“He is my idol... The greatest mind of his generation or any to come; the sorcerer behind more than two hundred of the most common and most fearsome of spells known to ponykind; the pony with the throne of Equestria at his hooves, had he only wished to take it. He is the stallion I look up to.” Arbiter beamed up at his teacher.
The Princess nodded appreciatively from behind her teacup. “That was a well-written essay, as usual,” she said, “but it didn't quite fit the requirements I gave you.”
He blinked at her and sucked on his upper lip. “But you said to write a three-paragraph essay on the pony I look up to the most! I'm sorry if I shouldn't have written five...”
“I told you to choose one pony from among your friends, family and peers, not Star Swirl the Bearded,” she reminded him.
“But it wouldn't be fair to Star Swirl the Bearded to ignore him like that!”
She chuckled. “If his ghost comes to terrorize you over an essay, I'll deal with him myself!”
He tried to laugh with her, but his nerves wouldn't allow it. “Besides, there's only one pony alive today that can compare and you said I couldn't write about you.”
“You think so?” she asked pensively. “What about your father?”
Arbiter shrugged. “What has he done that could compare?”
“You tell me,” she said, settling her chin onto her hooves.
“I don't know,” he fretted. “He doesn't talk to me about his job. He tries to protect me from the shadows as though I were still a colt.”
“I'm sure he thinks it's for your own good.”
Arbiter smirked, unimpressed. “Perhaps, but don't you think I'm mature enough to handle it? I know what criminals are like. I've seen it.”
“That is why he hides it from you, Arbiter. What he does is painful for him, and as strong as you are, it would hurt you too.”
“But how can I respect him if I don't know that he's doing anything worthwhile?”
“He certainly is,” his teacher assured him. “Your father has helped keep the streets of Canterlot safe for the better part of a decade.”
Arbiter was quiet for a moment. “That's not what I meant,” he amended. “It's just that... Well, what does it matter if nopony can see it? Nopony is going to care about him hundred years from now, or a thousand.”
“Oh, Arbiter.” The princess shook her head. “Being remembered is not the only way to know you've lived a good life. After all, ponies like Star Swirl and creatures like Discord are both left to the history books. Others, like your father or your mother, will be remembered with fondness by those of us who love them.”
“Those are very few.”
“A few is all that anypony needs,” she argued. “I would sooner die alone doing what is right than be remembered for years for actions like those of Discord.”
“Well, yes, but...”
“Something has been worrying me, Arbiter.” She forestalled his reply with a hoof. “You seem to be thinking of yourself as separate from the world,” she explained. He frowned, but kept his peace. “On one side is you, Arbiter, and on the other, everypony else in Equestria. That is not the case.” She took one last sip of her tea before standing. “Come,” she said as she made her way to the balcony. He followed uneasily, his tea trailing behind him.
As the pair entered the sunlight the faint sound of oohing and aahing caught Arbiter's ears, and the polite stomping of hooves. “Good afternoon, Princess!” somepony shouted, soon to be followed by his peers.
“Good afternoon, my little ponies!” she called back with a smile. “Look at them, Arbiter.”
He peered disinterestedly over the railing. There were a few dozen ponies on either side of the street, all going about their business. A mare and a stallion waved for a moment longer before continuing their trek, looking happier to have been touched in some small way by their matriarch. “I see them.”
“Each and every one of these ponies has an important job to do.” Her eyes followed them down sidewalks and through doorways. “They do what they can to make their lives better, as well as those of friends and neighbors. They may be concerned with fame and glory, but it is not everything to them.” She pointed to one of the travelers, a stallion with a faded brown coat and a well-groomed mane. “Take Concerto, for instance. He hopes to join the ranks of Canterlot's premiere musicians, but he doesn't put that goal before life's little joys. His journey may be a slow one, but he is happy. On the other hoof, some...” Her hoof moved to the other side of the street where a gray mare with downcast amethyst eyes wound through the crowd, occasionally bumping from one pony to another with muttered apologies. “...try so hard that they take anything but immediate success as failure.” The mare below grimaced and tossed her charcoal mane as a vendor tried to attract her attention. “They push other ponies away and try to fight their way to glory at the expense of their peers, and in the end, even if they succeed, they are left alone at the top. Do you see the difference?”
When she turned back to her student she looked much sadder than her words had expressed. “I feel as though you are sacrificing your happiness on this path to glory. You spend all of your time with books or teachers and make no time for friends.” Arbiter's cheeks began to burn. “Your father tells me you don't even spend time with him anymore.”
“But Princess, I've always been happiest when I'm alone with my books.” His ears lay back. “You know how the other ponies are.”
“Yes, I do.” She looked him square in the eye. “Do you, Arbiter?”
He swallowed his tea.
The alicorn sighed. “Trust me, Arbiter. I know it can be difficult to approach a stranger, but it will be worth the effort.”
“Yes, Princess,” he said by rote.
“That is why I have decided to involve you in the planning of this year's Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville.”
“Really?” His embarrassment was forgotten. “I can help?”
“In fact, I'm putting you in charge.” The unicorn's eyes sparkled above a huge grin. “That means you're going to have to pay a visit to the ponies the Mayor has placed in charge of preparations for the Celebration. Since the Celebration is being hosted in Ponyville for the first time in years, I'd like you to make sure that everything runs smoothly.”
“I can do that!” He raced back into the Princess's chambers, his mind full of possibilities. “I'll need to visit the library to learn everything I can about the Summer Sun Celebration, and I'll need to write letters – How many letters? This is so exciting!”
She had to raise her voice to be heard over the racket he was making. “I want you to do something else for me too,” she said.
“Whatever it is, you can count on me!”
“I want you to have fun with the other ponies.”
He skidded to a halt. “What, really?” he asked, unable to hide his disbelief. “Is that all?”
Her smile faded. “I mean it, Arbiter,” she said firmly. “I want you to see what the other ponies are really like. Let go of your preconceptions. Ignore any qualms you might have. After all, this is one of the best-loved holidays of the year! I'm sure a lot of ponies would love to make a new friend.” Arbiter nodded, but the Princess knew his mind was elsewhere. “I'll let you begin planning,” she said. “I'm sure you can hardly wait.”
He was already moving before she finished her second sentence. “I won't disappoint you!” he called over his shoulder.
She smiled back and nodded politely. I hope you're right. As he disappeared around the doorframe she turned back to the streets of Canterlot, the shining jewel of her beloved Equestria. Everywhere eager ponies paced, their minds on the Celebration to be held in one week's time. Everypony was looking forward to traveling to Ponyville, or hosting their own little get-togethers and garden parties. The great white alicorn shivered. If only I could be as eager for that day. The alicorn closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and dove from the balcony along the path a certain gray mare had taken. Oh, life's little joys...
,',
“Everything loaded?”
“Yes, sir,” Arbiter replied.
“Just the one bag?”
“That's all I've ever needed.” He patted its bottom affectionately with a hoof. “I'm ready to leave when you are.”
The drivers nodded to each other. “Cleared for takeoff!” one shouted, sending courtiers and milling passersby alike scrambling to get out of their path.
“Up you go, Arbiter,” said the first pegasus. “You know the drill.”
The unicorn clambered up onto the seat of the chariot and settled onto his haunches. “Spike?” His assistant, a purple dragon whelp, nodded. “Ready when you are, sir.”
“Arbiter!” a voice called.
The four pegasi snapped to attention. Arbiter turned to face his Princess. She walked along the path with no guards at her side, no courtiers trailing in her wake. The princess looked as regal as ever to the untrained eye, but while Arbiter couldn't place it, he could tell that something wasn't right. “Yes, Princess Celestia?” he asked carefully.
She came to a halt by the chariot's side. “Are you sure you're ready?”
The unicorn laughed. “I'm ready, I promise!” he said easily. “I know it's an important job, but I will do everything in my power to make sure things go smoothly. I'm the official overseer, after all!”
“I'm not talking about the Celebration,” she said sternly.
Arbiter blinked. “Then... what are you talking about?”
He picked up on something new: tension in her neck. “Arbiter, I know you don't think it's important, but I want you to try.” She gave him her best half-smile, but to him the effect was spoiled by little tells here and there. Something was bothering her... something important. “Will you do it for me?”
But if it wasn't the Celebration, then what could be bothering her? “Do what?” he asked. Her smile slipped away just before he recalled the core of their conversation on the balcony. “Oh...”
“Arbiter, do you remember what I told you last week?”
His easy grin had twisted. “You asked me to oversee the Celebration and have fun.”
“But you know what I meant.”
His nostrils flared. “I-I'll do my best, Princess,” he said. “I can't promise you anything. You know how the–”
She shook her head. “I need more than that, Arbiter. I need you to try. After all, I want you to be happy.”
“But I am happy,” he tried to argue, but a sharp look made him fall silent.
“I know you are fond of old stories,” she said. “Well, I have an old story for you.”
His ears perked up. “Is now the time, though?” he asked, glancing at the four pegasi before him. They glared at him.
“There will never be a better time,” she insisted. “Listen well, and try to understand. This is the story of the Mare in the Moon.” The Princess took a deep breath...
“Once upon a time there were two Princesses,” she began slowly. “One, the elder, used her magic to raise the sun every morning and lower it every night, and guided the ponies of their kingdom. The other, the younger, was tasked with lowering the moon every morning and raising it every night, and watched over the ponies as they slept. Together they maintained the balance of the land.
“One day the younger approached the elder. 'Our subjects adore the day,' she said. 'Why do they scorn my night?' The elder laughed and told her not to worry.
“On the second day the younger returned. 'Our subjects adore you,” she said. “Why do they fear me?' The elder smiled and shook her head.
“On the third day the younger grew angry. 'My subjects hate me!' she cried. 'Not one can bear to look at me! How dare they disrespect me so?' The elder sent her away.
“That night, as the elder was preparing to lower the sun and make room for the moon, the younger approached her. She was no longer the princess the elder had known. Something within her mind had been twisted, and with it, her body. 'I deserve their respect,' the creature said. 'I demand their subservience.'
“'You cannot force them to love you,' said the elder.
“'I will force them to love my night,' said the younger. 'Lower the sun, that I may raise the moon to its proper place.' The elder was worried, but still she trusted the younger. She lowered her sun and retreated to her chambers.
“When morning was to come the elder rose to meet the younger, but she was nowhere to be found. She ran to the throne room to find her lounging in her throne.
“'It is time for the sunrise. Will you lower the moon?' asked the elder.
“The younger said, 'I will not.'
“Please lower the moon, that our subjects may rise with the sun,” begged the elder.
“The younger said, 'I will not.'
“'Lower the moon, Princess of the Night, or I will lower it myself!' cried the elder.
“The younger said, 'You will not.'
“The two princesses began to battle, but the elder was no match for the younger and could neither subdue her nor change her mind. The evil in the young princess's heart was too strong. The elder had no choice. She focused upon the one power she knew could still get through to her: the magic of harmony.
“Thoughts of laughter bolstered her spirit and forced the evil back. Her honesty showed them both the path she had to take, and her generosity gave her the strength to take it. Her loyalty to the young princess became a chain to bind her. Through her kindness she was able to do the only thing she could do. Wielding a magic stronger than any dark spirit, she banished the young princess to the moon.
“The elder princess wept as she locked the younger away, but she knew that what she did was right. The young princess would thank her someday when the darkness was gone. Until then the elder would watch, and wait, and dream of the day the Mare in the Moon came back to her, for as long as the two princesses shared their bond, there was hope for them.”
Princess Celestia sighed. “And still the elder waits to this very day, watching and waiting and dreaming of the day the young Princess of the Night returns... hoping that with friendship, and harmony, the evil in her heart will become nothing but a memory.”
The five of them were silent for a time as she stood beside her chariot. “What a story,” Arbiter said finally. “It was beautiful. Very evocative.”
“Thank you, Arbiter.”
“How old is it? The style–”
“Focus on the story itself,” she interrupted. “Focus on what I am trying to tell you. It will help you in Ponyville, when the time comes.”
“Yes, Princess.”
She studied his face, and turned to Spike. “In fact, I want both of you to think about what I have told you while you are in Ponyville. You might learn something from the ponies there.”
“Don't you worry, Princess!” the dragon said confidently.
“I will,” Arbiter agreed.
Celestia shook her head. “Go,” she ordered the drivers.
Arbiter felt the wind begin to whip at his mane as the four of them took to the skies. “I'll make you proud!” he assured his Princess as he smoothed it back down with a hoof. “This is going to be the best Summer Sun Celebration ever!”
“Do not take this assignment lightly!” she called.
“I won't!” he promised.
,',
He scanned scroll after scroll, but the one he sought after was nowhere to be found. “Spike, I told you to pack the notes that were sitting on my desk,” he fussed.
“I did!” the dragon said petulantly.
“All of them?”
“Um...” He held a claw to his chin and rolled his eyes upward in thought. “I might have dropped one or two...”
With a sigh he flipped the flap shut. “Spike,” he whined, “this is the first of four inspections and you're already causing problems. That's not a good omen.”
“I'm sorry!”
He understood that Spike was just a baby, but it was still very inconvenient for him when the tyke forgot something like this. It seemed to happen more often the more important the task at hoof was. Wasn't their current training regimen enough?
Well, it wasn't as if he really needed to have his scrolls. He thought back to the notes he'd taken when first assigned the task. Applejack... Applejack... 'Earth pony; apple cutie mark'. Is that all? he wondered as he let his gaze drift over the crowd, searching for some detail to spark a memory. No, he'd studied each page well enough that he'd never have forgotten a single detail. That was all he'd felt he needed to know: just 'earth pony; apple cutie mark'. Well, that didn't help when every earth pony on the farm was marked with an apple! He cursed himself for taking shortcuts in his preparations.
If a physical description wasn't to be had, then it was up to his skills of perception. Who looked like they were in charge around here? The eldest? She was asleep in a rocking chair. Looks like she's been out to pasture for a while. Nopony else in the field stood out to him. Ponies scattered across the farm in all directions, winding their way between the house, the barn, the distant orchard and a setup about a minute's walk from the farmhouse which, judging by the calls he heard from the ponies working within, could have been anything from an impromptu bake-off to a refugee camp. Countless mares and stallions were lined up at cauldrons, grills, tables and even a few campfires, cooking up the alluring aromas of baked apple and caramel. By the smell alone he was fairly sure that Sweet Apple Acres was meeting the challenge of feeding the region's ponies head-on.
Somepony must have seen him staring at the cooks and bakers - or maybe they'd just seen his mouth watering - because a voice jolted him out of his reverie. “Well, howdy!” the mare said pleasantly. He turned to her and was startled again to the point that he forgot to close his mouth. “If you're here about the treats, well, we ain't hoofing 'em out 'til the festival. There'll be enough to go around, don't you fret!”
“Fret?” She looked ridiculous. That hat didn't help. The red bandana and her matching rope belt were eyesores that clashed horribly with the pale green of her shirt, which had seen better days. Atop her head rested a massive white hat that nopony in Canterlot would be caught dead in. A ten-gallon hat, he guessed. “I'm not here to snack.” That being said, there was something... nice about it all. The pieces came together very well to complement the contrast of her light coat and dark mane. He couldn't put his hoof on what it was that pulled everything together, but she made the mess of color and texture look like a fashion statement.
It looked even better when she smiled. “Then what can I do you for? You ain't part of the Apple clan, are you? I don't think we've met.”
“My name is Arbiter. I'm here about the Summer Sun Celebration.” Her eyes lit up in sudden recognition. “I'd like to speak to Applejack.” Luckily, this mare was one of the few on the farm marked with something other than an apple: a treble clef, to be exact. A musician, perhaps, or a songwriter. Interesting.
“Oh, sure!” she exclaimed. “You're that noble that sent the letter, right? We thought you weren't coming!”
“I'm not a noble,” he corrected her, “but yes. Where could I find Applejack?”
“Out thataway, I bet.” She gestured toward the orchard. “So tell me–”
He was already turning away before she could ask him whatever was on her mind. “Thank you.”
“But... Um...” She blinked at the back of his head as he cantered away. “Welcome?” He was already out of earshot.
Before he'd made it halfway to the treeline he'd spotted two ponies circling one of the younger apple trees. The pair, a small, stout orange mare and a massive red stallion, were talking amongst themselves as they finished placing wicker baskets and wooden buckets all around the base of its trunk. As the two stallions looked on, the smaller of the pair trotted up to the tree, swung her hindquarters around in mid-step and lashed out against it with the full force of her body. The tree shook violently, and every single apple that hung from its branches was thrown loose to fall neatly into the ring of baskets around its trunk.
Arbiter's jaw dropped. Even after studying the differences of pony anatomy among the three common races, the strength of his earth pony cousins was a sight to behold. The massive farmer nodded appreciatively; the mare smiled widely and struck a pose. “How d'you like them apples?” she said proudly. The stallion grinned back.
Well, if she was looking to him for approval, logically that would make the stallion her superior. He cantered confidently toward the pair, satisfied with his deduction. They turned their ears and then their heads at the sound of his approaching hoofsteps, one curiously and one with all the patience of a rock farmer. “Applejack?” he asked, gazing up at the stallion. He was even bigger up close.
The stallion shook his head and cocked it toward the little mare beside him. Luckily she didn't appear to feel slighted. She tipped her hat back and looked up at him from shoulder-height. “I'm Applejack. This here's Big McIntosh.”
“I apologize,” he began, but she waved his worries away.
“Whatcha need?” she asked. “Lemme guess, you're that noble from Canterlot, aren't you? Come to check on things?”
“I'm not a noble,” he said again. Why did these ponies jump to such a conclusion? Being selected as the Princess's latest apprentice didn't make one royalty. “My name is Arbiter.”
“Yep, I remember. So what do you think of things?”
“It looks like everything is going smoothly.”
“Yessir,” she said happily. “I couldn't be more proud o' my kin.”
He looked out at the farm, the lines of ponies working, baking, frying, carrying supplies... How many were there? Fifty? More? “Are all of these ponies members of your family?”
“Yup! Every Apple we could round up is lendin' a hoof. Even some ponies from Appleloosa came back to pitch in, and you know how busy they've been, what with tryin' to get the town ready for the winter.”
“But are you sure it's enough?” he had to ask. “You'll be catering to all of Ponyville, a good portion of Canterlot, and a number of visitors from all over Equestria. Can you handle it with the help you have now?”
“We've been bakin' and buildin' since sunrise,” she assured him. “I reckon we'll be fine if we keep up the pace.”
“What about servers? I could ask the Princess to–”
She silenced him with a hard look. “This is Ponyville's turn to host the Celebration, not Canterlot's,” she said firmly. “I know we don't look much compared to them big cities o' yours, but just you wait and see. Tonight we'll show everypony that Ponyville's just as good as anyplace.” Her smile had taken on a confidently stubborn slant. Big McIntosh, who had begun loading a pair of baskets of apples onto his back, chuckled to himself.
“Well, what about ingredients?” he insisted. “Are you going to have enough to feed three or four hundred ponies?”
Her grin widened. “Oh, we got plenty. Even after the Celebration's over and done, we still have enough apples to make a tidy profit over the next few months, not to mention cider season!”
“Impressive.” At that even her brother grinned proudly, and Applejack's muzzle nearly disappeared behind her teeth. Despite the good news, though, something was nagging at him. “What all are you planning to serve?”
“Lemme see...” Her nose scrunched up in thought. “We got apple pies, apple crisps, apple crumbles, apple cobblers, apple fritters, apple tarts, apple cakes, apple quickbread, apple muffins...”
Eventually the words melted into a meaningless wind that blew past without him hearing a word. That's just what he'd been worried about. The Princess had entrusted a backwoods apple farmer to supply food for the Summer Sun Celebration. He should have known that this would happen.
“...candied apples, caramel apples, apple juice, apple cider - iced and mulled - and a little bit o' lemonade!" she finished, beaming. "And it's all dee-licious. Wanna try some?”
“But what else are you serving?" he asked pointedly.
“What do you mean, what else?” she said, her brow lowering in incomprehension. “That's a spread any mare'd be proud of!”
He barely stopped himself from throwing a hoof to his face. “You're serving nothing but apples!” he exclaimed. “I know that a mare in your position would want to use an opportunity like this to promote her business, but surely you can serve other foods. Not everypony likes apples.”
“I ain't met nopony who don't like apples,” she said defensively.
He frowned at her. “More importantly, what if somepony's allergic to them? You can't assume that everypony is going to be able to eat the same thing, let alone want to!”
“Um...” Her eyes darted to her brother and back so fast he almost missed it. “I didn't think o' that.”
This time he couldn't stop himself. He facehoofed with a heavy sigh. “Come on, Applejack. I know you're still young–”
“What's that supposed to mean?” she cut in. “I'm older than you!”
He bore her deflection with grace, and after a moment her anger turned to shame. He finished as if she hadn't spoken. “But you're supposed to be a businessmare. You have to think of these things.”
“We do just fine,” she muttered. “My family ain't had no complaints out of Ponyville.”
“That's the point. This isn't just Ponyville we're talking about.”
“I know that!” she yelled, but her heart wasn't in it. Her cheeks were starting to look flushed.
“So broaden your horizons. If you're going to host an event like the Summer Sun Celebration, you're going to have to step out of your comfort zone to keep everypony happy. Can you do that?”
“We don't have time for this,” she groused, stomping a hoof in frustration. She stared down at her hooves and shook her head. “What do you want me to do, Arbiter?”
Isn't it obvious? “You need to prepare some different foods. I don't care what you make, as long as you can feed everypony, not just ponies who like apples. Can you do that?”
“Uh... Yeah, I'll... Uh, Big Mac, I need you to, uh...” She rubbed her forehead with a hoof. “Okay. Go find Carrot Top and ask her if she's got about thirty pounds of carrots ready for the market...?” She looked to the unicorn for advice. Why? he wondered. I'm no baker. Apparently she took his silence for uncertainty. “Make it fifty pounds. And, um, ask her if she knows where we can find a hundred oranges.” The stallion nodded and headed off toward the barn to deposit his three baskets. “And bananas!” Applejack called after him. “You posh ponies like bananas, right?” she asked. He chose to ignore that. She wasn't listening anyway. “I can't believe I didn't think of that,” she muttered to herself. “You're right. Everypony's depending on me to help throw the best goldarned Summer Sun Celebration the Princess has ever seen, and I just about ruined everything!”
“At least I caught you in time.” He took a glance at the sky.
“Yeah,” she said dejectedly. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome.” The angle of the sun over the earth told him that Applejack had taken up her allotted portion of his schedule. “It's time for me to be going,” he told her, holding out a hoof. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”
She nodded and shook his hoof limply. With that the pair trotted off in opposite directions, one stepping lightly, crisis averted, and the other trudging back to her family with head hanging low. “Stupid, stupid...”
,',
Arbiter drifted through the park with a faint smile, but his eyes were pinched. “That was a close one.”
“Good thing you got there in time,” Spike said supportively.
“I know! She could have ruined somepony's Summer Sun Celebration. I hope Rarity is doing a better job with the decorations...” He didn't hear Spike's reply. He'd glanced up at the sky and noticed that the clouds were thinning out toward the center of town. That was most likely where the pegasus, Rainbow, was working. He wasn't sure that leaving the task of clearing the entire sky in the hooves of one pony was a good idea, but the Princess had said that Mayor Mare trusted her. We'll see. “Let's pay a visit to Rainbow on the way to the town hall.”
“Omigoodnessomigoodness!” Something pink and curly invaded his personal space. “Hi!”
Arbiter jumped back and bit his tongue.
“My name's Pinkie Pie!” the thing continued, her big blue eyes crinkling at the corners in a wide and friendly grin. “Actually, my name's Pinkamena but everypony calls me Pinkie! What's your name?”
He pulled his head back and stared at her with mouth open and brow furrowed. With some distance between them the pink coalesced into an earth pony with a wild head of curls and a trio of balloons on her flank. “Arbiter,” he said finally.
“And I'm Spike,” said Spike.
“Ooh, you're a dragon!” she said, leaning in until their noses almost touched to get a closer look. “That's so cool! I've never met a dragon before. I've always wanted to meet a dragon–” Her eyes rolled up to study her mane. “Well, a nice dragon. I don't want to meet, like, a real dragon 'cause they'd probably try to eat me, right?” Her smile came back bigger than before.
“What do you mean, a real dragon?” Spike exclaimed. “Aren't I a real dragon?”
Arbiter shook his head. “Don't mind her, Spike.”
Her words rolled over his. “Of course you're a real dragon, but you're not the kind of dragon you hear about that sacks villages and gobbles little fillies whole, are you?”
The whelp turned to Arbiter. “Is that what real dragons do?”
Arbiter snorted. “I think Pinkie has heard a few too many stories.”
“I love stories!” she agreed. “My nana used to tell me all kinds of stories when I was a little filly–”
“Yes, I'm sure.”
The filly bounced back a step and practically vibrated with enthusiasm. “Wanna have some fun? Wanna play tag? Fly a kite? Ooh! Hide and seek! I love hide and seek!” Arbiter tried to step around her with a muttered dismissal, but she bounded off to his other side and planted herself firmly against his shoulder. “I'm such a good seeker, you won't believe how good I am! And I'm also really good at hiding too, but only for, like, two minutes and then I get bored so I hope you're a really good seeker too!”
“No, Pinkie. We're–”
“Well, what do you want to do then? I know all kinds of games!”
“No!” Arbiter insisted. “We have work to do.”
“Work?” she asked, nose scrunching and eyes drifting out of focus. “But it's a holiday! Nopony works on the Summer Sun Celebration! Well, except for Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash and Mayor Mare...”
“And the two of us,” he said firmly. “We're supervising the entire Celebration, so we'll have to be going.”
“Supervising? That sounds like fun!” She pranced along beside him as he walked. “I've never been in charge of anything before! Well, I've run the register at Sugarcube Corner, but that's not the same as being 'in charge' in charge. Need a hoof supervising something?”
“Pinkie, I'm busy!” he barked, startling her to blessed stillness. “I don't have time for you right now!”
When the shock wore off her ears collapsed and she lost the spring in her step. “Sorry...”
“Would you please leave us to our work?”
Her voice was a pale comparison of what it had been. “Okay,” she muttered dejectedly, and she slowly turned and plodded away.
“Arbiter,” Spike whispered in his ear, “what about the Princess's assignment?”
The unicorn's stomach dropped. “Oh...”
“She's really friendly. Maybe she can help you... do whatever it is you're supposed to do.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but bit his lip in silence. After all, Spike was right. If he had something to learn about friendship, who better to learn it from? Arbiter took a step after her and spoke her name, but no sound came out. He blushed at Spike and cleared his throat. “Pinkie. Stop.”
She paused in midstep and spun toward him, eyes so full of hope that they made his heart stutter.
“Maybe... later. After I'm done working.”
Her gleaming whites nearly swallowed her up. “Yay!” she squealed. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! I'll take you all over Ponyville and introduce you to absolutely everypony and you're going to love it!”
His eyes were slowly widening. “Fun,” he parroted.
“Yes!”
“I won't have time for... introductions,” he said uncertainly. “Can't we keep this...”
“Hm... You're right.” She paused with hoof to chin and eyes narrowed in thought, but in a flash she had it. “That gives me an idea!”
“What's...”
She didn't reply. Before he could finish the word she was already disappearing over the horizon.
Arbiter and Spike stared after her for a few seconds. “What just happened?” the dragon asked the unicorn.
“I'm not sure,” he admitted. “I think we've seen the last of her, though...” until later tonight...
“Back to business, then?”
Arbiter smiled and nodded. “That's right, Spike. Back to business. Can you make out a pattern in the clouds?” He stared left and right, looking for order amongst the chaos. “She'll be working at one end of it or the other. I just can't discern what that pattern could be.”
“It doesn't look like she's gotten very far,” Spike said with exaggerated disdain. “These Ponyville ponies have got nothing on Canterlot!”
“Where is she?” he muttered to himself.
“Right, Arbiter?” the dragon said, nudging him with an elbow.
“There must be a pattern. She has to have a pattern! Why can't I see her?”
“Arbiter?”
His eyes didn't stop roving. “Yes, Spike?” he said, lending the dragon half an ear. He didn't notice the difference in his tone.
The whelp pointed to a cloud drifting lazily beside a bakery. A shape rested upon the cloud: a small blue shape that sprawled with eyes closed and its hooves behind its head.
Arbiter stared at the pegasus in disbelief. “What is she doing?” he asked, his voice faint.
“Is that her?”
His lips drew tight. “Sky-blue coat... look at that mane. That's Rainbow.”
“These ponies,” he said in his most grown-up voice. “I'll tell you!”
Arbiter trotted toward the cloud. “Quiet, Spike.” He came to a stop and cleared his throat. “Rainbow,” he said loudly and professionally.
“Yeah?” she asked, cracking an eyelid. At least she's awake. She eyed him up and down and her expression went carefully blank. “Who's asking?”
His eyes narrowed. “I'm not asking. I know it's you.”
She didn't like that one bit. “So?”
“So,” he said heatedly, “you're napping while there's work to be done!”
She snorted and her eye drifted shut again. “Yeah.” She stretched her six limbs and found a cozy position with the sun's warmth on her belly. “You got me there.”
“Come on,” he insisted. “Get up. You have a job to do.”
“I'll do it later,” she said, not even looking at him. “If I do it too soon I'll just have to clear out the stragglers before the Celebration starts, so why should I bother?”
He had to take a moment to process that. “Did you just say that clearing the skies for the Summer Sun Celebration is too bothersome?” he asked incredulously.
“I'm not going to clear the sky twice if I can do it once.”
“You're not going to be able to clear them even once in the dark!” he countered.
She waved a hoof dismissively. “Aw, what do you know about bucking clouds?”
“Actually, I've studied the topic extensively,” he said proudly.
“And you think that makes you an honorary pegasus?” she argued, rolling onto her belly to finally look him in the eye. “Trust me. Until you're up here kicking them yourself, you don't know one thing about bucking clouds. It's not something you can study in one of your books.”
“My books come from the greatest library in Equestria. They are the best sources of knowledge a pony could ask for.”
“Look.” She pointed a hoof at him. “I don't need some egghead telling me how to do my job.”
“Egghead?!” he barked.
“I'm the best weather pony in town! I can clear the whole sky in ten seconds flat!” she continued. “I'm not gonna disappoint the Princess.”
He was still hung up on her little jab. “I am not an egghead!”
“Are too.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
Decorum was forgotten. “Stop acting like a filly!”
“Look who's talking, colt,” she laughed.
He pawed at the ground with a forehoof, and his horn sparkled dangerously. “Take that back this instant!”
She smirked. “Make me.”
“You– Oh, you did not just...” He stomped his hoof in frustration. “You asked for it!”
He didn't see her bare her teeth in a wide grin. He was too busy drawing magic into his horn. A moment later the violet aura around it shot outward in a ray, accompanied by a piercing whine. The ray struck the cloud Rainbow Dash lounged upon and within seconds it dissipated.
Rainbow hid a chuckle as she fell and angled her body just so. She spread her wings, turning her fall into a graceful but incredibly fast glide. She buzzed over Arbiter's head, kicking up dust and mussing his mane, and angled upward. To his chagrin, she found another small cloud just a foot higher than her previous perch. “Hey, you could've broken something,” she said. “Good thing I'm such an awesome flier!”
“Get down here!” he barked.
She laughed. “No thanks, I just got comfy! Why don't you come up here?”
A claw tapped his neck. “Arbiter?”
“Not now, Spike!” he roared. His telekinesis failed him; when he tried to reach far enough to grab her by the tail, his grasp on the magic slipped away. Well, that was easily fixed...
Focusing inward upon his horn Arbiter called up a circle around himself, a dome of pure will. He stood in its center and pulled forth from the air and earth the magical energies of Equestria. The energies gathered within the circle until arcs of violet static jumped across the air to and from his coat. “Get out of the circle, Spike,” he said through gritted teeth. “Safely.” The whelp was all too ready to slide down Arbiter's flank and duck out, thankfully remembering to let out a burst of flame and burn a safe passageway into the perimeter first.
“Yeah, get down!” the pegasus hollered, her voice full of sick glee. “I want a clear shot!”
Arbiter's head jerked up from his inspection of his magic circle. “What?”
Spike dove to the ground.
The unicorn stared upward into the face of Rainbow Dash. It was not a face of mercy.
As a last-ditch effort Arbiter took hold of every scrap of magic he could handle and threw it upward to the top of the dome. Just as his poor excuse for a shield coalesced she smirked at him over her shoulder, fluttered her wings and bucked out with her hoof. The cloud shivered and out of it burst a crackling bolt of electricity. Before he had time to gasp it slammed home, turning his world into white light and a deep roar...
Violet worms of energy crawled across the sky and burrowed into the earth. Motes and sparkles spiraled through the air. Arbiter opened one eye and was amazed to find that he was still intact. The shield was gone, and with it, almost all of the energy he'd gathered. Spike was gingerly rising from the grass, unharmed. His circle had dissipated safely, and what's more, he'd beaten that Celestia-damned pegasus. “Ha!” he screamed victoriously.
BOOM.
Laughter rained down from the skies. When the smoke cleared, the whelp found the unicorn on his hooves, fur blackened and mane standing straight up in tangled clumps. “Um... you alright, Arbiter?” he asked.
Arbiter glowered at him. “Yeah,” he spat. “Just fine.”
Rainbow buzzed between them. “Didn't see that one coming, didja?” she sneered as she rolled onto her back and flew a victory lap around him. He said nothing and refused to meet her eye. When she flitted back into his vision her smile was twisted with poorly-concealed concern. “What? Don't tell me you're a sore loser!” she tried.
His cheeks burned. “Who knows what could've happened if that lightning bolt had broken my circle,” he muttered, staring straight ahead.
“So I almost broke your circle. Jeez.” She landed a few yards away and trotted toward him. She peered up and down his legs. “What is that, some kind of hooflet?”
“No, it's not a hooflet!”
“Well, if nothing got broken, what's the big deal?” She gave a halfhearted chuckle; he was not amused. Her smile collapsed into a frown. “Look, I'm sorry I zapped you, okay? I guess I got a little carried away.”
He harrumphed and blew a crinkled lock of mane out of his eyes. “Get to work.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You're not gonna let it go, are you?” she said. She shook her mane irritably and trotted away. “Look, I've done this loads of times. It'll get done, I promise!” Her words burned in his ears as she sped off.
“It'll get done, I promise!” he mocked her as he watched her disappear, his voice high and arrogant. “What a horrible pony!”
“At least she apologized,” Spike said uneasily.
“Oh, as if she meant it!” He kicked at a clump of grass and began to trot briskly away. “That pegasus is going to ruin the entire Celebration!”
Spike shrugged and hurried after him. “It can't be that bad. It's only one part of the ceremony.”
“One part?!” Spike jumped as the pony rounded on him. “One part– It's the skies, for ponies' sake! What's the point of watching the sun rise if it's going to be obscured by clouds? Every part of this day is important, but this is the most important job of all!”
The whelp leaned away from the onslaught. “Okay, okay! Geez!”
“And it just so happens that the mayor left the most important job in the hooves of the most unreliable pony!”
“I get it,” Spike said quickly. “I'm sorry I said anything.”
Arbiter's chest heaved as a familiar fury coursed through him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then a few more for good measure. “No, Spike.” He awkwardly patted the babe's shoulder. “It's good to ask questions. I'm sorry I jumped down your throat.”
“Make it up to me later?” the dragon asked hopefully.
Arbiter chuckled with a shake of his head. “I guess I have to,” he said as he lifted him onto his back. “Same as usual?”
Spike punched the air. “Yes! Ice cream!”
At least he's easily pleased, the unicorn thought with a flawed grin. However, the courthouse was coming into view, which meant that time for pleasantries was at an end. “Maybe if you can behave yourself for the rest of our business. For now, we've got some ponies to see.”
“Can I get my ice cream first?”
“No!” he exclaimed.
“But there's an ice cream parlor right here!” he insisted, pointing toward a building they'd just passed.
Oh. So there is. Curious, Arbiter turned and wandered toward the window.
“Do you think they have sapphire ice cream here?”
The unicorn shook his head. “We'll have to remember where it is and come back later.”
“Aw, why?”
Arbiter frowned. “I can't have my assistant eating ice cream on the job! It's unprofessional.” A sign in the window caught his eye. Prices slashed for the Summer Sun Celebration. That's good to know. But as his eyes left the sign, something else in the window caught them...
“I promise I won't make a mess this time.”
“Oh my stars!” Arbiter shrieked.
Spike jumped nearly a foot. “What is it, Arbiter? Are they out of ice cream?”
He ran a hoof along his scalp and looked at it; it was dusted with soot. He and his reflection gazed up at each other in horror. “Just look at my mane!”
The dragon threw a palm to his face in a well-practiced imitation.
“Oh no... Did anypony see?” He looked left and right; it seemed that most ponies were either napping or hard at work, and if the few ponies around had noticed, they didn't show any sign. Arbiter darted along the wall of the building with Spike clinging to his neck. When they reached the back of the parlor he stopped and began to swipe at the charred mess atop his head. “I didn't know it was that bad!” he whined. All his treatment did was make it floof outward. “I can't do business like this! Where's the library?”
“Do libraries have shampoo?” Spike wondered.
Arbiter's bag flew open and odds and ends rustled within it. “At least I can... Aha!” Out popped a can of his emergency supplies. “I'm saved!”
Spike groaned. “Not the mane wax again...”
Arbiter broke the seal with a pop and scooped a generous dollop into his hoof. “It works in a pinch.” He slapped the goop onto his mane in a backward stroke and smeared it between his ears.
“It looks ridiculous!”
“Oh, what do you know about mane-styling?” He dove back in for another dollop. “You don't even have a mane!” Spike shrugged. After a few more strokes he looked at the dragon with big, watery eyes. “Does it look okay? Am I... presentable?”
Over the years the babe had had plenty of practice in holding his laughter at bay, so he managed to keep a straight face. “You look fine,” he assured the unicorn. “Mane's a bit gray, though.”
“Well, it'll have to do,” he fretted, wiping his waxy hoof in the grass. “That Celestia-damned pegasus!” He glanced up in the direction she'd flown off, but either she'd flown past the horizon or she'd hidden herself well among the clouds. “Come on, Spike,” he said roughly. “We have a job to do.”
Spike personally thought they spent more time wandering the alleyways than necessary, but Arbiter wasn't to be deterred. “The easy way isn't always the quickest,” he said hastily as he wandered toward the center of town.
“How can you even tell where we're going?”
“Just trust me,” the unicorn growled as he poked his head around a corner.
In no time at all – by Arbiter's estimation, anyway – the town square opened up before them, and at its center sat the town hall.
“There!” Arbiter said. “Wonderful.” He cantered out from the mouth of the alley and made a beeline for the door. “Come on, Spike. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
A giggle made his head spin.
A mare stood at a vegetable stall to his right. She spun back to her customer. “That's really funny,” she said hastily. As she ran a hoof through her curls her eyes darted to Arbiter and back to her puzzled customer in a flash.
She's just laughing at a joke. I look fine. He kept his eyes down until the door to the town hall came into view, but couldn't shake the feeling that everypony was staring. He jogged up to the door and tugged it open and passed through without a backward glance. It slammed shut behind him.
Thankfully the interior was much less crowded. The only movement came from a solitary unicorn. The mare stood at the far side of the building, her perfectly permed tail swishing idly as she lifted ribbon after colorful ribbon into the air. Eyes like ice chips examined each in turn, inspecting every scrap of fabric as if determined to find a flaw. They softened suddenly and four scraps lifted from the pile to come to rest against one of the town hall's many support columns. “Hm,” the overseer and his assistant heard her mutter. “Oh, this is just so difficult,” she said in the tones of a Canterlot model. “They all look wonderful!”
“Wonderful,” Spike echoed. Arbiter looked down to see the dragon leaning forward, almost parallel to the ground as he drooled over the unicorn's beauty.
“Spike, mind your manners!” the stallion hissed, booting him under the tail with a hoof. “That's Rarity,” he said as they made their way to the column. “She's in charge of tonight's decorations.”
“She's gorgeous!” Spike whispered back.
“She's a unicorn! You're a dragon – and a baby!”
The whelp blinked a few times. “So?” he asked innocently.
“So be nice,” he finished just before they came into earshot. Rarity apparently hadn't heard them approach; she muttered to herself as she turned her head this way and that, the ribbons cycling before her. “Excuse me,” he said loudly.
“Just a moment, please!” the mare sang. “I'm in the zone.”
Arbiter looked at Spike and cocked his head. The whelp shrugged.
After a few seconds of hesitation the torrent of ribbons floated back into their box save for a large red one. With all the care of a mother wiping her filly's eye Rarity wove the ribbon around the column and tied it tightly in a gigantic bow. “Oh, yes!” she said proudly. “That's just what this column needed: a burst of color!” She turned away from her work. “Now then, what can I–” Her muzzle fell open and her pupils shrank down to pinpricks in horror. “AAAAGH!”
The two males jumped. Arbiter's head turned to find the threat.
“What in Equestria happened to you?” she cried.
His shoulders slumped and a blush crept onto his cheeks. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath. He turned back to the mare with a forced smile. “Hello,” he began, but Rarity had more important things on her mind than manners.
"Oh, you poor thing!" she cooed. "Just look at your mane. It's an utter disaster!"
All that wax for nothing!
“What is this?” she continued, her hoof prodding delicately at his poor forelock. “Soot?”
He juked away from her. “That's what happens when one is struck by a bolt of lightning!” he spat.
“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “Did the weather team have another accident?”
“Oh, it was no accident,” he growled.
Her eyes asked the question, but her muzzle kept silent. “Well, I'm sure it won't be too difficult to fix!” she assured him. “Please, come with me to my boutique. Your mane will look better than ever, I promise!”
“I can't just...”
Her lips pursed in disappointment. “At the very least, allow me to get this wax out.”
Arbiter waved her away. “I'll fix it later.”
“No, I insist!” With that she grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him to a side room. “Such a crime against fashion cannot be allowed to roam the streets of Ponyville!”
Arbiter frowned. “My fashion sense is just fine, thank you!”
“Yes, I'm sure you do a fine job, but that... ugh... helmet you call a mane says otherwise.”
“It was the best I could do on the run,” he whined.
Rarity shook her head. “Would you mind waiting outside?” she asked Spike “There isn't much room, I'm afraid.” The dragon nodded, the goofy grin he'd been wearing finally slipping off.
“You can start on lunch while you wait,” Arbiter said, handing the dragon his saddlebag.
“We won't be long!”
The mare pulled him into a small, dark-walled room, a janitor's closet, and pressed him down onto his haunches with firm but gentle hooves. Blue light from her horn lit the room until a candle from the hallway floated in and shared its flame with two on the walls of the closet. “There,” Rarity nodded. “Now...” Out of the corner floated a bucket. She quickly inspected it for grit and residue, then held it under the faucet and turned the spigot. “Don't you worry,” she told him as she rinsed it out just to be sure. “As you can see by the elegance of my own coiffure, I do know what I'm doing,” she said proudly as a hoof patted her indigo curls. The bucket came to rest just behind him, and the mare followed it to his side and placed her hooves upon his shoulder blades. “Now just lean back and let me work.”
Arbiter gave in. He slowly leaned into her hooves, allowing her to carry more and more of his weight until his mane touched the warm surface of the water. He stared up at her. Up close he could see tiny cracks in her countenance: little sweat trails here, a line in her eyeshadow there – the marks of a day spent hard at work. “Oh, I wish I had some shampoo at hoof,” she complained. “Well, one makes do with what one can get, hm?” Her brow pinched a little just above the bridge of her nose as she leaned this way and that, pulling at the sticky mess in his mane with her magic. “Hm,” she said pensively, and before he could ask her what was on her mind, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted, and she cast a ray of energy at him.
For the second time that day Arbiter felt a jittering sensation in his skin, but unlike the lightning strike this one was contained, almost pleasant. His scalp tingled. “What did you do?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing more than a simple static spell,” she said. “My mother showed me that trick. It's a modification of an old spell used to remove static electricity from one's garments. It will be easier to get the wax out now that your mane wants to stand up rather than be tangled in that dreadful rat's nest.” He grimaced. “No offense meant,” she apologized. She took a seat on the floor beside him and eased him down onto her right flank to begin running her hooves through his mane. It was, in a word, nice. Arbiter closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the pillow of her flesh.
Ever the socialite, it wasn't long before Rarity broke the silence. “Your mane is simply beautiful under the wax,” she said politely.
“Thank you.”
“What is this?” she asked. “Bumble Fields?”
“Of course not,” Arbiter scoffed. “I'd never use such a cheap wax. I'm a Trendy Tony pony.”
She paused to rub her hooves together. “But it's so gritty...”
“The soot,” he explained.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She rinsed her hooves as best she could and went back to treating his mane. “You say you were struck by lightning?” she asked distractedly, her eyes focused on her hooves and his locks. “And it wasn't an accident.”
You knew it was the soot. He frowned and the tension crept back into his shoulders, but not due to her obvious manipulation of the conversation. Echoes of that pegasus's laughter made his cheeks burn.“No, it wasn't.” She swirled his mane in the bucket. “A certain pegasus was napping when she had a job to do. Can you believe it? Today of all days!” She gave a noncommittal grunt. “When I confronted her about it she threw a fit and zapped me.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” she replied. She lifted him from the bucket and sent it off to be refilled at the tap.
“I was in a magic circle too!” he fretted over the noise of the sink. “Do you know how much energy a circle can contain?”
“I'm not too familiar with circle magic, I'm afraid,” she admitted. “It was out of fashion even in my parents' school days. Lay your ears back, please...” The bucket came floating back full of fresh water and Rarity dunked his mane. “You can open them now.”
“Well, it's quite a lot,” he continued. “Who knows what could have happened if I had allowed her to break it! It could have exploded, for ponies' sake!”
With another spark of energy the tingling subsided. She worked his scalp in circles to free the roots. “Well, I'm glad no harm was done save for a bruised ego.”
He harrumphed. “Yes, I suppose I'm fairly lucky. That pegasus had better watch her step, though, because when the Mayor hears about this I'm sure she'll be on thin ice, if she's not already.”
Rarity's hooves paused. “She's not a bad mare. She's just... very hotheaded, and at times careless. It's not a good combination.”
Arbiter stiffened. “How did you know who I was talking about?”
“Oh, darling, everypony knows about Rainbow Dash,” she said dismissively, “and if they don't, she'll be sure to tell them.”
“Are you a friend of hers, then?” he asked nonchalantly, but she could feel ropy muscle tightening against her thigh.
“Not in so many words.” She shrugged as her forehooves danced along his maneline. “I'd like to think of her as somepony I can count on in a pinch, but she and I will never be close. Why, we have absolutely nothing in common. I enjoy the spa; she prefers the racetrack. I could do so much with that mane of hers, but I've never seen her do anything to it but get it tangled when she does those stunts of hers.” Rarity sighed. “She is a nice enough pony, though, if you can look past her ego.” Arbiter snorted. Rarity rubbed the soft spots behind his ears for good measure, having noticed that they had begun to lay flat, before lifting his head from the bucket, sliding the now coal-colored water away and replacing it with a lush white towel pulled from one of the cabinets. “There,” she cooed as she rubbed the towel through his mane. “Doesn't that feel better?”
He leaned forward and put a hoof to the towel. “It does.” He pulled himself up onto his hindquarters and gave her a smile. “Thank you, Rarity.”
She lifted a hoof to her mouth. “You've heard of me?” she gasped. “A Canterlot noble! Ooh, I must be dreaming!”
The smile slowly faded. “So you know who I am as well,” he muttered. That explained why she was being so nice to him.
A small, self-impressed grin crept onto her muzzle. “I assumed,” she allowed.
Oh, you're very pleased with yourself, aren't you? “Is that why you wasted my time here?” he asked harshly.
“Darling, please!” she chuckled as she climbed to her hooves. “Time spent making a pony look their best is never...” She looked down at her beautiful fetlocks, now dingy and damp. “...Time wasted,” she finished with a frown.
“You interrupted my inspection for a trivial wash!”
“Nonsense.” She lifted her nose and peered down at him. “How could a pony carry the full weight of the Princess's authority looking like that? You and I both know that it's impossible for one to be taken seriously if they like some ruffian that wandered in off of the street! Now, this...” She prodded his mane delicately with both hooves. “This is a mane to be proud of! Don't you feel it? Do you feel the self-confidence a good manecut can inspire?”
He could. He could feel his vigor returning from the depths to which Rainbow had pushed it. He was sure to be less irritable without the distraction of an itchy scalp and, if he dared to say, he felt much more capable of carrying out his duties now that he didn't have half a mind on his mane.
Rarity cocked a coy eyebrow at him. “You're welcome, Arbiter.” He had the decency to lower his eyes. “Now, let's head back to the main hall,” she said, delicately pushing the door open with a hoof. “I have a spare brush in my bag.”
Spike added himself to their group along the way back, but was barely acknowledged by either unicorn. He trailed after them, though his mind was on the mare more often than his guardian. Even after Arbiter had resigned himself to allowing Rarity to attack his mane with her hairbrush, the little dragon just sat there and stared at her.
Arbiter took advantage of his distraction. “I'm sorry about Spike,” he whispered. “He's never done this before. Do you want me to send him away?”
“It's a little, er... creepy,” she admitted, “but it's nothing I haven't been bothered with before. Such is the price we pay for looking our best!” She still seemed to blush faintly whenever she caught the dragon looking, but Arbiter was no longer certain if she found his state embarrassing or adorable.
“Ah! There we are!” She finally pulled the brush away and stared at his mane critically from all angles. “You're shaping up to be quite the little stallion, aren't you?”
“He looks great!” Spike gushed. “You're amazing, Rarity!” She gave him a smile and his heart melted.
“Do you have a mirror on hand?” Arbiter asked.
“Always,” she scoffed. A well-polished silvery handle emerged from the saddlebag and the mirror was soon floating in front of him. “So, what do you think?” she asked as she moved it to allow him to see it from all angles. “Quite handsome, is it not?”
The pony in the mirror wasn't anything like the one that climbed out of bed that morning. He was the same pony on the inside: the eyes, the posture, the set of his mouth bespoke confidence and intelligence. Now, with his mane brushed back between his ears in a brash red tuft instead of lying flat against his forehead, he looked... dangerous. He could have been a gambler on a lucky run, a terrorist or a freedom fighter, a bodyguard on the hunt for threats...
Arbiter loved it. “This will look great with a good sleek suit.”
“Do you have one ready for tonight?” she asked. “Oh, I have the perfect suit waiting for you at my Boutique!”
He brightened up. “I could use a new one,” he admitted. “Mine smells of smoke.”
“I'm sure it does.”
The words were innocent enough, but she didn't quite meet his eye. “What?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“It's nothing!” Her smile widened, then faltered. “It's just that... well, so does the rest of you.”
There went his good mood. “Great,” he huffed. “I did what I could in the time I had!”
“Don't worry, don't worry!” she exclaimed. “It's nothing an hour's work can't fix!”
“Do you have an hour?”
Rarity blinked and her face went carefully still.
Arbiter facehoofed internally. What are you thinking? he scolded himself. This mare has an important job to do! A suit and a bath aren't worth that!
“Well... um... I still have so many decorations...” She looked over her shoulder at a tall stack of boxes in the corner of the room. “And I'm only one pony.”
He wasn't that disappointed, or so he told himself. “I'd best leave you to it, then,” he said, moving a hoof toward the door.
She gave a start. “Oh, no no no!” she said hurriedly, rushing to cut him off. “That means I decide when it's time for a break!” She beamed at him and lifted her bag onto her shoulders.
Taken aback, he could only nod. “I... suppose so.” Part of him wanted to chide her for shirking, but it was his fault. In fact, it was his idea. He'd had such a difficult day, though... I could use a treat. “In that case, Rarity, let's pay a visit to your boutique.”
,',
A soft linen undershirt peeked out from his cuffs and collar, done up with small and flat buttons of pearl stitched with the same fine ivory thread as its seams. The coat itself was among the finest cotton he'd ever worn. It was a taupe suit jacket, all sleek lines and snug fit – not tight enough to creak when he flexed his shoulders, but not so loose as to sag and wrinkle when he relaxed. The cuffs themselves reached just past his knees, baring the sleeves of his undershirt over his cannons. The coat was split up the length of his caudal vertebrae to allow his tail freedom of movement; when he gave it an experimental flick, it barely displaced the coattails.
Rarity bobbed from his left to his right, tugging and straightening the cotton with an expert touch. “I'm sorry if it's a bit tight. Is it too tight?” she nagged. “Don't let the fit fool you. I can make any necessary adjustments in no time at all!”
“It's almost perfect,” he said excitedly. He lifted a hoof to brush his mane back and grinned at his reflection, turning his neck this way and that to admire the white-gold necktie she'd tied around him herself.
“It's just the thing for a pony in your position,” Rarity continued as she pinched the material here and made a mental note to let it out there. She smiled widely as he stood a little straighter and allowed a corner of his mouth to lift in appreciation. “So dashing!” she gushed. “So noble!”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why does everypony think I'm a noble? I'm just the Princess's student.”
“That's as close to nobility as this town has seen in a very long time,” she explained. “It's only pony nature to get excited over a visit from somepony so close to the Princess. After all, who would pass up an opportunity to catch the eye of the Princess herself?”
"What makes you think I'm going to tell the Princess about you?"
She tried to hide her grin behind her mane. Her gaze drifted toward the door to her shop. "Oh, you'll want to tell everypony about this," she purred.
“It is a fine suit,” he agreed.
“What, that old thing?” She waved a hoof. “It's... good, but I must admit I'm not used to making stallion's wear. To short here, too tight there...”
“It's just loose at the cannons.”
“I meant the pants,” she said pointedly.
“They fit surprisingly well,” he assured her. “If I didn't know better I'd think you'd sneaked into the palace and taken my measurements while I slept!”
Her lips compressed, her cheeks flushed, and she couldn't help but take a quick glance to check the fit. “Oh,” Rarity said weakly. “Good.”
Social cues whizzed over his head as he tilted it toward the door. “But I'd be happy to take a look at your other designs.” He smiled in anticipation. “I may not be a designer, but I like to think of myself as fashion-conscious, at the very least.”
“Of course,” she said hurriedly, welcoming the distraction. “I'm sure that life in Canterlot has given you a keen eye for fashion. You'd know an up-and-coming talent when you saw one, wouldn't you?” She laughed nervously as she opened the door. “Oh, goodness me, I'm rambling...”
“Don't be nervous,” he told her as they crossed the floor of her shop to a door at the back of the boutique. “You've caught my ear already.” She pulled the door open and stood aside. “If your dresses are better than your suits...” He froze as she pulled back the curtains and allowed the sunlight in.
“Much better,” she replied certainly, watching his eyes scan the mannequins with a cocky smile. “I must say I'm rather proud of my recent designs.”
Arbiter was overwhelmed by the sea of jewels and frills and ruffles and ribbons before him. Here and there he spotted the frameworks of unfinished dresses and the occasional pantsuit, but what caught his eye were almost a dozen dummies bedecked in what appeared to be completed ensembles. “Such beautiful work!” She was right. The dresses may have had their tiny flaws, but each was undeniably magnificent.
Rarity brushed past him and flounced toward the dress forms. “I've been working very hard over the past years to make a name for myself in the fashion industry. Ponies in this town have little use for fancy dress, but I must say, life here can be surprisingly inspirational! In my spare time I seek the spark of inspiration in whatever ways I can.”
“You said you don't get much business here,” he said. “How can you afford these jewels?”
“The hills and fields around Ponyville are rich with gemstones, and I've taken advantage of that on many occasions. Look at this one, for example...” She ran a hoof down the spine of a simple dark blue leotard embroidered with silver and encrusted along the seams with sapphires and a few small topazes. “I designed this for a certain musician, but by the time I'd finished it – and by the time I'd gathered the courage to have it delivered – she'd moved on to a new, frillier style. This would have seemed so out-of-fashion that I just couldn't allow her to see it.”
“Does she know that you tried?” he asked.
“And this one,” she said loudly, jumping toward another dummy. “My friend Fluttershy and I were having a picnic in the park when a swarm of butterflies appeared and landed all over her!” Arbiter made a face as he studied the piece. It was a long, flowing dress of pastel green dotted with wide sun-yellow ribbon bows and tied with a belt of pale pink silk. It was accompanied by a delicate cap like half of a fruit, which bore a veil so thin it was difficult to see from certain angles. “She was laughing and rolling so cutely that I just couldn't shoo them away.” A faint smile of reverie lit up her half-closed eyes. “While watching her, I was suddenly struck with an idea! I had to cut the picnic short so I could work on the dress before my inspiration faded.”
Arbiter's hoof touched down upon the band holding the veil in place. The circumference of the hat was bound with a narrow green band sparsely dotted with red and pink ribbon bows tied in such a way that from a distance he'd nearly mistaken them for blooming wildflowers. “Such detail,” he breathed.
“And these were for a family of four,” she continued. “They asked me to design costumes for their filly's birthday party. It was a theme party, though I can't recall exactly what the theme was. Some historic novel or another, I believe.” The stallion's and colt's suits matched perfectly, both black with brass buttons and bowler caps, and the mare's and filly's dresses were simple affairs in navy blue and muted gray respectively, each with their own black apron and white bonnet. “I studied sewing techniques of the last two centuries for weeks before I even dreamed of beginning those,” she huffed, “and in the end they went unappreciated because the filly decided she wanted a Daring Do party instead. All of that time wasted!”
“Foals are fickle,” he said absently as he looked the dresses over. Imperfections or not, this was quite a find. Canterlot might want to know about this, he thought to himself. Yes, they might.
“You're not convinced yet?” Rarity exclaimed as she rounded the dummies to stand at his shoulder. “I was hoping to save this one from prying eyes, but...” The internal debate lasted only a second. “Alright, come with my to my Inspiration Room. I have one more thing to show you.”
“Only if you're sure,” he said, but inside he was resisting the urge to bounce up and down like that pink filly he'd met earlier.
A rustling from behind made the unicorns' ears twirl. Their heads turned back over their shoulders to find Spike sitting on the floor next to the family's old-fashioned costumes. He had taken the colt's little suit jacket down and was trying to pull it over his shoulders. Rarity muffled a gasp of horror with a forehoof. “Spike!” Arbiter said sharply. “Put that back! You're going to tear it up with those claws.”
The dragon peered over the shoulder of the suit as he tried to tug his hand through the sleeve without wrinkling it. “My claws aren't that sharp!”
“Oh, I'm sure it will be fine,” Rarity insisted, but her face belied her discomfort.
“They're sharp enough,” Arbiter replied. “Besides, you didn't even ask. How would you feel if somepony came into your room and started playing with your gems?”
“But...” With another look from Arbiter he tugged the thing back over his head. “Okay, okay. Sorry, Rarity.”
She made some polite noises as she picked the suit up and returned it to its mannequin. Her work done, she gave it a once-over and beamed at the result. “Thank you for apologizing, Spike,” she said brightly. “That was very adult of you.” He smiled as if she'd given him a hug.
“But you still should have asked first,” Arbiter scolded him. “It's very impolite to handle things that don't belong to you without asking, especially in a shop.”
“Well, I'm sure he can be excused from having manners befitting of Canterlot's high society. He is just a baby, after all.” Spike stuck his tongue out at Arbiter; Arbiter glowered at Rarity. She laughed nervously. “Just a baby!”
“Psst!”
Three heads turned toward a nearby window. Nothing was there. “Did you just...?”
“Yes, I did,” Rarity answered. “I know who that must be.”
“Who?” Arbiter asked.
Rarity shifted from hoof to hoof and tried to hide a little grin. “It's a surprise,” she snickered.
“Psssssst!”
This time he caught a flash of hot pink. “Speaking of manners, it seems a certain pony could stand to learn some!” Arbiter said loudly.
“I'm sure it's nothing. I'll just be a minute–”
“PSSSSTSSSTSTSSSSTSSSSS–”
“I'm coming, I'm coming!” she called, shaking her head. “I'm sorry. Please wait here.”
Arbiter shook his head and climbed to his hooves. He'd seen more than just a pink mane through the window; the sun was nearer the horizon than he'd expected. “I really should be going anyway. I have to meet with another pony about tonight's music.”
“Oh...” The mare wilted. “Yes, I suppose you should. Give Fluttershy my regards, if you would be so kind.” He nodded and turned toward the door. “Good day, Arbiter! Good day, Spike!”
“Good day, Rarity!” the babe replied. Arbiter rolled his eyes.
,',
The tall grass tickled his pasterns as Arbiter and Spike left Ponyville's roadways for the soft soil of the park. The unicorn couldn't help but think that the area would have looked beautiful on a perfect day, but the occasional shadow of a cloud passing between sun and earth made him grimace and search the skies. She said she'd get it done by tonight, he badgered himself. How can she possibly manage it before dark?
“And her mane... and her cutie mark!” Spike gushed, his claws on his cheeks as he stared back at the Boutique. “Did you see it? It sparkled like real crystals!”
Arbiter frowned at his assistant. “Cutie marks don't sparkle.”
“And those eyes...”
Looking over their shoulders, the unicorn watched Carousel Boutique fade into the distance. With it and its occupants hidden from sight Arbiter he ground to a halt and glared at the dragon. “Knock it off, Spike.”
“Huh?” the dragon replied distractedly.
The songbirds' chorus lent a lovely ambience to the path's natural beauty. They sounded fairly close. “Before we deal with Fluttershy, we have to talk about your manners.”
“I can be excused, right?”
Arbiter sighed. He lifted the baby dragon from his back and set him gently on his feet. “Look at me, Spike,” he ordered as the glow faded from his horn. “Listen. If you're not going to behave professionally, I'm going to have to leave you behind next time.”
“But I was having fun!” the babe protested.
“Right,” he said sternly. “That's the problem. This isn't about fun.”
“Then what do you call trying on suits and getting your mane done and everything?”
His eyes widened. “Are you talking back to me?” he asked.
He looked away and began dry-washing his hands, sure signs of guilt. “No...”
“Princess Celestia entrusted me with your care!” he exclaimed. “I am your guardian, Spike, and what I say goes!”
Spike threw up his claws. “But I'm so bored!” he complained.
Arbiter shrugged. “Business can be boring.”
“I didn't know it was going to be this boring! Can I go to the park instead?”
“No. I might need you to send a letter.”
“You haven't needed me all day.”
“What if there's an emergency?” Arbiter asked. “What if Rainbow Dash doesn't get her work done in time? What if Fluttershy's birds get sick?”
“But the park is right over–”
“No, Spike,” the unicorn said firmly. “Not this time. I need you with me. Come on.” He trotted off in the direction of the music.
“Please, Arbiter?” he insisted.
“I said no.”
“Please?”
“No!”
“Please?”
“Spike!” he barked. “What has gotten into you? This nagging and backtalk... It isn't like you. Why are you being so difficult?”
“You're the one who's being difficult,” Spike muttered.
Arbiter glared at him. “We'll discuss this when we get back to Canterlot,” he said calmly. “Until then, you're being punished.”
Spike's jaw dropped. “For what?!”
“See that bush over there?” he said, pointing to one just a few yards away from the little tree in which a choir of songbirds was practicing their music, led by the delicate motions of yellow hooves. “You're going to sit there until my business with Fluttershy is done. Then I'm going to deal with Mayor Mare. You'll be staying behind at the library.”
“But Arbiter...”
“No buts,” he barked. “Get over there and be quiet. I don't want you interrupting another inspection.”
Spike chewed his lip as he stared up at his guardian with watery eyes.
“I mean it!”
A snarl crawled out of one corner of his mouth and slid off of the other. He balled his fists and trembled with frustration. “Fine!” Spike muttered finally, and he spun on his toes and stomped away.
Arbiter watched him storm off, but as soon as he was sure his assistant was doing as he was told the unicorn turned away and trotted toward the source of the music. “What is wrong with everypony today?” he asked himself. He shook the thoughts loose and focused on the matter, or pony, at hoof: a yellow pegasus, the bandleader Fluttershy. The tail of her luxurious pink mane waggled back and forth opposite the rhythm of her hooves as she helped her singers keep time with the jaunty tune. It was occasionally batted away from her shoulders by her wings as they beat slowly to keep her body aloft. Her haunches swayed at a slower tempo; she shook her hips to accentuate the beat, throwing her butterflies to the left and to the right in syncopated time. Her eyelashes fluttered against each other, their lengths twitching in the gentle breeze. Her eyes had drifted shut, blocking out the summer; all she knew was the joy of her little friends' music.
All good things had to end. Feeling rather disrespectful Arbiter feigned a cough into his hoof, but the filly was lost in the voices of her friends and took no notice. “Fluttershy.”
Her choir scattered into the air; the pegasus fell to the grass and nearly collapsed in shock.
“Your birds sound beautiful,” he continued.
“Oh...” the pegasus gasped. “...M-my...”
Arbiter peered at her. “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned.
The pegasus held a hoof to her chest and tried to slow her breathing. “I'm sorry,” she panted. “You startled me!”
“I'm sorry.” Again he cleared his throat. “Your birds sound beautiful,” he said again.
“Thank you,” she said modestly, keeping her eyes on the ground.
He paused, hoping for more from her, but was disappointed. “I am Arbiter,” he said, offering his hoof. “I'm supervising tonight's festivities.
“Oh!” Her wings fluttered. “I didn't... um...” The rest of her words were jumbled together in a near-silent breath.
He frowned and lowered his hoof. “But you did receive my letter?” She nodded.
Somewhere nearby, a lucky cricket warmed up his legs.
“I'm here to inspect your progress on tonight's music,” he said. “Do you feel that your birds are ready for tonight's ceremony?”
She shrugged.
“Do they know the song?”
She nodded. In his mind's eye Arbiter could see her in one of Rarity's dresses. The veil would complement the demure set of her eyes and ears, and the baggy shoulders wouldn't seem so baggy on a pony with such a meek stance; rather, it might help hide her lack of confidence.
A chirping from his left made Arbiter twitch. His horn lit up and a thin beam of violet energy shot forth from it, striking the ground just an inch or two away from the offending vermin, who hopped away indignantly. The stallion shuddered.
Fluttershy hadn't seen the exchange. She finally looked up from her hoof, but when she saw him staring at her she looked away again. “Um...” She mumbled something under her breath.
“Speak up.”
“Is...” She hesitated. “Is there a problem?”
“What problem?” he asked.
She held her hooves between them. Arbiter was sure it was meant to be placating gesture, but it seemed almost defensive. “That isn't the song we're going to sing tonight,” she said hastily. “We wouldn't sing just any old Summer Sun carol for the Princess. We were just practicing our arpeggios.”
“Don't worry, Fluttershy,” he answered. “It sounds lovely.”
“Okay. Um, well, I only ask because you seem... um...” With every word she looked more like she regretted starting that sentence. “A-angry.”
“I am not angry,” Arbiter assured her, but after a second's thought he had to chuckle. “I'll admit that I'm not in the best mood.”
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
“No, it wasn't you,” he said. “I've just had a bad day. First my assistant misplaced my notes; then I had to fix a big problem over at Sweet Apple Acres...” The words rolled forth casually before he even thought of keeping his problems to himself. “Nopony seems to be capable of doing their job without me being there to guide them, but they're fighting me every step of the...” He blinked rapidly. “Oh. I'm sorry, Fluttershy. I don't know why I...”
“It's alright, Arbiter.” At least she was smiling. “Everypony needs to talk about their problems sometimes.”
He cocked his head to the left. “But I don't even know you!”
She scraped a hoof along the grass. “Oh, I don't mind. I'm used to it.”
“I suppose you must be, with an attitude like that.” He sighed. “It's just that... I want this day to be perfect. The Princess deserves that much, after everything she does for us.” Fluttershy nodded. “And today I've had to fix my mane twice, I've had my suit ruined, I haven't found time for lunch...”
“Not to mention being struck by lightning,” Fluttershy said sympathetically.
She knows? Do I still reek of smoke, even after my bath at the Boutique? “How did– How did you know?” The pegasus shrank back, discomfited by the affect her words had wrought upon the unicorn. A thought startled him. “You didn't see it, did you?” he asked worriedly.
“No.” Phew! “Um...” She stopped to straighten a bluebird's back feathers with a forehoof, and glanced shyly at him out of the corner of her eye. “Rainbow might have mentioned it,” she allowed eventually.
Instead of getting angry, Arbiter found himself struck with an idea. “Speaking of Rainbow, when you're done with the birds I need you to start clearing the skies.”
Her eyebrows lifted and she drew her head back. “But Rainbow–”
“Isn't doing her job,” he finished for her. “What a surprise.”
Fluttershy looked away. “She's probably just napping...”
“Yes, she is. That means other pegasi are going to have to pick up the slack. I'm sorry that the burden falls to you, Fluttershy, but I haven't seen any other pegasi around. Can you handle it?”
“I don't know,” she said uncertainly. “I've never been much of a weather pony.”
She was so meek. He felt that if he took another step forward she'd fly off in a fright. How could somepony so timid be in charge of anything? Well, it was all he had to work with, so she'd have to do. He'd just have to handle her with silk socks. “Just give it a try, okay?” he asked.
She nodded once, hesitated, and resumed. “I'll do my best.”
“Good!” he said brightly.
The two of them stared at each other. Fluttershy's hooves danced and she peered into the grass between them. “Did you mean that I should give it a try... right now?”
Silk socks. Silk socks. Silk socks. “It couldn't hurt!”
“Um... Okay.” She slowly raised her wings and flapped them a few times. “Here goes...”
Up went the pegasus, her pink mane blowing softly in the breeze like sand from a desert dune. Her ascent was a long, slow spiral, and she glanced down at Arbiter twice. “You can do it!” he called. She has to. She nodded and glided toward a lone cloud, one of many that drifted lazily across the skies.
“Is this one okay?” she asked, her voice barely reaching him.
“Yes! It's fine! Just give it a kick.”
She landed upon it for a moment, apparently to gather her thoughts, then hopped off and positioned herself beside it. After studying it for a few seconds she pulled back a leg and booted it.
“Oh, for the love of the sun,” he groaned.
Fluttershy looked upon her handiwork. She'd managed to push the cloud away, but her kick hadn't even dented its surface. She gave him a broken smile and twisted around to flutter closer. She stared at the cloud for a moment; it looked to him like she was scared of it, for ponies' sake! Once more she turned, pulled her legs up, and with a sharp grunt of effort the pegasus kicked outward as hard as she could.
About a third of it disappeared in a puff of vapor.
“For the love of–” he began to repeat, but he decided not to waste the effort. “Fluttershy, get down here!”
A soft whine carried to his ears. She glanced at the cloud wistfully; maybe she was thinking of hiding up there, but she didn't seem to have the nerve to go against his wishes. She couldn't meet his gaze as she fluttered back to earth. “I'm sorry, Arbiter.”
He rested his forehead on his hoof. “It's fine...”
“I tried my best,” she continued. She pawed at the ground. “I guess I'm just... not a very good weather pony.” A songbird landed upon her shoulder and compassionately cuddled against her cheek.
Arbiter rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I guess not.”
“Um... Do you want me to try again?”
“Don't waste my time,” he sighed. Her head dipped low, reminding him to keep his temper. “That is, don't put her job before yours, or you won't get anything done,” he amended. “You still have the birds to deal with.”
“Oh, I'm sure they're ready for tonight. We've been practicing for a few hours every day since Mayor Mare asked me to, and they've all been working very hard to make the Princess happy.” A touch of pride creeped into the corners of her mouth.
“That's great!” he exclaimed. Finally, somepony who can do her job without supervision... and doesn't abandon it on a whim.
His good mood was contagious. “Would you like to hear their song?” she asked. “I'm sure they'll be happy to sing it for you!” A couple of larks and a blue jay hopped about excitedly.
Arbiter shook his head. “No, thank you, Fluttershy. I don't have the time, especially if I'm going to find another pegasus to cover Rainbow.”
Her lips tightened. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Oh, okay.” He wasn't sure how, but he could've sworn that the jay frowned at him. Can beaks bend like that?
“I'll be looking forward to hearing it at the ceremony!” he said pleasantly. Fluttershy hid her disappointment behind a small smile and nodded. “For now, I have to go to the town square and find a pegasus to get rid of these clouds. I hope I won't have to use my magic!”
“Um, Arbiter? Wait, please.” A flash of yellow from the corner of his eye caught his attention. “Did you say the town square?”
He turned back to her with a frown. “Yes. Why?”
“I don't think you'll find anypony there,” she advised him. “Maybe you should just go to the library and... um...”
“And what?” he asked pointedly. “These skies need cleared. Somepony has to do it.”
“But everypony is... um...”
“Everypony is what? Come on, Fluttershy,” he said impatiently. “If you've got something to say, let's hear it.”
Her mane had fallen over her face but she made no move to come out from under it. “Um...” Her words were barely audible. “If you could just, um, visit the library first... maybe you'll bump into a pegasus there.”
“Do pegasi often read?”
She whined.
He looked at her for a long moment. “Alright,” he said uneasily. “I don't understand what you're trying to say, and it doesn't look like you're going to explain yourself, so I'm going to leave. I have business to attend to.” She just kept staring. He turned once more and trotted a few feet away. “Spike?” he called. “Spike, where are you?”
“I'm here!” he said from Arbiter's left. Caught by surprise, the unicorn peered under the leaves to find the whelp uncurling from a nap.
“The sun hasn't even set and everypony's already falling asleep,” Arbiter laughed. “Can't anypony make it through the night?”
“I was going to take a nap this evening,” a muted voice confessed. “Should I try not to?”
He shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Fluttershy.”
A huge gasp from behind made him miss a step. He half-tripped, half-spun to find Fluttershy hovering in midair with a smile as wide as her wingspan. “A baby dragon?”
“Uh...”
Next thing he knew, he was on the ground. “Oh my goodness, look at you!” she squealed. “Aren't you just the cutest little thing I've ever seen!”
“You hear that, Arbiter?” Spike smirked. “She says I'm cute!” Arbiter picked himself up and dusted himself off with as much dignity as he could manage.
“You can talk?” the pegasus said excitedly.
“And how,” Arbiter muttered as his assistant confirmed it.
“I didn't know baby dragons could talk!”
The unicorn growled under his breath. "Fluttershy!” She jumped and looked up at him, looking hurt. “Stop pestering Spike,” he ordered.
“Oh.” She looked to the ground and kicked delicately at a tuft of grass with a hoof. “I'm sorry. Um... I didn't know I was... I'm sorry to bother you, Spike.”
“You're not bothering me,” he said kindly. He glared at his companion.
His magic lifted the whelp onto his back. “Well, she's bothering me.” Fluttershy squealed in dismay and shrank back. Spike began to apologize for him, but he overrode the dragon's protests. “We don't have time for idle chatter. We have work to do.” He pointedly turned away and resumed his trot back to the library, nearly jostling his assistant from his perch.
“I'm sorry,” she breathed. She was practically flattened against the grass. “I didn't mean to be a bother.”
“In any case, your attention is needed elsewhere,” he advised her over his shoulder. “If you could return to your duties...?” She nodded.
The dragon sighed. “See you later, Fluttershy.”
The pegasus let out a long squeak that sounded like a farewell.
“Come find me tonight!” Spike called. “We can talk more then!” A muffled whine was the only response he received, and the sight of her big, damp blue eyes soon faded into the distance.
When they were out of earshot his assistant rounded on him. “Why'd you have to be so mean to Fluttershy?”
“I wasn't being mean,” he clarified. “I was being assertive.” It's astounding, how many ponies mistake the two.
“I liked talking to her! She's the only pony here who even noticed me!”
“Cut it out, Spike,” he commanded. “You're already in trouble. Don't make it any worse.”
The whelp sniffed. “But she was really nice...”
He's just a child, Arbiter reminded himself. I have to cut him some slack. He sighed and lowered his head. “We're here on business, Spike. After tonight's festivities we're heading right back to Canterlot to resume our studies, so don't bother trying to make friends.”
“But the Princess said...”
“The Princess meant that I should try to be friendly and... and not be afraid of the other ponies,” he said with a faint blush on his cheeks. “I don't think she expects us to make real friends here. We likely won't see them again, after all.”
“But we can always come back,” he pleaded.
The stallion laughed. “I don't see a town like this needing a pony of my talent to do more than run this library...” He trailed off and slowed to a walk as the building came into view. “What in the...?"
“Where's the library?” Spike asked.
Arbiter laughed as he trotted toward the sight. “Look at that!” he enthused. “I've never seen anything like it!” A massive tree stood where the library was supposed to be. Its hefty branches stretched left and right, their lush foliage almost concealing balconies and walls and windows. A little lamp hung halfway down its trunk to illuminate its doorway...
The door was ajar.
“Spike,” Arbiter said as they approached, “didn't the Princess say that the library was unoccupied?”
“Pretty much.”
“I think the schoolteacher helps run it, but why would she be working on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration...” The unicorn prodded the door open and peered inside. “...And in the dark?”
The two of them stared into the doorway. “Maybe she's upstairs?”
Arbiter grunted. “Maybe she's forgetful.” He shook his head and trotted into the tree. “It could have been anypony, really, but I don't think the library would see much use in an earth pony town like this.”
A murmur to their right made them both stop short. Arbiter turned toward the sound, but the darkness swallowed up any movement they might have seen. “Hello?” Spike called.
“This library is closed for the Celebration,” Arbiter added.
Two big white bulbs appeared inches away, and he felt hot breath upon his nose. “I know!” something squealed.
The lights flashed on. “Surprise!” a chorus of voices howled.
His hooves ruffled her coat as she slipped away to the front of the crowd, and he almost fell onto his muzzle. Spike hit the floor flat on his back.
“Isn't this great?” Pinkie continued as the two of them stared from one pony to the next. “Since you guys don't have much time to meet everypony, I decided to throw you a big Welcome to Ponyville party and invite everypony in town! Now you two can meet everypony really, really fast and make lots of friends and still get your work done!” She bobbed close enough to rub her cheek against him. “This is my best idea ever!”
Arbiter swallowed and shrank a few sizes. “What're you all doing in the library?”
“I just told you, silly! They're here to meet you two and have lots of fun!"
He grabbed her by the mane and dragged her ear closer. “Pinkie Pie,” he whispered, “I don't know if I want to have a party...”
“Don't be silly. Of course you do!” she laughed. “After all, this is going to be your favorite party ever because I threw it just for you! We can play all of your favorite games and listen to your favorite music and eat your favorite food!” She glanced at the buffet. “But only if your favorite food is cake.”
He didn't know what to say. “I...”
“Do you like cake, Arbiter?”
“I like cake,” he said.
“I bet you love cake, don't you, Spike?”
The dragon licked his lips and his stomach growled. “Boy, do I!”
“Who doesn't? Why don't you have some while I show Arbiter around? I'm sure everypony's dying to meet you, since you're the first dragon Ponyville's seen in forever and all!” She put a hoof under Arbiter's shoulder and the two ponies began to move. “Come on! Let's go meet everypony! I can tell you're kinda nervous, but you've got nothing to worry about,” she assured him. “I'll be with you every step of the way!” Spike laughed as he watched them go.
There were so many faces: mares and some stallions, unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies – lots of earth ponies – and even a donkey. They came in every color combination he could imagine and a few that he couldn't, and their smiles were all the same. “Hi,” he said again.
“Good to meet you, Arbiter,” said yet another pony.
“Not only that, but she's a farmer too! Guess what she grows.”
“Um...” My memory is perfect! Am I really going to let my nerves get to me now? He scrunched his nose and fought to remember any of the conversation he'd missed.
It was hopeless.
“Berries! Duh!” said the earth pony. “Name's Berryshine, for ponies' sake.”
“Oh,” he said. He shook his mane. “I knew that.”
“Bye, Berry!” Pinkie Pie said hurriedly, and she dragged the unicorn to the next stranger. “Hi, Snowflake! Have you been working out?”
“Yeah!” said a vaguely horse-shaped pile of meat.
“I can tell! Anyway, this is Arbiter. Arbiter, this is Snowflake. See you later, Snowflake!”
The pegasus waved happily and resumed his efforts to impress a golden-maned pegasus.
“Oh, and you've got to meet–”
“Wait, Pinkie, wait!” the unicorn begged. “What am I supposed to learn from all of this?”
“You're learning everypony's names, and a little bit of what makes them special too! That's a good start, isn't it?”
“I suppose so...”
“Great!” She turned toward the punch bowl. “We only have half of the guests left, so let's get crackin'!” she said, cracking her pastern joints for emphasis.
“That was only half?”
“Get it? Cracking?” She nudged him with an elbow. “And I cracked my knuckles?”
Sweat trailed down from his maneline to his temple. “Ha-ha,” he said. “Excuse me, please.” He turned to his right and drifted off into the crowd. What did I get myself into? This isn't how you make friends!
“Hurry back! There are lots of cool ponies that you just have to meet!”
I'll just be a minute...
,',
“There you are!”
Pinkie clopped across the hardwood floor and stood about a foot behind him. Arbiter flinched and settled further into his stool. The remnants of his sack lunch lay folded neatly folded atop a plate painted with frosting.
“What're you doing in here?” the filly asked as she bounced up and down. “Did you forget there's a party going on just outside your door?” She ignored his silence with aplomb and bounced a little closer. “Whatcha readin'?”
“I have some studying to do,” he replied distractedly.
She gave an interested grunt. “Whatcha studyin'?”
Arbiter sighed. “The Princess told me a story earlier, an old pony tale about something called the Mare in the Moon.”
“The Mare in the Moon? I love that story!” Pinkie said excitedly. “Nana Pinkie used to tell it to me all the time!”
“The thing is that Princess Celestia usually has a good reason to do something like that. What could she have meant by it?”
“Didn't you understand the moral of the story?”
He snorted at her. “Of course,” he lied.
She gave him a flat look, but brightened up almost immediately. “Story time!” Pinkie squealed.
Arbiter facehoofed.
“Okay, so there were these two sisters who ruled the land together but–”
“Since when are they sisters?” Arbiter interrupted. “Princess Celestia didn't say that they were sisters.”
“Well, this is my story, not hers,” Pinkie shrugged.
“Well,” he mocked her, “your story is wrong.”
Somehow she gave him an ever flatter look. “Anyway, the Mare in the Moon was jealous – well, she wasn't the Mare in the Moon yet – and she and the other princess had a big fight but the Mare in the Moon was too strong and then the other princess had to banish her to the moon with the Magic of Harmony because she had so much evil in her heart. The end.”
Arbiter stared at her in disbelief. “What kind of narrative was that?” he laughed.
She chuckled with him. “A really fast one. And the moral of the story is, if you ever find yourself with darkness in your heart, you can find salvation in friendship and harmony!”
He furrowed his brow as he thought it over. “That's it?”
“That's it!” she agreed brightly.
“But that's stupid,” he argued. “Being nice won't help in the face of a villain like the Mare in the Moon.”
“How do you know unless you try?” she countered. “Haven't you ever been bullied before?”
He pulled his lips between his teeth and chewed them lightly as his eyes focused on a memory. “Princess Celestia and the other teachers sorted out bullies at the School for Gifted Unicorns.”
She cocked her head. “Ever get into a really bad fight with one of your friends?”
He smirked. “No.”
“Ever meet an angry homeless pony that blamed you for all of their life's problems when they really just need to stop wasting their bits on cider?”
“Anyway!” he half-shouted, “that's what I'm studying, and I'd appreciate it if you let me study in peace!”
“What for?” Pinkie insisted. “You got your answer!”
“That's not a good enough answer.” He shook his head. “Thank you for trying to help, but I'd rather look at the problem on my own.”
“Why not read on the way back to Canterlot tomorrow?” she asked. “You'll always have another chance to read, but you're never gonna have another Welcome to Ponyville party!” She happily blew a noisemaker in his ear. “Come on, let's play some games!”
“I don't have time for games.” Arbiter began to tap the bottom of the book's spine against the desk. “I don't have time for any of this!”
She draped a hoof over his shoulder and ignored his grimace. “Oh, don't be such a party-pooper!” she said good-naturedly. “I bet even Star Swirl the Bearded had time for a party once in a while, don't you?”
He dropped his book to the desktop in shock. “You've heard of Star Swirl?” he asked excitedly.
“Nope!” she beamed. “I read your diary.”
His muzzle crinkled in frustration and his eyes took on a dangerous glint. “You read my diary?” he asked slowly.
Her smile cracked and fell. “Well, I didn't read all of it,” she assured him. “I knocked it over while I was decorating your bedroom and it fell open to an entry from a few weeks ago and I was curious about what life is like for somepony like you who knows the Princess personally and probably eats at fancy bakeries where I bet they serve all kinds of things the Cakes don't know how to–”
A hoofstomp interrupted her train of thought. “Pinkie Pie,” the unicorn growled as the filly uneasily shifted from one hoof to the other. “Take your party and leave.”
She stopped dead and her eyebrows flew up into her mane. “Um...” Her eyes searched the ground for a clue. “You mean the whole party?”
“I mean get out!” he screamed, throwing a hoof toward the door. The concerned faces of two ponies appeared around the doorframe. “And take your decorations and guests and snacks with you!”
One onlooker, a cream-colored mare with a mane in dark blue and fuchsia, cocked her head at the other. “I'll handle this,” Rarity said confidently. “Arbiter!” she called as she sashayed into the room. “It's so good to–”
“Oh, don't you start!”
Rarity jerked back as if he'd slapped her. “I was only–”
“This party is over! Go home!”
Her eyes grew pinched at the corners and her frown took on a sharp twist. “Well... er... Why?”
“Because I said so,” he said firmly. “I am trying to study. I don't want a party. I don't want strange ponies wandering around in the library while I'm working.”
“But this isn't your library!” She moved next to Pinkie. “It's Ponyville's public library and–”
“Princess Celestia, in her infinite wisdom, gave me this library as lodgings. Do you think I wanted to stay in a library? No, but it's the only place I have, and for tonight it's my place, understand?”
“But can't your work wait?” she asked. “Tonight is a holiday! Surely you have time to enjoy yourself.”
“I don't,” he said firmly, but it was no use.
“But Arbiter...” Pinkie tugged on his left foreleg. “You have to come! I really, really want you to have a good time in Ponyville. Making my friends happy is the most important thing in the world to me!”
He shook her off. “Haven't you made enough friends?”
She giggled as if he'd told her a joke. “You can never make too many friends, silly pony!”
“I can. It's a waste of valuable time.”
Pinkie gasped. “A waste of time?! Are you crazy?”
“No! I need to focus my efforts on studying if I'm going to be anything like Star Swirl the Bearded.” He gave Rarity a patronizing glance. “Tell me at least you know who that is.”
“The name... rings a bell,” Rarity replied uncertainly. “He was a famous wizard, wasn't he?”
Arbiter let his head fall to the desk. “Didn't they teach you ponies any history in school?” he deplored.
“And he wrote spells,” she continued more confidently. “He wrote over a hundred spells.”
“He was the greatest wizard that ever lived,” he corrected her, “and he created over two hundred spells, including some that we modern-day ponies take for granted.” He rounded on Pinkie. “And do you know how Star Swirl was able to create such spells? Do you know why the Princess wanted him to succeed her?" he raged. "It was because he was dedicated!" Flecks of saliva sprinkled her face; she blinked them and her tears away. "He didn't make time for friends! He didn't need any! And I don't either. I am going to be my generation's answer to the greatest pony who ever lived, and if I am ever going to achieve that goal, I cannot let myself get distracted by silly socialites and their petty parties!" With that he set his horn alight; streamers from either side of his desk were tugged free of the wall.
“Hey!” Pinkie cried. “Arbiter, what are you doing?”
“This is my party, isn't it?” he said coldly. “Then I say it's over.”
She jumped, but he lifted the decorations just out of her reach. “But everypony just got here!”
Her objections were ignored. “Why in Celestia's name would you decorate the bedroom?” he muttered as he worked. “And with so many decorations, at that.”
Pinkie shrank down onto her belly. “Please stop,” she whined, giving him her very best puppy eyes. Rarity threw a hoof over her shoulder and added the power of her well-practiced stare.
He didn't even look at them. “I mean, it's not like anypony would be partying in here anyway!”
“I heard you were in a bad mood so I worked extra hard to make everything fun,” she explained, her voice pitched high and shaking. “I decorated the whole library all by myself just for you.”
The streamers drifted to a stop as he stared pensively into the middle distance. Pinkie's neck lifted a couple of inches, hope beginning to fill her once more. The unicorn turned to the earth pony and cocked his head. “Who told you I was in a bad mood?”
She dropped her head onto her foreleg and mumbled something, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Who?” he insisted.
“Rain–” She glanced up and shrank into Rarity's protective embrace. “Rainbow...”
“That Celestia-damned pegasus again?!” The posters tore at their corners under his rough treatment.
“Gently, please!” Rarity chided him as her horn began to glow.
“Is she out there?” Arbiter asked angrily. “Oh, I've got a word or two for her!”
“She said she'd be late,” Pinkie grumbled.
“Good!” he barked. “Maybe she's finally doing her job!”
“Now she's going to miss the whole thing,” Pinkie sobbed.
He jerked a little too hard and some streamers got caught around the curtain rod. “I wouldn't want her to come, anyway.”
“Why not?” asked Rarity. “Wouldn't you want the chance to patch things up with her before they get out of hoof?”
He snorted as he jerked at a few more strings on the ceiling. “No.”
“You're going to tangle–” A loud pop echoed throughout the room as he jerked too hard. “Not the balloons!” the earth pony yelped.
He shrugged and tore more streamers and decorations loose. The floating bundle was massive, easily the size of three ponies and more dense than could be expected from a tangle of paper and ribbon. A quick burst of energy slammed open the window. With a grunt of effort he slid the bundle closer to the open air, his horn sparking all the while. He gave a final heave–
Blinding pain raced down his horn into his skull. He cried out and released the spell; his bundle disintegrated into colors and shapes as it fell, some onto the windowsill and most to the grass below. Before his eyes danced more colors and shapes. He fell to his haunches and threw his hooves over his head.
“Are you alright?”
Red-blue-orange-red-white went his vision. Oh, that's just great. He glared at her with eyes barely cracked. “Of course I'm not alright!” he roared, trying to blink away the browns and greens and blues as they came.
“Please, allow me to help...”
He covered his eyes with his hooves and groaned into them. “You've done enough damage today, both of you.” His horn pulsed twice with lavender sparks.
“I insist!”
Somepony dragged sandpaper along his inner ear; at least that's what it sounded like to him. “Gah!” He swatted Rarity's hoof away from his shoulder and heard a brass bell in the distance as his hoof struck her flesh. “Don't touch! Synesthesia!”
“Oh! I'm so sorry,” she breathed. “Should I send for Nurse Redheart?”
He turned away and squeezed his eyes shut. “No nurse can help a strained horn. I don't need a doctor, I need rest! Just leave me alone!”
She laid her ears back. “Alright, alright,” she finally agreed. “I'm sorry we interrupted your studies.”
Pinkie roughly pushed her aside. “I'm not!”
“Pinkie, please!” Rarity insisted with a tug on her shoulder. She put her mouth to Pinkie's ear and covered it with a hoof. “My future is at stake!” she whispered.
“I worked really hard on this party and you wouldn't even come,” she complained. “To your own welcoming party!”
A long, low growl escaped the unicorn colt, low at first but rising and rising until it became a howl of frustration heard by half of the partygoers. “Pinkie Pie,” he said calmly. “If this library isn't back to normal by the time my headache is gone, I'm going to go out there and pop each and every balloon I find.”
The threat worked. “You wouldn't!” she gasped.
“Tear every streamer to shreds...”
Her eyes narrowed to teary slits. “You're a mean old meanie-pants!” she shrieked.
He threw his hooves over his ears. “And you're a two-bit clown,” he fired back, cracking his eyes open to find the stairs to the loft. “Douse the candles on your way out.”
Pinkie's hindquarters thudded to the floorboards. “But... But...” Tears sprayed the floor and her mouth opened wide. “Why are you so meeeeeean?” she wailed.
He groaned as the siren pierced his skull and blinded his eyes. He stretched out a hoof and grabbed the nearest thing available. “Take your whining outside!” He threw it without even looking at it.
A well-loved stuffed critter bounced off of Pinkie's chest. Her hooves snatched it as it fell and held it to her chest. “Tha-ha-haaanks!”
Rarity wrapped her forelegs around her friend and glared daggers at him. “Well,” she huffed as she pulled Pinkie to her hooves. “You may be close to the Princess, Arbiter, but you are no noble.” She lifted her head high and escorted Pinkie from the room.
He threw his hooves out to his sides. “That's what I've been trying to tell you all day!” he sputtered at their retreating haunches. He sighed and turned his back on the door as it swung shut behind them.
It was rough, trying to find every step of the stairway with his eyes closed, and the distractions of his synesthetic visions didn't help. The sound of every hoofstep sent colors across the backs of his eyelids, rusty reds and brassy browns, and he could hear the smooth texture of the floorboards like a low whine. Great, he thought once again. Just bucking great. If this doesn't wear off by the time I have to give my speech, there's going to be Tartarus to pay. Eventually he reached the top of the stairs and carefully felt his way to the bed. It wasn't as big as the one he slept in at home, but to his surprise it felt just firm enough for his tastes. He peeled back the comforter and slid beneath it, trying to ignore the laughter its ticklish underside brought to his inner ear. At least Rarity had the decency to douse the candles. Maybe she wouldn't be so bad if not for that pesky party pony. The rooms outside were surprisingly quiet, so quiet that he could hear every cricket, every waking creature, but movement played with the light coming in under the door. Some ponies were leaving, or somepony was working. Neither was anything he needed to worry about. He had to focus on resting if his body was to have any chance of healing his migraine and sorting out his synesthesia.
A hoof idly played with the comforter's cottony surface, and to his delight it sounded like the ocean. “Interesting,” he murmured. He'd only been to the ocean once, and the desert, and the mountains... Princess Celestia had once taken him all over Equestria in three days. During their early days together she'd tried to humor him when his inquisitive spirit found him latching onto a new obsession, especially when it came to understanding Equestria and its ponies. She'd still managed to find a lesson in every pit stop, a moral in every event. It'd been quite an experience. She'll be here soon, he realized, and thanks to some hard work and a keen mind, she'll have a Summer Sun Celebration to be proud of.
A yawn derailed his train of thought. It looks as though I'll be taking a page from Spike's and Rainbow's books, he thought. “Ironic.”
The colors of the evening's music faded.
,',
He giggled as he raced along white sand, running into dampness when the water retreated and rushing away as it came back to splash the sand from his hooves. “Look!” he shouted. “It's moving! Why's it moving?”
“That's called the tide,” a unicorn replied, her voice a faint song in his ears. “When I raise and lower the sun or the moon, the shift in their positions affects much more than simply day and night.”
He looked up at the two satellites sharing the sky. “What happens when both are raised?” In his distraction he didn't notice how tall the waves had become in the distance.
“Be careful, Arbiter!”
The colt squealed as he was buried in the sea, but when it drew back he was standing tall and beaming. He spat out an ocean of saltwater. “The ocean tricked me!” he laughed as only a foal can laugh.
His mother's hooves tightened around him. “Time to wake up,” she cooed.
Arbiter opened his eyes to wood and candlelight. “Thank you, Spike.”
The dragon hopped down and watched him crawl out of bed with a wary eye. “You okay?”
He tapped a hoof against the floorboards and didn't see or hear anything out of the norm. “My senses are back to normal.”
However, the unicorn's eyes were still pinched. “How's your head?” Spike asked.
“It's not as bad as it was,” he said with a shrug. Arbiter walked toward the window. “How did you know I wasn't feeling well?”
“Rarity told me. She was really worried.”
Arbiter smiled as he watched the ponies outside mill about. Probably just covering her own flank, but... “Well, Spike, how long do we have before I give my speech?”
“About... um...” The whelp coughed into his fist. “About fifteen minutes...”
His cheek twitched. He turned slowly to face the dragon. “Fifteen minutes?” he asked.
“Fifteen minutes.”
Arbiter laughed and dove from the loft. His hooves slammed into the floorboards with a crack like a tree branch snapping under snow. He snagged his bag from the table by hoof and dragged it to the floor, where he tore open the side pouch with his teeth to find his smoky old suit...
It was gone, and with it, the smell. In its place was a plastic-wrapped parcel of dark taupe cotton and a note. Arbiter shook his head and tore the package open, leaving the note to drift to the floor. I don't have time for apologies. As his assistant stringed excuses together on the way down the stairs Arbiter threw himself into his new suit; by the time Spike had made it to the floor he'd pulled on the undershirt and overcoat and was tugging his pants up with his teeth.
“...and nopony could find Fluttershy and–”
Arbiter stood tall and straightened his neck. “Fix it.”
The dragon kept rambling as his claws straightened the unicorn's lapels and tugged at wrinkles and folds in the material. “But everypony said she was supposed to come to the party and then when the party ended early I thought I might find her in the town square but nopony's seen her there either–”
“It doesn't matter, Spike,” Arbiter said smoothly. A quick glance at the mirror and a quicker tug on his tie and he was almost ready to leave. He bit down on the loose skin behind Spike's neck and lifted him onto his back, ignoring the babe's protests. “Button me. All that matters is that we have fifteen minutes to meet with Mayor Mare and make sure that everything is going according to plan. Done?”
His claws fiddled under Arbiter's coattails while the unicorn rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he said finally.
“Good.” With that he wound his way through the library and emerged into the open air at a brisk walk.
Darkness had fallen. His nap had been much, much longer than anticipated. He could see bonfires roaring in the park, around which sat ponies roasting marshmallows or singing carols. Earth ponies and pegasi waved happily as they passed or called out their greetings and well-wishes. Carts and stands covered with steaming or iced treats littered the town square, each with a vendor or a waiter singing out their wares. One, a familiar orange mare, didn't meet his eye.
“Who wants some carrot cake?”
“Ice cream here!”
“Fresh lemonade, no charge!”
As unicorn and dragon sidestepped through the throng surrounding the carts a song began to approach them, high and sharp and joyous; the sounds of a country violin. Somepony turned a corner opposite them, appearing over the heads of the other ponies. She was standing upright on her hind legs, and with her forehooves she held a violin to her neck and a bow to the strings. Her left hoof danced along the neck of her instrument, pressing and lifting and snapping as her right sent the bow gliding back and forth against the two remaining strings. Her hips and shoulders bobbed to the beat of her melody. Through the distance Arbiter saw a pale coat and a dark mane topped with a cowmare hat. The shirt and belt were gone, but with that bandana she couldn't have been anypony else.
Arbiter hadn't expected the sudden pang of loneliness.
His hooves dragged him toward the center of the street and no further. “H-hi,” he called hesitantly.
His voice cut through warm harmonies of a long-held chord. Her head turned and she stared quizzically, her hindleg keeping the beat and her balance as her forehooves began to tap out an arpeggio. Just as she reached the crescendo the light of recognition brightened her smile, and she nodded to him like to an old friend. His hooves itched; by the time he lifted one to approach her, she'd tottered passed and the crowd had once again pressed in behind her. Her siren call sang out over the heads of unicorns and earth ponies alike, and everypony found themselves caught in its rhythm. Singers sang and dancers danced; foals and nags laughed and young lovers sighed. Arbiter just stared.
A nudge on the shoulder brought him back to Equestria. He turned away from the dancers and locked his eyes on the town hall. “What am I thinking?” he muttered to himself as he galloped. “I don't have the time!”
If I believed in fate I'd think it was conspiring against me, he thought a moment later. Just outside the building were the two ponies he wanted to avoid most of all. Pinkie Pie held Rarity and sniffled, but it sounded to Arbiter like the worst was over.
He slowed to a walk and tried to approach as quietly as possible. Rarity's back was turned and Pinkie's eyes were buried in her friend's mane, but any chance of contact with them was out of the question. He didn't have time for Rarity's apologies or Pinkie's tears or anything else they could possibly throw at him. Not tonight. Not just before he was due on stage!
“Why does he hate me?” the filly moaned into the unicorn's fur.
“He doesn't hate you, Pinkie,” she cooed. “He was just tired. I'm certain that he'll be much nicer to you in the morning.”
Arbiter grimaced. I wasn't being mean! he raged inwardly. I just... I can't waste my time at parties. I'm a very busy pony!
“Do you think so?”
“I know so. Why, I'm sure that he'd love to–”
“Don't put words in my mouth,” he said firmly as he passed them by.
Pinkie's eyes snapped open and Rarity jumped a foot into the air.
“Arbiter!” the whelp scolded him.
“Shut up, Spike,” he said savagely.
“But what about the Princess?”
“Your breath smells like ice cream.” Guilt flushed his features and the babe was quiet. Arbiter didn't give the mares another glance.
His eyes took their time to adjust to the light of the town hall's interior, and he used that time wisely. He stood beside the doorway, took a calming breath and let his eyes drift out of focus and rove over the silhouettes of those ponies that already formed an audience. It's nothing to get worked up over, he told himself, just as the Princess had shown him. It's just a couple of fillies that haven't learned to take life seriously. They'll understand when they grow up. They just need a hoof to guide them.
Ponies brushed past him with tarts and pies and grins and high hopes. Okay. His eyes snapped to attention and his frown disappeared. Action. He cantered along the wall of the building until he reached the side door that would allow him backstage. The question died on his tongue as he burst through and saw the object of his search. Brown coat. Curly white mane. Businesspony's tie and spectacles. She could only be the Mayor. He approached quickly. She had papers in a satchel upon her back. Hadn't she given her speech yet? “Mayor Mare?”
The mare turned and grinned at him upon hearing her name. “Why, hello!” she said kindly. “Who might you be?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did you not get my letter?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, letting her eyes rove up and down his length. “Oh, I'm sorry, Arbiter. I was expecting a visit from you earlier. The Princess is set to make her appearance in just a few minutes!”
“I believed that my letter was enough,” he said dismissively.
“In fact,” she continued, “I was under the impression that you never came to Ponyville at all until Applejack let me know otherwise.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but found that he, for once in his life, was unable to find the information. “Who?”
Her head tilted a little to the left. “The mare who spoke to you at Sweet Apple Acres?”
“Oh, of course,” he chuckled. “I just saw her, too. I can't believe I...” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Pardon me if I seem a bit out of sorts. I'm suffering from a headache. I strained my horn, you see. You understand– Well, no,” he amended, “perhaps you don't.” She made noises that might have been sympathetic. “Yes, Applejack and the other ponies did their jobs decently, I think, with two notable exceptions. Applejack–”
“She already told me about it,” the Mayor said quickly. She wandered toward the curtain, and he doggedly followed her. “I can't blame her for not thinking of preparing a wider variety,” she said as she peered through the gap at an audience that had grown exponentially since Arbiter had left it. “I myself thought that her family's usual fare would be enough.”
“Luckily I arrived in time to straighten things out at Sweet Apple Acres.”
“And... the other problem?” Mayor Mare asked. She had retracted her neck a little, and had lowered her head as well. She knew this one was going to be a doozy.
In fact... He smirked at her, but there was no humor in it. “You already know what I'm going to say, don't you?” She nodded. “That Rainbow... Rainbow Dart.” He looked upward for a moment, not even hearing the mayor's muttered correction. “She insulted me and struck me with a bolt of lightning! She is lazy, combative, and not fit to manage even a salad bar.”
The mayor nudged him with a shoulder in what he assumed was supposed to be commiseration. “She already apologized to me for her behavior. I'm sure that she'll do the same for you when she sees you next.”
“That doesn't excuse her actions! Even if her apology was sincere - which I doubt! - her laziness is still an issue. To be frank, I'm surprised that she managed to clear the skies in time. When did she report back?”
“She didn't. I prefer to give Rainbow Dash,” she said, emphasizing the name quite clearly, “the free reign that she desires.”
“Free reign, huh?” he muttered, peeking around the curtain. The pegasus's multicolored mane was easy to spot even in this gloom thanks to clear skies and the light of the moon.
“She works most efficiently if she doesn't have other ponies looking over her shoulder,” the mayor explained. “If you constrict her too much, she tends to either get bored and work too slowly, or rush things and do a shoddy job.” She shrugged. “Yes, she needs some help focusing now and then, but what pony doesn't get distracted occasionally?”
His eyes narrowed at the pony in question. She was laughing uproariously at something a familiar stetson-clad mare had said. “And she's in charge of the weather for the Celebration?” he asked, his tone dark.
“Of course!” the Mayor said defensively. “I wouldn't have it any other way. Rainbow Dash is the most efficient and dedicated member of Ponyville's weather team!”
“That's not dedication,” he argued. “I want to see her records.”
The mare's back straightened and she looked up at him with Rainbow Dash's eyes. “Excuse me, sir,” she said heatedly, “but you are in charge of supervising the Summer Sun Celebration, not Ponyville. You have no right to request those documents and I'm offended that you would ask them of me.”
She had a point. “Oh.” A hoof strayed to his temple. “I apologize. I'm getting carried away. I just want everything to be perfect for the Princess...”
“I'm more than capable of hosting a Summer Sun Celebration. Do I seem like an incompetent mayor to you?” she pressed.
“You seem to be... decent...” He didn't know ponies could growl like that. “But I can't formulate an opinion, since I have such little experience with you. In any case, that's neither here nor there.”
“Isn't it?”
He ignored her. “What's with the satchel?” he asked instead, gesturing toward the papers poking out of it. “You've already concluded your speech, haven't you?”
“Yes. I gave my little introduction about half an hour ago. Where were you?”
“I was sleeping off that headache I mentioned,” he explained. “One of your residents took it upon themselves to redecorate the library in my absence, and I'll admit that I pushed myself a little too hard while putting things back in order.”
“So I heard,” she said. Her lips were drawn tight. She was irritated. Well, it made sense that she'd have already heard complaints about her town's party pony. The question was whether or not she could get the menace under control.
“But my nap did wonders for my headache,” he said, turning his mind to more positive things. “I'm ready for the speech. How much time do we have?” he called.
“Um... minute and twenty,” somepony called back.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Is that all? Oh, I didn't expect our conversation to take so long!”
“Don't worry about it, Mayor Mare. Things are still running smoothly.”
“Of course, but I expected more time to prepare! Is my mane still in place? Is my tie straight? Pinkie Pie mussed them a bit, but I think...” She teased her mane into place with a forehoof. “How do I look? Professional?”
“Not so much right now,” he said bluntly. “Why are you so nervous? You've done your part. I'm here to do mine.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“Go wait offstage with the others. Don't worry, it's all under control. I've timed things perfectly.” He tried to get the attention of one of the many busy-looking ponies darting too and fro. “Excuse me... Excuse me! Has anypony spoken to Princess Celestia in the last three minutes?” he asked.
“What do you mean, 'I've done my part'?” she insisted. “My speech...”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You're expecting another speech?”
“Of course I'm expecting another speech!” she fretted. “Who else would be announcing the arrival of the dawn?”
"I will be." She choked out a strange noise. “Didn't you read the timetable?”
“What timetable?” If her voice rose another register the crowd outside would hear her. “I didn't receive a timetable!”
The stallion looked straight ahead, his pupils dilating to pinpricks. “No timetable?” he mouthed. She shook her head. His shoulders trembled. “Then how did we get even this far?!” he shouted. “How could you ponies hope to pull this off without my timetable?”
“I did what we–”
“Spike!" he barked with a glare that pinned the dragon in place. “Tell me you sent her the timetable!”
Spike cringed away. “I thought I did!”
“How many sheets did you send the Mayor?”
The babe began to count on his fingers, but stopped halfway through. “Six or seven...”
An eyelid twitched. “Which was it, Spike?”
The dragon shrank back. “I dunno!”
“Did you send the–”
“Seven?”
“Did you send the timetable?” he screamed in the dragon's face.
“I-I-I...” His cheeks puffed out, and he turned his head and let out a tiny burst of flame. “I think so!”
“Oh, forget it!” he roared. He gently bucked the baby dragon off of his back and glanced at the clock. “I only have another twenty-three seconds to prepare. Twenty-two. You,” he said, throwing a hoof out a the mayor. “Tell me what's happened so far!”
She was frozen in place. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “Well...”
“Quickly!” he screamed, alarming several gofers and a hairdresser. “Oh, for the love of the sun! Never mind!” His eyes narrowed as he glanced around. “Clear the stage! Mayor, exit stage left! Take Spike!” The dragon belched again. “Get those hiccups under control! Where is Rarity? I need a stagehoof! I said stage left, not your left!” he shouted at the bewildered mayor. He galloped toward the tiny opening in the curtains and skidded to a stop. A few breaths helped slow his breathing and a quick hoof through his mane brought it back to order. He looked around for Rarity and found a stagehoof scrambling into her position, looking a little shell-shocked. He lifted a hoof. “Somepony cue Fluttershy on two! You, on my mark. Four... Three...” He rolled his neck and popped a stiff joint as the song of the bird choir began. His hoof bobbed with the beat of the countdown in his mind. On zero it hit the floor and he began to walk forward. The curtain parted hastily for him as the pegasus jerked back on the rope hard enough to throw off her balance.
The Princess's most faithful student looked the part. He was calm and collected, showed not a trace of anxiety or sweat, and his little smile made all of Ponyville even prouder to have hosted such a successful Summer Sun Celebration. They cheered as he paced toward the front of the stage, their excitement bolstered by stomachs full of sweet apple treats .
The birds' fanfare concluded as he settled into place, but it took Ponyville a moment to wind down. “Tha–“
“We love you, Princess Celestia!”
His eyes found an excited sea-green unicorn bouncing up and down in the third row, showing her beautiful teeth in a fangirl's grin. You look familiar, he thought to himself. Aren't you from Canterlot? He gave her a stoical stare, and she eventually noticed and settled herself on the ground to bear the jibes of her two companions.
The matter of disorder dealt with, he turned his gaze back to the crowd at large and smiled at them once again. “Citizens of Ponyville! Visitors and travelers!” he began, his voice ringing clear and pure in the air above their heads. “Welcome, everypony, to this year's Summer Sun Celebration!” He paused as the rolling sound of hoofbeats washed over him. “We have gathered here today to honor our beloved Princess Celestia...”
“...every day she wakes, and Equestria wakes with her...”
“...bring her light to all of Equestria and the nations beyond...”
A few minutes later he began to notice boredom on the faces in the front row. Well, he wasn't a speechwriter by trade; he was willing to accept that he may have made a mistake. We live and learn, he mused silently as he hastily cut a few paragraphs. “And so today, on the longest day of the year, we and all of Ponyville bid welcome to our beloved matriarch, the Princess Celestia!” Again he was drowned out by the sounds of the audience stomping in appreciation, and even a few whoops. He clapped his hooves together a few times before hopping off of the stage to stare up at the balcony that held his Princess.
She wasn't there.
It took Ponyville no more than ten seconds to decide that she wasn't coming.
“What's happening?”
“Was the Celebration not good enough?”
“Princess Celestia!”
“Is everything alright?” Arbiter asked the Mayor beside him.
“I think so,” she muttered anxiously. “She's not typically late, is she?”
“When did you last see her?”
“Two minutes before you and I spoke! She said she had some business to attend to, but I didn't think it would take her this long!”
“She did what?” he hissed. “Why didn't you tell me this sooner? Why didn't you postpone the event?”
“She told me not to,” the Mayor whined.
“What business?”
“She didn't say.”
“Did she fly there? What direction?”
“She teleported!”
“Great work, Ponyville,” Arbiter snarled. He ignored the Mayor's squeak of dismay and trotted back onto the stage, emptying his features of emotion along the way. “Ladies and gentlecolts, it appears that our Princess is running late due to a matter of some urgency. Please be patient while she wraps up her business. In the meantime feel free to stretch your legs, get some fresh air and enjoy some of Sweet Apple Acres' fresh-baked delicacies.”
Nopony noticed the blue mist that crawled through the curtain onto the balcony above.
“Thank you for your patience.”
,',
“I will not fight you,” she choked out.
“I would crush you if you dared.”
She tried to lift even a hoof, but the weight of her sister's magic upon her back kept her pinned to the floor. She'd known this day would come for just under one thousand years, but even that had not been enough time for her tears to run dry. “Please... Luna, please!”
“That name is nothing now but a relic of your empire!” the dark alicorn hissed. “I am Nightmare Moon, Princess of the Night and sole ruler of Equestria!”
“You are my sister!” she howled. “I miss you, Luna! I love you more than anything in Equestria!”
“That is a lie,” she cooed. “You were always so passionate, and so soft. I was always the one forced to tie up the loose ends of your endeavors.” Her voice took on a razor edge. “While you and your court reveled, I worked tirelessly in the shadows to safeguard our home from those you would not lift a hoof to protect against! I was the true hero!”
“I'm sorry!”
“I watched for centuries as you schemed and manipulated. My ponies deserve better!”
A growling, the murmurs of thousands, sounded at the edge of hearing. She'd become used to it.
“Please...” Celestia hesitated. “Nightmare Moon... I want to make up for the pain I caused you. When my ponies slighted you I was too blind to see. I thought you understood why they didn't enjoy your nights.” Her hoof inched along the grass toward the creature she called sister. “If we could just... talk, please...”
“I am through with words,” Nightmare Moon barked. “I spoke, and you ignored me! I acted, and you banished me to the moon for a thousand years! You forced my hoof, sister. Face the consequences!”
“They need us!” she shrieked. “Don't do this! Equestria will die!”
The growling threatened to overwhelm her senses. It sent her reeling from her sister with eyes squeezed shut. She reared into the air and spun toward Celestia. “Equestria will be free!” she laughed through the pain as she finally lifted the spell. “Equestria shall enter a new golden age, My Dark Age! Perhaps in time I will move your prison to the moon... Then you will watch from the skies as I watched from the skies, and you will see the truth!” A midnight-blue trail of fire erupted from her horn and surrounded the bawling matriarch. “Celestia! For your crimes against Equestria and your Princess I sentence you to one thousand years of solitude upon the surface of the sun. May its light illuminate the truth of the secrets you keep!”
Celestia turned to the south, to the smoke columns of doused bonfires. “I'm sorry, Luna,” she wept. “I have no choice.”
“Begone!”
Silence fell. No birds or frogs sang in the fields north of Ponyville; no crickets chirped; even the voices within were quiet. The moonlight poured down upon the back of one alicorn that stood tall in the emptiness as she watched her blue light disappear over the horizon. Soon it would reach its destination, and her sister would be lost to the world.
Nightmare Moon trembled. “I have won,” she said slowly, tasting the words. “I have won!”
They were bittersweet.
“Celestia has been deposed. I am the Princess.” She approached the flattened grass upon which her sister had lain. “I am Equestria...” Her eyes widened. “I... We... are Equestria!”
The weight of the lost princess's tears bent the blades of grass. Nightmare Moon saw herself reflected back in a hundred droplets. Her cyan eyes hardened as they stared back into themselves. “No more shall some ponies suffer and starve while others feast,” she said firmly. “No more will they bicker and squabble and fight to survive. All will be equal beneath the cover of darkness. All will bathe in starlight and bask in the radiance of Our blessed moon.”
If they deserve it, something amended. The voices burned her away like acid. She quashed them.
Just south of their meeting ground lay a small hamlet. Even at this time of the day some of its buildings shone with lamplight, and bonfires had been doused or had burnt out unattended. She'd seen it hundreds of times before. This town was staying up all night to celebrate Celestia's reign. Nightmare Moon grinned. Rejoice, little ponies, for this night marks the beginning of a new era... She took to the skies.
The age of Princess Nightmare Moon!
,',
He stood front and center with a false smile plastered across his muzzle while ponies questioned and heckled and whined. His excuses were largely ignored, and those ponies that did wander outside did so with offended mutters. Most crowded the stage and shouted.
“When will she be back?”
“Any time now,” Arbiter promised. “Just be patient.”
“Was the Celebration–”
“The Celebration was fine!” he insisted.
“Late to her own party?
Arbiter glared at the crowd. “She's not late! She was called away!”
“By what?”
A gasp rolled back through the throats of ponies like an ocean wave. A purple pegasus nearly dragged her elder sister to the floor when she threw her hooves around her and went limp. “That!” she cried in horror.
Old reflexes kicked in. Arbiter juked to his right, lunged off of the stage and spun toward the balcony. His hooves turned to jelly at the sight: the sinister mist above was boiling over the edges of the platform, and was beginning to rise into a tall and somehow familiar shape.
“Princess?” he whispered. He took a few careful steps back.
The mist rose higher and higher. Suddenly it was torn asunder from within, and from the cocoon emerged a pony like none he'd seen before. It was a black-coated giant with expansive wings held close to its barrel and a horn like a rapier. Its cutie mark dyed its – her – entire flank a deep purple save for a brilliant white crescent moon on either side. She was outfitted in light azure armor that shone under the stars, with greaves and a helmet to match. She was surrounded by the same mist... It's not mist, he realized with a start. That's her mane!
Like none he'd seen before... He was wrong. He'd seen one of her kind before. He'd seen her almost every day for nearly a decade. The alicorn opened her mouth to speak.
“Beloved subjects,” she hissed. Her fangs glistened in the lamplight. “It has been so long... We have been gone for one thousand years. So much has changed, yet so much has stayed the same.”
“Princess, where are you?” somepony whimpered.
“We are here, dear subject,” the alicorn cooed. “We are your Princess. Have you forgotten your history? Do you not know who We are?”
Nopony stirred.
“Rejoice, little ponies, for We are Princess Nightmare Moon. Celestia has been banished. We are your ruler now.”
Arbiter fought to keep his pants dry.
“I think you're a few months early,” he heard Pinkie Pie say faintly.
“We will not tolerate the divisions Celestia allowed to grow between ponies. Equestria is all of our home, and We will not allow Our subjects to fight over it like dogs over table scraps!” She stomped a hoof and lightning flashed in the distance. “The days of Celestia's schemes are over!” she barked. “Welcome now the dawn of the Dark Age of Princess Nightmare Moon!” The usurper leaped from the balcony, and ponies scattered before her. The landed amidst the roll of distant thunder. “All shall be free from poverty and excess. All shall be equal beneath Our sky. Say goodbye to the daylight, for the sun shall not rise this night! This night shall last forever!”
“Not on our watch!” Arbiter ducked as two drivers of the Princess's chariot flew overhead, one on the left and one on the right. A prismatic blur sped over his head and raced along the ceiling. Rainbow Dash? Is that Rainbow Dash?!
The three converged from left, right, and above, flying at top speed to strike down the usurper. She cast a glance at the two guards; her mane and tail began to glow a deeper shade of blue. Out of nowhere lightning lashed forth from her horn, striking a wing and a helmet. One cried out and circled away to control his downward spiral; the other fell, slid across the floorboards. Arbiter screamed as the pegasus came rolling toward him but couldn't remember how to move his legs. The knight took him in the shins and tossed him onto his nose and shoulder before she finally hit the wall in a twitching heap.
Rainbow snarled as her companions were removed from play, but their fall only strengthened her resolve. She twisted sharply and from the peak of her arc she dove at the back of the alicorn's head, wings tight against her body and both forehooves extended.
A tendril of persian blue lashed upward and snagged the pegasus by the mane, abruptly halting her descent. Rainbow yelped at the pain of whiplash; her hind legs swung forward, one almost clipping the alicorn's horn. With a bored glance Nightmare Moon studied her for only a fraction of a second before the tendril released her. The pegasus cried out as momentum carried her upward tail-first, and fluttered her wings in an effort to right herself.
Just as she stabilized her position the fog darted forward to wrap itself twice around Rainbow's neck. She clawed at it with both forehooves, but her hooves passed right through it to scratch at the fur beneath. With nothing to hold onto and nothing to push against she was left to struggle helplessly in the alicorn's grip. The fog tendril spun further around her neck and pushed against the back of her head, forcing their eyes to meet for a long moment. Nightmare Moon nodded once. “You are quick,” she praised her foe, “but not quick enough.” Her mane jerked downward, dragging the would-be hero by the head toward unforgiving hardwood.
The impact echoed through the room.
“Rainbow Dash!”
The stetson fought its way through the last of the panicking tide. Applejack burst out from between two mares, leaping free to land with hooves splayed and teeth bared. “If you've hurt her, I–”
“We did,” Nightmare Moon interrupted. She paused to smirk as the last of the rushing mass of sweaty horseflesh stumbled through the doorway. She pointedly ignored the pegasus who lay crumpled before her, bleeding from the mouth and nose. “We hurt her quite badly.”
Applejack's frown grew meaner. “Then it looks like we got a problem, don't it?”
Her foglike mane darkened once more. “Treacherous ponies are the problem. We are the solution.”
The earth pony leaped away and barely managed to avoid the alicorn's lightning bolt. “I ain't going down that easy!” she shouted. “Tell us what happened to the Princess or all of Equestria's gonna come down on you like a ton of bricks!”
A dark aura surrounded the farmer. Her hooves left the floor and milled uselessly as she was brought forth to look her new princess in the eye. Nightmare Moon lifted her hat from her head and raised an eyebrow at her. Applejack still wore a determined frown, but her cheek was twitching and the whites of her eyes showed all around her irises. The Princess of the Night smiled at her. “Let them try.”
Sturdy Applejack, dependable Applejack, whimpered.
She fell heavily to the floor and scrambled onto her hooves. Nightmare Moon's laughter chased her away. “Yes, run from your Princess!” she crowed in the tones of a lioness. “Fear Our power! Beware Our might!” A low keening followed the earth pony home.
Arbiter trembled beside the still body of the guard. Light, are you alive or dead? he wondered. It was impossible to tell under that armor. Please be alive. I need you alive!
He heard hoofsteps echoing across the room. “You will learn your place, all of you,” she spat. Arbiter cracked an eye open; Nightmare Moon was standing at the window with her back to him, gazing out at the land she craved to hold in her hoof. “Equestria is Our birthright. We are your lawful ruler. Nopony shall ever forget that fact again.”
He didn't know why he did it. Every reflex, every instinct demanded that he lay there and let it all blow over, but something drove him to his feet. Something forced him closer to the mad alicorn. “Your birthright?” Arbiter asked. His voice was shaking. Celestia damn my curiosity! “What right do you have to the throne of Equestria?”
The Princess didn't show any sign of surprise.“We thought you unconscious,” she said as her gaze traveled over the skyline of Ponyville. “Of course. These events typically come in threes, do they not?”
“I'm not very superstitious,” he said automatically. What is wrong with me? Am I in shock? He found himself entranced by the hat on the floor.
“The pegasi, the earth pony mare...” She turned slowly from the window and eyed him up and down. Arbiter tried not to let the sight of her slitted pupils unnerve him. “And you, subject?” she growled. “Be the gears in your mind spinning out thoughts of vengeance in the name of the mare you once called Princess?”
He looked away for a moment, thinking her words over. A sudden revelation surprised him. “No.”
“No?” she parroted, taken aback. She smiled wickedly. “Good. You know your place.”
“No,” he said again, his shoulders straightening. “I am the Princess's most faithful student.” Her eyes narrowed. “However... There is something to be gained from this turn of events.”
“Are you being coy with Us, peasant?” she spat.
“History has passed you by, Nightmare Moon. You were gone for many years.”
“One thousand years,” she agreed.
“One thousand years is a long time,” he replied. “I can help you. I can teach you about Equestria as it is today. After all, I might be the most intelligent pony in Canterlot. I know all that there is to know about Equestria's history, geography, and current events. You need what I know, and I might be the only pony willing to give it to you.”
“Foolish colt. You are arrogant and conceited,” she said dismissively. “Never shall We need the help of anypony, especially that of an egotistical foal.”
“I don't exaggerate,” he said. “It's the truth. You can see the proof with your own eyes in the records of Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns in Canterlot.”
“Oh?” she said slowly, pondering his attitude, his bearing and the sound of the certainty of truth in his speech. “And why should We accept this aid you offer?”
“Because without it you won't be capable of ruling someplace as large as Equestria,” he reasoned. He continued despite her snarl. “Your capital and the surrounding region will bow to your rule out of fear, but without your presence those in the outer regions of Equestria will forget you and rule themselves as they wish. Eternal night or no, they will forget you in the end.”
“Perhaps you are wiser than We accredited you,” Nightmare Moon purred, “but answer Us this. If you were truly the most faithful student of Our nemesis, then your actions are counter-intuitive at best. Why, then, are you offering Us this aid?”
“I want to learn,” he demanded. “You took my mentor from me. I will help you, Nightmare Moon, and in turn you shall take me on as your student in Princess Celestia's place.”
“The Princess of the Night, mentor to Celestia's colt?” she laughed. “Your aim is obvious. You are plotting Our downfall as We speak.”
“Of course I am,” he said coolly. “You've imprisoned my Princess somewhere. I will find a way to bring her back. To do that I must learn. You must teach me.”
“You are kidding,” she muttered.
“I am not.”
“Either you are mad, or you have no sense.”
“I am dedicated,” he replied, “and I am not afraid to make a tough choice.” He took a proud step forward. “Now it's your turn,” he said. “Choose.”
She stared at him with no expression upon her face. The seconds passed slowly as they pondered each other's actions. “We admire your courage, young unicorn,” she said finally. “Yes, you are a refreshing presence. We will enjoy having you at Our side.” She gave him a smile – honest, not malicious – and suddenly she didn't look so frightening. “You will accompany Us to the castle.”
He smiled back. “I'll pack my things... teacher.”
“What is your name?” she asked.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder and saw a curious expression on her face. It wasn't joy, it wasn't disdain. It was surely nothing akin to the humored glance of a mother at a playful foal... was it? The smile slid slowly from his muzzle. Already the shock was beginning to wear off. Panic, regret, and doubt were building, soon to boil over.
Nowhere to turn. I made my decision. I must press on.
“I am Arbiter.”
Author's Note
How was the chapter? Do you think I strayed too far somepony's canon personality? Did you spot an inconsistency or grammatical error? Let me know in the comments. I'd love to hear what you think!
