For the Long Haul

Being the last into the cafeteria left few options for seating, so Black Quartz and Buckboard settled in at the least-crowded table they could find. Two other ponies were already at the table. The first was a short, wiry, red unicorn named Starshot, one of the newest prisoners. The other was Flux, a surprisingly stocky green earth pony that Buckboard knew from Ponyville.

"Tasteless, as always," Black Quartz muttered, sampling the bland slop on her plate. "As soon as I get out, I'm going to be hitting up Sugarbeet's."

Buckboard snorted. "Sugarbeet's is great, but a nice home-cooked meal would be amazing. I'll take that over the bar, thanks."

"Wish I had something like that to look forward to," Flux chimed in. "My bitch left me after I got locked up. You guys have it good."

The weight of his wife's absence weighed down on Buck's shoulders again. It must have showed, because Flux immediately backpedaled.

"Oh, uh... Sorry, Buck," Flux replied. "I spoke inappropriately."

Starshot made a gagging sound and stuck his hoof in his mouth. "Sweet Sisters, y'all pussies in here makin' me sick. This is what a Canterlot Prison has t'offer? Are ya' stallions or foals? Getting sentimental about mares? Really? Mares is just trouble."

Black Quartz opened her mouth to retort, but before she could say anything Flux stood up quickly. Buckboard scooted away slightly -- Flux was notorious for his temper.

"What's that, Starry?" he bellowed.

Starshot stood up to face Flux and thrust a hoof toward Black Quartz. "I said mares is all whores, 'as what I said."

Flux immediately threw a sharp left jab at the unicorn, but Starshot dodged backward and took a fighting stance. Flux kicked the table away into another table nearby, spilling all of the food trays with a loud clatter. Buckboard frowned at his former meal, now strewn across the ponies seated at the other table, who in turn had immediately turned around to see who had the nerve to interrupt them. After seeing who was involved, they all backed off, giving plenty of space for any ensuing melee.

Starshot, either unaware or uncaring of Flux’s reputation in the prison, simply stared at the earth pony, taunting him. "Strike a nerve, did it, dirt eater? Lemme tell you more about mares. In fact, let me tell ya something about your mares," he said, gesturing at the gathered stallions. "They ain't waiting for ya. They left ya', off bucking a buncha stallions who're actually worth a shit. I mean, really, who would wait for a dumb stallion who can't eve—"

Flux made a swift buck with his hooves that Starshot didn't expect, cutting off the mouthy unicorn instantly. Cheers erupted from several prisoners as the sickening crack of hoof meeting muzzle echoed off of the walls. Starshot staggered backwards from the blow to his jaw, while a split in his lip started dribbling crimson onto the gray stone floor. Still, he managed to keep himself upright. He stared back at Flux defiantly.

Now the fight had begun in earnest. An alarm started going off in the distance signaling the guards. Starshot wasted no time, feinting to one side and then dashing to the other as he closed the distance between himself and Flux in the blink of an eye. Flux yelped in pain as Starshot slammed his horn into Flux's shoulder, puncturing deep into his flesh.

Buckboard was torn. Flux could handle himself, and guards were going to be on the scene any minute, but this fight had nearly immediately turned into something that could be life-threatening. Starshot had immediately escalated to potentially lethal brawling tactics; even though the unicorn had pierced Flux's shoulder, Starshot had been clearly aiming for the neck.

"Buck, don’t," he heard Black Quartz caution - as if she was reading his mind.

But no. There was no time to wait for the guards. It would take a couple minutes before enough of them arrived for them to willingly enter a brawl. Buckboard dove in from the side, boxing Starshot in the flank with his front hooves as he entered the fray. The little unicorn proved to be rather quick, spinning around and lashing out at Buckboard with his horn and scoring another solid hit to Buckboard's own flank.

Starshot wrenched his horn out of the fresh wound. As the horn withdrew, the twisting caused the suppressor ring upon it to tear wickedly into the flesh around the initial puncture itself. Buckboard reeled as a searing pain exploded from the wound.

Buckboard had not expected the small unicorn to be quite so quick. Even without the aid of his magic, he was willingly taking on the two much larger earth ponies. Starshot's horn was proving to be quite the advantage in a scrap, effectively offering a weapon his opponents did not have access to. Flux and Buckboard stood to either side in front of the little unicorn, both trying to shrug off the immense pain of their wounds as Starshot stood, waiting for either of them to make the next move.

Flux's tail whipped to the side. Buckboard nodded at the signal - an old signal the Syndicate crews had once used when 'interrogating' ponies years ago. Buckboard whipped his tail back at Flux, and the two reared up in unison, ready to trample the unicorn underhoof from both sides. The unicorn lunged forward beneath Buckboard, attempting to spear his horn into Buck's vulnerable chest, but Buckboard had anticipated that, boxing the unicorn's horn with a hoof as it passed underneath.

Starshot's head was forced to the side as his horn was struck, throwing the little unicorn entirely off balance. Buckboard felt the weight of his body land on the unicorn beneath him, and the lopsided distribution of weight caused them both to collapse to the ground. The sickening crack of a fractured rib could be heard as Buckboard landed on the small unicorn.

Buckboard rolled off of the prone unicorn and slowly pulled himself back to his hooves, wincing as his flank throbbed painfully. Starshot didn't move, groaning in agony. Flux began shouting obscenities at the downed unicorn as Buckboard backed away. The fight was effectively over, but that didn't stop Flux from continuing to bat the unicorn's head around as he shouted.

Buckboard and Black Quartz didn't resist as a half-dozen guards arrived. Flux put up a token resistance, and Starshot was unable to put up any resistance at all. In short order, all four of them had been cuffed.

"Remember what we talked about?" Quartz hissed at him as the guards led them away. "How is this making yourself better?!"

Buck tried to ignore Black Quartz’ criticisms as he was hauled away - likely to solitary confinement - but he knew deep inside that she had a point. What would his wife and son think of him if they saw him like this?

"He doesn’t like you," Salvage blurted out as he and Scarlet Ribbon walked down the east wing.

"He left in the middle of the night," Scarlet muttered, her mind clearly elsewhere. "He didn’t even say goodbye."

Salvage raised an eyebrow. "I meant Silver Key."

"... oh," Scarlet replied, stopping for a moment. "We have a history," she continued as her walking resumed.

"Old coltfriend or something?"

"No, but we were classmates in college. Arcane Engineering 501; pretty advanced stuff. We worked together for one of the biggest projects in the class: a new kind of magic suppressor."

Green, lifeless eyes flashed briefly in Salvage's mind — those who had been suppressed by Sombra, subjugated and forced into a lifetime of slavery. He shuddered. "A device like that shouldn't exist."

Scarlet nodded. "I wasn't really a big fan of it, to be honest. The school was always working on projects that had practical application, selling the results to the highest bidder. Often, the projects were assigned based on the details of large contracts being offered to the school."

"Why would anypony need a magic suppression ring?"

As they turned another corner, Scarlet tilted her head to look at him. "Prior to that, existing methods of magic suppression had been only partially effective - enough to level the playing field in sports, but not enough to stop someone who made a concentrated effort to overcome it. And those were voluntary."

"Our assignment was to develop something that would increase prison security. The specific project was Silver's idea. In hindsight, he's always been a harsh authoritarian, but what I didn’t know at the time, was that he wanted to use it to suppress ponies permanently."

Another vision came to Salvage's mind - one of piles of dead corpses. Sombra's personal solution for 'permanent' suppression. He stopped walking, his jaw falling open as he simply stared at her.

Scarlet stopped, but continued speaking, oblivious to his discomfort. "When I figured out a new method of magic suppression by utilizing a horn ring with a special magical matrix engraved on it, he wanted it to be unremovable. He argued that criminals shouldn’t be able to remove their own rings, and that they didn't deserve to be able to. He might as well have been arguing for horn amputation."

Salvage winced. "I'm guessing there's no prosthetic for that sort of thing," he said, glancing back at his missing leg.

"No, there isn't." Scarlet paused for a moment, but then continued right on with her story. "I was concerned about what would happen if we designed a ring like that and then it fell into the hooves of the wrong ponies, so I created a counter-spell for it. While it couldn’t be cast by the pony wearing the ring, it could be invoked by any other unicorn simply by knowing the pass-phrase for that specific ring. He was livid, but I stood firm."

He was beginning to think this mare might have an ego problem. Did she always brag so much at the drop of a hat like this? Or was she just trying to make herself look good? On the other hoof, maybe she was just lonely and needed somepony to talk to.

One way or the other, Scarlet plowed forward with her boastful retelling. "What he didn’t know is that I also added a master override for the Princesses. If Alicorn magic comes into contact with the ring, it will automatically release itself."

"That seems reasonable," Salvage agreed. "As long as none of the Princesses turn evil again." He recoiled at Scarlet's resultant glare. "Apologies, but... Nightmare Moon is still a little bit real to me."

Scarlet raised an eyebrow. "She hasn't been real to us here in Equestria in a very long time, but that didn't stop Silver Key. When he found out about the override, he flew into a rage. He always was a bit of a conspiracy nut who believes Celestia may some day be a threat to Equestria and that, should it happen, the ring would be our best defense against her. I'm not so sure; extensive tests showed that the ring suppresses 98.2% of magical energy, but Celestia’s magical output is so strong that I’m not sure it would make a difference."

Salvage stopped walking, staring at Scarlet as she continued walking without him. "Is Celestia’s magic really that potent?" he called out.

"I’m not sure," Scarlet replied they rounded a corner and began approaching a large, ornate door made of brass. "To be honest, I’ve never had the opportunity to test the true limits of her magical prowess, and I’m not even sure I could devise an experiment that could measure it properly."

With a flick of her horn, the great door to Scarlet’s workshop slid open. She nodded toward the massive chamber with her horn and Salvage scampered to catch up.

An orange pegasus trotted happily down the corridor of Canterlot Castle's southwest wing, saddlebags overflowing with books. A small tin bucket sat on her head like a helmet, not quite obscuring her vision. Each hooffall caused the handle to clatter against the side, tapping out a steady rhythm that she sang along to in an offkey warble. Her serenade reached no ears, but she didn't care, happily continuing down the hallway. Upon arriving at the library, she turned sharply toward the doors.

The Canterlot Castle Library, despite the name, was not terribly impressive. Unlike the other book repositories within the castle, such as the Canterlot Royal Archives, the Library was a simple affair, with nothing more than a large collection of ordinary books, sitting on ordinary shelves, arranged in a rather ordinary fashion. Non-fiction, alphabetized by subject matter and author, dominated the majority of the library. The fiction section, relatively small and organized solely by genre, sat in a relatively quaint squared-off section in the back corner of the library, next to a few simple wooden reading couches.

Likewise, it also wasn’t very impressive compared to the library outside the castle, either. Due to it not being confined to a small portion of the palace, the Canterlot Public Library was a massive spiral structure that dwarfed the Canterlot Castle Library in size. It had a significantly larger fiction section, a much more comfortable reading area, but most importantly, you didn’t have to go through Castle Security to get inside. In short, it was far more accessible to the general public.

The pegasus stopped at the front desk, noticing the absent-minded and wistful expression of the librarian, Bookend, who was staring off toward one of the far wings of the library. Her song forgotten, the pegasus stopped her rhythmic trotting. Digging out her books, she looked up at Bookend curiously. On any normal day, he would immediately greet her with a smile, and perhaps some playful (if not always polite) social banter. And yet, today he didn't seem to acknowledge her presence at all.

Clink

Clink

Clink

She did a quick jig in place, rattling the bucket loudly. Bookend turned to face her, and a bewildered frown creased his lips. It was followed by a long sigh, and then "Jupiter, what the hell are you wearing?"

Jupiter removed the bucket from her head and her long, fiery-red mane tumbled out, obscuring her face. "What?" She shook her head violently, tossing her mane back as she did so.

"I said, ‘what the hell are you wearing?’"

She looked down at the object in her hooves and smiled. "This," she declared, "is a bucket." She dropped the object in question to the ground with a crash and immediately went to work fixing her mane.

Bookend rolled his eyes, picking the bucket from the floor and levitating it to his desk. "Yes, I can see that. But why were you wearing it?"

Jupiter grabbed a hair tie from her saddlebags and pulled her disheveled mane into a ponytail. "I had a song stuck in my head," she lied, nonchalantly. "It makes a great metronome when you move to the beat." Finished with her mane, her hooves dropped back to the floor. Noticing Bookend's incredulous expression, she decided to explain further. "Coach wants me to work on internalizing music," she explained, "so I figured I would be creative with it."

Bookend sighed in exasperation. "Internalization shouldn’t make a bunch of external noise," he lamented. "Especially not in the library, not that you would care about that. What are you trying to accomplish?"

Jupiter tried to formulate a story to frustrate the book-loving pony even further, but nothing immediately came to mind. He clearly didn’t believe most of her lies as it was, and she couldn’t tell him she had been heading to the Castle Gardens to steal some flowers to re-pot in her garden at home. He would probably stop her or get a guard involved; vandalizing the Garden was generally frowned upon. "I forgot," she declared, unable to find a suitably entertaining or believable response. Bookend knew full well that she was a lying, and Jupiter suspected as much, but that was fairly typical of their interactions: Jupiter antagonized, Bookend complained.

The librarian shook his head and walked slowly back to his desk. "Are you done with those books already?"

"Oh, yeah!" Jupiter replied, stacking the books she'd previously checked out on his desk. "I'm hoping to get some more, if you don't mind."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Bookend laughed dryly. "Though, I do wonder how Professor Aurora would react if she knew there was a child who had read every book she has published."

Jupiter’s cheeks puffed out. "I'm almost sixteen, you know. I'm not a child anymore."

"Sorry, sorry," Bookmark replied, nodding. "So, what did you think about your latest haul?"

"Oh, it was great!" Jupiter shuffled through the small collection of books, pulling out Exotic Herbs and Tinctures. "You wouldn't believe how many cool plants I found in this one! Did you know the blue Poison Joke flower found near the Everfree Forest is just one variety of the plant? There are other colors, too, and you can find them in all sorts of strange places throughout Equestria, and some of them are super, super rare. Like the red one, which is used to make a lot of..." she trailed off, noticing that Bookend wasn't really paying attention. His gaze had slowly drifted to the bookshelves in the back again. "Books?" she said, waving a hoof. "Helloooo? Is something wrong?"

Bookend snapped his attention back to her. Jupiter immediately sensed something was wrong; normally Bookend always gave her his undivided attention, even when she came in intentionally pushing his buttons, like usual. He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes, holding his breath before letting it all out in another sigh. "No, I'm fine," he answered morosely. The filly wasn't buying it.

Jupiter fluttered up to stand on his desk, jamming her nose into his face, her eyes going wide with excitement. "... It's a mare, isn't it?" she accused. He immediately pushed her off the desk with a burst from his horn, and Jupiter had to flap her wings desperately to keep from suddenly crashing to the floor. She settled into a hover several inches off the ground and smiled. "Yep, totally called it."

Bookend scowled. "No, no. It's nothing like that," he lamented, resting a hoof on a piece of parchment on his desk. "There was ... Well, there's a little unicorn colt that just came in. I didn’t recognize him at all, and I was caught up in thinking how irresponsible it was for his parents to let him run around alone..."

The lack of accessibility meant Canterlot Castle Library only rarely had young patrons. Most of the regulars were lawyers and intellectuals, often searching for something to leverage in court; on the rare occasion that a younger pony was in the Castle Library, it was usually just the inquisitive child of a pony who worked or lived in the castle - the category that Jupiter fell into. Jupiter wracked her brain, trying to think of any new employees that had recently started fresh at the castle who might have brought more foals into the castle. The only one she could think of was Souffle, the new apprentice chef, who had twins. She had already met them, though. They were cute little bundles of fun, but far too young to be out and about alone, much less reading.

"I'm pretty sure he was deaf, though," Bookend continued, "and I haven't ever heard of any deaf foals among the castle staff. He was extremely polite, but he wore a saddlebag that was, for lack of a better word, unrefined..." he hesitated, eyeing her. Jupiter suddenly became somewhat self-conscious of the bucket she'd been wearing moments prior.

"... You think he was deaf?"

"Yes, a deaf unicorn." He gestured to a flat, tan object on his desk. Jupiter looked closer. It was a ragged piece of vellum that appeared to have been torn haphazardly from a larger roll. The ink was a cheap kind that didn't set well and was already slightly smeared. Overall, the shoddy quality of the materials contrasted sharply with the elegant script penned to it, with neat, cursive lettering.

Hello, Sir. Do you have any books on sewing? it read. Bookmark's reply below was significantly less polished, but still clean and legible, offering directions to the shelves that contained books on handmade crafts. Below that, was a grandiose flourish that read Thank you.

"Sewing? A little colt sewing? Oh, that sounds cute! Was that his cutie mark?"

"He didn't have one that I noticed. Anyway, I wrote directions to get to the books he wanted, and he went on his way."

"You wrote the directions down, and he just left them here?" Jupiter asked. Bookmark nodded. "Yes." His voice dropped low as he continued, "To be honest, it bothers me that any mother would let her foal run around the castle unsupervised at his age."

"I run around the castle alone all the time, you know."

"Well, sure, but you're a fair bit older than he is." He grinned widely. "After all, you're nearly sixteen!" There was a subtle sarcasm in his last comment that Jupiter knew was a jab at her previous complaint, but she resisted the temptation to respond to it. Jupiter's mother's overbearing concern for her safety resulted in strict rules regarding what she was allowed to do outside of school hours. Those rules lead her to being bound to the castle until her mother was done with work for the day, and since she couldn't go out and fly, she often would sit around and read. Being constantly cooped up in the castle left Jupiter with few friends, but plenty of opportunity to make a ruckus. Unsurprisingly, she had a reputation for being a troublemaker amongst the castle staff.

She frowned. "Is he still here? Maybe he wants someone to play with!"

"Well, he arrived just before you did, and I haven't noticed him leave."

"I'm going to go talk to him!" Jupiter declared, and promptly bounded off, following the directions Bookmark had given the colt.

"Hey, no running in the library!"

"Then I'll fly!" she replied defiantly, taking wing.

In the back corner of the library, the young colt in question sat at a large table, concentrating intently on the needle and thread in front of him. A small bolt of cloth was unravelled next to his pack along with a pair of scissors, a small spool of thread, and a few other odds and ends. He was carefully stitching the hem of a tiny cloak, frequently stopping to compare his work to a diagram in the book next to him. Jupiter noticed him immediately as she flew by, forcing her to make an abrupt landing. She fluffed out her wings and then folded them as she trotted cheerfully over to him. The colt didn't acknowledge her, still concentrating on his work. Jupiter wasn’t even certain he had seen her.

It was rare to see other children in the castle and Jupiter was hoping to find a new playmate to spend time with, but now that she had found him, she didn't know how to start. As she sized him up she also noticed that he wasn't her age at all, and was even younger than she had expected. At least three years younger, she guessed; right around the age foals started developing cutie marks. She glanced down at his flank and confirmed a complete absence of design - a bare, orange-brown coat, with a sandy brown tail sticking out.

No mark. Just like me, she thought to herself.

As Jupiter watched, she could see he was carefully stitching the hem of a tiny cloak, frequently stopping to compare his work to a diagram in the book next to him. She fluffed out her wings and then folded them as she trotted cheerfully over to him, but the colt didn't acknowledge her, still concentrating on his work. Jupiter wasn’t even certain he had seen her.

The colt remained engrossed in his work as she tried to come up with a way to start the conversation. She didn't know Equestrian Sign Language, and she had no paper to write on. Could he read lips? Should she just tap on his shoulder, or would that be rude? How do you introduce yourself to a deaf pony? Her thoughts raced as she considered her options, but she couldn't find an answer she liked. "Ugh, what am I doing?" she mumbled in frustration. "How do I talk to him!?"

He finished working on the cloak that he had been so intently focused on and started fitting it to the wooden doll. The quality of the finished cloak was much like the doll itself — crude and unpolished — yet Jupiter found herself admiring its simplicity. The colt finished, and carefully stood the doll upright on the table, appraising the finished product. It was charmingly hoof-crafted, if not particularly well-made.

"Oh Celestia, that's so cute," Jupiter breathed, impressed that any young colt would even attempt to sew an article for a doll. The colt nodded and levitated the doll over to her as she leaned in to examine it in detail. Engrossed in analyzing his hoofwork, she didn't even notice as the unicorn started shuffling things around in his satchel.

It was the movement of a quill levitating out of the child's bag that caught Jupiter's attention next, as it suddenly dawned on her that he was clearly aware of her presence. A blush spread across her cheeks and she giggled nervously, uncertain of what to do now that he had noticed her. From the pack, the colt had drawn another ragged piece of parchment and he quickly scribbled out a note, handing it to her. Jupiter's eyes darted across the script, absorbing the first words of her new acquaintance.

Hello. My name is Fletcher. I overheard you and the librarian talking. I am not deaf. I'm mute. It is nice to meet you!

Like the page Bookmark had, the text was impeccably written, despite the colt's extremely fast pace with a pen.

Jupiter looked away from the page to see Fletcher grinning broadly. So he had heard her the whole time! Her blush intensified, and she stood there paralyzed, trying to suppress the urge to fly away in embarrassment. His grin faded slowly as he waited for a response. Jupiter caught herself staring at him and struggled for words.

"Umm... Hi, Fletcher," she stammered. "I'm, uh... I'm Jupiter. Are you... always mute?" Fletcher frowned and tilted his head as Jupiter mentally cursed herself for such a stupid question. Now that it was spoken, there wasn't much she was going to be able to do but apologize.

"I'm… really sorry." Jupiter scrambled for a different subject. What should she talk about? Her eyes wandered over to his doll momentarily. It was the only starting point she had without focusing on his disability. "Umm... I think your doll is really cute. Did you make it yourself?" Jupiter was relieved to see Fletcher's smile return as he levitated two more quills out of his pack and started writing with all three at the same time, trading letters with each quill as he wrote.

The effect was strangely hypnotic as the quills danced across the page, and Jupiter had to force her eyes away from them to actually read what Fletcher was writing.

The doll's name is Birch, even though he's actually made out of apple wood from Appleloosa, where my extended family lives. He's my best friend, and I take him everywhere. The large, elegant penmanship was filling the page rapidly, and Fletcher drew another parchment from his bag, continuing on without hesitation.

Jupiter watched in awe as he continued to write at a blisteringly fast pace, the three quills dancing together in unison. "You're really good at writing," she blurted. His eyes rolled as he continued. Jupiter covered her mouth with her hoof. Of course he'd be good at writing - it was his primary mode of communication. How many stupid things could she say in one meeting? Would he keep count? She hoped not as she went back to reading.

I don't live here in Canterlot, but I'm here with my mom today. She's visiting my grandfather here at the castle. That confirmed Jupiter's suspicion; his grandfather worked here. Some of Celestia's staff would come in from outside of Canterlot, staying a week and then returning home for the weekend. At least that would explain why she didn't usually see him here.

Birch told me it is cold so high up on the mountainside and I wanted to make him some clothes so he could be warm. Since I didn't know how to sew, I got some stuff at the fabric store, and then I came here to find books that would teach me how to do it. The colt stopped his rapid-fire writing and looked up, smiling.

"But the fabric store is outside the castle. Your mother just lets you roam around all of Canterlot?"

The colt nodded his head and started writing again. I can go wherever I want, but I don’t like loud spaces and the public library was loud and busy. I came to the castle library because I wanted a quiet place to work on my doll.

"And that's why you're here," Jupiter gestured toward the city outside the castle, "and not at the library out there." The colt nodded affirmatively.

A mix of bitterness and jealousy stirred in Jupiter's heart. In front of her was a colt whose mother offered him unsupervised freedom, despite his disability, and he was clearly years younger than she was. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that it was her mother that was the problem.

"Well, since you're here, do you want to play in the garden?" she asked.

Fletcher shook his head. I don't think I should. I told my mom I'd be here in the library, he wrote, then frowned. I really would like to, though. Not many ponies play with me because of my disability.

Jupiter scowled in frustration. "You can go anywhere you want, she’ll find you! I mean, how hard can it be to find a colt that has a doll and talks by writing with three pens?!" Fletcher flinched at her outburst, and she immediately realized how mean that could have been taken. "Sorry!" she blurted, panicking. Oh, he's going to hate me now. I should just leave before I make things worse. She turned back toward the entrance and spread her wings, getting ready to take off. She launched herself upward, oblivious to the magic anchoring her tail. Her tail went taut, and she was pulled backwards violently, forcing her to brace for a rough landing.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch..." she muttered, the base of her tail aching. As she recovered from the sudden impact, Jupiter glanced backwards to see her tail enveloped in the colt's magic. And then she noticed Fletcher staring right at her flank, his eyes wide as saucers. The look of concentration on his face was so serious that she forgot she had been running away, collapsing to the ground in a fit of giggles. The colt blushed furiously as he realized what he was staring at, turning his head away and releasing his magic. Jupiter continued to roll around on the floor in hysterics as his distress seemed to deepen.

"So," Jupiter said, trying to get hold of herself, "So. Do you like what you see?" She sat up and wiped tears from her eyes, still laughing as the colt turned a brighter shade of red. A flurry of pages and quills levitated out of Fletcher's bag, and a repeated scrawl started etching into the pages.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorr-

"Oh, no, no, no," Jupiter said, realizing what he was doing. She stood up and stepped over to the panicked colt, giving him a peck on the cheek. The colt’s cheeks flushed and he redoubled his efforts to apologize, but Jupiter cut him off, pulling his face up with a hoof. Now face to face with the colt, she could read a nervousness in his expression that told her he probably wasn’t actually used to socializing with fillies. Or maybe just wasn't terribly used to socializing at all.

"Hey," she whispered softly. "It's alright. I'm used to boys staring at me." She paused, her mirth fading as a torrent of unwelcome memories came flooding back.

The glances had always started with her flank, and as she had gotten older, just like she’d grown to expect, the glances from stallions had started to linger. At first, she’d enjoyed the attention; it felt nice to be attractive. Sure, some gazes had lingered longer than others, but she dealt with it well enough. Her attractiveness had helped her gain respect among her peers - Canterlot’s high society had that effect: Looks were power.

But as she had grown older, she began to stand out. A blank flank was a constant curiosity on a filly her age, and soon all the respect she had once had began to crumble under the one damning sign that she had nothing to offer to society.

Of course, it didn’t take long for the positive aspects of her attractiveness to backfire, either. Those same gazes she was once able to shrug off as ‘normal’ before became more frequent, more persistent, more damning. More lewd.

"Hey, babe. There’s something on my flank you want and there’s something on your flank I want. Care to make a deal?"

One of the colts in her class had begun constantly making crude remarks. She shuddered any time she recalled his proposition. She soon found that the attention was no longer wanted at all, good or bad. Ponies rarely complimented her on her looks without twisting everything into insults instead, like the old lecher across the street from her house.

"Heya girl, that’s a nice flank! Too bad there’s nothing there to look at!"

It wasn’t long before the attention from stallions began to bother other mares, too. Their own attempts at fashion, gussying themselves up for the stallions, was a lost cause. By having no mark at all, she wore a mark of innocence that appealed to many stallions’ base desires, and no high-class fashion would take their gazes away.

Some mares held her in contempt, accusing her of hiding her cutie mark because she enjoyed the attention. Others were more direct, like the bitter, middle-aged noblemare who shared her mother’s office.

"You should cover up, dearie. This isn’t a whorehouse."

Those words had made Jupiter shudder with shame and anger. Even the well-to-do maidservants around the castle would glare at her judgmentally, openly accusing her of fishing for attention.

The truth of the matter was that Jupiter made a scene around the castle so often because at least then the scene she was causing would be under her own control. Jupiter didn't want to be in the castle at all! She resented being a member of high society.

But most of all, she hated cutie marks.

"It's alright," Jupiter repeated, morosely. "I'm used to getting stares. After all... it's normal to get glances from boys." She looked at Fletcher, tears blurring her vision. "Isn't it?"

Fletcher sat, his quills and paper floating by his side, seemingly unsure what to write. Jupiter was about to cry, and here he was just staring at her in childish confusion. The quills and paper dropped to the floor, and his hoof stretched out to pull her into a hug.

It was a simple gesture, but reassuring. She leaned into Fletcher's hooves as he embraced her gently, and a firestorm of conflicting emotions bubbled just under the surface. Due to her station and circumstances, she had virtually no playmates. Now that she felt she was bonding with a pony her own age - well, at least not an adult - she realized one thing she truly lacked: friends.

In Canterlot society, her lack of a cutie mark made her a target of derision. Outside with the ‘normal’ ponies, it was hard to make friends because of her mother’s status. Not many parents would just let their children spend time at her house for fear of retribution if the kids somehow did something improper. Jupiter was sure she would have to let Fletcher go once his parents were involved. She returned Fletcher's embrace, squeezing him tightly and not wanting to let go.

Let go? she thought to herself, sinking further into Fletcher’s innocent embrace. An idea jumped to her mind. I won’t. I won't let him go. She inhaled sharply and held it in until she'd regained control of herself.

"Y'know, my mom works here," she said with a sniffle. "Like your granddad does. I always stop by the castle after my classes and then mom and I go to dinner together on the way home." She leaned away from him and stood back up to face him. Was he thinking of something? Should she stop and let him write? Several seconds passed, but he just watched her, so she continued. "I wanted to know... if you could join my family for dinner with your mom and dad tonight?"

Fletcher frowned, fumbling about with his magic for one of his quills and a page.

I would like to. I doubt that I can, but I'll ask my mom.

The storm overhead unleashed a torrent of rain that hindered vision considerably, and the wagon team was working their way up one last, final hill before they reached their destination.

It was almost time.

Flywheel looked at his travelling companions. Above, two pegasi lifted the wagon as much as they could as they flew through the rain in misery. He smiled, knowing that he'd paid off one of them to help him get away with his plan, though it bothered him that he couldn't quite recall which one. Which would be his ally in the next few minutes? Hopefully it wouldn't matter.

He turned to look at his mark. Tea Garden and Hammerhoof strained mightily at the yoke, pulling the wagon slowly and deliberately toward the top of the hill. Tea Garden’s gray coat was nearly black in the poor light, and a flash of lightning revealed her legs were caked in mud. Hammerhoof's bright red coat stood in stark contrast as the flash faded away. An ominous rumbling thundered over the roar of the downpour.

I'm going to kill the bastard, Flywheel thought to himself. He smiled, watching Hammerhoof intently until the wagon reached the crest of the hill. Shadefall Hill was much steeper going down the other side, and this week's load was a particularly heavy one. He'd spent two months analyzing the curves on the far slope of the hill, waiting for the right conditions to make his move.

"Careful now," Moonshine called from beside him. Her voice was like a touch of heaven upon his ears in the deafening rain. "In these conditions, the far side of the slope is going to be extremely slick."

Flywheel sighed, listening to the voice of his goddess. He could listen to that voice for the rest of his life and never tire. Her youthful beauty fueled his passion. It was obvious: Hammerhoof needed to be removed from the picture - and soon he would be. And then Flywheel would take Moonshine as his own.

Moonshine had no idea just how right she was. That slope was going to be dangerous. And if all went according to plan, fatal.

"I don't like this. We’re gonna need you to lighten the load as much as you can," Tea Garden called. Tea Garden was always the one to worry. Flywheel was reasonably certain Tea Garden was on to his plans. There was always someone on to his plans. He couldn't afford any mistakes this time.

"Yeah, we're trying," called one of the pegasi from behind. Flywheel didn't recognize either Pegasus' voice, nor did he care. They were both idiots. Useful idiots, but idiots nonetheless, so it didn't matter. His sabotage was already in place.

"We're ready!" Was that the same Pegasus? Flywheel still didn't care. Today was all about killing Hammerhoof, making it look like an accident, and then claiming what should be rightfully his.

The wagon was stopped precariously at the crest of the hill. Flywheel watched with trepidation as the Earth Ponies tested their traction on the slope ahead. A spark of excitement shot down his spine as he watched Tea Garden's hoof slide ever so slightly in the muck.

This was his moment.

Flywheel leaned back and relaxed, watching Moonshine intently. The unicorn mare was so beautiful when she was stressed, angry, or upset. That gorgeous, dark gray coat, nearly invisible in the dim light of the storm; it was only during the brief flashes of lightning that Flywheel could make out the outline of her fine curves.

Both Earth Ponies said something, but Flywheel wasn't paying them any mind now. His goddess simply called out to them, "the wagon is cresting," in the way that she often did, and that was all that mattered to him. Her sweet voice, washed out by the wind and rain, where he was the only one close enough to truly savor it.

He worshipped her with silent reverence, ignoring all of the sound and activity around him. The wagon started to list slightly to the side, but Flywheel paid it no mind. Losing control was part of the plan, and everything was going according to plan. Moonshine glared at him, her shining, golden eyes peering into his very soul and fanning the flames of his heart. Those passionate eyes...

"Flywheel!" She cried out for him. Flywheel smiled.

She had called his name.

"We need help here!"

She needed him. She had said so herself.

"What?" Flywheel shook himself out of his trance with a shudder. He still had something to do, and the moment needed to be perfect.

"SLOW THE WAGON DOWN!" she screamed.

The yelling of the Earth Ponies ahead was of no consequence to Flywheel as he reveled in the bliss of her passionate, fearful cries, fueling his desire for her all over again. But none of those pleas would convince him to stop now. He focused his eyes forward. The curve was coming and the wagon was already losing control.

It was time to execute his plan.

"Flywheel!" Moonshine yelled right in his ear. "I need your help!"

I am helping. You just don't know it yet. He'll be gone soon enough.

Moonshine grabbed his brake lever with her magic, trying to slow the wagon on her own.

That wasn't the plan. She CAN'T be allowed to ruin the plan.

He immediately grabbed the brake himself and applied as much force as he could muster, instantly locking the wheel, and forcing the already unstable load to swing wildly out of control.

Sheer chaos erupted around him. Ponies were yelling, the wagon was whipping about uncontrollably, and one of the Pegasi had just abandoned the wagon. Flywheel looked ahead. There was the tree. The massive, thick oak tree he'd hedged his entire plan on. This was his moment: if Hammerhoof ended up between the tree and the cart, it would crush him to death instantly.

He reached out with his magic, grabbing the entire wagon. A massive flare erupted from his horn as he poured his entire being into angling the wagon just right and slamming it into the tree as hard as he could.

An ear-shattering crack filled the air as he felt himself thrown from the wagon. He tucked into a ball as the ground came up to meet him, unyielding. He bounced violently away and rolled to a stop a fair distance from the wreck. The world around him had erupted into a massive cloud of white powder that caught the raindrops coming down. It was like the sky itself was crying over the massacre, in thick, white rivulets. Flywheel smiled as he struggled to his feet, keen on seeing the results of his grand design.