As the number of days left before the ceremony began to rapidly diminish, Shining Armour was finding it more and more difficult to tell himself that his bride-to-be's aberrant behaviour was simply the result of pre-wedding jitters; there was no other word for it, she was being actively rude to all those tired, hard-working ponies who laboured to make sure every detail was up to her exacting standards. Her impossible standards. There was some unattainable ideal that Cadance strove for, and whatever it was, the staff waiting on her hoof-and-fetlock were signally failing to live up to it.
Even a week or so ago, things had been just fine; the preparations were coming along apace, and the Princess had been directing the proceedings with a measured élan that one could only envy while Shining Armour and his Royal Guards were tasked with the onerous duty of keeping Canterlot Castle and the town surrounding it safe throughout the festivities. They were calling it the Wedding of the Century, and the soldiery were pulling triple-shifts in order to keep undesirables away from the event. There were more than a few creatures out there who held a grudge against the royal family, and wouldn't mind seeing the espousal thrown into disarray.
Perhaps if he hadn't been so tired, Shining Armour would've been able to look into Cadance's behaviour a bit more closely; maintaining the defensive shield around Canterlot was a huge drain on his body's resources, and there was no pony else who could assist him with this most critical duty. Like Atlas, the mythical pony who had once been forced to bear the heavens themselves lest they destroy the fledgling land of Equestria, it was a burden only his broad shoulders were able to endure.
There was no relief in sleep either; his once-sweet dreams of his future life with his beloved had turned twisted, as if a cancer were eating away at his very soul. Disturbing nightmares of black-shelled, insect-like beings crawling over his body, drowning Canterlot and Equestria underneath their sickening mass, consuming the essence of all those around them until they left nothing but withered, empty husks behind. Recovering from such imagery left him feeling more depleted than simply staying awake.
If Princess Luna had been available, he would've sought her guidance on the matter; she was off on official business, however, somewhere deep in the snowy wastes to the North; Celestia was nearer, but just as difficult to get in touch with. She had been oddly withdrawn these last few weeks, and when questioned about her behaviour she had brushed it off; what was known, through the grapevine, was that she was spending a lot of time in the library consulting some of the more esoteric texts. Something was going on, but no pony had the slightest idea as to what it was.
“Maybe I'm just imagining things,” Shining Armour said to his reflection, trying to make himself look presentable; the ragged, ashen face looking back at him was not the strong, confident visage he was so used to seeing. He had to be strong. He had to be a symbol to the other ponies; they had to know that everything was just fine, and that the guards could deal with any challenge issued. “Maybe she's just a bridezilla,” he found himself saying.
According to one particularly apocryphal story, a bridezilla was a fabled beast which, upon its betrothal, demanded absolute perfection in all aspects of the ceremony. They were known for their bullying, micro-managing behaviour, and their legendary fits of temper when even the slightest thing went wrong. The fallout left by their often days-long furies were said to be as devastating as any war Equestria had ever known.
“Shining Armour,” a voice said, breaking his reverie, “uh, I wondered if you had a moment to speak, sir? It's, um, it's rather important.”
It was one of the kitchen staff; a rather harried-looking young stallion, who entered the room with a nervous gait and browbeaten demeanour. It didn't take Celestia's star pupil to figure out that he'd been on the receiving end of a vicious tongue-lashing. Celestia's star pupil? Star? Why is that ringing a vague bell? Shining Armour shook his head, convinced that there was something monumentally crucial that he'd forgotten about. “Sure,” he said uncertainly, returning his focus to the present. The fog in his mind seemed to be a permanent weather condition these days, and he was certain he'd need a team of Pegasi to clear it all out once this was over. “What can I do for you?”
“Uh, well, don't misunderstand me. We know that every mare wants their special day to be, um, special. All the little details have to be just so. But er, we feel that she's being a smidgen unreasonable with some of her dem... her requests.” The young stallion swallowed nervously, his expression obviously suggesting that his words constituted high treason and that his neck would soon be for the chopping block. It was pretty clear that this was no act of bravery on his part to speak out, but simply that he'd drawn the short straw. “We've been through the entire recipe book, and nothing is to her liking. We were hoping you could talk to her. Get her to loosen the reins a bit, so to speak.”
Shining Armour had to really work at it in order to suppress his sigh of irritation; it wasn't the first complaint that had been lodged against her, and it would doubtless not be the last: the dress was the wrong colour, the flowers didn't have delicate scent of jasmine, the paintings in the lobby were art nouveau instead of art deco, the tapioca pudding was too starchy. The list of her grievances was extensive.
It was as if the loving, patient alicorn everypony knew had been replaced by a snarling, back-biting monster.
No, that was going too far; she was a little wound-up, as they all were, because of what was going on around them. Lack of sleep, too many affairs to focus on at once, worries about whatever it was lurking just beyond the shield. No pony's reserves were infinite, and Cadance was simply acting-out due to the tension for lack of anything more productive that she could do to help. “I apologise for how she's been behaving as of late,” Shining Armour said gloomily. “She's a little snappish because of the situation we find ourselves in, but that's no excuse. I'll have a word with her as soon as possible, and hopefully get her to ease up a bit on you all.”
“Thank you,” the stallion replied with a deep, sweeping bow, clearly relieved that he was getting to keep his head on his shoulders. For now. Rumours abounded, as they were wont to do in old castles such as this, of ponies mysteriously disappearing after falling out of favour with one of the princesses. Royals were ever so touchy about protocol, and you were never sure what was going to set them off; insulting their mates probably ranked somewhere fairly high on the list, however.
It wasn't until later that evening that he finally saw her; outwardly, it was impossible to see her as anything other than the pure and blessed embodiment of love that she was. Her cerise coat was immaculate, her violet-gold hair and mane impeccably coiffured, and her radiant purple eyes practically enveloped all they surveyed in a warm, gentle embrace. The distant, amber glow of the setting sun played across her, framing her lithe body in a fiery blossom. Shining Armour couldn't help but be mesmerised by her beauty, as he was every day. The most beautiful pony in all of Equestria, and she was his.
To do with as you please. Hm. Where had that thought come from? True, she was gorgeous, but this was something else; raw, primal, seductive.
“You look tired,” Cadance said, her voice oozing concern like honey dripping from a beehive. “Perhaps you should come to bed?” she suggested, a hoof gently stroking the silken sheets. There was a look in her eyes that gave the impression that this was not a request.
“I have to tell you something first,” answered Shining Armour, the only blanket that he was feeling was the one that had smothered all rational thought in his head. The closer he got to Cadance – and it was only now that he noticed he was walking toward the bed – the murkier his mind became. It was becoming impossible to think.
“It can wait,” purred the erubescent alicorn, slinking her form on to the bed in a manner that he had never before witnessed, and was finding a shade unsettling.
“Wait?” Shining Armour asked dumbly, bumping against the bedpost. The impact did little to ease his confusion.
“Until after,” was Cadance's only explanation.
His mind running on autopilot, Shining Armour joined his bride-to-bed; he soon found himself laying on his back, with her settling into place on top of him. Her hips moved. The coupling was brief, intense, but no less bereft of passion for that.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” asked the flushed mare. Her eyes locked on his, a grin of satisfaction slowly broke out across her face.
“Mm?” Shining Armour murmured. It had seemed so important at the time, but now, everything from the previous day struck him as rather inconsequential. “Huh. I guess it doesn't really matter,” he sighed dreamily, wondering what could've been more serious than this feeling of contentment, clearly eager to catch some sleep and recharge his flagging energies. “It was something about a star, or a kitchen, or ...”
Under Cadance's watchful gaze, Shining Armour slept. She observed him dozing, trying not to chuckle at the array of terrified facial expressions on offer as he dreamt his dark dreams. The masquerade could end for another night; in a split-second, the cerise alicorn was gone to be replaced by a gnarled, crooked creature black as the night with a body punched through with holes. Queen Chrysalis walked over to the window and watched as the last of the day drained away. Soon, she thought with a distorted smile. Shining Armour's protection spell would be exhausted, and her army would see Canterlot rent asunder.
A cruel smirk played over her sinuous features. “I do so hope you were watching just now, Princess. It gives me great pleasure to think of your torment as the pony you love so much gives his, ah, affections away to another.”
Down, in the deepest, darkest pits of a long-forgotten dungeon, a cerise-coated alicorn cried through another lonely night.
