Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Book Two: Ghosts of the North

Chapter Twenty-One: Two Dinners

Canterlot hummed with excitement. Not only was the summer solstice fast approaching—only three days remaining until the celebrations—but chatter of Zeus filled the capitol. It was like a colony of mice finding an unlocked cheese factory. Everywhere Celestia turned, Canterlot’s gossip mill was grinding the grist. It would have been almost amusing if the subject at hoof wasn’t so infuriating.

Celestia did her best to avoid snapping at the maids, especially those who worked in the west wing around Twilight’s tower. So far she’d been successful, mask held firmly in place, unfazed by the soft chittering and giggles. The real trouble came during Daycourt, where Celestia spent more time maintaining her poise than actively listening to petitioners.

The city proved to have more nobles still within her walls than Celestia had previously thought. Worse than their arrival at court, they all took the opportunity to approach the throne and not-so-subtly hint that if Celestia was looking for a husband, they—the nobles—could suggest many a good candidate. Lord Parallax had the temerity to suggest his own hoof in marriage.

Her mask had held under the relentless barrage, however. In a strong, steady voice, Celestia had bluntly told Lord Parallax ‘no’, then had him escorted from the palace. The guards on duty had taken extra pleasure in dragging the troublesome noble from the throne room, his indignant yells only making Celestia’s smile truer, rather than forced. After Lord Parallax’s removal, the other Lords and Ladies had mysteriously decided better than to test the Princess’ mood.

The second half of court had been better, with a return to the common caste and their simpler concerns. Celestia had given the blessings for a half-dozen marriages, settled a minor land dispute between branch members of the Orange and Agate clans that had resulted in yet another marriage somehow, and been asked to bless several foals with healthy and long lives. This last item proved to be rather troublesome, however.

“I can’t,” Celestia said, giving an apologetic smile to the first such couple, “the Sun has no control over the health of your foal.”

“But you’ve always blessed foals,” protested the father-to-be, taking an angry half-step forward.

“H-have we angered you, princess?” the expectant mother asked, her tail and ears falling.

“No, you have not,” Celestia said patiently, well aware how this conversation would go, and resolved that it was time to deal with yet another of the many false myths that surrounded her. “I’ve not always been asked to bless the lives of the unborn,” Celestia explained, descending from her throne as she spoke, “and had I known so long ago what I was starting, I would have refused the first time. But I was much younger, I was flattered, and I’ll admit a little vindictive. It hadn’t been that long since Hearthswarming and I was rather bitter towards most of my herd. So, I performed a lie. It is a lie I would continue if it remained only about instilling hope, even false as it has been. Except the one who can give you the blessing you seek has returned.

“It’s been fifteen hundred years, and it’s about time I let go of the past. I may not forgive her, but it’s high time that I stopped taking what is hers and letting anger rule my heart.”

“Who are you talking about, your Highness?” the mare asked, glancing to her husband for reassurance.

“Why, Iridia the Springbringer, of course,” Celestia said as if the answer were plain as the horn upon her brow.

Motioning for Chronicle to come to her side with a wave of one wing, Celestia took a scroll and quill. As she jotted down a series of instructions, Celestia said, “Do this and you will receive your blessing. It will be one far greater than the hollow promises I can give you.”

Glancing reverently at the scroll as it was passed into their trembling hooves, they thanked Celestia several times over, only stopping to read the instructions.

“Princess,” the stallion cautiously began, “this is in the Everfree, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Celestia said as she ascended her throne. “Go to Sweet Apple Acres and ask for Apple Bloom, she will be able to put you in touch with a suitable guide.” Celestia privately smiled as she thought back on her recent visit to the farm. Despite its nature, it was good seeing how the Ponyville branch of the Apple clan had fared over the past few years. “This will be much more involved than what you expected, I know, my little ponies. While I can’t guarantee success, or that your prayer will be answered in a great flash and show, I can tell you this; it will be heard.”

Celestia was called on to give the instructions a few more times before court ended, after which she went to visit the medical ward to see the recuperating guards. They were in high spirits when she entered the ward, a room long enough for all seven of them. Two guards had yet to wake, suffering from head injuries and kept in a medicated coma while they recovered. Most only had a few broken or cracked bones and would be released from the ward the next day with stern orders from the doctors to ‘take it easy’.

That none had been more severely hurt—or killed—had surprised Celestia. She’d fully expected far worse news when the battered guards had been taken to the doctors. Why Zeus held back puzzled Celestia, but she wasn’t about to question him about it either.

“Think we’ll get medals for this, Bulwark?” asked one of the privates to a burly sergeant, rank having gone out the window within the ward’s walls.

“Whatever would you want one of ‘em for?” replied the slate coated Bulwark, blowing a stray lock of mane out of his eyes.

Bereft of their enchanted armour, the injured guards looked little like their on-duty personas. Celestia preferred the enchantments to the dyes once used to create the same effect of uniformity.

The room became quiet as the guards noticed her presence, each giving her a long bow of the head.

“How is every pony faring?” Celestia asked as she made the rounds, making certain to sit beside each guard and listen to them talk about whatever they desired.

It was a pleasant, informal meeting that Celestia rarely got to enjoy with her guards. About half-way through, the guards’ families arrived for visiting hours, and the room was filled with smiles, laughter, and more than a few playfully stern reproaches.

“There we were, coming in to land,” Lieutenant Tally ‘Lefty’ Liberator said in a loud voice, retelling one of his many stories. “The balloon was torn in two places, and we hit with an almighty thump. Well, I was out and over the side ‘fore the ship came to a full stop. I poke my head up out of the field to see she’d come to rest a good hundred yards along. When I get to her, ol’ Shifty has just pushed open one of the observation ports. He looks down at me, gives me a queer look and says, he says, Hoo-hoo-hoo, he says to me, ‘Lefty, I thought you were with us! What’ve you been doing on the ground? We could have used you up there.’”

The lieutenant broke down into a fit of wheezing laughter, his daughters giving polite smiles at their father’s story.

Celestia wished she could have stayed with them longer, listening to their stories and good humour. More than a few proudly proclaimed that they’d fought a god and lived. The echoes of their good humour, especially when she promised that they’d all be getting medals for their actions, stayed with Celestia as she made her way towards the private wing of the palace.

“Has you-know-who left Twilight’s rooms?” Celestia asked as she entered the small dining room she normally used. It held little of the pomp or ceremony of the grand feast hall, with a plain table that could seat barely a half-dozen ponies comfortably, a display of flowers in the center. The room overlooked the aviary, Philomena looking up from her perch, orange and red plumage glowing in the late afternoon light. Smiling down on the pheonix, Celestia took her seat reaching for the already waiting glass of wine and slice of chocolate cheesecake.

“Not as-of-yet, your Highness,” Chronicle said as he took his own seat to Celestia’s left.

Celestia made a point of having non-formal dinners with her seneschal, just as Chronicle always maintained an air of civility and formality. He wasn’t the first—and he’d hardly be the last—to maintain such a relationship with Celestia, just as there were many seneschals over the years that had enjoyed the moments where they could let their manes down around the princess.

“That’s good,” Celestia responded to Chronicle’s answer, then shifted direction quickly, asking, “have you had success finding any promising apprentices?”

“None that are suitable to your needs…” Chronicle’s voice trailed off as the private door opened to admit Blueblood and his fiancé. Miss Shores bordered between haughty indifference and awe as she looked around the room and saw the only other occupants.

Reflexively, Celestia remembered the snippets of information she’d heard about Miss Shores from her niece and in passing. A common born mare from a village just outside Manehatten, Miss Shores had grown up in an orphanage. It had been singing a Hearths Warming carol when she’d discovered her talent in using music to bring cheer to foals. A financial sensation within the music community, she was also sneered at by the critical societies as ‘unrefined’ and ‘flash, with no substance’. Her career had also flagged recently as the younger generation either moved on to new things or grew older.

To Celestia, Sapphire’s most impressive accomplishment was that she’d tamed Blueblood. That he was willing to risk any of his stature within the nobility for anypony was nothing short of a miracle. Or perhaps a powerful enchantment. Celestia quickly discounted the idea; Blueblood showed no sign of enchantments. Still, with her recent mistakes during Cadence’s wedding, a little extra prudence couldn’t hurt.

“Auntie,” Blueblood said around his arrogant smirk, taking the seat to Celestia’s right, “I heard about what happened in court this morning. I’m not sure if—metaphorically speaking—castrating Lord Parallax was the wisest recourse.”

“Perhaps,” Celestia agreed as she sipped on her wine.

Seeing he’d not be able to press Celestia on the matter, Blueblood instead focused on Chronicle.

“I’m surprised at you, Chronicle. I’d have thought you able to keep Auntie’s mood swings in check by now,” Blueblood said before ordering a salad with blue cheese sauce and black truffles sauteed in red wine with shredded olives.

Chronicle smirked at the chastisement, while Celestia shot her ‘nephew’ a stern glance over her wine.

“As I’m sure you are aware, your grace, none of us truly have much control over the princesses. Which reminds me, how have your efforts with Cadence been proceeding? Not well I gather, since she only left this morning to return to the lands she ostensibly rules.”

Pressing his lips together, Blueblood was about to launch into a tirade, but was foiled by Celestia saying, “Miss Shores, my congratulations on your upcoming matrimonial bliss. It’s nice to know that my nephew has found somepony worthy of his love.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Sapphire said, smiling genuinely before leaning over to give Blueblood a kiss on the cheek, one he readily reciprocated.

Not so easily dissuade, Blueblood soon returned to the topic of the Canterlot nobility.

“This won’t be the last you hear from Parallax. While playing cards today, the club was a stir with the news. Everypony knows that Parallax is a fool—it’s amazing he doesn’t put his vest on inside-out—but he has the ears of the Countess of Trotonto and the Earlessa of Colton.”

“A drunkard and a coward,” Chronicle readily dismissed the pair. “Together forming a trio of fools. Their threat has been minimal at best for years.”

“Perhaps,” Blueblood agreed, lifting his wineglass to his lips, “but with the news of auntie’s so-called ‘suitor’, the nobles are getting more and more nervous. They are a skittish bunch at the best of times, and very much prone to wanting to maintain the status-quo. Now dear Twilight has ascended. She’s a princess of another land, one Equestria has no practical ties with. Her birth mother has been lounging about Canterlot Castle, soaking in the excesses her position can afford her, and then vanishes as mysteriously as she appeared. And it’s only been a few years since grandmother returned from exile yet she was reinstated on her throne as if nothing had ever occurred.”

“You’re saying nothing we are not already aware of, Blueblood,” Chronicle snorted.

“Perhaps you should make an example of a few of these mortals, then,” interjected Zeus. The god stood in the open doorway, an apologetic servant behind him. Stepping forward, a happy briskness to his hooves, Zeus brandished a rose bush and a crate of chocolate. “I got these for you, my dear,” he said, placing the items with a thud before Celestia.

“They are…” Celestia paused, forcing her expression to remain neutral as she said, “Interesting.”

“Interesting, yes, indeed!” Zeus gave a booming laugh as he took a seat, waving the waiter over. “Bring me a decanter of your richest wine, six veggie burgers, a pizza with tomatoes and as many kinds of cheese as possible, fried plantains, and, hmmm, a baked salmon.”

The waiter looked for confirmation from Celestia before noting the order and departing.

Silence didn’t have time to contemplate entering the room before Zeus was talking, ignoring the looks sent his way by Blueblood and Chronicle.

“Interesting is exactly what I’d call Ioka,” he rumbled jovially. “The variation in everything is impressive. There is just so much!”

“Like…?” Sapphire asked innocently.

“Like… Everything!” Zeus exclaimed, thumping a hoof on the floor and making the mountain tremble. “This morning I saw a thing called a ‘Moving Picture’. This afternoon I was in a place known as a donut shop that had these delicious little round baked goods. There is too much to fully express in your lifetime, I’m afraid.”

Almost delirious with joy, it took Zeus a few more moments to fully note all the occupants of the room. When he did, he tilted his head, addressing Celestia. “You dine with mortals, my beloved dawn?”

“Yes, as I have done since I was foaled,” Celestia calmly stated, savouring the last bite of her cheesecake.

“But, they are mortals,” Zeus said, though not unkindly, tugging on his beard in thought. “Very odd, so very odd. But another of the many things to add that I love about you; the kindness you show the mortals.”

A particularly vivid barb danced on the tip of Celestia’s tongue, one that would have cut the insolent intruder to the marrow. She never got to cast it, as the door burst open again, a palace page hurrying in. The page gave her apologies as she bowed deeply, then passed a folded note to Chronicle.

His eyes had barely glanced at the paper before he let out a sharp curse, following it with, “Hackney has attacked the Prench grain convoy. The convoy managed to slip away only thanks to the determined efforts of Admiral Joyeuse Vallée’s fleet. She lost seven ships-of-the-line during the ensuing battle. Hackney captured the Juste, San Pareil, Achille, Impeteuex, Northumberland, and Equestria.”

Celestia broke in at this point to huff, “Never should have sold her to the Prench, even if she was old and her knees in need of replacing.”

“Indeed,” Chronicle quickly agreed. “Perhaps we’ll be able to negotiate with Hackney for her return, however. The Vengeur du Peuple, was sunk.” He shook his head, and it was with a look of utter dread that he read the next lines of the note aloud. ‘Having taken the survivors to the nearby island, it has been determined that Admiral Howl attacked while the Prench fleet was still within Equestrian waters. Below is the precise longitude and latitude.’”

Chronicle refolded the note and passed it to Celestia where she quickly confirmed its contents. A sickening dread settled in her stomach as she placed it on the table.

“Chronicle, please have the Hackney and Prench ambassadors brought to the palace.” Celestia’s voice was sharp as a sword, her eyes flashing with a cutting anger.

It had been a long time since Celestia could recall such a feeling of disappointment and anger. Several centuries, at least. Or the previous afternoon.

“Oh-ho, somepony is in for a smiting!” Zeus chortled, thumping the table a couple times.

“Zeus, kindly be quiet.” Celestia looked up with a rare desire to hit something. Her hoof trembled as she added, “Or, I will kick your flank back to wherever it is you came from. My patience is not unlimited, and you’ve already pressed it further than it has been tested in many, many years.”

“Fiery! I love it,” Zeus said, his typical booming laughter echoing throughout the room.

“Does this mean what I think it means, your Highness?” Sapphire’s voice was almost inaudible with Zeus’ continued hooting. “War?”

The word was like being splashed with ice-water.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Celestia set the note aside.

“Bah, raze their army,” Zeus suggested as he regained some semblance of control, though his eyes were still pinched with humour. “They have no patron to protect them from you. Remind them why you are not to be challenged.”

“Is that how you do things? Running about just trampling whatever you please?” Blueblood snorted, contempt clear across his brow.

“Generally, yes.” Zeus admitted, his previous good humour disappearing in a flash, leaving him thoughtful and stern. “Appearances must be maintained; mine just happens to be that of the unstoppable force. I don’t blame you for not understanding. You’re only a mortal, with a mortal’s perception of time. This world also has an absurd attachment to life, as if the few decades you spend alive amount to much in the grand scheme. You mortals spend far more time in either Elysium or Tartarus then you do on the mortal realms.”

“If our lives are so short, doesn’t it behoove us to ensure they are the best they can be?” Chronicle demanded.

“No, it doesn’t,” Zeus gave his head a slow shake. “Life is messy and full of conflicts. No one—not even us gods—can ensure everypony lives in comfort, without worry or care. What matters is how you carry yourself. Do you live with honour and a firm code, or descend into barbarism and cruelty?”

Celestia gave a soft laugh. All eyes moving to her, Celestia drank the last of her wine before saying, “You’re one to—”

Her words were cut short as a scream carried on the aether struck Celestia’s senses, making her grunt and press down her ears. Zeus cringed, turning his head this way and that, looking for the scream’s source.

“Great thundering mountains, that was loud,” Zeus grumbled, rubbing his ears.

Celestia didn’t respond, frozen to her chair in dread. She had recognised the voice behind the wail; Twilight.

* * *

The Grand Feasthall of the Golden Palace lived up to its name; a circular room supported by columns of black basalt stone speckled with rubies, sapphires and diamonds in the shapes of dragons taking wing, great gouts of flame and smoke rising from their open mouths. In the center of the ceiling the roof was left open, showing a clear, blue sky with a few puffy clouds lazily swimming along the breeze. By way of pulleys and levers placed in a hidden alcove, a series of slats could be extended if there was rain or a storm to protect those below.

Beneath the opening—in a great pit—were the kitchens. Chefs moved about in a flurry of activity, dicing vegetables, spicing soups and roasts, or barking orders at the sous chefs. This served two functions. It was a form of entertainment for zebras to watch food being prepared, and had been since they lived under the cruel regime of the griffons. In those ancient times, there had been singing and dancing while the village mares made dinner. The cooking fires were the heart of the village, and so too the Grand Feasthall was of Empress’ court.

Around the pit sat five huge tables. Each was made of a different stone, and served a different group of dignitaries.

The largest was the southern River table. Formed from a single, still living tree bent and shaped through ancient zebra magic, the table was where the lowest of the court, merchants, and their ilk sat.

To the east sat the Flame table, made of snowflake obsidian. Here sat the Djinn, the cabal of zebra sorcerers in service to the Empress. Feared as her secret guard, the Djinn held every important office or position within Zebrica. They were responsible for rooting out heresy, revolutionaries and the agents of other nations. It was a task for which they’d been proven to be frighteningly effective. This table appeared less crowded than most, but only because most could not see the ifrits, their fire spirits sitting beside their Djinn master. With the Djinn sat Twilight’s Royal Guards, their bright blue and purple uniforms standing out among the gold and scarlet of their hosts.

Across from the Flame table was the Rose table. Made of pink rose-quartz, the Rose table was covered in frescoes of its namesake flower. When night fell, the petals glowed with a soft light. At the Rose table sat the middle nobility, the zebra equivalent to countesses and baronesses. It was said a thousand lovers had found their Shi’lya Hramynn, their soul’s mate, beneath the moon while bathed in the light of the table.

Beside the Rose table there was no other table, only a large open area covered in deep gouges and claw marks. In the wall behind there stood a towering door, while between it and the kitchen pits was an iron stake and chain. Lord Kéychlivék sat at his ‘table’, a smug grin on his muzzle and a hard light behind his gold eyes.

Corresponding to the dragon-lord’s place was the Ocean table. Crafted from a sheet of crystal, it was a glimmering, white beacon of light within the hall, and where the generals, high nobles and foreign dignitaries of importance sat. At the heart of the table sat Pinkie and Rainbow, tended to by Lord Halphamet. With them sat diplomats from Hackney, Prance and Espanya. Pinkie’s distinctive laughter could be heard in every corner of the hall, bouncing from her throat as she sent up a stream of jokes.

Fleur gave the table a longing look from the final table; the Jade Thorn. A gift to Zebrica by Nieghpon, the entire table was a single piece of jade large enough to sit five ponies to a side. The legs had been carved to resemble vines, the table top a broad, jungle leaf. The smallest of the tables, only a few guests could be served comfortably along with the Empress.

Dinner had so far been relatively relaxed and joyous. Maatsheptra proved to be a wonderful hostess, putting forward a pleasant stream of conversation, asking Twilight about her family back in Equestria. The Empress seemed genuinely interested in Twilight, her brothers and sisters, and parents. Twilight took the questions well, her face glowing with a combination of pride and good wine. Fleur knew the empress had no interest in House Sparkle beyond knowing where to sink a blade that could wound Twilight the most.

Not that Fleur suspected Maatsheptra was plotting against Twilight.

“You’re very lucky, Princess, to be so close to your family still,” Timely commented from his spot on the other end of the table, past the empress and Faust.

His presence puzzled Fleur. She could at least partially understand why she’d been invited to dine at Maartsheptra’s table. It wasn’t her; it was Athena that Maatsheptra was honouring. But the doctor wasn’t important, as far as Fleur could see. Not beyond his medical expertise. That would put him at the River table, or maybe the Flame table with the guards and sorcerers, but not the Jade Thorn.

“I’ve hardly spoken to mine in years, not since my last mother passed away.” He spoke between bites of a traditional Equestrian dish; speckled potatoes. “All my sisters are married, as is my brother. I am the black sheep—if you’ll pardon the phrase—among my family.”

“But you’re a doctor,” Twilight exclaimed, talking past Maatsheptra and Faust. “How can they…” Twilight’s voice trailed off, followed by a slow, exasperated breath. “Of course, you are a Crown, of the House herd. They expected you to marry as part of some political alliance.”

“Indeed. But I put a stop to those capers long, long ago. Went to sea with Hardy and haven’t looked back once, I am pleased to say. It has proven troublesome though, being disowned by one’s relations.”

“What about you, your Majesty?” Twilight turned to Maatsheptra, her voice filled with honest innocence and curiosity.

There was no reply for some few minutes, the empress observing Polaris as the star hovered over the serving dishes.

“I have had many foals, naturally,” she said eventually. “Three daughters and five sons, to be precise.” There followed a pause as she pushed some beets around her plate. “Of them only two survive. I am kirin, and to have survived my foalhood required finding the harmony between my lineages. Most kirin fail in this task, and die in flashes of violence and insanity. My daughters and sons have it even worse, pulled towards their equine heritage, but with their draconian side growling forever in their hearts. I’ve had to… end their burden, so many times, lest their madness harm others.”

Fleur could do little more than stare at Maatsheptra’s confession. She could not imagine having a foal and witnessing its descent into insanity and violence.

“Oh,” Twilight said, the last thing anypony said until the dessert, a wonderful zbordka and wild berry sorbet that left Fleur’s head pleasantly spinning.

“It must have been a wonderful voyage. Equine ships are so large and fast, so filled with energy and company. Yet you are held a world apart from them, the common sailor, yes? Very little company,” Maatsheptra said gaily, her silver spoon falling into her empty dish.

She paused as the griffon server took the bowl away, bowing his head in reverence as all the previous servers had, but his eyes fixed on Twilight. Fleur shivered at his gaze. It was empty; devoid of joy or hope, a dead orb as lifeless as if a blade had been driven through his heart. Then the server was gone. Fleur shook her head, trying to banish the image and wondering if it was all in her imagination. Watching him return to the pit, Fleur admitted nothing seemed out of the ordinary now. His steps were as measured and timed as the dozen other servers moving around the feasthall, head held at just the right angle to show pride and deference in equal measure.

“I’ve been a little lonely, I guess. And there is no privacy at all. But otherwise, it’s been interesting,” Twilight said, giving a bright smile and drawing Fleur out of her ruminations. “The ship herself sings when she is sailing fast. I didn’t believe the stories at first—I mean, how can something that is just wood and rope sing? But it does! Sometimes when I’d wake up in that small cot, I’d swear that the Bellerophon was trying to talk to me. Maybe I should see if the glyphs have connected. She’s certainly old enough to have had time for the magic to develop an awareness.”

Twilight tapped her chin in a tap-pat-pat that Fleur had come to recognise meant the princess was devising a test or experiment of some sort.

“So, you have been lonely? Yes, I imagine it must be so.” Maatsheptra nodded, ringing one of a half-dozen bells used to signal the servers.

From the pit, the griffon from before began to return, a decanted bottle of chilled wine in his grasp. He flew slowly, a cloth draped over one forelimb, his gaze never wavering from Twilight.

“I have an idea, a present! You gave me such wonderful gifts today, I have to return the favour.”

“Um, okay, I guess.”

Maatsheptra clapped her hooves together, giving a delighted laugh. She glowed, her mane dancing in a fiery display as her joy spread throughout the hall and catching everyone's attention.

All except Fleur—her eye following the server. Her own mane prickled as he approached, moving around behind the table to pour wine. First he served Timely and Faust in silence, his sight fixed ahead as was proper. Next he refilled the empress’ glass, and then he was between Fleur and Twilight.

The prickling in her mane grew as he began to pour her wine. As he turned, Fleur caught a glint of metal beneath the server’s cloth. She glanced up and the dead look was gone from the griffon’s eyes, replaced by one of fury, rage and resignation.

Fleur wasn’t fully aware of what happened next.

The cloth fell away, revealing a wicked dagger. Gold glinted in the hilt while magic twisted around the blade in tight knots.

Fleur gave a cry of warning.

“For the Spire!” the griffon howled, driving the blade towards Twilight’s unprotected side.

The princess began to turn, a look of confusion in her amethyst eyes.

Hurling herself forward, Fleur caught the would-be assassin in a tackle around the midriff. Fleur was large for a mare, her added size serving her as she drove herself and the griffon to the ground. He howled and screeched, wings beating frantically, deadly claws unsheathed and pressed to Fleur’s exposed belly. In his dull, black eye there was only madness.

Fleur closed her own eyes, tensing herself even as she retained her grip. Pain flashed through her stomach and back. The dagger plunged into her withers, twisting and digging. Gritting her teeth to hold back the searing pain, Fleur brought her head forward in a crushing movement, her horn jabbing into something soft and pliant. Screeching now in agony as much as anger, the griffon released Fleur. His weapon lodged deep in her withers, he staggered back, talons clutching the ruin that was his right eye. The world spun—a cruel combination of fire and sparks as Fleur lay staring up at the griffon assassin.

He leapt back towards Fleur, his remaining eye drilling into her with a deadly intent so keen it pierced the veil of pain shrouding her. His claws mere inches from her throat, he was stopped; a magenta, gold and ruby aurora bound the griffon in tri-coloured tendrils.

The feasthall was filled with chaos, zebras screaming and yelling as the djinn and Twilight’s guard acted to restore order. Kéychlivék’s deep, rending roar quieted the furor, fire curling around his teeth as he surveyed the room.

“Halphamet, take that thing away,” Maatsheptra said with unmatched venom. “Discover any who aided him, find them and bring them justice.”

“As you command.” Halphamet bowed before indicating with a glance for his ifrit companion to grab the still-struggling griffon.

Grinning, the ifrit clamped its burning jaws down on the griffon’s wing. The griffon screeched, an ear-shattering cry as the sound of snapping bones filled the hall. Continuing to shriek, he was dragged away leaving a thin trail of blood.

Fleur was only vaguely aware of the noise and activity. She was cold—so cold—and yet sweat prickled across her skin making her clammy. The room pressed down on her. Her heart raced. Faces crowded around her, blocking out the sun gazing through the high windows. Fleur wished they’d go away—she needed the sun. It was so warm, and she was not.

“You are a brave fool,” chortled Athena through the hazy chill that was settling over Fleur, “and honourable. This is a good death.”

“Pourquoi habitude vous m'aider?” Fleur asked, blood splattering across her muzzle as she spoke.

“Give us space, damn you,” Timely growled at the crowd. To the Hackney ambassador he said, “Your shirt, madam, your shirt! Bugger the rat-faced mule who made it. I wouldn’t care if Celestia herself made it as a dowry present for Cadence. Pack it tight over the wound. No, the belly, that is most pressing.”

“Because what you did was unwise. That blade could harm Twilight no more than a flea could harm a mountain.” Behind the faces, Fleur could see Athena as a faded spectre, watching everything with a look of bemusement. “This will be an inconvenience, no more, for me. It is your end, however.”

“Quoi?”

“We are bound, you and I, and not even your death can reverse the process. When you die, my essence will overwhelm you. Nothing will remain of Fleur de Lis except a collection of memories within my essence. Regrettable, but ultimately of no consequence.” Athena expressed neither joy nor sorrow as she spoke, the words flowing as simple, cold facts.

“She’s in shock,” Timely growled. “I need to—”

“She’s beyond your aid, doctor,” Maatsheptra interrupted as she entered the ring of curious faces. “All you can do is help her pass in peace.”

“That is unnecessary,” Faust said, adding her presence to ring. “Doctor, your horn. I will show you the spell you need to save her.”

There was no hesitation in his voice, he simply turned his head and said, “Do it quickly, madam.”

Magic flashed as Faust brought her cracked horn to Timely’s own.

“It would appear our contest will not be resolved this day,” Athena sighed as Timely called on his new spell, turning it on Fleur. His magic tingled across her skin, returning warmth to her flesh and easing the racing of her heart. “You are fortunate to have such a guardian. Faust will not be able to interfere much longer. The hour of our final reckoning approaches, Fleur. This is only a temporary relief from oblivion.”

Fleur said nothing; she couldn’t, as the energy of Timely’s spell invaded her mind with calming tendrils that placed her in a relaxed sleep.

* * *

Twilight was led to her room in a daze, her mind lost among the stars. She’d detached her essence as she watched Fleur’s life bleed away, and was curled up in the embrace of Regulus and six other stars. Celestia and Luna were with her, soothing her frayed emotions, along with a pony Twilight didn’t recognise.

Nothing was said, words proving to be useless for once. Instead, Twilight was bathed in simple comfort, the energy given by her stars and cousins wrapped around her like blankets.

After an hour, perhaps two, Twilight calmed enough to speak and share what had happened in the feasthall.

“She saved me,” Twilight said, shivering despite her stars’ warmth. “He wanted to kill me, and she saved me.”

“Bah, you were in no danger,” grumbled the stranger, his voice booming across the heavens.

At last taking in his presence, Twilight turned to Celestia and asked, “Who is that?”

“Zeus. He followed me when I heard your distress.” Celestia’s essence gave a little twist of disgust as she cast a glare at the sparkling yellow cloud that was the God of Storms.

“Oh… Wait, what?” Twilight exclaimed, curling behind Luna and Celestia. “As in, almost killed Faust, Zeus?”

“Yes, exactly the same,” Luna deadpanned, a disapproving glimmer flowing through her.

“Get into one little fight and you never hear the end of it,” Zeus harrumphed.

“Little fight?” Twilight snapped, zipping out from behind Luna to press herself against Zeus. His touch was like chewing on a copper pellet, little sparks echoing at the point of contact. “You blew up a mountain! You—”

“Yes, yes, nearly killed Faust, so on and so forth.” Zeus gave the equivalent of rolling his hoof. “I’m aware of where your indignation stems.”

“Indig… Grah!” Twilight struck Zeus, lighting the sky above Ioka with a flash of magenta and yellow magic that made ponies stop and look skyward in confusion and worry. Huffing, Twilight growled, “At the very least you owe Faust an apology and to make reparations to Prance.”

“Gods do not apologize,” Zeus snapped, a bit of anger bubbling across his surface. “However, I may have been too hasty in my actions that night. Confronting Faust wasn’t required and didn’t serve a purpose beyond itching my curiosity.” He calmed, and then laughed, adding, “I like you. As fiery and brave as befits the stars.”

In an aside to Celestia, Luna whispered, “You were right to keep me in Ponyville. I would have kicked his flank to the edge of the disc and hurled him into the void.”

“You might have to get in line,” Celestia grumbled. “I am thinking I made a mistake yesterday.”

“Don’t you have any compassion or conception of what you did?” Twilight yelled, her own essence crackling and snapping, those few stars awake retreating from her side. “An entire village is gone, and a half-dozen others suffered from the fallout.” She shifted away from the silent god. “Why am I bothering? You don’t care. You’re a bully and… what’s that?”

Twilight turned to look north and the ever frozen arctic. There was a sound, like the cords of a neighponese yue qin being plucked, flowing almost lazily from beyond the disc’s edge. The chords resolved into a slow and sad song that resonated through the alicorns.

“What is that?” Zeus asked, floating slowly past Twilight, his form shivering with the music.

“Oh uh,” Celestia and Luna said together just before the chords strummed faster, becoming a bouncy, playful tune.

Twilight let out a shout as she was pulled across the sky, curving along the barrier that divided the heavens from the sky, dragged along by the dancing music. She tried to flow back to the disc and return to her body, but the song refused to release its grip. On either side of her, Luna and Celestia were both silent, while Zeus was growling, sparks shooting along his form as he fought the music’s pull. They reached the disc’s edge, and Twilight grimaced, yelping in dismay.

Then they were beyond the edge, still moving fast. Below her, Twilight saw great Ioka’s head. It was as large as a continent, her eyes two deep, endless black oceans. Twilight began to slow, the others close behind. They landed with a soft flump atop Ioka’s nose, four infinitesimal specks compared to the world-turtle.

Looking up, Twilight beheld the disc’s edge so many hundreds of leagues above. Awe and curiosity mixed in Twilight as she slowly looked down, tracing the edges of the elephants, those mighty mountains that cradled the disc. The Endless Falls streamed between the elephants’ tusks, ice like the dust of a comet’s tail trailing in their wake.

Twilight had always wondered what it would be like to see the disc from below, and now she had her answer. She couldn’t suppress the foalish giggle of delight that bounced from her as she took in the cracks that rippled across the underside of the disc, caused by Ioka’s growth over the eons.

Then Ioka spoke.

“So, you are my stars. I thought you’d be taller. And black. I always imagined my stars as having a coat dark as the void.”

To say Twilight was surprised would have been the greatest of understatements. No book written on the great world-turtle had ever said that she could talk. If they had done so, none would have suggested that her voice would be soft and sweet, like droplets of honey on a piece of fresh baked bread just out of the oven.

She wasn’t certain if she’d been insulted or not. The idea that the world-turtle herself was disappointed with her appearance created an odd, incredulous sensation in Twilight.

“You are also more beautiful in spirit. I anticipated petulance and arrogance. My stars can be very self-involved at times. That you spend so much of your time, and your heart, thinking of the lives of those under your gaze brings me immeasurable joy.”

The corners of Ioka’s beak turned up in a smile that could devour half of Equestria and left Twilight stunned into speechlessness.

Celestia was the first to reply, coughing as if to clear her non-existent throat to gain the world-turtle’s attention. “Ioka, it has been an age,” she said, bowing deep.

“Suilannad, Ioka,” said Luna, bowing as deep as her sister.

“My sun and moon, together again at last. As it should be,” Ioka’s eyes pulled up in a smile, true happiness in her words. “You have recovered, my dear moon, from your ill temper, I hope.”

“I have,” Luna grimaced as she replied. “The Elements restored me.”

“That is good,” Ioka blinked, the motion far quicker than Twilight would have suspected possible, taking only a couple seconds to complete. “Apologies, my stars. I had desired to wait a decade or so before we spoke. I wished to allow you time to acclimatize to your role and find your own place upon my disc. An opportunity presented itself, however, to speak with the interloper, and I had to seize it.”

Twilight shivered at the cold disdain that infected Ioka’s voice as the world-turtle gazed on the four alicorns.

“Speak, he who would steal my storms, and tell me what brings you to my disc, why you threaten and war with those who are a part of me?”

Zeus chortled, his essence expanding as he flitted ahead of the others.

“I am Zeus, King of the Alicorns, the lord on the mountaintop,” he said, his arrogance on full display.

“I remember you,” Ioka said after considering Zeus for some time. “I looked up as my egg cracked, and there you were with your kind, at war with Chaos.” Ioka snorted, mighty plumes of air bursting from her nostrils to float up towards the disc. “How many of my brothers and sisters did you kill in your foolish, pointless conflict? How many worlds burned and were crushed? A thousand? A million? How much blood stains your existence?”

Zeus waved a dismissive portion of his essence. “The containment of the Quus was a necessity. They would have done worse to you and—”

“I know exactly what they would do. I have one riding on my disc even now. The trickster, Discord. He sleeps within his prison. I sometimes feel his dreams, hear his laughter as he imagines mischief and trouble. I have felt the chaos he sows in his wake, leaving it like prints in the sand.”

“A Quus? Here? Impossible!” Zeus snarled, his form contracting and hissing with something Twilight didn’t expect; fear. “They are bound in their cage, guarded by… Of course… Anarchy…”

Zeus relaxed—just a little—and told the tale of Anarchy, once the warden of the Quus’ prison, driven to madness by his endless vigil. A great warrior before his fall, Anarchy had descended on Gaea, carving a swath of destruction as he sought a method of destroying the prison he was meant to protect. Many lesser alicorns fell before him, as well as one of the greatest of their kind; Helios, God of the Sun. Helios and Anarchy slew each other, but while Helios was destroyed utterly, his essence ripped asunder, Anarchy had become a shade and sought to regain his physical form through the ultimate taboo. He possessed a powerful warlord, Archemmon, attempting to take the mortal vessel as his own and convert it into a new body.

Anarchy almost succeeded.

Archemmon overthrew Anarchy, and in doing so gained all his power and took the mad-god’s domain as his own. Archemmon, tempered by his internal war, took up the vigil his predecessor had abandoned. The prison was re-inforced, the Quus that had begun to awaken returned to the eternal slumber, and the universe breathed in relief.

“An interesting tale,” Ioka said as Zeus finished. “It explains Discord’s arrival well. I wondered if it had something to do with the two of your kind I granted refuge. Had he followed their trail to me, I asked myself. Perhaps he did. But I do not regret rescuing Iridia and Faust from the void, even if that action is what brought Discord.”

Ioka fixed Zeus, and by extension all four alicorns, with a piercing stare, her gaze making Twilight shift uncomfortably.

“What are your intentions, O Zeus, King of the Alicorns? Why do you remain on my disc?”

“Two of my daughters are on your disc. I came to your disc searching for them.”

Ioka was again quiet, then she said, “I feel them, yes. Seven others as well. There was another, but it vanished the night a star fell. You intend to take them back to Gaea?”

“No, not anymore.” Zeus shook his essence, surprising Celestia, Luna, and Twilight. “Though I have been here only a little while, and seen far less, I can see that you are a far safer world than Gaea could possibly be for my daughters, or the others. The truth is I have been smitten by Celestia’s—your sun’s—beauty, and would seek her hoof in marriage.”

“What?” Twilight and Luna exclaimed together, breaking their long silence.

Celestia groaned.

“I will permit your attempt to court my sun under two conditions. Firstly, she is to remain upon my disc, or above it, depending on your point of view and how pedantic you desire to be. Secondly, I offer you the choice to remain upon my disc if you take the same bargain as I gave Iridia and Faust. You will spend time as a mortal, learning of their struggles and triumphs, for one and twenty years. Complete this, and you may remain if you so choose. Should you, during that time, revert to your true nature, I will know.”

“Twenty-one years you say? Why that number?” Zeus queried.

“Because, it is half of two and forty, of course.” Ioka grinned wider still, a low laugh echoing from her into the void.

Zeus was quiet for a short while, his essence flickering from anger to curiosity, before settling on a mixture of hope and amusement.

“Your terms are acceptable.” Zeus bowed to Ioka.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Celestia huffed.

Ioka lifted a brow, stating, “Of course. You are the only arbiter of your heart, my sun, after all. He will have his chance—long as it may be—to win your affection. Now, you should return to my disc; it is nearing nightfall and you three are needed.”

“Wait, I thought we were going to talk?” Twilight jumped forward, eager to speak with Ioka alone.

“We will have our chance, in a decade or three. You are very young, my stars, so very young.” Ioka blinked, swinging her colossal head towards a distant, red sun hanging low within the void.

Wondering what Ioka was looking at, Twilight turned to see a bale of world-turtles swimming in lazy circles around the fiery orb.

“Are those…” Twilight began to breath the question, then stopped as the largest of the world-turtles turned her gaze towards Ioka. Twilight shook her head, or the closest equivalent she could accomplish as a sparkling cloud of pure energy, then drifted towards her waiting cousins.

“I guess we’ll talk later,” Twilight sighed, and then she and the others were flying back towards their very distant bodies.

* * *

Luna snapped back into her body with a start, tumbling off Fluttershy’s sofa and onto the floor in an undignified heap. Laying on her back, blinking up at the many birds watching her from their perches and nests, Luna tried to remember how she’d gotten to the small cottage. The last memory she had before leaping into the heavens to comfort Twilight had been walking down the shaded path out of Ponyville with Shyara trudging along at her side.

Rolling onto her hooves, Luna shook off the momentary confusion. Through a little, round window she could see the last traces of twilight in the sky. She and Celestia had performed their twice daily duty in a hurried rush as they rose and then fell back to the disc. Stretching her wings, Luna was struck by a stiffness she had not expected.

Spending time away from her body wasn’t easy, and couldn’t be maintained indefinitely. Luna’s essence desired to be in her body, as much as it yearned for the touch of Selene and the cool breeze of the night. Being away from her body so long always left Luna tired and distant when she returned. It would be only a short while, no more than an hour, for her to re-adjust. In the interim, Luna hovered between Selene and herself, as if she were in both places at the same time.

Moving through the cottage’s main room, Luna was struck by the smell of burning grass and sugar. Altering her course from the stairs to the door leading to the kitchen, she picked up her pace. She had to hold her breath as she stepped into the room or gag on the horrendous odor, her eyes stinging as a acrid, black cloud floated through the air.

There at the stove, an apron around her barrels and a cluster of spoon, forks, and a rolling pin, hovering around her, stood Shyara.

Angel was on the counter beside the filly, jumping up and down trying to grab his favourite spoon. On seeing Luna, he shot her a pleading glare, pointing between the spoon, Shyara, and the stove.

“I don’t think this is right,” Shyara muttered, poking a pot of sludge that was the source of the smoke. “How did Trixie make this look so easy? I have the fire, the sugar and the grass… What am I missing? Of course! Water!”

Not moving from her spot by the stove, silvery motes of aether dancing around her horn, Shyara reached for the tap. Luna remained silent, a light smirk touching her lips as Shyara gave the lever a strong push. The smirk vanished along with most of the faucet as it was shattered, sending up a brief spurt of water that struck the ceiling and splashed across the kitchen.

“Stupid magic!” Shyara cursed, looking around and spotting Luna. “Oh, I, um, was just—”

“Destroying Fluttershy’s kitchen, I see,” Luna said, her tone neither disappointed nor angry. “Here, allow me,” she added. Grabbing the pot, Luna levitated it outside and onto a flat stone where it could smoke and cool without being a danger. Lifting the pieces of the pump, Luna used a combination of spells to repair and reassemble the simple device. After testing it with a gentle pump, water happily gurgling into the sink, Luna motioned with a wing for Shyara to follow her back into the living room.

“Where are Fluttershy and Iridia?” Luna asked as she settled on the sofa, while Shyara clambered up into a chair.

“They’re out doing nature goddess stuff,” Shyara mumbled, “somewhere in the forest. Not far, I think, but they said I should wait here.”

Luna hummed, glancing towards the Everfree. The pair were not far away, no more than a hundred yards inside the forest. Iridia’s energy was a cool, steady stream, while Fluttershy fluctuated and pulsed with uncertain and confused pulses that tasted of saffron.

Fumbling her hooves together, Shyara said, “I’m sorry.”

Luna lifted a brow, more than a little surprised by the apology. Tyr’s apologies, while not exactly rare, were often only given when she believed herself in trouble enough to warrant drastic punishment. That had never included burning a pot and making a mess.

“It is alright,” Luna said, conjuring a steaming pot of tea and four cups. “Although, I am not sure what you are apologizing for, I admit,” Luna added, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. Silently, Luna berated herself for being as bad as her sister.

“For almost burning down the house?” Shyara asked cautiously.

“Oh, that.” Luna waved a dismissive hoof. “If the cottage had caught fire, it would have been easy enough to douse the flames.”

Looking Luna over as if she’d grown a second horn, or turned bubble-gum pink in colour, Shyara said, “You’re being incredibly understanding.”

“Am I?” Luna shook her head. She was being overly nice, Luna admitted, and lenient. “I suppose I am. I apologize, Shyara. I will punish you properly then. So, lecture about responsibility and safety, then bed, I suppose.” Luna said this more to herself, tapping her chin for dramatic effect.

At her side, Angel gave several sharp nods of agreement, a wicked grin on his face and pounding a fist into a paw.

Shyara looked relieved.

“This is assuming you know what you did wrong,” Luna pierced Shyara with a significant look.

“Um, I… Uh… I… Are you alright?”

“A little disconnected,” Luna admitted, flicking her tail and enjoying the feel of the ethereal strands striking the cushion. “I haven’t spent so long away from my body in… Eleven or twelve centuries. This will pass.”

“Separation Sickness?” Shyara stated more than asked. “Mom warned me about it,” she added when Luna gave her a querying look.

“It is nothing to be concerned about,” Luna shrugged, then gave a little giggle. “How did I get here, though?”

“I ran here and got the one who feels of Hera when you slumped down. What was that scream? I have never heard anything like it before.” Shyara leaned forward on her chair, eagerness as plain on her face as if she were proclaiming her love of gossip in song and dance.

For not the last time, Luna smirked at how the Goddess of Secrets wore her emotions and thoughts on her withers. Shyara would be a terrible poker player if she didn’t learn to mask her feelings.

“A griffon tried to assassinate Twilight,” Luna admitted, watching as Shyara’s expression morphed to shock then smug satisfaction.

“Shame he only tried,” Shyara grumbled, crossing her hooves before pouting. She would have said more if not for Luna’s hoof connecting sharply with the floor.

“Why would you wish harm on a pony you have never met and have no reason to hate?” Luna filled the room, clouds gathering overhead and a sharp crack of lightning flashing beyond a window, the walls growing black and foreboding.

Trembling, Shyara shrunk in on herself, trying to hide behind her short wings.

“She stole mama’s Stars!” Shyara cried as way of explanation.

Luna softened a little, the clouds parting behind her.

“I apologize for scaring you,” Luna said, giving Shyara a tender smile, thankful that the last of the Separation Sickness had passed. When Shyara had folded back her wings, Luna asked, “When did Twilight steal your world’s stars?”

Shyara opened her mouth to speak, stopped, and then snapped it shut with a contemplating, ‘huh’. “But, mama is the Stars… So…”

“Do you think Celestia stole the sun from Hemera? Or I the moon from Nyx?” Luna pressed as Shyara tried to organise her thoughts.

“No. But—”

“What about love? Cadence and Aphrodite both are love.” Luna pointed out, genuine curiosity making her smile.

“Well, Emotionals are—”

“Different, yes.” Luna bobbed her head. “Physicals are extensions of the world, or worlds if you prefer. Twilight couldn’t steal your mother’s stars.”

“Huh?” Shyara blinked a few times, and for a moment Luna thought the conversation won, until the filly laughed. “Of course she could! She had to… didn’t she? There can’t be two Goddesses of the Stars, can there?” Shyara pinched her brow together, falling into sullen silence as she attempted to sort through her thoughts.

Luna was about to say more when the door to the cottage was flung open, Iridia, Fluttershy, and McIntosh marching into the room. Mac was loaded down with a full set of saddle bags, a wide brimmed hat perched awkwardly atop his head. He looked like stallion about to march into battle, his face a little pale beneath his ruddy coat. Fluttershy shot him little glances of concern, while Iridia gave Shyara a cursory inspection before addressing Luna.

“Well, we’re off,” Iridia said, levitating her own and Fluttershy’s bags from where they’d been sitting beside the door. Settling her old travel cloak, Iridia asked, “Twilight is alright, I gather?”

“She was in shock, but never in any physical danger,” Luna confirmed, stepping towards the trio to wish them well. “Twilight’s doing much better now. Are you sure about not visiting her?”

Iridia simply shook her head.

“You claim Twilight is well, and that is enough for me. It is not me she looks to for comfort. My sudden presence would also undermine the entire exercise of her traveling by ship. I trust my daughter, and her friends,” Iridia said, glancing to Fluttershy.

Stopping by the door, Iridia watched as Fluttershy hugged Angel goodbye.

“Now, you be a good bunny for Princess Luna while I’m away… Yes, I know you want to come… Now, Angel, don’t be like that… Who will keep an ear out for Elizebeak while I’m away if you don’t stay? … Barry the Bear spends his time in the woods, Angel, he can’t watch the other animals… That’s the spirit.” Fluttershy gave an uncertain smile to the rabbit, ruffling the fur between his ears. Looking up, Fluttershy turned her attention to Shyara, “And you, no more lying and be a good filly for Luna. I don’t want to hear about you getting into any more fights when I get back.”

Sitting up arrow straight on the chair, Shyara gulped and nodded.

Her eyes shining, Fluttershy gave a last look around the cottage, before following Iridia and Mac outside. She completely missed Angel jumping up, and clambering into her saddlebags. Luna opened her mouth to warn Fluttershy about the stowaway rabbit, then thought about how pleasant the place would be without him, and stayed silent.

When Luna was certain they’d well and truly left for the train station—Mac insisted they travel by ‘normal’ means as much as possible—she turned to ask Shyara about her past, but was interrupted before she could begin as a hemmravn flew in through the window, setting off a series of chirps and peeps from the other birds.

“Mistress, mistress,” the hemmravn’s twin heads cried together, “we were so worried when your weren’t at the secret place.”

Settling on the back of Shyara’s chair, the hemmravn fixed Luna with a beady stare, one she returned until they blinked and looked away from her.

“What are you doing with the Moon?” he asked, feathers ruffling.

“Where have you been all day?” Shyara countered with a scowl. “I thought you were going to get a song for Sweetie.”

“He would have been trapped within the Halls of Secrets if he failed to find what you sent him to retrieve before Selene set,” Luna explained sipping her tea. Seeing Shyara about to ask the predictable question of ‘why’, Luna continued, much to the hemmravn’s discomfort. “The doors to the hemmravn’s domain are only open beneath the light of the moon. Which, I suppose, is your domain, now.”

“Oh,” Shyara muttered, laying her ears flat against her head. After appologizing to the hemmravn, Shyara asked, “You got the song, right?”

Puffing himself up with pride, the hemmravn said, “Of course. Old song. Very secret, hidden in the deep places within the Halls.” From between the feather’s on his breast, he extracted an old, yellow scroll.

“A secret song?” Luna asked, setting down her tea while reaching for the scroll.

The hemmravn gave an awkward squak while crying out, “Hey,” but was unable to prevent Luna from taking the scroll.

Unrolling it carefully, Luna glanced at the first lines. Her bemused grin vanished in a flash, eyes widening and heart pounding as the lyrics leapt off the page. The song was old, beautiful, and belonged to Celestia. Pressing her mouth into a tight line, Luna rolled the scroll up once more.

“You can not give this song to Sweetie,” Luna stated, her tone brooking no argument.

“What? Why? I’m Secrets, I can give it to her if I want,” Shyara protested, stamping a hoof.

“Because, this is a dangerous secret, Shyara,” Luna snapped, using her magic to ignite the scroll.

With a flick, Luna tossed the burning parchment into the hearth where it could do no damage. Blue and silver sparks crackled from the hearth, turning into a wisp of smoke that curled out the window to return home to the Halls of Secrets, where it would be safe. Luna didn’t breath until the scroll was completely gone.

“And, it is not yours to give away,” Luna added. “All the secrets of the world don’t belong to you.”

“Yes, they do,” Shyara snapped, leaning forward in her chair. She shrunk back a little when Luna lifted a brow, but still said, “I am the Goddess of Secrets. If they don’t belong to me, than who do they belong to?”

“The ponies that made them, and hold them.” Luna’s voice broke no argument, carrying a finality of certainty that was unassailable. “I know another song, one that is my secret, that you can share with Sweetie.”