For Her Majesty
by Breeziebee

Nightmare night was quickly approaching in Canterlot, this time of the year. For the past two weeks, it was all anypony ever heard about. Every garden party, gallery, and fashion show was suited to spooky attire and theme, and in every neighborhood you trotted would be a thread of spiderwebs laced over the doorway of somepony’s home, or orange and black streamers bridging over alleyways. Stores were dressed in cleverly carved Jack-O-Lanterns, which would be rotten long before Nightmare Night arrived. And, when you lived in a city so excited by the holiday, you couldn’t help thinking of it yourself.

But far more noteworthy than the plots for spooky festivities and tricks and treats was the coming Nightmare Night Masked Ball, hosted by Princess Celestia, in her very own gardens. It was all the worry among the prestigious ponies, and the buzz and gossip for those who would not be attending. Why, word of the masked ball had reached so far as Ponyville, and vendors had saddled up for Canterlot to make a profit off of the season's festivities. One such vendor had made himself quite a name, here. Canterlot knew him as Teddy, the pony who specialized in the art of designing and creating beautiful, unique masks, perfectly matched to his every customer. Teddy had thus far provided a mask to more than sixty percent of the ball's invitation list. And, beyond them, many a pony had ordered one for their Nightmare Night costume. What made Teddy's masks special was--more than their beauty, and attention to detail--his ability to suit each mask to each customer. They went together like peas in a pod. And he'd yet to meet a pony to cash in on a refund or exchange. Because of his newfound reputation in Canterlot, if you were attending the ball, then you would make a stop at Teddy's shop, sooner or later--never mind if you already had a mask.

Teddy was a shy stallion, who spoke more in his art than in words. He was rather scruffy for the usual Canterlot taste, but yet they found him charming, with his dusty blue coat, and raven black hair. His cutie mark reflected his art; a needle and a spool of thread. He was quite tall, making his shy smile rather dazzling from the height of an average mare. Teddy never noticed, though. Any hints of interest he detected were quickly disregarded as his own delusions. He didn't seem to think himself worthy of batting eyelashes or swishing tails. Truly, he never found himself handsome at all. But his self image was compensated by his pride in his matchless work.

That day, it was sunny and crisp. He was expecting perhaps a dozen ponies to collect their masks before noon, had yet another dozen orders to fill, and who knew how many more he'd collect today?
His shop was a wooden wagon, with an open window, where he took and delivered orders. Many had commented on the cramped size of his workspace, but it was plenty enough for him. He kept his crafting supplies in a trailer hitched to the back of the wagon, which was dressed with a banner exclaiming in spangled letters, \

“TEDDY’S WAGON WONDERS.”

Inside the cherry wood wagon, Teddy pushed a needle through a satin ribbon, stitching it to a red, velvet mask. This one was for Octavia Melody, rumored to be gracing the masked ball with her angelic music. He pulled the thread, and the ribbon scrunched around the frame of the mask. It wasn't quite complete yet, though. No... There was still much to be desired. Not enough Octavia, perhaps. Maybe some music notes carved below the right eye. Yes, now that he thought of it, he hadn't put any music into her mask. That was simply unacceptable. Can you imagine, if he had sent it away without so much as a hint of music etched into the face? He would work on it later, though. He heard the chatter of customers approaching.

Two young, beautiful ponies trotted to the window with friendly smiles. One was a mare with a white coat and purple mane, who he suspected was Rarity, the seamstress from Ponyville. She had presented some competition when word got out that she, too, was making masks for the ball. But didn’t bother him, any. Business was doing quite well. He did wonder, though, why she was here. However, it was not she who spoke first.

"Hello! Lovely day, right?" This came from the pony he recognized immediately as Princess Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia’s student. He’d only seen her at the coronation, but her youthful beauty had impressed upon him. She was quite the lovely mare. And oh, how those wings suited her. How grand it would be to craft a mask for her.

“Very. How may I help you?” He asked, his eyes still upon Twilight. This time, Rarity spoke.

“Well, you see, Teddy, dear, business has been a little slow at the Carousel Boutique. No doubt, your art has just swept everypony away!” She laughed facetiously, her eyes looking everywhere but at the many masks displayed on the wagon, and then fixing on him. “I came to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to steal your customers.”

“It’s nothing, dear.” She waved a hoof. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to show me a few tricks? Maybe I could leave some business cards on the counter. Why I happen to have some handy…”

His eyes flitted towards Twilight Sparkle, who was looking elsewhere. He truly wanted to hear from her. She was going to the ball, wasn’t she? She needed a mask. He’d be so happy to… well, then, he supposed Rarity had already made her mask.

He was only half aware of taking a stack of business cards and flyers from Rarity’s hooves. He shook himself to mind when Twilight Sparkle spoke up.

“Oh! Wow, that’s pretty.” She was gesturing to one of the premade masks he had hung on the back wall.
He beamed, unreservedly. “Would you like to take a look?” He handed her the blue mystique mask, which glittered in royal blue and silver. Her eyes shone with delight. “It would be… the sparkle to your twilight.” He said with a smile.
She laughed melodically. “Yeah, you’re right! I’d take it, if I didn’t have a mask already.”

A moment later, the two mares said goodbye, and Teddy’s delusions suggested that Twilight had some reluctance over leaving the blue mystique behind, and perhaps some resent towards her obligation as a loyal customer to her friend. He understood, of course. He was certain Rarity’s mask could never be so fitting as the one he had in mind for Twilight, but—No, his masks weren’t any different than Rarity’s, of course. Hers were probably better, he reminded himself.

“How can I help you, miss?” He asked pleasantly, looking down from the window at a pretty mare.

“Oh, well,” she smiled. “I’m going to the ball.” He nodded in response. “What do you have for a pony going as a spider queen? Maybe, that one?” She tugged her head behind him, where on the wall hung all of his premade designs. So far, he hadn’t found anypony to truly fit any of his customers, and insisted that he make them a custom mask.

“Oh, no, no, no. A pony like you? That golden mane, those blue eyes… You deserve something much more special. And that isn’t business flattery,” he added quickly. “Truly, it’s about the same amount of Bits for a custom.”

She blushed, batting her eyes. “I don’t mind, though. You have plenty of beautiful ones, already made.”

“I couldn’t,” he said, just above a whisper. “You’re so lovely. It would be a pleasure to make a mask for a pony like you.” She blushed again, and he did as well, realizing he’d been perhaps too enthusiastic. “I’ll even give you a discount.” The mare laughed joyfully and nodded. He retrieved a notebook and began scribbling design notes, when the busied street suddenly became strangely quiet.

“Princess Celestia!” Somepony exclaimed. Teddy looked up in curiosity. Indeed, it was the fair princess herself, followed by a stream of royal guards. The street cleared itself as the princess strode gracefully past vendors and shops. It wasn’t uncommon, really. The princess made appearances now and then in this area. Teddy went back to his notes, but stopped scribbling when his customer shuffled out of the way, and a strong but gentle voice called,

“No, please,” the voice chuckled kindly. “I’ll wait my turn, like everypony else.”

“Princess, no! We were just finishing, anyway. Please!” Teddy watched as the mare stepped out of the way.

“You are too kind,” Celestia said with a bow of the head. She approached the counter. Teddy was speechless, uncertain if he was to greet her first, or if that would be imprudent. How was he to greet her, anyway? ‘How may I help you?’ Please, as if she was truly here as a customer. Surely the princess was here on graver terms. What kind of royalty would visit his lowly booth?

The Princess smiled. “Good day,” she said with another bow of the head. “You must be Theodore.”

“Teddy,” he said, but choked on his next breath. Had he really just corrected the princess?

“Of course,” she said. “Teddy—if I may, then.”

He smiled uncertainly. “How may I serve you, princess?”

“Well, Teddy, I would like to employ you for a very special mask.”

“Of course, of course. Never any less for you, Princess Celestia.”

She smiled. “This mask will be for royalty, so I expect it to be more than worthy. If I may ask for all the excellence you can marshal, I would be overjoyed. You’ll be compensated duly.”

“Oh, never, princess!” Teddy was enthralled. Was this truly happening? Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria herself—at his ruddy little shop? “A gift, for you. I could never accept—“

“Nonsense. I’m just another customer, Teddy.” She flashed another dazzling smile. “I don’t need special treatment. The mask, however…”

“Of course! The finest! Only the finest, my lady.”

“Splendid. Can you have it ready in a week?”

“Absolutely.” His heart was racing.

“You are most excellent. Thank you, Teddy. I shall return then. Good day!” She turned, her mane waving behind her.

“Princess—“ Teddy called after her. She turned back to face him. “My apologies. I just—aren’t there any specifications you’d like to add? Designs, colors?”

“None, Teddy. I trust your taste.”

She trusted… his taste.

Teddy closed shop immediately after, despite the protests of many. He shut the counter window, and pulled a chair up to the sewing table, pen and pad in hand. He scribbled madly, design after design, each absolutely unique, each nothing he’d ever created the likes of before. Half masks, full masks, Venetian masks. Feathers, gems, gold, silver. Silk, velvet, lace, embroidery. But it was all too much, or too little. Never good enough, never great enough for the such a customer.

 What if he used no leather at all—what if it were made entirely of crystals?

No, too flashy--and too heavy. How could the Princess hold her head high with such a burdening mask hung on her face?

What if he carved illustrations of Equestrian history into the leather? He could use ancient runes, and—

No, too bookish. The Princess is elegant, graceful, dignified. Not a tacky librarian.

What does she love most? What captures Princess Celestia, and holds her eyes? What would be very most pleasing, most excellent, unrivaled and inimitable?

The day wore into a night of endless hours, all coursing into cycling questions and useless ideas, crumpled sketches and scrapped masks. In a flustered fury, Teddy upturned his desk. It crashed to the floor, and pencils, needles, and half finished masks scattered, while his sketches swam in the air.

Who was this silly stallion kidding? He could never make something with so much majesty as to please the princess. He was but a lowly earth pony, who lived alone. He’d never even had a super special somepony. Even his free time was invested in his work, because it was all he was worth. And now, that was coming down to nothing at all, when he needed it the most.

Silly pony.

Who did you think you were, taking on a task worthy of only a lord, or somepony like Fancy Pants, or anypony important?

Teddy slumped over on the floor, and began to cry. His sobs were fervent, and came in brusque, jagged gasps. His mother had always said he cried like a girl. If she saw him now…

He let out a flustered growl, and plucked his sketch pad from the mess. Hunched over amid the chaos, the earth pony continued to scrawl over the paper until he’d torn the last page from the binding. He wadded it up into a ball and threw it. It hit the mask display--or more precisely, the blue mystique that Twilight Sparkle had been admiring.

Twilight. She was the prized student of Princess Celestia, the apple of her eye. Beautiful, regal Twilight Sparkle. Now a princess herself, she surely had an exclusive insight as to what Celestia wanted. She knew her better than anypony Teddy had ever met. Perhaps better, even, than anypony Celestia had ever met--maybe as much or more as Princess Luna. Celestia wanted the very best he was capable of. But for that, he needed to capture the Princess’s desire. And to do that, he first needed Twilight Sparkle.

He scampered to clean the wreck he’d made, and sat down to the righted table to compose a letter. All would be perfect, now. He knew what he was going to do. He had a plan, and a design. A design that would capture all the affections of Celestia’s heart.

Twilight was awake long before the sun was. For the past hour, she had sat at her desk, pouring over a list of the old reports she’d made to Princess Celestia. She had no reason for this, beyond the strange anxiety that woke her from her sleep, telling her Princess Celestia would be visiting her soon. It was only an intuition, but one she wouldn’t test. She reacted in the only way she knew how, and that was to study, study, study.

Spike would be waking up soon, though. “I suppose I should make some breakfast,” she sighed, reluctantly moving away from the desk, and casting foreboding glares at the stack of papers she had left to read.

“Twiliiiighhht,” came the hoarse grumble of a sleepy baby Dragon as he ambled down the stairs.

“Yes, Spike? I made you breakfast,” Twilight said. “Well actually I didn’t, it’s just—“

“Ooh boy, Gems ‘N Jewels!” He sat at the table and proceeded to pour milk into his favorite cereal, and shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth, crunching happily.

“When you’re done, could you check the mail? I’m going to get back to my studies.”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot,” Spike said through a mouthful, and procured a scroll. He held it out to her. It was sealed with a satin ribbon.

“That’s not from Celestia--?”

“No idea. It came by Dragonmail, though, so it must be important.” Spike went back to his breakfast. Twilight pulled the ribbon and unrolled the parchment.

’Fairest Princess Twilight Sparkle,

I’m certain you don’t recall our meeting yesterday, but my name is Teddy, and I run Wagon Wonders in Canterlot. If it isn’t any trouble, I would be forever grateful if you would assist me in a project for Princess Celestia. Time is of the essence, however. I’ve enclosed the appropriate Bits for a train ticket, and would be overjoyed if you met me in my trailer at your earliest convenience. I’ll leave the door unlocked.

Yours, humbly,

Theodore’

“Well, Spike,” Twilight said, collecting the bits from a silk pouch sealed to the note. “It looks like I’m going to Canterlot again, today.”

“What for?” He asked idly, as he inverted the Gems ‘N Jewels box, shaking it for crumbs.

“A friend needs my help--something for Princess Celestia.” Her stomach turned. So her intuition had been sort of right. Or, at least, it was pointed in the right direction. Twilight slipped into a warming cloak. She decided against bringing her crown. “Watch the library for me? And my crown, too?”

“I can’t come with you?” Spike pouted.

“Sorry, Spike. There are only enough bits for one ticket.”

“One ticket—You’re a princess! You can have all the money you want, right?”

Twilight laughed. “It doesn’t exactly work like that, Spike.” His wings drooped in a sulk. “Aww, chin up. I’ll bring you back some of those strawberry tarts you like!”

“Oh, fine…”

It was a good time to travel. It was still dark out, this time of year, and there was next to nopony on the train—and even less in the streets of Canterlot. Which was nice, since it was always so crowded during the day.

The sky was indigo blue with the glow of pre-dawn, and the air was cool, and quiet. The clip-clop of hooves scuffing over pavement was the loudest sound of note, and conversation was low and husky with the lackluster of early morning. She mumbled greetings to passing ponies who didn’t seem to recognize her under her cloak, which was just as well. Why, sometimes she couldn’t get through the streets. Everypony wanted to talk to her.

She arrived at Wagon Wonders at a quarter til eight. She raised a hoof to knock on the wagon door, but thought again—he said the trailer, right?

Twilight went around to the trailer hitched on the wagon, where there was a door, set with steps. She knocked her hoof three times. “Mr. Teddy, sir?” She was unsure of what to call him. She waited a moment, but there was no response. I hope he’s okay, she thought with a twinge of worry. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep. She allowed for one more moment, then knocked again. “I’m coming in,” she said, and turned the knob.

The scent of leather and cotton smothered the air. It felt like walking into a tight coat closet, and was nearly as dark, with only the open door for light, and still, there was perhaps fifteen minutes until sunrise.

“Mr. Teddy?” Twilight called out into the stiff room. She peered between tall racks that held dozens of hides each. There was no room in here—why had he asked her to come in the back? “Teddy?” She peeked further in, between two racks of cloth, to the back of the trailer. But the pony she’d met only one day previous wasn’t to be seen. She must have misunderstood his letter.

If it hadn’t been so dark outside, she might have noticed the closing door sooner than the silent click of the doorknob allowed for. She started, and whipped her head around, unable to see anything. But she heard the soft breathing, now, which came in shorter gasps by the second.

“I, really, am… s—so sorry, princess. But it’s for Her Majesty.”

Before she knew what was happening, a pony grasped her in the dark, holding a soaked rag over her snout, bracing her head in place with his other hoof. Twilight didn’t understand. It had all happened so suddenly that, by the time she realized she was in danger, she was already dropping to the floor. The hems of hanging cloth disappeared behind the darkness of heavy eyelids, and her body succumbed to unconsciousness.

Teddy slipped into the harness at the front of the wagon. He hated to make a trip by himself when it was so heavy to pull both the wagon and trailer without help, but it needed to be done, so he strained through the dark, down hilly and winding roads, until he reached the place that was his house. It was set in a semi-rural neighborhood, where he had a spacious and unused yard, and a house that was small but enough for a bachelor stallion.

He dragged Twilight from the floor of the trailer and scooped her onto his back. She was surprisingly light, even in deadweight--a graceful little feather to his strength and size. He went out back to the barn in his yard, which normally housed bolts of moth-eaten fabric he’d forgotten about, and boxes of memories that he’d couldn’t forget about. He carried Twilight through the aisles formed by his careful organization, where, in the back, a door lead to a room intended to be a workshop that he didn’t need. He pushed the door open, pulling a chain as he went, which switched on a bare lightbulb overhead.

He set Twilight on the floor, and zip-tied her polished hooves together, then secured them with a rope. He pulled a chair into the center of the room, where a rack hung from the rafters used to hang tools. He swung the rope over the rafter, once, twice, then hopped down from the chair, bit down on a rope, and pulled, suspending Twilight until she hung a foot above the floor, and tied the end of the rope to a support beam. Then, after laying out a tarp, he set a tool box underneath her, turning her towards the light.

Teddy selected a cleaning knife, and made the first incision in the middle of her torso. He dug the knife further in until it penetrated the hide. Using his hoof as a guide, he slipped the knife in the slit and dug it deeper, taking care not to penetrate her organs, and drove the knife up her torso in a quick motion that discharged a satisfying rrrrip. The deep red-purple flesh was exposed beneath the hide. He made two more cuts upward, and another one downward, where he worked the knife between flesh and hide until he could slip his hoof under the pocket. He had moved to make another cut, when he saw a hoof twitch restively.

He had just collected a gag when a piercing scream shattered all peace the workshop had once known. But Teddy didn’t flinch. It was to be expected, and Twilight was entitled to at least a scream. The shout resided to panicked wheezing, and he heard her gulp, sucking in another scream’s breath. He jammed a dirty rag between her teeth. It hardly muffled the sound. Her pupils were shrunken to a pinpoint, and he swore he could hear her heartbeat.

“Sssshhh, shh, shh,” he hissed compassionately. “You’ll wake the neighbors, Princess Twilight.” The rag became a dark color, soaked with Twilight’s saliva as she gagged to make a muffled attempt at speech. “Don’t worry. It’s for Her Majesty.” He slipped his hoof under her hide again, and she screamed. He felt her muscles contracting as he pulled the knife through. He heard a tap, and looked down to see tears dripping to the cement floor. “No! No, you can’t—cry! You’re a princess, Twilight, you’re supposed to be—“ She screamed again as the knife drove deeper. Then she began to bleed. He must have punctured an organ. The pools stretched out, dripping down her torso, and dropping to the floor with sounds like the ones her tears made. “This isn’t an ideal situation. I don’t want to gut you alive but—“

She let out another blood curdling scream, and then fell limp. Not dead, but merely unable to handle the cleaning. It was better this way. He wouldn’t want her to see her own organs outside of her body. They were already pushing through the cavity. “But I just can’t kill you like that.” He finished, to himself. Holding pressure to the opening with one hoof, he dragged a nearby medal bucket over, which rattled disgracefully. He swung it underneath her, and let go of the wound. Deep purple, fleshy masses swelled out of the cut. He worked them out, scooping with his hooves. They dropped into the bucket with bloody splashes, helped along with a box knife, where it was needed.

“Oh no—no, no, no!” Blood was pouring down her body, dripping onto her magnificently groomed tail. “No!” he held the hair out of the way as the blood fell, wrapping it in plastic. “Confound it, Teddy. You can’t ruin this. You can’t.”

He carved and ripped, carved and ripped, pulling her velvet hide from the fleshy glue that held it to the meat. When at last he'd carved the last bits from her hooves, he was left with a grand sheet of lavender, soft hide, which was only spotted with flecks of blood, and otherwise a work of art--fit for Her Majesty, certainly. After plucking the feathers from her wings, Twilight's corpse hung mane-less, skin-less and lifeless from the rafter. He released her from the ties, and her mass slumped to the floor with a queasy sound. He frowned at it, unsure of how she would be best disposed. There was little time, and so Teddy resolved to laying the corpse beneath a tarp, outside. Well, the air was so cold that it should preserve it well enough before he could properly bury it. There just wasn't the time for that, no. Now was the time to treat the hide. He would be cutting it close, so close. He would have to work quickly. After weighting the tarp down over her body, he began the real work, and time dissolved like the salt on Twilight's hide, which lay out beneath the sun.

Over the next few days, in the time when he was not working with the hide, he was sketching madly, scribbling away designs in his sketchbook which were matched with scraps of ribbon or beads taped to the paper. The room reeked of pencil shavings and eraser dust, and all awareness of the need to eat or sleep was lost in his work. When at last, he had salvaged the good and discarded the bad, he was left with a stack of notes taller than his desk lamp. The hide was toughening, and soon it would be ready for cutting, so Teddy began merging the notes and images together, and created a final sketch of Celestia's mask, the one which would be hers. It had Venetian tones to the shape, with fine French lace, which wasn't at all frilly--it was regal and dignified. Such a pattern that, he would have to tat it himself; nothing else would do. The shape would conform to her excellent, flawless face, but, it would exaggerate it, and make her every feature dramatically visible, so that one only had to look at this mask to know who Princess Celestia was--to see the very essence of her being!

Finally, the hard part was over, and as was the wait. He had only to mold the mask into creation, then the Princess would see--she would know--that Teddy honored who she truly was, and grasped the vastness of her excellence, her grace and nobility. She would recognize him for the loyal pony he was, and know his dedication. Oh, he was still so lowly... Only an earth pony, too scruffy to live in Canterlot, not good enough to live under Her Majesty's rule. But at least, now...
At least now she would know. Maybe, if he was lucky, she might even be proud of him.

It was morning. With only a week left before the Nightmare Night ball, Canterlot was more frantic and giddy than ever. When Teddy came lugging his wagon into the town, ponies swarmed to meet him before he'd even stopped. He had a hard time pushing through them.

"Teddy! Teddy! Is my mask ready yet? Where have you been all week?"

"Teddy, you didn't tell me you were leaving town! Great Celestia, I'd thought something had happened!"

"Teddy do you have time for another order? My other mask fell through, it was simply dreadful. Oh, my friends told me to go to you, not that silly Rarity. I can't get a hold of her now!"

"Teddy, oh Teddy, please--my designer closed her business down until further notice. I need a mask, quickly. The ball is just this weekend, I--"

He was assaulted by panciked requests and demanding questions. But he hardly noticed them--he hadn't slept in, well, it didn't matter how long. He wasn't tired, but he couldn't seem to function as well as he would have with sleep. He could spare no thought, no words, for the desperate ponies. The only thought and the only focus he allowed for was, both simply and greatly, Princess Celestia’s order.

When he'd reached an empty spot in the town square, he stopped. His legs were exhausted from the trip, but he didn't pay it any mind. Without pause to rest, he rounded the wagon and stepped through the door. With a lamp now lit, he opened shop, and mere minutes passed before he was assailed by the desperate ponies he'd ignored earlier, and without straying from his focus, he took down the orders, hardly saying a word. He thought, faintly, that a few ponies may have asked if he was, at all, well. He looked pale, and sick, they may or may not have said. He couldn't remember, because it wasn't all that important. But he trusted that he'd answered them duly.

The day wore on, and the knot in his stomach tightened, when each new hour brought with it no news of Celestia's arrival. Perhaps... perhaps it had taken him longer than he had anticipated. What if--oh heavens, what if he was too late? But, no; he recalled the ponies mentioning that the ball was a week away. He was on time. No matter, then. The Princess would arrive when the Princess willed her arrival.

But the sun was sinking below the horizon, and Teddy had accumulated more orders than he knew he could fill in time. He was reaching the point of sheer madness, and slowly was more and more aware at the stabbing hunger in his stomach, and his dry, irritated eyes, which begged for sleep. His bones ached and his joints burned, and--yes, even his mind was tired. He had to remind himself even to blink, and each breath was an effort. Then sun had faded to a twilight glow, when the sound of hoofs storming over the paved street interrupted his stupor, and his ears caught slivers of Celestia's name. She was coming. That sound--it was the sound of her loyal guards trekking behind her, while those regal, matchless, good and kind and great hooves tread over the dusty, dirty pavement. She had still yet to round the corner and yet--yet he saw, somehow, the dim lighting brighten with her presence. Perhaps it was the glow of that white coat, or the shine of her mane, or the magnificence of her unparalleled beauty. Then she turned the corner, and the magnificent mare strode through the streets, her wings flared with authority and her nose held high, her horn pointed toward the heavens to which she belonged. But, something was different about her, this time. She seemed unhappy, fatigued, stressed. Her movements were jagged and heavy. Beneath her eyes were deep shadows of worry, which quite certainly hadn't been there during their last meeting. She approached the window, her mane swirling in a breeze none could feel or hear.

"Good evening, Teddy. I am truly sorry to keep you waiting."

Teddy's voice had caught in his throat. It took him moments to recognize the need to answer her. "Oh, but Princess," he said, his voice cracking for lack of use, and the weight of fatigue and dehydration. "Please, your majesty—a princess may arrive whenever she so chooses."

The usually kind and cordial mare did not smile. "Well. I do make a point to be prompt and precise, but I--" she broke off. Why, why was she so--so weak, so tired? It pained him--it tore at him. It convicted him. "Well then, if I may... see the mask..."

"Of course!" His heart jumpstarted with glee, eager to end the suspense of the greatest commission he'd ever been charged with. He took a silk-lined box from the shelf, and placed it on the counter. Using her horn, Princess Celestia levitated the box lid to the side, and then the mask came floating out. Her eyes widened with--well, was it surprise? Glee? Joy?

The mask was the lavender of Twilight’s coat, softer than fleece. The eyes were tapered to a point, and beaded with tiny pearls. With Twilight’s hair, he had embroidered a lace pattern sprawling from the eyes, and spreading to the points on each side, which conformed to the face of a mare, then flared outward, framed with silk ribbons which tailed off the tips of the mask, free to sail in the air like Celestia’s mane. Last were the ‘wings’ created by soft feathers that matched the base of the mask, forming wings beneath the silk frame.

"Teddy, it's... beautiful..." She gasped. She drew the mask closer to her, examining it with eyes wide and mouth agape. And then... Yes, he was certain, there was sadness in her eyes. "I have never seen anything like it. It's... entirely unadulterated." He said nothing. The praise was quite possibly, too much to handle. His heart raced and his throat constricted. "I cannot thank you enough." She placed the mask back within the box, and closed the lid. Then, she levitated the box to rest in the saddle bags strapped to her side. Lastly, the princess procured a silk sack of Bits that jingled as she moved them to the counter. "You've exceeded my expectations. Thank you."
He was frozen in horror. He was honored, thrilled--but, still—his heart thudded and trembled;

"Princess--" he called after her, as she turned away, slowly. "If I may... is everything quite satisfactory?"

"Very, Teddy." She answered.

"Then--what troubles you?"

Were it possible, her eyes widened even further--then fell, resigned, exhausted. "You are a kind pony," she said. "It's only that...” She trailed off, briefly seeking refuge in a leaf tumbling across her hoofs, then returned her eyes to his. “A good friend of mine has gone missing recently." His heart stopped. "My student--my prized student. Surely you've heard,” her voice darkened. “That the princess has gone missing?" She waited for a response, but Teddy couldn't. "This mask, it was..." She shook her mane. "I'm sure she's only gone on an unexpected adventure of sorts, really." She smiled feebly. "I only hope she returns in time to wear this mask to the ball."

Silence.

Teddy's ears went deaf, and he lost all warmth in his body. "You mean--the mask--isn't for yourself, princess?"

"Oh, no..." She laughed slightly. It was a laughter that pleaded for alleviation. "It's for Princess Twilight. A gift. She's to be the guest of honor at the Nightmare Night ball." Teddy didn't speak, for a moment too long. Celestia gazed at the box. “It will look so magnificent on her. It’s as if it were truly made for her.” Celestia took his silence as the end of their conversation, and with a nod, she said, "Thank you, again. Oh, and--I would be most honored if you would attend the ball, Teddy. It would be so strange to have so much of your work present without the artist, himself. Have a good night, Teddy."

And then she left.

Silence.

Frozen fear.

Cold, cold skin.

And the sudden realization of what he had done.

He looked down to see his hooves still encrusted with the blood he had never washed off from the horrid slaughter, that had brought the death, the murder, which could never be repaid. Pain stabbed in his chest, and he gave way to the exhaustion in his body, his body which yet still raced with the energy to run miles in fear. It was only a mask. When it came down to everything, it had all been for a mask.

But

it was a mask for her majesty.

It was all,

for her majesty.

Author's Note

Huge thanks to Hacim, for helping me out a ton with this one :3 And for cheering me on and bugging me and driving me mad enough to finish my stories.