind me of a, uh, gentle, softly stoked fire pit. A long time ago, you were this unstoppable inferno I couldn’t contain.”

I stroke the back of his neck, shaking my head against him. “No, no, you contained it. I’d be dead to the world if you hadn’t.” I hold him tight and face him directly. He’s one of the few ponies I can look directly in the eye without faltering. It’s exhilarating and soothing all at once. “I really wish I knew how to thank you for that.”

Tohro puts on that look again. Snide and sarcastic, his old favorite. It spoils the moment immediately.

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“You’re serious?” he asks. “You can think of absolutely nothing that would show your appreciation? Did you forget who you’re talking to for one moment in time, or were you replaced with a changeling just now?”

“Clearly not, otherwise I’d expose it… Oh.” It hits me like a steel horseshoe to the face. Tohro commended me on my calmness, but I think he spoke too soon. “Wow, that… With everything that’s happened, how could that of all things slip my mind?”

“Because that doesn’t involve blood or defying authority.” Tohro taps me on the cheek. Much more gentle than a surprise horseshoe. “Don’t be embarrassed. I know you. That sort of thing is never on your mind.”

“Not ‘never’. Just not when I have other things to focus on…” He’s looking at me like a bastard again. “Epona’s sake, stop doing that!”

He flutters his eyes at me. “What? These are my bedroom eyes.”

I hear the distinct cough of Tangerine, and for once I am glad that she saw fit to intercede. I turn around and address her as she comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hooves on a rag. “Hello,” I say, trying and failing to sound as composed as possible.

Tangerine smirks up at me in the same way as Tohro. “There’s a wine cellar by the garden out back. Take whatever looks good to you.” She departs upstairs, casually tossing her rag at me. “Tidy up at the pond while you’re out there, you have dumbstruck on your face.”

I’m not a wine savant. Hell, I’m not a savant of any kind of alcohol, I just take whatever is passed to me by the barmaid. How am I supposed to pick something out from this oversized selection? I could just point my hoof at any random one and take that, but how could I? I want this night to be as perfect as it can be, given the circumstances. Even so, out of the four racks worth of wine bottles that stand before me, I’m not sure which of them screams romance.

“Take the one on the lower-middle rack,” Rasahrel tells me. “The green bottle with the peeled label. I’m sure your Tohro will take kindly to its smooth texture.”

I do as she says. Her word is as good as any. Still, I must ask, “How can you tell it’s a good one?”

“It carries a good scent. I recognize it from one of my previous lifetimes. That wine is from before Equestria was made, drank by the warriors of a more feral land. Even the equines of that time, with all of their strength and brutality, seemed to appreciate the finer things in life.”

I hear Hevnodiin chuckle somewhere in the back of my mind. “More of the winer things in life… Yes?”

“I’m having a moment with Caro, Hevnodiin. Would you just fade into his subconscious already?” Rasahrel asks, with a sigh of exasperation.

“Why don’t you?” Hevnodiin retorts.

“Because I actually quite like being his guide.”

I smirk, as if the two dragons were standing right in front of me. “Ah, you care about me!”

I can feel her fluster. It’s like a subtle rumbling in my skull. “...Drink your damn wine, tiny horse,” she mutters.

Having gotten my share of amusement, as well as a bottle of wine an ancient dragon can vouch for, I take the wooden steps out of the wine cellar and close the hatch. I can see through the window that Tohro has already lit Tangerine’s fireplace. The soft glimmer calls to me, stoking my desire to get out of the frosty air and curl up under a blanket, with him nestled close by… golden locks reflecting the light of the fire… splayed out on the rug as I overpower…

“Caro, it’s growing humid in here,” Hevnodiin comments.

“You’re an ice dragon, everything is humid to you,” I retort. Still, he has a point. I don’t want to trip over my own words on such an important night. I want to keep some air of dignity, and have this be remembered for its highs as opposed to me making a fool out of myself.

I take Tangerine’s advice and go to the pond. It’s a little murky, another testament to the lack of upkeep around here, but it’s still cleaner than most water I drink on long journeys.

After a few sips, and a splash of it across my face, I take a deep breath and look at my reflection. No blush to be seen, no obvious displays of anxiety. I’m ready to prove something to Tohro… what that is, I’m not really sure, but I’m looking forward to finding out.

Just as I start to move away from the pond, I notice something in its ripples. My reflection’s eyes flash green, and it bares its teeth in a mighty grin.

If this were any other night, I’d write this off as a trick of the light, but I’ve been too exposed to sickly green aura as of late to take any risks. I crouch into a battle-ready stance and back away from the pond. “Come out or I’ll turn that pond into a boiler pot.”

A dark figure emerges from the water. It looks like a changeling, but not quite. Chrysalis’ drones all carried the same bodies and faces, but this one has hair, and a lankier build.

“Hello, Caro…” it mutters.

I’d recognize that condescending, grating noise of a voice anywhere. “You…” I growl. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but when the most powerful mage in Equestria slices your head off, it’s common courtesy to die. Or do you still think you’re above consequences?”

“Did you honestly think that was my only body?” she asks.

“I don’t know, but I certainly didn’t expect you to come back looking like… this.” I passively gesture to her much less intimidating, weakened form. She doesn’t even look like a full-grown mare. She reminds me of an adolescent yet to hit her growth spurt, teetering just on the edge of maturity. “I mean, this specifically. I did assume you’d find some other way to infuriate me from beyond the grave, I just didn’t think you’d be so on the nose about it. Hurrah for you.” I step past her, nodding at the pond. “Drown yourself. I’m leaving.”

“Caro, wait.” She reaches out to me like a desperate child. “I didn’t come here to hurt you, I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Here’s your answer. Get the fuck away from me and my family or I’ll finish what Shae started.” I toss the rag at her hooves. “You can use that to wipe away what’s left of your wretched hive.”

Chrysalis picks up the rag and brings it back to me. “You’re so vindictive… I thought that you wanted to seek peace with me. At least, you considered it…”

“And Shae made the decision for me. Honestly, I can’t blame her. You acted like the sickest, most depraved, irredeemable sack of mucus that I’ve ever had the displeasure of talking to, and that’s quite the accomplishment. I’ve put up with zealotous murderers, violent caretakers, arrogant priests, greedy slavers… I thought that none of them would get worse than Shokenda Blackwing, but then you proved to me that there is always a greater evil out there, irrelevant of my efforts. Thanks for that.”

I’m ready for that to be the end of it, but Chrysalis will not let me have the last word, daring to whimper and speak up again. “Caro, if you would just let me—”

I advance on her, now that she’s small enough for me to do so and remain imposing. “You violated Tohro. My Tohro. Fuck you.”

I almost let her feel my rage. I almost let her taste that hatred and fury boiling in my veins, and snarling in my soul. But I just stare at her calmly, letting her see my feelings, but not quench her hunger. The look she gives me is so pathetic I almost feel like laughing, for a moment. Then I realize that it’s the most genuine sadness I’ve ever seen from her.

Chrysalis looks at the pond. "...Drowning myself, admittedly, feels like the easiest choice at the moment.”

That is not as satisfying to hear as it would have been a while ago. She even sounds pathetic. Dry and parched. I wonder, can she be thirsty? No, of course she can be. Even insects have to moisturize. I detach my canteen as I slowly approach Chrysalis. My sympathy has got the best of me once again. “Do you want water that isn't littered with mud?" I ask.

She reluctantly, yet also feverishly, takes the canteen. "I would prefer it, yes. Thank you."

I watch as she downs it all. I don’t mind, I can refill it later. "Can you even taste that?” I ask. “Do you have taste buds?"

"Merely tastes clean." Chrysalis sets the canteen down in front of her. "Thank you… I just have one question, and then I’ll leave you alone forever."

“Very well. Don’t expect a gentle answer,” I warn her.

She nods, wiping drops of water off her lips. “Is it possible for a mare like me to change? Not just in form, but..."

"You're not a mare and you never will be,” I snap at her, before immediately regretting it. “I mean… Look, I don't know what it's like to be you. Hell, I don’t know if you're even self-aware or you're just made to pretend. All I know is that you're not a mare, stallion, or any kind of equine. But I don't want you to think you're a 'thing', okay? I know what it's like to be an object to someone else, and it’s humiliating."

“And destroying my one place of solace isn’t?” she asks. “If I'm not a pony, nor a simple object, then what am I?" Her eyes narrow. She’s shivering. "I used to be a queen... I used to be a feared matriarch in the shadow of the world. I used to be a leader. You stripped all that away from me. And without all that... I am but a thing." She peers up at me with wounded eyes. "You’re so wise, so fill the pit you carved in my life, if you can call it that. Tell me what I am, Caro."

"You're..." I look away. Her staring at me fills me with so many twisted feelings that I can't stomach. "Just stop thinking of everyone else as the problem. I know this world isn't easy, and I know it's not easy being you, but... Dammit, you created an empire of death and debauchery. You went out of your way to hurt people. With your powers, you could do and learn so much. You could help so many ponies…” I pause, realizing what I just said, and who I just said it to.

"I did what I did because it gave me identity! I've been doing it so long, it's the identity I've come to cherish." She grits her teeth, leering at me. "All my children shared in the same identity. For a moment of our thousand-year existence, we were more than just objects, things born of creators who couldn't give less of a thought to our well-being."

She still doesn’t get it, and that’s infuriating. "You were hurting ponies. That's all that will be remembered about you. That's your identity now."

"Not anymore, Caro." She shakes her head, frowning at him. "Identities like mine are directly linked to our lives, and the fall of my hive, my Sisterhood, is being made known to Equestria. My identity died when I 'died'. When my children died. The Sisterhood fell apart, and is going to fall into obscurity, then myth, and then disappear altogether, along with my hive.”

"That's..." I find myself freezing up at the thought of that. I never truly considered the possibility of being forgotten. I know I have a place in history, and will continue to secure it as I proceed forward as the Dragonborn. So many ponies come and go and are forgotten, despite leading full lives. But Chrysalis... she never had a chance. "I'm sorry. I know what rock bottom feels like.”

“You do?” she asks.

"It was after my master was killed. He meant everything to me, and he was my only friend. Him, and my entire future, gone in a flash, with the whole world thinking I caused the carnage that took him away from me." My heart quivers. Even after all this time, even after Master revealed himself to be alive, the memory still hurts. "I felt... empty. Broken. Like the rest of the world could die and I wouldn't have anything to say about it. And then I met Tohro.”

“There is something powerful between you two. I could never deny feeling it,” Chrysalis says.

“Everypony has that one being who can pull them out of their darkest depths, and he was mine. It didn't happen at first, but he told me every word that I needed to hear. He taught me to see the world as a malleable canvas instead of some cruel, oppressive hive. I stopped hating others and let them in again. Eventually, I was able to open up enough to realize who I could trust, and who I could love. Now I'm the happiest I've ever been." I glare at Chrysalis and speak with disdain. "None of that happiness came from committing senseless murders. That’s why I wanted you to live. I wanted you to understand that. Talk about wishful thinking.”

Chrysalis backs away from me.

"You can't understand how this feels,” I say, advancing on her. “How could you? I know that the Precursors made you to be a slave race. Why would they bother giving you the capacity for love or empathy? All you can do is pretend."

“Pretending fills the hole, at least." Chrysalis turns and looks over the water, staring at her own miserable reflection. "Pretending at least gives me a goal... something to reach for, or feel. Even if it's fake, it's still something…” She smiles wistfully. “Love must be quite sweet. Hate, malice, sadness are bitter, even putrid. But it was the easiest food to find in this land."

“Truly? Because I’ve found love just as often as those things.” I approach Chrysalis slowly, finally summoning the willpower to stand next to her.

“You’re not like anypony else. It took a while, but I figured out why you clouded my senses. Underneath your furious visage, you radiate love and happiness, much from your own soul, and from the many that you’ve taken.” She turns to me with a curious look. “I’ve never exposed myself to it in such capacity.” She raises her hoof, moving it towards me. “What must it feel like, to have such compassion for—”

The instant her hoof touches my cheek, she lets out an ear-piercing screech. She grabs her head and collapses, kicking her hind legs and crawling backwards away from me. She clutches her hoof like there’s a gaping wound in it. Her insides are aglow with green, pulsating energy. Her chitin is steaming; even the tears streaming from her wide eyes are evaporating. All the while, she twitches like she was just struck by lightning.

“Chrysalis…” I say, walking towards her.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” she screams, hiding her face away. She finds my every movement terrifying, and treats her glowing body as an open wound, flinching and gasping in pain with every passing second.

I want to get close so I can… do something, but to no avail. She envelops herself in green flames, and disappears. It’s as if there was no trace of her to begin with, aside from the canteen she dropped. I pick it up and wipe it clean of her saliva.

I had hoped for more closure than that. Honestly, though, I’d rather just forget that Chrysalis was ever a part of my life. She was an unknown before she interfered, and she’s even more of an unknown now. Poor her… Well, not her entirely. The part of her that can’t understand the emotions that embody even the most basic of life forms, that I can mourn. Not the part of her that ruined so many lives in the name of cheap sustenance.

I do owe her for one thing: she reminds me of what I could have been. Now I’ve burned that bridge forever.

It’s like walking from one plane of reality into another. The foul scent of chitin immediately leaves my nostrils and is replaced with incense and softly burning wood. I step into the lounge to find the whole of it bathed in an orange glow, emitting from the firepit, and who else should be stoking it but my Tohro. He’s prodding at the chopped logs with one of his wing blades.

“There are more efficient ways to smith one of those, you know,” I say.

“Cute,” he replies, putting the wing blade aside and turning towards me. His leather gear is gone. He’s swapped it out for a loose-fitting blue robe that looks like it was made for a mare. He tugs at its sash as he notices my intrigue. “It’s one of Tangerine’s. Adventurer garb is ill fitting for a romantic evening, and I didn’t have the foresight to pack a robe of my own.”

“That’s odd. I thought you’d be prepared for all sorts of romantic pursuits.” I take a seat in front of the fire, next to him. With only inches between us, I can see every hair of his coat shimmer in the light of the fire. “Then again, we only packed enough to get us back to Everfree…”

“Shit happens, Dragonborn. You know that better than anyone.” Tohro sighs and leans in close to me. His neck and chin conform perfectly to my shoulder. His hot breaths ruffle the unkempt fur on my cheek, along the long strands of my mane. “You’re getting shaggy again,” he comments.

“Do you want to cut my hair before we leave?”

“No, it’s for the best, really. It’s going to be a cold journey.” He smiles at the fireplace. “This is the most warmth we’ll feel on our bodies for some time, unfortunately. Best enjoy the moment while we can.”

“Indeed,” I say. While my mind is still half in the garden, I’m trying to pull all of myself together to focus on this moment. It’s been a long time coming, and I’m not gaining anything by dwelling on the past. The only old thing I’m interested in is this wine, and Tohro happens to have two glasses prepared.

I take the glasses, bite off the cork of the bottle, and pour two equal glasses worth of wine. I’m going to drink until I forget the color green.

Tohro is admiring the wine bottle. “You picked a good year.”

“Thank Rasahrel for that one, not me,” I say, before downing my entire glass in one go.

“Thank you, Rasahrel,” Tohro says with a hint of condescension. He pours me another glassful and I down that just as quickly as it’s given to me. “Something’s the matter, isn’t it?” he asks.

I nod and grunt before swallowing my wine. “Yes. I’m not telling you what it is.” I chug what’s left at the bottom.

“By the Divines, you’re pregnant!” he exclaims.

I spray the wine across the carpet as I burst out laughing, though it quickly devolves into a fit of coughs. I wipe my mouth and shoot a glare at Tohro. “Damn you, why are you so—”

“Lovable? Awe-inspiring?” He runs his hoof through his hair and sways his braids. I feel the blood rising to my cheeks as he peers up at me with intense, sky-blue eyes. “Don’t you know that putting you in the right mood is my job? From the moment I saw your sour face at Gallopagos Keep, I knew that I had a mission: make that stallion smile.”

“Mission accomplished. Several times over.” I gesture at my involuntary smile.

He’s done the impossible yet again. He managed to pull me away from the claws of darkness, with merely a smile and a few carefully chosen words, and he didn’t even have to try. He has me beat several times over when it comes to such things. His hundred to my one; the things I said to him back in the catacombs. I don’t know how the words came to me then, but what I do remember is that seeing Tohro at such a lowly state just didn’t seem right. It felt like my whole world was distorted without him being his strong, devoted self. From there, the words simply manifested.

As I feel his breaths against my face, his forelegs tightening their grip around my torso, I figure it out. Tohro puts those words into me. It’s amazingly simple. Would there have been anything left of me if he hadn’t been the one to save me from the chopping block? No. It was him from the start. “You gave me a soul,” I whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back. He leans especially hard into me, forcing me to fall, and lie down on the carpet. My glass rolls away, spilling what’s left of the wine. His forelegs hook around my shoulders. The exposed portions of his fur glide along my coarse body. His smile turns into a pucker as his lips grace mine.

Stay with me, my angel.

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

It’s the tightest embrace I’ve ever shared with Shae. Beneath the safety and comfort of two blankets, I’m clad in fur robes, with her in her undergarments. Her eyes are closed, but I don’t know if she’s asleep or not. She still has a glow to her, both physically and spiritually. A soft one, like the last rays of sunset poking through the curtains after a long day.

With such beauty clutched so close to me, it’s easier to appreciate the beauty of my room that I haven’t noticed until now. Perhaps I simply forgot about it in all my years of anger. Daddy’s findings, the ones that aren’t deadly weapons once wielded by his most fearsome opponents, sit on my dresser. I never appreciated them until now. Stone slabs from Precursor tombs. The necklaces of slain Blackwings. A crest from the Imperial Legion I could wear on my duster… I’m considering taking it to Everfree, but I’d rather not walk in there with a target on my chest. He gave me all these great things. I should have thanked him instead of asking “Where are the swords?”

Shae shifts in my grasp and opens her eyes. Evidently, she is still awake. That’s good. I meant to ask her something. “Hey,” I say softly into her ear. “How do I look through the Fae?”

She turns her head and smiles up at me. “Beautiful. A calm river, flowing to a known destination.”

“Poetry,” I muse. “Where d’ya think that destination is?”

“I don’t know, but I’m looking forward to seeing you get there.” She taps her lips to mine. “So, I’m not sure if you heard, but Tangerine gave me her blessing.”

“She heard all that, huh?”

“Everything.”

I squeeze Shae tighter. She gasps and laughs as I press my muzzle into her neck. We’re a mess of fur and limbs and blankets as she fruitlessly tries to resist my kisses. Once she gives up, I bite her ear as a sign of dominance. “You’re mine now.”

Shae flicks her ear right in my face. “Well, you say that.” She giggles again, resting her head against the pillow. I join her, opening my mouth for a long yawn, and end up with a mouthful of her black hair. I cough and spit it out.

“Whoops, heh…”

Shae turns over and gazes into me. At least, I assume she is. Her glowing eyes pierce through everything they look at, now that she has the ‘sight’, as I’ve come to call it. “I want your brother and sister there when we get married.”

“They will be.” I brush my hoof over hers. “Not much longer, lassie.”

She smiles and nods at me, holding our mutual gaze for another long, yet all too short moment. She sits up and gets out of bed, going over to the window and pulling back the curtains. It’s a clear night, with the stars appearing especially luminous.

Shae turns to me with a wistful gleam. “Luna says good night.”

“Might wanna sing her a lullaby,” I suggest. “For all we know, she could hear it.”

She nods in agreement. She thinks of what to sing, smiling when it comes to her, and begins.

“Let's say sunshine for everyone, but as far as I can remember...
We've been migratory animals, living under changing weather…
Someday we will foresee obstacles, through the blizzard, through the blizzard…
Today we will sell our uniform, live together, live together…”

I love this night. I know that it’s a fleeting warmth that will soon be replaced with a long, solemn trek through snow and ice. I am not looking forward to taking that journey again. Still, I won’t be alone. I won’t be alone ever again.

“We played hide and seek in waterfalls, we were younger, we were younger...
We played hide and seek in waterfalls, we were younger, we were younger…”

Author's Notes:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrXpFh2IHZY