There’s a lot I don’t remember about my life. Some I chose to forget, much I never thought to hold on to. Memory is a fickle thing at the best of times, but moreso when so much is so uninteresting, when you don’t want to remember something, or when it’s so damn-it-to-tartarus boring that you can’t help but let it slide in one ear and dribble straight from the other, with nary a moment’s pause in the folds of your mind.

There are a few things that stick around, though.

I remember the first time I played. I remember there was a good reason why I’d crept into the back of that musician’s workshop, but what that reason could be, I have no recollection at all, except that it was probably unpleasant.

Oh not in the way you might think, that dreary, clichéd anguish of a thousand and one badly written melodramas that start with the murder, or the kidnapped daughter, or the angst of nopony remembering your name. Unpleasant to that young filly would be bad weather at a picnic, or being yelled at by everypony for being underhoof at the wrong time, or for having the wrong mind that sought the wrong thoughts and spoke them in the wrong way.

I remember I was looking for something, some element that was missing from my life. Some sense of completeness. When I plucked that first string and that first note echoed forth, so pure and clear and bright as sun, I believed I had found it and I flung myself into it, body and soul, flesh and mind, until it was my very life and being. I became what I was and am still.

But I was not yet complete.

And as I sought fulfilment I remember I found the Still Way, the essence of the unicorn, the great path to enlightenment. I followed it to find the stillness in my music, but instead my music became the stillness in my art. I learned to wait. I became more, and less.

But still I was not whole.

To find a place in the universe and simply be, that is the essence of stillness. To find that single point where all flows toward and away from you, where every motion is made because it fits in perfect harmony with all that surrounds it, each act becoming a part of the infinite weave, the melody of life. Each note a single piece of the whole. Each silence, each beat, each step a perfect expression of that time, that place.

To be still, to be whole, to be where I was meant to be at every moment, to seek without seeking, to move without moving. To be the universe, and to be nothing at all.

Balance.

I remember balance. Something I never found, something I always sought, the lack of which had driven that young filly to see the world as unpleasant.

I remember you standing there, that day, on the edge of town. My orders were simple: to watch. To follow. To be your shadow.

You stood on hind legs, a tower of flesh and cloth, immobile and yet moving all the time, each muscle working with and against another to hold your truncated head aloft, limbs hanging aside. No tail, I’d thought. No obvious counterweight. How do you do it? And then you fell.

And you kept falling and stayed upright all at once. You moved, and each movement built on the last, momentum carrying you ever onward. Each step perfectly timed to follow all that came before, each motion exactly where it was meant to be. You would fall forever and always land on your feet. Effortless, perfect balance.

I remember that day.

“They keep asking me about his hands.”

Bon Bon looked up from her newspaper and frowned at her friend, framed in the front door of their home. She knew Lyra, knew she was prone to odd bouts of introspection at the strangest of times, but she usually waited until the door was closed. “Who?”

“The human. He-”

“No, Lyra, who asked about his hands?”

“He falls forever.” Lyra blinked and shook herself. She closed the door, a sheepish smile on her face as she turned to look at Bon Bon once again. “Sorry. I’ve been a bit out of it the last few days.”

“Lack of sleep, that’s your problem,” Bon Bon replied, returning to her paper. Somewhere within its pages there was a coupon for half off at Honeysuckle’s Sugar and Starch, and she would find it, even if it killed her.

Silence stretched across the room as she read, until Bon Bon realised that her companion hadn’t spoken. Or even moved. She looked up to find Lyra still in front of the door, staring at the wall with a strange little smile on her face and her tongue pressed between her lips.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

The mint-green unicorn shook her head.

“So, who?”

Lyra frowned, her jaw moving as she exercised whatever words she was about to say. She paced the room and finally paused by a harp she kept on display in the far corner, next to a photograph of her smiling family and their daughter proudly flashing her newly discovered cutie mark.

“Have you seen how he moves?”

“Lyra...”

“Okay, okay, Some journalist in the market noticed I was around him a lot and started asking me all sorts of really creepy questions.” The unicorn smiled and shook her head. “I must be getting sloppy.”

“It’s not exactly a huge town, Lyra, she probably just asked everypony close by to see what would stick. He’s quite the superstar.”

Silence again. Bon Bon continued to turn the pages of her paper, eyes seeking out her prize and failing to spot it. She idly scanned over an article about some local academics setting off for an archaeological expedition in Impalawi and a promise to keep in regular contact with Ponyville Elementary as part of some sort of science project. Behind her, Lyra absently plucked at the strings of her harp, somehow contriving to produce a perfect melody in less than a dozen notes.

Bon Bon put the paper aside and turned to face her friend. “What did you say?”

“Hm?”

“To the journalist!”

“Oh. Not much, really. I told her to go talk to Rarity if she wanted some real gossip.”

“Oh that poor mare,” Bon Bon cried, pressing her hooves against her face in mock horror. “I hope she wasn’t permanently scarred by the experience.”

A smile crossed Lyra’s face as her hoof and magic continued to tickle at the harp, drawing out another unforgettable stanza, weaving the notes around her words as she spoke. “I had a chance to speak to him today. Just a hello, how’s your day, enjoying the weather sort of thing, mostly just to keep him company until Twilight remembered where she’d left him again.”

“How nice.”

“He falls forever...”

“You said that before,” Bon Bon replied, returning to her newspaper. “And I still have no idea what it means.”

“It means he moves with the universe.”

“I have no idea what that means either.”

The music had stopped, swallowed up in whatever profound new thought Lyra had conjured in her oddly focussed mind. Bon Bon knew from long experience that she’d lost her friend for at least an hour to her odd meditation, those golden eyes fixed on some point distant in time and space as Lyra disappeared within herself. It was something Bon Bon had never quite been able to grasp; she’d studied the Still Way a little, though as an earth pony she would never be able to practice any of the magical side of it, but the meditative elements had proven quite useful as a way to unwind after a stressful day.

Lyra didn’t seem to follow any of it. She was a grand master of an art she never appeared to practice, prone to flights of fancy that made even the most esoteric mind look grounded and mundane, and yet she was more down to earth than any pony Bon Bon could think of. With any other mare it would have seemed contradictory, but for this unicorn it was just par for the course.

“I think I’ll make us some tea,” Bon Bon said, more for her own benefit than Lyra’s. It was doubtful the other mare could even hear her. With Lyra’s composition winding through her mind the earth pony moved to stand, but was interrupted by a foreleg pressing across her chest. “Lyra, what-”

“You find what you seek when you stop looking,” the unicorn said. She tapped the newspaper with her hoof and then sidled from the room with a smug grin on her face. Bon Bon frowned as she turned to look at the newspaper. The coupon - her coupon - was dead centre, in between an article about the price of real estate in cloudsdale and an advert for magically enhanced double glazing. She could have sworn she’d just looked at that page and found nothing.

“What-” Bon Bon paused. The coupon had moved just a fraction when she breathed against it. She carefully poked the slip of paper with her hoof; the already clipped coupon lifted from where her friend had neatly dropped it on the page. “Dammit, Lyra!”

She had her patrol, not that she’d ever call it that. As an auxiliary and an independent command, the route was Lyra’s discretion. In fact even the choice to make a patrol at all was her own decision, but one she chose gladly; it got her out of the house, let her meet friends and gave her the ability to shadow her charge without appearing to actually do so. She’d found a nice route that accounted for all of this and gave her enough exercise to justify a little indulgence now and then.

And so, cupcakes safely secured in her saddlebags, Lyra exited Sugarcube Corner to resume her trek along the main street, conveniently just when said charge and his new best friend came wandering around the corner, laughing away at some joke one or the other had told, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a towering biped and a pegasus to be so close.

“Lyra!” Rainbow Dash reared and flapped her wings, grinning broadly. Was it Lyra’s imagination or did her wingtip brush against the human’s hip just then?

“Hi Rainbow, Lero, how’s the day?”

“Pretty good, thanks,” the human replied. He flexed his forearms behind his neck and looked up at the sky. “Rainbow tells me we’re due a storm but I don’t see it, somehow. A sky like this feels like it could last forever.”

“Just you wait, big guy, I’ve got two teams bringing a front over from Cloudsdale right now.”

“Seems like a shame,” Lero continued, his eyes lidded against the bright sky. Lyra felt an uncanny urge to follow his gaze. She forced herself to look at his face instead, trying to read his mood. He wasn’t upset, but he wasn’t exactly happy either. Probably understandable though; he was surrounded by strangeness.

It took a moment before Lyra realised how easily she’d grasped that.

“I think I prefer the sun to the rain right now.” Lero gently tweaked Rainbow’s ear with his hand as he spoke.

“Enjoy it while you can,” the pegasus chided. She flapped up to Lero’s eye level and poked him in the chest. “Two hours, tops, otherwise I’d be so on for that rematch. Anyway, I gotta go coordinate with Cloudkicker and Blossomforth or everypony’ll think I’m not doing my job. Catch you later!”

Lero rolled his head to watch as Rainbow Dash rocketed into the sky, eyes still half-closed and lazy grin on his face. Yet he seemed uncomfortable, his body tensing just a little as his pegasus friend disappeared toward the horizon. The realisation was enough of a shock that Lyra didn’t even notice when he’d turned away from her.

“H-hey, wait a sec!” Lyra trotted the short distance to Lero, rolling her ears as far forward as she could to hide an unaccustomed attack of nerves.

“Yes?”

“I never really got a chance to properly introduce myself,” she said, remembering just a moment too late how intimidating the human was up close, despite her abilities. Lyra resisted the urge to back away and put on her best smile. “You seem a little- woah.”

Lero had crouched down, folding his body in a single fluid motion that brought his flattened face level with hers, his forearms resting on his knees as he balanced impossibly on the tips of his feet. Now she backed off, giving herself space to see him properly.

“You seem a little tense,” the unicorn repeated, feeling ridiculously lame. Something about the human’s posture shifted just a little, tension and calm radiating from him in equal measure. The silence stretched, Lero regarding her with an odd, neutral expression.

Lyra opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. Instead she sat down and smiled at the human, tilting her head just a fraction to match his posture. The action seemed to confuse him; he stretched his back just a little, looked around as if expecting somepony to say or do something, and then leaned further back on his haunches, head tilting this way and that as he examined Lyra. She tried to adopt the same neutral expression, but somehow she couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

With great care, Lero unfolded his legs and lowered his body to the grass, sitting opposite Lyra with those long legs crossed in front of him and his hands resting on his knees.

“You sure can bend...”

What a stupid thing to say. Why did you say that, Lyra? The unicorn’s ears spun as she looked for something to add to the topic, but no idea was forthcoming. Yet the human had either not noticed, or hadn’t minded the observation.

“Anyway, what I mean is, I’ve seen you around town for weeks but I’ve never had a chance to talk to you.”

“I think we spoke briefly a little while back.”

“That’s right. About the weather.”

Lero grinned and rubbed the back of his head as he saw the irony of their situation. “I didn’t quite get it back then,” he said, glancing up at the azure vastness. “I figured the whole ‘we control the weather’ thing was a bit of hyperbole until I saw Rainbow’s team setting up an overcast morning.”

“I get the feeling a lot of what we do is strange to your eyes.”

“You could say so,” Lero replied as he resumed squinting at the sky. He seemed to be looking for something. “Where I come from, weather just happens.”

“No control, no influence?”

“No nothing. Oh they say we might be having some sort of effect on it from pollution and the like, or maybe because we affect our ecosystems so much in some areas, but that’s hardly the same as pushing clouds around by hand. Er, hoof?”

“Hoof,” Lyra agreed, raising a foreleg. She waggled her hoof up and down a couple of times and then lowered it to the ground again. Lero watched the motion, frowning. Was he angry? No, he didn’t seem angry, just interested. Maybe. This puzzling out of his mind was kinda fun. She felt another smile and didn’t bother trying to suppress it. “Would you like a cupcake?”

“Uh, sure, I guess. Never say no to Pinkie Pie’s baking, that’s what Rainbow keeps telling me.”

“Good advice,” Lyra replied. She levitated a slender box from her saddlebags and followed up by retrieving a brace of cupcakes from the still-hovering package. One floated toward Lero, the other stayed nearby.

Lero reached out and gingerly plucked the sugary treat from Lyra’s magic, but hesitantly, his fingers pausing for a moment in the tenuous glow of her magic. Her aura flowed around them like water curling around a stone until he tugged the cake free.

He held the confection up to his face to examine it for a moment, then set it down on the grass at his side.

“I can see why everypony’s so fascinated by those things now,” Lyra said between bites of her own cupcake. Lero tilted his head again. If his ears could have moved, she knew they would have been flicking with barely hidden amusement. Lyra felt her lips part in a cheery grin.

“I could say the same about...” He waved his fingers in the air, wiggling them around where his cake had floated. “It’s like something from a fantasy story. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“There’s no magic where you come from?”

“None at all. We have to rely on good old-fashioned human ingenuity, a healthy dose of technology, and these babies,” he said, holding up his hand again and spreading his fingers wide.

Lyra watched as Lero picked up the cake once again, holding it close to his snub little nose and taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes, a contented sigh passing his lips.

“And the cakes aren’t nearly as good,” he added, before taking a bite. Lyra couldn’t help but chuckle at that; this human seemed so eager to find the good in everything. She finished the last crumbs of her own cake and tucked the wrapper away in her saddlebag.

Status quo ante. Lyra contemplated the human again, munching contentedly on his treat as he watched Ponyville pass by around them. Every so often his eyes would dart back to the horizon Rainbow Dash had disappeared across and his chewing would slow just a fraction.

“Silver bit for your thoughts?”

He shrugged. That one was obvious, there was no mistaking the movement of his shoulders. No other reply though. Lyra turned to follow his gaze; a slender bank of cloud was just visible on the horizon, moving toward them at a steady rate of knots, carrying the promised afternoon rainstorm. Already a few of the clouds flickered with nascent lightning as the weather team charged up the storm’s finale.

“It’ll be one for the storm watchers,” she said, nodding toward the approaching weather. “I always enjoy a good light show.”

“Yeah, but half the fun was having one creep up on you. Don’t get me wrong...” Lero leaned back, planting his arms on the ground behind his body as he looked away from the clouds and turned to the bright blue sky directly above. “Knowing when the weather’s going to turn sour is nice, but I miss the days when the sky just up and surprises you. Warm days in the middle of winter, or a sudden break in the middle of a rainy week that gives you the chance to go out and really appreciate the sun for a little while. Or a shower out of nowhere on a hot day. This way feels so... I don’t know.” He laughed and put a hand over his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

“Because Rainbow Dash works on the weather team, and Twilight would spend an hour explaining exactly why everything is as it is, whereas I’m just a strange unicorn who gave you a cupcake and a friendly ear,” Lyra replied. She winked when he peered sideways at her from behind his hand, and stuck her tongue between her teeth. Lero huffed what might have been a laugh and shook his head.

There wasn’t much to add to that. Lyra stared up at the sky, but soon found her gaze drawn back to the surrounding town and its inhabitants, meandering through their lives and, not surprisingly, giving her and Lero a wide berth as they did so. They had started to accept him in their way, but she could still see the occasional pony stop at the sight of him and quickly change path, lest they come too close to the scary carnivore.

“What’s it like?” She risked nudging his knee. The human had been obviously touch-shy when she’d first seen him around, but maybe he was getting over that. “Having a storm creep up on you, I mean? Bearing in mind I’m not even sure how a storm could creep.”

Lero pressed his hands together and tapped the combined digits against his lips as he thought. “Fun,” he finally said.

“Fun?”

Lero nodded, his fingers still pressed together before his face. He grinned across them at Lyra and tilted his eyes to the incoming cloudbank.

“Fun,” he repeated. “Because you don’t know when to expect it, so it’s always a surprise. Even when they forecast the weather you don’t know exactly what you’re going to get. The fun is in finding out whether it’ll be a washout or whether the storm will pass you by. Or whether it’ll give you a lightshow,” he added with another, broader smile. “Nobody controls it, which means nobody can really predict it.”

“Sounds a little chaotic to me.”

“A little. It’s just how the weather works. How everything works.” Lero put his hands behind his neck again and looked around the town, just a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Tiny changes add up over time to make the difference between clear skies and a thunderstorm. Everything is-”

“Balanced,” Lyra cut in. Lero shot a surprised look at her, but then his face took on a more thoughtful cast. He nodded.

“That’s right.”

“Each part moving its own path, yet all appearing as a unified whole.”

“Now you’re getting a little too philosophical for me,” Lero replied. When he smiled, Lyra saw a hint of those teeth shining between his lips, but she felt no fear. In fact they made his smile all the warmer, as if he wasn’t trying to hide his nature from her. Shoulders relaxed, one leg stretching out now, Lero leaned back to stifle a huge yawn.

“I’m not boring you am I?”

“Oh no, no of course not!” The human rubbed his eyes with both hands and then shook his head. “I’m just worn out. Spent most of the morning chasing Rainbow around the park over there. She’s trying to teach me another one of your sports.”

“Speaking of Rainbow Dash...” Lyra nodded toward a spectral blur streaking toward them ahead of the clouds. She stood, taking a moment to settle her saddlebags, and smiled at Lero. “I think I’ll leave you to your fate. Thanks for the talk, I really enjoyed it.”

“Likewise. Apart from Rainbow and her friends, you’re the first pony who’s really taken the time for it. I appreciate that.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Lyra replied. She glanced at his hands, then up at his face again and winked, just as Rainbow landed beside them. “See you around, Fingers.”

A concert. Her first in nearly two years. Lyra could almost feel her heart singing at the thought of a chance to exercise her art in public after so long. She’d improvised on street corners a few times, supplementing her guard stipend with a few extra bits, but there was something about performing in a packed concert hall - or even just a little stage in Rarity’s boutique - that appealed to a part of her psyche to which she so rarely had the change to cater these days.

But alone, always alone. She’d never been able to perform anything other than solo. It wasn’t that she thought herself better than other performers. She knew more than enough who were her superiors, as much as she was talented; she just couldn’t gel with them. Lyra’s habit of following the music where it would lead meant she often changed mode and metre in places other ponies found odd, and it was a rare musician who could keep up with her for long. She’d met three so far. All of them played in the Canterlot National Orchestra and all were masters of their craft.

Lyra wasn’t even being paid for this, not that she needed the money anyway. Just the chance to play was more than enough. Rarity had mentioned she was hosting a few Canterlot clients, Lyra had suggested a little background music to put them at their ease and things had sort of snowballed from there. And now here she was, seated behind her pride and joy, facing several ranks of seats Rarity had acquired from somewhere, moving through a quietly improvised melody to fill the air while she waited.

A little crowd was gathered on the far side of the Boutique’s enormous main display room, oohing and ahing over Rarity’s latest fashion line whilst the fashionista herself hovered around their edge, drawing out a pony here or there in a constant game of matchmaker as she sought the most beneficial - and presumably profitable - combinations of clients for whatever plans she had in mind. Lyra wasn’t particularly concerned about that; all she wanted to do was play.

And perhaps play for someone in particular. She glanced toward the door of the Boutique once again and smiled, knowing he’d be out there somewhere, walking toward them even as she thought.

Lyra hadn’t begged. She’d barely even had to suggest that Rarity invite the human to her soirée; the fashionista had almost exploded in giddy excitement at the thought of introducing her notorious client to the world of Canterlot high society, even in such a truncated and informal setting. Especially in such an informal setting, she’d declared, adding that the intimacy of the event would make the introductions so much easier.

The melody Lyra was playing dwindled as it reached a natural break; she let it flow away into the cool broad expanse between herself and the others as the sound of quiet conversation drifted by, hushed voices opining on the state of the nation and the fashions of the moment as the herd moved through its never-ending dance. Lyra watched them awhile, content to leave the silence and merely be, until Rarity approached. Her host’s bright laughter and casual movement belied the tension in her face.

“He’ll be here, won’t he, darling?” Rarity spoke quietly as she drew beside Lyra, a smile on her face the entire time, as if they were discussing the décor or the price of harp strings.

“I’ve never known him to be late if he could help it.”

“Assuming he wants to be here,” Rarity replied. Her voice was taut; how important was this evening? More important than she’d let on, apparently. “I would be unsurprised if, in the end, he chose to stay away, though that would be unfortunate. I didn’t overtly claim to my guests that he’d be here, but they’re all showing a keen interest in meeting-”

There was a knock at the door. Rarity’s head whipped around, a feral gleam in her eyes and her teeth bared in a grin that would have given a timberwolf second thoughts. She moved to the door as fast as her graceful pretence would allow and oh so casually cracked it open.

“Darling!”

The door was flung wide, admitting the odd shape of the human and his ever-present companion. Lyra couldn’t help but pluck out a little welcoming flourish as they entered, Rainbow Dash holding her head as high as Rarity at her most regal, Lero apparently trying to make himself look as small as possible.

“So good of you to come!” Rarity pressed her cheek against Rainbow’s and even deigned to do the same against Lero’s hand, the closest she could get to any sort of formal greeting without pulling him down on all fours. She wheeled on the pair, grinning broadly as she lead her new charges toward the others. “Everypony, it would appear we have another celebrity in our midst!”

Another celebrity? Lyra peered at the group but didn’t see anyone worthy of the title. She worked another little flourish into the improvisation she’d maintained since Lero arrived and let the music lead her into a minor mode. It seemed to fit the mood for, despite Rarity’s obvious cheer, the little group of Canterlot ponies had huddled together, all eyes fixed on the rather large predator that now stood between them and the only exit.

Or perhaps they were cowed by the subtly hostile glare Rainbow Dash was passing out to everypony she set eyes on. She seemed awfully protective all of a sudden.

Lyra let her music draw to a close again so she could dismount. She patted her harp on its broad sound box and made her way over to the crowd, Rarity’s trilling laugh rolling past as the fashion queen continued her introductions. And yes, there was Rainbow casually inserting herself between Lero and the other ponies, one wing lifting ever so slightly to touch his leg.

Interesting.

“Hey there, Fingers,” she whispered as she moved behind the pair. Lero twitched at her voice and turned just a little to flash her a nervous smile; Rainbow, feeling the motion, shot Lyra a curious look out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh darling, how terribly uncouth of me,” Rarity cooed when she noticed Lyra making her way around the edge of the crowd. She pulled the musician into a close hug and dragged her to the centre of the group, who seemed rather too relieved to have something other than Lero and Rainbow to focus on. “You’ve been working away in the corner all evening without any sort of acknowledgement, I really must introduce you properly!”

“I was quite enjoying the solitude, to be honest,” Lyra replied, deciding this crowd might just buy the aloof genius act. The knowing glint in Rarity’s eye was accompanied by that peculiar little twitch her ears gave when she knew she was winning a contract.

“Well I hate to drag you away from your art, dear, but we do have guests. Fillies, gentlecolts, this is Lyra Heartstrings, Ponyville’s premier harpiste and one of our finest civic treasures.”

“And a friend of mister Michaelides,” Lyra put in, just to see the reaction. To their credit, Rarity’s guests took the odd revelation in their stride, evidently used to a little eccentricity in their artists.

Lyra shot Lero and Rainbow another wink over her shoulder and pressed forward to the conversation. Meaningless fluff, the necessary part of helping out a friend and exercising her art, though she did find a good few minutes of conversation with another practitioner of the Still Way. Through it all, Lyra kept one ear on Lero. It hadn’t been a conscious decision but she didn’t fight it; even here and now, she still had a job to do.

She extracted a promise from her new acquaintance of a get-together later in the week, which tied in nicely with a trip to Canterlot and a meeting with her superiors that Lyra had been putting off for far too long. She had her expense reports filed but there was the matter of her commander’s signature, and-

“Well now, darling, are we ready for the main event?”

“Main- oh. Oh! I think I forgot...”

With her image now firmly established in the polite laughter of the crowd, Lyra backed away from the conversation and followed Rarity back to the little podium that held her clàrsach. The instrument seemed to thrum with energy as she approached, almost eager for her magic to touch it once again, though she knew it was just her imagination. Lyra seated herself behind the harp and rested her ear against its shoulder, before gently plucking the centre string with her hoof, just enough that the body of the harp resonated against her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the nearly silent tone move through her body. When she opened them again the seats were filled, every pony looking expectantly at her. A broad smile creased Lyra’s face as she looked over the crowd until her eyes settled on Lero, seated at the back with Rainbow Dash cuddled up next to him.

As so often happened, she found she was playing before she had even consciously chosen to do so. The melody poured out beneath her hooves and her magic, flowing freely, with only the lightest of guidance.

“I shall follow you everywhere,” she whispered into the song, each word becoming part of the whole. “Everywhere, to see where you shall go.”

As those first bars echoed forth she watched the reaction of her audience, noting those whose faces softened or whose ears relaxed. And then Lero. She saw that little crinkle at the corner of his eyes that felt so achingly familiar, the slight twitch of his lips and the odd tilt of his head that said he was, for the moment, content. Lyra closed her eyes again and leaned against the harp once again, mirroring his contentment with her own.

“You have no idea how much we appreciate this, Lero.”

“It’s, ah, not a problem.” Lero’s voice echoed strangely beneath Lyra and Bon Bon’s kitchen floor, the narrow space giving it a hollow quality as it emerged from the hole he’d cut in front of their sink. Bon Bon circled the hole again, peering down into the dim space.

“Do you need anything? A drink maybe? Another lamp?”

“Just a little- time,” Lero grunted. The pipework creaked and groaned under the ministrations of his powerful arms, followed by the clink of tools being set on the ground. He poked his head out of the floor. “That should do it!”

The sudden appearance startled Bon Bon and she bounced back with a quiet squeak.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“N-no, my- my fault, I should watch where I’m putting myself.”

She laughed nervously and forced herself to sit down while Lero dragged his tools back into the kitchen.

“That should be everything down there,” he said once he’d pulled himself from the hole. “Whoever did that plumbing-”

“That would be my mother.”

“Then she was very good at her job,” Lero replied just a little too quickly. He grinned nervously. “Age, that’s what it was. The joints had all corroded.”

“Oh there’s no need for that, I know mom was a terrible plumber. Her special talent was confectionary, like mine.” Bon Bon wiggled her flank just a tiny bit and grinned. “To be honest I’m surprised she ever got it working at all.”

Lero frowned as he replaced the floorboards. He picked up a hammer and then gave Bon Bon a quizzical look. “Forgive me for asking, but if her ‘talent’ was making sweets, why did she feel the need to do your plumbing?”

“She was a very self-sufficient mare,” Bon Bon replied, paying careful attention to the way Lero held each nail before hammering it in place. She’d never handled a hammer in her life - toffee hammers didn’t count - but even she could see he was much better at the task than most ponies. The idea that he would risk those delicate-looking fingers under a big lump of metal...

“It just surprises me,” Lero continued, talking and working at the same time. “I’d picked up the idea that those cutie marks of yours were pretty absolute. One talent and nothing else?”

“Well, like I said, she was self-sufficient. Mom always said walk a mile in another mare’s harness if you want to understand the world. She never really liked the idea that confection was all she’d ever do, even if she was so good at it. What if the market drops out, she kept telling me. You’ve got to learn other ways to feed yourself...” Bon Bon pawed gently at the floor, trying to decipher Lero’s reaction to what she’d said. It was like trying to read a brick wall. “As if everypony would suddenly stop eating sweets. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“Sure, why not?” Lero hammered the last nail home and sat back on his haunches just as the front door slammed. “Just in time too,” he muttered.

“Bonnie? You home?”

“In the kitchen!”

“Did Lero make it?” The kitchen door popped open and Lyra poked her head through. “Oh, hey Fingers! Did you find your way around the rat’s nest Bonnie’s mom made of our plumbing?”

“Don’t worry, I figured it out,” Lero said as he gathered up his tools into a canvas bag. Not for the first time, Bon Bon found herself watching his hands with a little jealousy; she quickly turned away and reared up at the sink to fill a kettle.

The scrape of chairs meant Lero had taken a seat at the kitchen table. Bon Bon had to suppress a little giggle at the thought of the gangly human folding himself up on their furniture. She set the kettle on the stove and turned to lay out her tea-making set, a gift from all of her herdmothers on her eighteenth birthday.

“So...” Lero cleared his throat a few times. “So, your mother was a confectioner?”

“That’s right.”

“And a reasonable plumber,” Lero said. Lyra choked and Bon Bon could almost see the way she’d be biting her lip to hold the laughter in. “What I don’t understand is how she- well I’ve seen you guys at work all the time, but I can’t quite work out how an earth pony could, say... solder pipework, or construct tools. Or make tea.”

“We get by,” Bon Bon replied as she carefully poured a measure of leaves into an infuser. She paused a moment to snuff at the tea and tutted quietly. “Smoky’s putting too much bergamot in again. I know what you’re trying to ask, by the way,” Bon Bon added as she continued to prepare the drink. Hot water into the pot, add the infuser, swirl three times...

“You do?”

“Yep. Why not just get a unicorn to do it?” She smiled over her shoulder at the human but couldn’t quite understand his reaction.

Lyra was giving Lero a sideways glance. Even from the first day, the unicorn had some sort of feel for the subtle way Lero showed his emotions. She didn’t look uncomfortable, which was a good sign that Lero wasn’t uncomfortable as well.

“The thought had crossed my mind. I know you’re very dextrous with your hooves and mouths, but unicorns seem to have a fairly big advantage when it comes to manipulating tools. I guess what I’m trying to ask is, if she wasn’t a plumber, why not take advantage of that?”

Bon Bon didn’t reply, unsure of how to proceed. She busied herself with the tea instead, using the excuse of her mouth being full to avoid having to answer, until the teapot was gently plucked from her mouth by Lyra’s magic.

“Lyra-”

“Bonnie, answer the nice man.”

“But-” She wilted under Lyra’s firm stare. “Fine... mom was a bit of a traditionalist.”

“Traditionalist?”

“She means tribalist.” Lyra placed the teapot in the centre of the table and gave Bon Bon an encouraging smile. “Not really in a bad way, no rude names or demands to throw us out of town or anything stupid like that, but she had very firm opinions about most unicorns.”

“She didn’t want to rely on unicorns because it made her feel weak.” Bon Bon circled the table and leaned her head against Lyra’s neck. “I never really understood why given we’re nearly always physically stronger than they are, but I guess she saw the way unicorns could use magic to do things that we find difficult or impossible... She loved Lyra to bits even so.”

“Oh. I didn’t realise you two were a couple.”

“We’re not,” both ponies shot back. They looked at one another and burst out laughing. Lero’s quiet chuckle joined them a moment later.

“It’s easy to make the mistake. We spend a lot of time together and I guess we are pretty tactile.” Bon Bon shifted her position against Lyra slightly and smiled. “I was always bringing her home when we were in college. We’re kinda like sisters.”

“Really friendly sisters,” Lyra added as she poured the tea, her magic deftly manipulating pot, spoons, lemon and a half dozen other items without any apparent effort, leaving Lero so obviously impressed that even Bon Bon could recognise it.

He picked up a teaspoon and held it between finger and thumb so that it dangled over his cup. “That never gets old.”

“Wait until you see Twilight flinging buildings around.” Lyra took a sip of her tea and smiled, whilst Lero’s eyebrows tried to climb to the back of his head.

“Buildings?”

“Oh sure! I’ve seen her do some remarkable stuff in the few years she’s been here. Bonnie, remember that thing with the Ursa?”

“I was trying to forget,” Bon Bon groused. The memory of the creature almost trampling her store - and wrecking her market cart in the process - was still fresh enough in her mind to give her shivers late at night. She made her way back to her seat, half way between the human and the unicorn, and tried to concentrate on her tea.

“I heard about that. Rainbow Dash told me the story a while back, something about a giant bear?”

Bon Bon nodded, any chance of forgetting the incident now thoroughly lost. “A giant magical bear on a giant magical rampage through Ponyville.”

“And I suppose Twilight Sparkle saved the day.” Lero spoke without any obvious expression. Lyra’s ears twitched and she stuck her tongue out at the human, as if he’d been making a joke.

“Her solution involved a water tower, a couple dozen cows and a lot of magic. A lot of magic,” Lyra repeated, tapping her hoof on the table for emphasis. “And she was the only one capable of doing it. We’d have been in real trouble if she hadn’t been there.”

“Sounds kinda scary.” Lero’s voice was subdued, as if he’d just realised something important. He looked at Bon Bon, frowning, one hand rubbing his face in a way that seemed to mean something, but she couldn’t work out what. He turned and fiddled with his tea cup for a while, fingers curling and uncurling around the thin china.

“Scary doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“How would you deal with something like that if there was no magical prodigy around?”

“Pointy sticks,” Bon Bon said. She laughed, knowing how brittle her voice sounded, and tried not to think about the inevitable outcome of that particular tactic. “Or we’d call for the guard and hope they got here in time, though Ursae are so rare that they almost never even venture near pony settlements. They’ve not really been a threat since before unification.”

“And before that?” Was he always so prying? No wonder Rarity liked him, he probably brought her loads of gossip. No, no Bon Bon, that isn’t fair...

“Before that...” Lyra shot Bon Bon a sympathetic smile. “Lets say that it took a long time for unicorns to earn the trust of earth ponies. We- they had a tendency to neglect their duty to protect ponies who were essentially their vassals.”

“You mean slaves,” Lero said, giving Bon Bon a narrow-eyed glance. He ran his finger around the rim of his tea cup.

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose. Ponies are no better or worse than any other species when it comes to exploiting others and rejecting anything not like us. We’re a herd species, it’s the sort of behaviour that kept us alive for millennia.”

“Pony evolution one oh one,” Lero replied, grinning. “I’ve had the lecture from Twilight.”

Lyra stuck her tongue at at him again, still grinning. “I doubt she would have had time to explain the more recent parts of our history. The wars and the divisions. All those empires and petty kingdoms that spent so much time fighting against one another.”

“And meanwhile,” Bon Bon put in, “Earth ponies were usually caught in the middle and had to fend for themselves.”

“I can see why that would generate a lot of mistrust,” Lero said. His voice was quiet; he seemed to be staring into some other place, lost in thought.

Bon Bon shifted uncomfortably on her seat and glanced at Lyra, who seemed to be quite content to have an audience. Guess Twilight’s not the only one who enjoys lecturing.

Without warning Lero stretched his arms out and placed his tea on the table. He gave Bon Bon another glance and smiled. “I’m sorry, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome. I should get going.”

“It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t impose. Besides,” Lero added with a quiet chuckle. “Interesting as the conversation is, I promised Rainbow I’d teach her how to play some more human sports this afternoon.”

He made to stand when Lyra jumped from her seat. “Wait right there,” she said, before cantering from the room and leaving Lero and Bon Bon in an awkward silence. Lero frowned and fiddled with his cup.

“I feel like I’ve upset you,” he said, his voice quiet. Bon Bon felt a strange buzz of compassion in his voice, emotions that she hadn’t noticed before. She blinked.

“You haven’t. Mom’s kind of a sore spot, but I don’t mind that much. I should have reacted better.”

“Well. I’m sorry anyway. Poking fun at your mother’s hard work and then bombarding you with personal questions isn’t normally how I try and keep customers.”

Lero stood to gather up his tools once more and then paused, ducking awkwardly to avoid the ceiling even though there was no danger of hitting his head. He frowned at the kitchen door, and presumably at the unicorn somewhere beyond.

“Is she always like this?”

“It depends on her mood. Lyra’s always been a little unusual. She doesn’t really think like other ponies.” Bon Bon gathered up some of the tea things as she spoke, efficiently shuffling cups back and forth with her hooves, earning herself an appreciative noise from Lero. She smiled just a little. “If I didn’t know better I’d say she was born in the wrong time and place...” her voice trailed away as she looked at Lero with newfound curiosity. Stranger things had happened.

“Well, whatever she’s doing-”

The door popped open, admitting a triumphant Lyra with a grin on her face and a large, leather-bound book floating by her head. She dropped the book on the table and pushed it toward Lero. “Here. I want it back when you’re done.”

“What is it?”

“A book,” the unicorn deadpanned. Lero groaned and put a hand over his face. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up. It’s a history book. It covers some of the era we were talking about, especially the wars between the more prominent unicorn and pegasus states, but it also has a lot to say about the impact they had on everypony else.”

“That sounds interesting...” Lero picked up the book and turned it over to examine the cover. “The Gemwing Wars?”

“I’ve got a few more if you like. I’ve always had an interest in the topic, but the local library is more focussed on earth ponies and post-unification history, so I’ve tended to buy my own.”

“I appreciate it.” Lero hefted the book in one hand and then carefully placed it in his tool bag. He pulled the bag over his shoulder and gave both ponies one last grin. “Thanks again for the tea and the conversation. It’s nice to have another friendly ear to talk to.”

“It’s not a problem,” Lyra said, pressing her cheek against his wrist; a moment later her eyes snapped open as Lero gently pressed a knuckle just below her ear. Then, as if nothing had happened, Lero was pushing his way out of the kitchen, one hand retrieving Lyra’s book from his bag, the other casually swinging the door on its hinges as he hummed an unfamiliar tune.

As soon as the front door closed, Bon Bon turned to Lyra and tilted her head. “Did he...”

Lyra nodded. She looked over her shoulder at the door and snorted. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Should we tell him?”

“Um...” Lyra bit her lip. Was she blushing? “Maybe.”

“I’ll go and-”

“No! No...” Lyra’s lop-sided smile was back again. “I’ll go, later. Best to hear it from the mare’s mouth, don’t you think? Besides, you’d just get all embarrassed and not be able to tell him that he’s been as good as making out in public with every mare he touched like that.”

“Where do you think he got the idea from, anyway?”

Lyra’s eyes widened slightly. She grinned just a little wider, too. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

“All is ephemera. All fades away. Take the brush, write upon the stone. Ink shall fade, stone shall crumble. Each returns to the source.”

Lyra circled, eyes closed, her body moving through forms almost automatically as she followed her weekly meditation. She could feel the first twinkling of the sun on her back, striking between two trees that stood near the edge of the shallow depression she moved around, warming her legs and neck and flank. She smiled, just a little, as the heat penetrated her coat, and then moved once again.

“Climb the hill, circle the hill, every path returns to the foot. Return to the centre, pass through and return again.”

Another had used this place before her. A faint rut had formed under that mare’s hooves, a gentle, curving path that swept down and around the depression, speaking of years of dedicated motion through the forms. Though it demonstrated the previous user of the place had been meticulously correct in their devotions, Lyra’s hooves never followed the path, preferring their own steps, a series of motions that always ended with her facing away from the sun as it rose.

“River flows to the sea and all is one. Light burns stone to dust and all is one. Each returns to the centre of all. Today I forge a new path so that I might once again return.”

She opened her eyes and stared at her shadow, that stretched across the grass. The depression was behind her, a shallow pit of bare earth in the middle of copse. A brook flowed nearby, tinkling and chattering across a fall of smooth, grey stones as it curled around one half of her safe harbour and into a deep pool. Around her the grassy slopes of the Saddles rose in every direction, extending the impression of sitting at the bottom of a huge bowl; over the rim Lyra could just make out the border of the Everfree Forest in the distance, hidden behind its ever-present veil of mist. She glanced over her shoulder at the copse one last time and stepped out into the clear air of the day, satisfied, yet unfulfilled.

The journey back to town was relatively short, but today Lyra didn’t particularly feel the need to rush back to her responsibilities, preferring to meander with the flow of the land and see where it took her. Despite the proximity of the Everfree the air was quiet, with just the occasional buzz of insects and the sound of grass shivering in a light breeze to break the silence. Time seemed to almost cease its flow; the sky was cloudless, the valley she walked rising up in every direction. Grass-seed drifted in the air in a tiny, swirling flurry that seemed to halt in place before her eyes until the wind carried it away.

Lyra watched the little cloud of seed loft into the air as it disappeared into the vast blue sky, until she heard the flutter of wings behind her and felt the gentle thump of a pegasus landing in the grass.

Some pegasi thrust their bodies at the earth when they landed, as if to be sure they’d stay down long enough to conduct their business. Others approached it with disdain, barely allowing their hooves to touch the soil, holding their bodies as lightly as possible and always eager to be away into the sky again. Lyra had only met one that returned to earth as if to the grasp of a long-lost lover.

“Hello, Fluttershy.”

The pegasus squeaked in shock, her cautious steps through the grass interrupted for a moment. “How do you always know it’s me?”

“Magic,” Lyra replied, finally turning to face her new companion with as much humour as she could muster. Fluttershy’s ears flicked once, twice as she tried to work out whether Lyra was teasing or telling the truth, until her eyes came to settle on the unicorn’s face.

“Lyra, what’s wrong? You look, um, sad.”

“I’m a little down, yeah.”

“Is that why you’re out here? I like to come here to think, sometimes.” Fluttershy looked up at the sky and then turned her eyes toward the Everfree Forest. “It seems all the more peaceful, somehow.”

Lyra didn’t respond, preferring to let the warming sun stroke her body and the cooling breeze stir her coat. They stood like that for some time, not speaking, simply being. Lyra let her thoughts flow and Fluttershy did whatever a Fluttershy might do, until she broke the silence.

“Is it about Lero?”

Lyra’s eyes snapped open. The other mare was watching her intently, almost fiercely, at least as far as could be said for Fluttershy. The combination of adorable shyness and worrying intensity gave Lyra little room to avoid the question. She nodded, barely, and closed her eyes again.

“You mean you-”

“Probably before Rainbow Dash,” Lyra said. “But I don’t think he noticed. I was waiting to see how things shook out.”

“Oh. Oh m-my, that’s-”

“Life,” Lyra said with as much conviction as she could muster. “It’s simply how things are. I’m not going to fight fate.” She opened her eyes and turned to Fluttershy with her most cheery smile. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

“O-oh, well I, um, was looking for something.” Fluttershy had a cute way of glancing around when she was nervous, but the way she pointedly avoided looking at the Everfree Forest was a big hint.

“You wouldn’t be the first... is it something to do with Lero, too?” Fluttershy’s nod prompted a snort from Lyra. “He’s a popular topic these days.”

“I thought, if I had another look now, I could find out where he came from.”

“He looked like he’d crawled through a bramble hedge from what I remember,” Lyra said, thoughtful, her eyes pulling toward the forest without any prompting. She stroked her chin. “Scratches all over. Kinda nasty, especially for him.”

Fluttershy’s wings fluttered and her hooves started to dance, all of which added up to one very nervous pegasus. It was probably only her fear of heights that kept her on the ground. “There aren’t any brambles or thorny bushes anywhere near that part of the forest. And there was no path through to where we found him.”

“Like he walked out of a dream...”

Fluttershy’s ears dropped back against her head and she frowned. “More like a nightmare.”

“I guess you're right about that,” Lyra responded. She took another look toward the forest and shook her head. “I doubt you’ll find anything, Fluttershy. Whatever path brought him here is closed now.”

“I just can’t help feeling he might be lonely.”

“He was. He misses his family, anypony can see- well maybe not anypony... I know he does, though. He used to be out here looking for a way home every day until Rainbow-” Lyra’s voice caught in her throat. Why was this so hard to talk about now? She pressed on, ignoring the tight lump in her chest. “He’s loved, he’s learning to accept this place as his home. What would finding a way back do for him now?”

Fluttershy’s eyes moved back and forth as she stared at the forest, until she seemed to reach a decision. She lowered her head. “You’re right. I’ve seen how happy they are together. I-I just wanted to help in some little way.”

“We can help him by being his friends. He’ll need those more than ever, now everypony knows about his relationship with Twilight and Rainbow.” Lyra put a hoof on Fluttershy’s shoulder and gave her an encouraging pat. After the briefest of moments the pegasus flung both her forelegs around Lyra’s neck and pulled her into a hug. “What-”

“For helping me,” Fluttershy whispered. She rubbed her cheek against Lyra’s neck and just as quickly pulled away, wings flaring as she prepared for flight. “I have to go!”

Lyra watched the pegasus scoot away across the meadow, barely rising above the tall grass as she dodged around a single, lonesome tree in her haste to depart. The pegasus moved with such grace and artistry, it was a wonder Lyra had never noticed before. She touched her neck gently at the spot Fluttershy had pressed herself against, and smiled.

In another life, perhaps... but not this one. Here, her life was circling only one way, drawn to a place she hadn’t even known existed until recently, if only that place would allow her in.

Lyra glanced up at the sky, judging she still had enough time before her day officially started. She pressed her hooves into the soil and closed her eyes, adopting the opening stance of the Way. Head raised to the sun, foreleg tipped to the very edge of her hoof, she took a breath and began the journey back to her centre.

“All is ephemera. All fades away. Take the brush, write upon the stone...”

The door closed, blocking Rainbow’s confused protest outside, and Lyra fell against it with a heartfelt sigh that seemed to resonate with the entire room.

“I hate being right.”

Bon Bon looked up from her ever-present newspaper, a sad smile on her otherwise carefree features. “That bad?”

“Worse. All three of them and a friend of theirs. Glitter Dust, I think.”

“Oh, really? That’s a shame, she was a good customer.” Bon Bon carefully folded her newspaper away and laid it to one side. “And I suppose I’ll have to find a new supplier now, too.”

“No, the last thing I want to see is ponies siding against one another over this,” Lyra said, watching her friend as she sauntered across the room. Bon Bon rolled her eyes and nuzzled Lyra’s neck as she passed by.

“You’re such a dramatist, you know that?”

“Artist’s temperament,” Lyra shot back. She pulled a pouch from around her neck and tossed it onto the couch, then followed with herself a moment later. Bon Bon watched with a distracted half-smile.

“It doesn’t change anything though.”

“Bon Bon-”

“Lyra, you have your badge, I have my ‘do not serve’ board. And I’m not going to buy from a pony that treats other ponies that way, either.” She glanced across the room at the newspaper and sighed. “Even if she is having a three for two special on bulk purchases...”

“You barely even know them.”

“I could say the same. Drink?” Bon Bon disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lyra to her thoughts for a few moments. The harpist-cum-guard pondered for a while and then thumped her hoof on the couch.

“Cider,” she called. The clink of bottles announced Bon Bon’s return a moment later, a six-pack dangling from her mouth. Not for the first time Lyra wondered just how non-unicorns managed to do so much without the use of magic. It seemed so awkward, somehow, clutching at things with their hooves and mouths, with none of the delicate touch magic could provide.

The thought was interrupted by Bon Bon popping a cap from one of the bottles with her teeth. She deftly passed the drink over to Lyra and turned to work on her own, biting the cap off with the minimum of fuss. Any burgeoning pity Lyra felt for the plight of the earth pony race was chewed off with it.

“So,” her friend said, once she was safely relaxed on the couch. “I take it they tried to do something dumb?”

“They were about to jump Rainbow Dash. Four against one.”

“Hardly seems fair.”

“I know. Rainbow looked just about ready to start gnawing on the scenery when I turned up, I was kind of surprised she hadn’t already laid into them. She’s learned a lot of self-discipline from somewhere recently.” A grin split Lyra’s face as she took a taste of her drink. The bittersweet cider pinched at her tongue and seemed to sizzle at the back of her throat, catching her by surprise for a moment. Bon Bon must have dug out the good stuff. “If she can rein in that temper of hers just a little more she could be a pretty good guardsmare.”

“Oh dear, you seem quite enamoured with the filly. Should I be jealous?”

“Of Rainbow Dash? Bon Bon, you know me better than that!”

“Perhaps not Rainbow in particular, but something about her. Maybe something related to her...” Bon Bon tipped back her drink and deliberately ignored the tongue Lyra stuck out at her. She sighed and smacked her lips. “Your silence seems telling.”

“Silence is where we speak loudest.”

“So you tell me. Often,” Bon Bon replied. “And with gusto.” She hopped from the couch to retrieve another drink. “Spend too long staring at a thing and it catches your eye, I suppose.”

“You could say that.” Lyra found she couldn’t tear her eyes from the bottle resting between her hooves. She cradled it for a few moments, waiting for something else to be said, before looking up at her friend. Bon Bon stared over her shoulder, smiling. “Bonnie-”

“Lyra. We’re hardly a package deal.” Bon Bon popped the cap from another drink and resumed her spot on the couch. She snuggled up against Lyra’s side as she spoke. “I have no idea what you see in him, but I’m not going to force you to stick around when you so obviously want him. Besides, I’ve known for months how you feel. The day you figured out Rainbow Dash had courted him, you locked yourself in your bedroom with that harp-”

“Clàrsach.”

“-and refused to come out until you’d played through an entire symphony. Which was very nice, by the way. You should try writing some of these things down.”

“Music dies when bound to paper.”

“I wish I could offer you something as profound in return,” Bon Bon replied. She nuzzled Lyra’s neck and sighed. Lyra leaned into the embrace and let out a sigh of her own, revelling in the warmth of close companionship.

“He might just complete me. Or he might just be my madness.”

“Great master say, life is like box of chocolates. Sticky on warm day, but smell nice.”

“Is that meant to be a complement? I’m touched.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Bon Bon replied. She snuggled against her friend and closed her eyes. “Promise me something, Lyra.”

“Anything.” Lyra raised her drink and finished it off. She hadn’t realised she was that close to the bottom. “The world.”

“Nothing so grand,” Bon Bon replied. She took a breath. “Don’t let him slip away, okay? I know you,” she continued, before Lyra could respond. The unicorn tilted her head and frowned. “I know you, all right? You don’t like conflict, and that’s great, but it means you let things slide unless you’ve got no other choice. You could have had Lero weeks ago if you hadn’t waited.”

“I... I just wanted to see how things shake out with Twilight first.”

“And what will the excuse be next time?”

Lyra returned to staring at her drink. This was a side of Bon Bon she’d not seen for a very, very long time. She’d missed it. “I guess you’re right. But it’s still too soon.”

“It won’t be too soon forever, Lyra.”

“And you said you couldn’t be profound!”

The rotunda of the Town Hall was quite dark by the time the trio exited, talking quietly amongst themselves. Laughter echoed across the broad space, bouncing between the pillars until it reached Lyra’s spot by the rear stairs.

She hung back to watch her friends leave, partly to let them have their moment of peace together and partly because of the overwhelming sense of relief that flooded her body at the sight of that peace. She’d probably have done or said something she’d regret later if she’d gone to them now. The idea that she could lose control over herself that easily...

A smile touched her lips. There were times when it was right to feel that way. Control was as much an illusion as permanence, as was the idea that she could simply chase after them when there was business to attend, and paperwork to go along with it. The room they had just vacated had been set aside for her use for the rest of the evening so she quickly trotted over to the door, taking one last look at the retreating backs of her friends before she shouldered her way inside.

There was a desk within, and a few folders related to the case laid out on it, which immediately confused Lyra; she’d not asked for them to be brought down yet. The some-time guardsmare tilted her head slightly, ears working as she examined the room with renewed interest. Something moved the air, carrying a faint scent of cut grass on a warm summer’s day.

“I thought you’d left.” She smiled again and turned toward the source of the scent.

“Most of my little ponies would begin with something more formal.” Princess Celestia stepped out of the corner of the room, where she’d somehow contrived to hide in plain sight. She paused as Lyra turned to face her. “Please, remain standing.”

“Thank you, highness,” Lyra replied, though she hadn’t even thought to bow. “Might I ask why you’re still here?”

“Of course. I’m here to save you from your paperwork, auxiliary sergeant Heartstrings.”

Lyra glanced at the desk and its neat stack of folders. Topmost was the the folder that contained all her notes from the day, that would be compiled into a two page summary of the report she’d written as part of the investigation, and which she would post off to the regional Guard Command Headquarters along with her expense claims and her regular bi-weekly report.

Her gaze returned to the Princess, who smiled benevolently, as befitting a demi-goddess.

“Your commanders are already aware of my presence, they’ll assume you reported to me directly. After all...” Celestia paced around Lyra and moved to the window to examine the evening sky. “I am your sovereign, your commander in chief, and I have a rather personal interest in this particular incident.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” Lyra replied, just about managing to hide her smile again. Of course the Princess would be interested. “Is there anything in particular I should-”

“Do you trust him?”

“Do I trust Lero? Of course! He-” She paused and frowned. “Excuse me for asking, ma’am, but is this about Lero, or Twilight?”

Celestia smiled as she turned from the window. Smiled and then laughed, a sound that was said to have driven the most stoic of mares and stallions to weep in their oats and write terrible but heartfelt poetry. “Either you are very perceptive, Lyra Heartstrings, or I am far too easy to read. Shall we say it is the former?” The Princess flared her wings briefly, as if throwing off an uncomfortable cloak, and when she spoke again there was a subtle undercurrent to her voice that Lyra couldn’t quite identify. “I don’t question my student’s judgement even for a moment, but you might perhaps understand I do have some trepidation about her choice. She may well be the closest I have had to a daughter for a very long time.”

“I think I understand,” Lyra replied. She strode the short distance to the window and seated herself as close to the Princess as she dared. Informality, it seemed, was the watchword tonight, as a few moments later Celestia had seated herself similarly.

“Do you?”

“Ma’am, forgive me for saying so, but you’re experiencing something every mare has to go through at some point in her life. We all have to face the possibility of letting somepony go sooner or later.” Watching them walk out the door... “You probably already know what she’s let herself in for. It would only be worrying if you weren’t concerned for her.”

“I wonder if she realises what she’s let herself in for,” the Princess said. Her voice was so quiet that Lyra almost wondered if she was meant to even hear it.

“My experience is limited, but... but I expect nopony ever truly knows.”

“You may be more correct than you realise.” Celestia turned that smile toward Lyra again, and when she spoke next, her eyes danced. “The joy of love is the one pure state that time and familiarity can never tarnish, because it is experienced anew every day.”

“Clovis?”

“Cliff Cord.”

“I don’t think I’ve read anything by her.”

Celestia chuckled and shook her head. “That’s because he never wrote anything down, except in water, on stone. Cliff Cord believed to commit words to paper would destroy their meaning and tie them irrevocably to the past.”

Lyra couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sentiment. Silence filled the room, flowing between them as a soft breeze, warm but refreshing. There wasn’t very much to be said for the moment. Lyra watched the sky as the sun slowly eased toward the horizon and thought about movement and timing.

She felt the Princess stir beside her. “I seem to have lost myself in the moment, sergeant.”

“The moment is all we have, ma’am,” Lyra replied. Celestia gave her a curious frown and then nodded.

“I’d heard you could be a little cryptic at times. I shan’t keep you any longer, miss Heartstrings. Have a good night.” Celestia turned to leave. Her walk toward the door was slow and regal and her ears barely flickered when Lyra jumped to her hooves.

“Princess?”

“Sergeant?”

Lyra stopped then. For the first time in quite a long while she was unsure of herself. Celestia turned slowly, still smiling, her eyes dancing again. Of course she would know. She’d had thousands of years of learning to understand ponies. She could probably tell exactly what Lyra had for breakfast that morning just by looking at the way she walked.

“I- uh...” She took a breath. “Do you trust him?”

“Do-” Celestia laughed for the second time that night, and it was a laugh so pure that Lyra could only feel joy at hearing it. She’ll turn me into a poet yet. “As I said, I trust my student’s judgement on this matter, so yes. I trust him. You seem nervous, Lyra Heartstrings.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“I rather think I do,” Celestia said with some modesty. “Asking if I trust this human leads me to suspect you’re no longer quite sure of your own feelings on the subject.” Celestia stroked her chin; for just a moment Lyra saw the Princess’s tongue trapped between her teeth, exactly the way Twilight looked when she was thinking. “I further suspect you’re trying to ask me about something in particular, but have no way to start.”

“Well. Yes. But, you see, Twilight is... involved, and that makes things a little complicated, because that means you’re involved...” Lyra paused and bit her lip. When did she become so tongue-tied? “And you’re my commanding officer, which-”

“Sergeant, I have heard enough excuses over my long life to know that you, my dear little pony, are reaching for every single one in the book.” Celestia lowered her head just a fraction, still smiling, as she took a step toward Lyra. “You have a path before you. You seek knowledge of whether that path is the right one. You’re looking everywhere for confirmation of the that single desire in your heart.”

Lyra nodded, unable to speak. This was not remotely how she’d envisioned this conversation. Come to think of it, she’d never envisioned this conversation. This was going to be one for the diary, she thought, as Celestia raised her head again. The Princess regarded her for a few moments and then smiled warmly.

“You find what you seek when you stop looking, Lyra Heartstrings.”

And, before Lyra could speak, the ruler of all Equestria had walked out of the door.

In the future, when I think of now, I’ll say to myself: I remember that day.

Come to think of it, there are quite a few days more to remember than I thought, but the important moments are what truly matters. Those instances when a single push sends you down that path you know you must follow. When resistance is unthinkable, because it would put you against the universe itself.

I waited one more month, mostly out of habit, but my heart had already chosen its path, and you can’t fight the heart any more than you can fight the wind against your face. I had looked for the path I should take for so long; it was only when I stopped looking that I realised it was already beneath my hooves. I had courted you without even knowing it, my heart already chasing its desire, already returning to where it was meant to be.

The day was not especially warm or sunny, but that didn’t matter. Clouds couldn’t dull the brightness of your eyes or dampen your spirit. You stood above everything like a mountain, one that I no longer had any choice but to peak. The three of you together showed me what I was meant to be, who I was meant to be. Your freedom, your release and your balance are what I sought my entire life.

Finding you was easy. Finding these flowers, on the other hoof, was harder than you’d think, and expensive too. But what is cost? Just another marker of change in an ever-changing universe. It had been one final, tiny excuse, easily dismissed.

I will remember that I waited a little while, watching the sky, watching the world until you filled it. I'll remember Rainbow dancing around you, laughing in her freedom, Twilight huddling close while you hang on every word; and you, striding ever onward, releasing every one of those words, enjoying that freedom, using each to empower the other to greater heights. All three so lost in one another that you almost don’t see me.

But you do, you do, strider who falls forever, and you fold over me like a wave, washing away the last doubt and fear as you draw close.

And they know. They smile and move around me like all-encompassing arms that draw me to the centre of your life, while you watch with that bewilderment and that joy you take in experiencing the unknown and the new.

And then you understand.

And then you smile.

And I am complete.

Publisher's Note: I just want to take this opportunity to thank Archonix for this wonderful addition to the side stories entry and to the greater story of Xenophilia itself. For those not already familiar with his work, he is the writer behind The Xenophile's Guide to Equestria, which both myself and AnonAuthor have been helping him with.

As you can see from the quality of this chapter, he is a terrific author in his own right and, if you enjoyed this, I urge you to go and check out his other works as well.