The new moon stood outside the window, as if it was going to shed its light on the scene, but something had turned it off. The room should've been warm and welcoming; a plush carpet, a four-poster bed; gentle colors, silk sheets.
But tonight, the bed did not warm, the pastels looked like greys, every shadow a vague shape of something that might be there, and the vanity that bulged with every product imaginable looked sick instead of loved.
The brick hairs of the mare's fur sheared off onto the blade. She tried to be brave, for once in her life to live up to some sort of "noble" behavior instead of abusing the title.
"You're n-not Him! You're not! He's not real!"
The sickle fell on top of her neck and traveled up towards her head, cutting off the mane she was so very proud of, laying it down to rest on the bed she called hers.
"I'm not real, you say?" The tool clanged against its wielder. "Funny. I feel real enough."
The tied-up pony tried a different tack, one that had served her well in life; moaning about her precious mane would have to wait. "I-I can get you anything you want! Gold! Jewels! Land! Anything! Anything at all!"
The thing before her cocked its head, "But I don't want anything."
"Then--"
"Well, ok. Nothing material. All I want's a favor. Can you do that for me?"
The now-bald pony nodded hard enough to shake her entire body, rubbing her fur against the sheets. Then she paused, "Wh-what sort of favor?"
The only other being in the room shook its head down low, soft chuckles filling the air. "Oh, nothing much. Just a message."
The scullery maid was woken up by her employer's head falling out of the dumbwaiter, looking happier than she'd ever been.
"Princess Twilight! Princess Twilight!" The guard skittered into the room, sparks flying from his shoes. His chest heaved, spit clung to the corners of his mouth, his mane flung every which way, and his legs threatened to give out from under him where he stood.
So basically a picture of perfect health.
Princess Twilight Sparkle, on the other hand, had been a picture of perfect boredom; slumped over in a throne she didn't want Just a chair! I don't need a throne! Maybe an armchair or something! wearing a crown she didn't need I have wings! And a horn! listening to a bunch of ponies she didn't like Why did the nobility even exist! bitch about things that didn't matter We do not need regulation on house colors!.
"P-Princess! Another one!"
Twilight sprang from her throne with a great flap of her wings, landing on all four hooves and pronking back up, which brought her face to face with the guard, her guard, decked out in her purple armor as he was.
Inside the purple pony, a storm started to brew, a supercell powered by curses and foul imprecations, a maelstrom of malevolence and malice, a terrible tornado that dashed itself against a mountain of princessy resolve.
Already taller than most ponies by about half a hoof, she raised her head even higher to make her voice carry, "Court is closed!"
Twilight Sparkle did not get movement; instead she got murmurs.
But one does not spend years having a farmmare as one of your best friends without learning a few tricks.
"All y'all scat!"
That did the trick.
The various ponies in all their finery started to file out, some grumbling, some understanding, and a few giving her funny faces as they passed to cheer her up. They weren't all bad.
The guard wheezed behind her, pulling the princess back to the matter at hoof.
"Here, let me draw you up a seat." Twilight's horn glowed red, and lines of ruddy magic started to scrawl through the air, tracing out the form of a rather nice, cushioned bench. The bench popped into existence a hoofsheight off the floor and fell with a clatter. The guard fell over onto the newly-minted cushiony thing with a wheeze.
"I...apologize...for my...I'm not terribly...in shape...galloped from...other side of...Canterlot..."
"Just tell me what happened."
The guard spilled everything he knew; one of the more despised heiresses had been separated from her head. Her mane--the best thing about her in the same way the road was the best about a horseapple--had been cut off, left on the floor where her body was found. Anything that hadn't been nailed down was stolen by the servants overnight. Anything that was had the nails stolen first.
Twilight shifted around on her hooves, "I know I'm supposed to be sad or something but..."
The guard smiled, "Don't worry, Princess, no one else is terribly upset either."
Twilight sighed, "Then let's focus on this murderer; this is number two."
The door to the Canterlot Police Department swung open. There was supposed to be a fanfare, but the Princess Detector was broken. Twilight's hooves pounded on the floor of the department as she thundered between the desks, dislodging three time sheets, two TPS reports, and a miniature pear tree.
Canterlot's Head of Police was a portly grey stallion with a bushy mustache and a tail that was just a nub thanks to an argument with a grain thresher. That he won. "Ah. Twilight. Book thieves again?" Flatfoot had taken particular joy in Twilight's request not to use her title.
Twilight grumped.
"So that's a no to the books. How's it feel?"
Twilight cracked a smile, "Disturbing. I think I might have to raid a library later."
Flatfoot's smile hid behind his mustache while he leaned over to grab a pitcher off a side table. "Lemonade?"
"Allow me." Twilight picked up the pitcher with her magic and poured her and Flatfoot some glasses.
The grey stallion made an odd face as the glass poured up alongside the lemonade.
"There were glasses right there, showoff."
Twilight tried to keep her face straight, but her ears folded down a little.
Flatfoot plucked his glass out of the air, "It's ok, it's ok. Really." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, "So, did you just come in 'cause you missed my mustache, or was there something you'd like to talk about?"
Twilight sipped her lemonade and made a face; it was less lemonade, more sugarwater. Ugh. She set the glass down as gently as she could, "That murderer has struck again."
Sip. "So I hear. Lemonade too much for you?"
"It could use some aid from some lemons."
Flatfoot shrugged, "I like it." He put his glass down, "Twilight, why are you here? You're a ruler. Go rule."
The purple pony sighed, "I would like to help. Crises that threaten all of Equestria are my specialty."
Flatfoot shook his head, "You know, I've gotten into enough trouble ignoring your wild premonitions. I'll just let you have this one. Here's the paperwork," the stack shook Flatfoot's desk and his cabinet of glassware when it landed, making the mustachioed stallion wince. "...And here's a pen. I'll see you when you're--"
Flatfoot was cut off by the papers lifting up in a red glow, an orb of ink forming in the air. Twilight floated the sheets out in front of her and sent the ink flying into place, filling out the forms with the speed of her thought.
She put the stack back together and grinned like a schoolfilly, "Done!"
Flatfoot coughed. "Um, right this way."
He dumped Twilight off at a desk that looked like it was under attack by the piles of paper atop it, perhaps as some form of demented revenge. Twilight peeked behind the giant wall of dead trees to find a tiny green mare with flaming hair and a flank covered in lines like it was a jigsaw puzzle. One of her wings snapped out and snatched a paper from the mess. "Ah. You must be the new princess. You smell nice." She held up the paper she had grabbed to Twilight, "Here's a guide to being around me; sorry it's necessary. I'm working on that."
Twilight took the paper from her and looked at it:
You will need:
Milk
Butter
Parmesan Chee—
Twilight put the paper down. "This is a recipe for alfredo."
The mare snapped her head up to stare at Twilight with a pair of amber eyes, "That's m'name! My parents leave out the -o, but everypony else adds it in anyway."
The purple pony blinked, "Um, Twilight." She held out her hoof.
Alfredo put the tools on her desk in some sort of bizarre arrangement. Twilight stared at the desk, somehow reminded of what happens when you send your audio pointers off into neverneverland. She turned her head this way and that, trying to make sense of the stuff on the desk. Next to her, a green head did the same.
"Gah!" Twilight staggered to her side, her wings flaring out from her body and sending her crashing to the floor.
Alfredo looked at the fallen princess. "Princess, what are you doing on the ground?"
"I just thought I'd introduce the floor to my face. Floor, face. Face, floor. How do you do?"
Alfredo nodded, "It's a very lovely face. You should introduce it to things more often."
Twilight blinked at Alfredo's voice. Surely she was joking.
"Shirley!"
Twilight introduced the floor to her flank while Alfredo ran over to Shirley, grabbing a letter from the folds of her desk as she passed. Lots of oddly-named mares in this police department.
Twilight finally made it to her hooves and ambled over to Alfredo and Shirley, "Hello!" No excuse not to be friendly.
Shirley dropped to her knees, throwing her cream head to the floor, "Princess!"
Twilight let out an aggrieved groan, a raspy shuddering exhalation of exasperation, a--
"Sorry Princess! Please forgive me, Princess!"
Twilight strangled the urge to reach through time and throttle the pony who hammered this kind of behavior into Equestrian culture. Last time she did something like that she got snapped outside of her own light cone for a week. On a side note, it turns out that clock roaches taste pretty good fried.
Alfredo returned to Twilight's side, "Lunch?"
The birds chirped in the palo blancos that littered the café. Done up in white stone with the occasional gold filling in cracks, the building the Base Base Café resided in dated back to when the Sun Princess, Celestia, was the only one who ruled. Admittedly, that was only a couple of years ago, but it really didn't matter. Until the Night Princess returned, nothing was made for her, just her sister. It was the same way before she was banished, too.
Twilight munched on her hay fries as she watched Alfredo build a tower out of hers.
"So." Alfredo pointed to the top of her fry tower while she speared a bunch of fiori on her fork. "This is where the two victims were killed, at the top of their respective towers." She tore the pasta off her fork and ate it in a flash.
Silent eating. Useful skill.
"But," Alfredo's eyes flashed, "Their heads were found down here." She pointed at the basement of her model. She paused, and then looked Twilight in the eye, "They were smiling. The heads. They looked like they received the best news of their entire lives." She snorted and shook her head down low, "Or their deaths."
Twilight decided to just keep eating her hay fries.
A passing pony took a picture of Alfredo's hay fry tower. Alfredo slumped back in her seat, pulling her bowl back with her, "The heads were separated with something sharp, not a sword or something; it's a very smooth, clean cut."
Twilight nodded, and wished she ordered more hay fries.
"Aaaand that's about all we know." Alfredo smiled and pushed her tower over to Twilight, "Here you go, Princess."
Twilight demolished the tower with a ravenous fury while her green companion inhaled her fiori, nothing passing between them while they ate.
The purple pony princess looked up. "I remember an old poem:
'When the high
'should not be,
'please call on me.
'I'll cut them low,
'with a smile they'll go,
'stopped before they seed.' "
Alfredo sighed, "Wouldn't be the first time all of Equestria's been threatened by a nursery rhyme."
Twilight ate her fries, "Maybe somepony taking advantage of the rhyme, murdering under the guise of this figure to get their kicks."
Alfredo chuckled.
Twilight cocked her head.
Alfredo shrugged her wings, "Oh, just seems a little funny is all."
Twilight smiled, "Yeah, I guess it is."
Their eyes met, and they sat there laughing, the two mares finding amusement in the thought of somepony going through all that work, just to kill someone.
