No matter how much Hauteclaire thought it over, he still felt like what had just happened that night was a dream. For the first time in forever, the King told Hauteclaire, nay, asked Hauteclaire to do something that wasn’t “game”-related. And it was something that he would enjoy doing.

The music and atmosphere for the dinner between Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Mouse King was to be prepared and performed by Hauteclaire. It wasn’t to be music he had written, but to be what he considered “The Classics” from their world.

It wasn’t to be just “their” music, but pony music as well. Hauteclaire was tasked to summon several pony musicians and have them perform what the ponies considered music of high class. It was to be a subtle way of boosting mouse and pony relations by playing their music together. This wouldn’t be a challenge, as Hauteclaire had already befriended a local musician, and she most likely knew others as well.

He could say “befriended,” right? You were friends with someone if they belched in your face and your immediate reaction was not to slap some manners into them, right? Hauteclaire couldn’t remember the last time he had made a new friend.

Even back at the castle, he had been a bit of an outcast. Maybe the army of the Mouse King had just been jealous they didn’t get their own rooms. He remembered that Godiva herself got along with very few mice back home, and she slept out in the stable; and Aquinas, whom everyone thought was a bit of a kook with a love for birds, slept in the church.

Hauteclaire walked out of his reconstructed bedroom and looked down the hall. The morning sun warmed the hallway through the paneless, arched windows. Stepping up to the window, Hauteclaire breathed in the first fresh breath of air that would be another day full of unimaginable possibilities. For both fortune and disaster.

He stretched his arms out and felt a few loose pebbles shake loose from under his clothes. This new body still needed to be broken in. As he loosened his belt and shook out some dirt from under his cotehardie, he noticed a pegasus flying straight for the castle. As it got closer, he saw it was burdened with a brown bag slung around its neck and shoulder.

Wow, she’s going awfully fast. It looks like she’s heading this way.

She was.

The pegasus came barreling through the window and smashed right into Hauteclaire. Knocked silly against the wall and buried under a pile of grey fur and feathers, he struggled to push the winged mare off him. The pony herself also seemed perplexed by her current situation, but she handled it much better than Hauteclaire.

“Wow! The castle looks different than it did yesterday.”

Hauteclaire jabbed the pony in the side with a finger. She caught the hint and got off of him. “Oops! Sorry! I didn’t see you there. Thank you for breaking my fall.”

Getting up, smoothing the wrinkles in his clothes, and spitting out a feather, Hauteclaire stared at the mare staring back at him, and a dirt pile on the floor.

Did that happen to her in the crash? Well, nothing the King’s magic can’t solve.

The pegasus pointed at Hauteclaire. “Ummm, I don’t mean to be rude, but there is something wrong with your face.”

Of all the nerve! This pony dares to make light of my face when her own is a… oh… Hauteclaire reached up, grabbed his bent nose, and snapped it back into place with a crack. “Thank you.”

The pony smiled back at him, “It’s alright! I’ve got something for you.” She lifted a flap of her mailbag with a wing and pulled something out with her teeth.

Hauteclaire took the bundle from her and opened it up. “The Foal Free Press?”

The mare smiled. “Yup! Marcus ordered this paper the other day. You guys are in it! Well, I’ve got more deliveries to make. Have a nice day!” The mare waved and took off through the window she came in. As she left, Hauteclaire noticed her cutie mark: a bunch of bubbles.

What kind of talent involves bubbles? Maybe she likes to clean things…

Turning his thoughts back to the paper, he read the header.

The Truth of Hauteclaire’s Face Revealed! Serious Scars Scare Schoolfillies Silly!

Hauteclaire bit his lip. Just below the massive headline was a picture of Hauteclaire with his mask off. In front of him were a bunch of screaming students. It was apparent to him now that these ponies were capable of taking pictures. He didn’t remember seeing any cameras at the school, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Come to think of it, there were cameras at the welcoming party.

“Ffffffffffffrig.”

He held the paper in one hand and continued reading while he massaged his temple with the other.

While giving a presentation at a local school one afternoon, Hauteclaire, the bard of the Mouse King, took off his mask, revealing a deep flesh wound that scared young and old alike. It is clear that despite the origins of such a wound, it would be fatal if any pony were to suffer anything similar.

While the cause of the wound is still up for debate, many attribute it to the curse that the Court of the Mouse King suffers, the curse that has caused parts of their bodies to be replaced with gems and dirt, or to be missing entirely.

Upon interviewing several sources who have seen or been in contact with the new arrivals, it seems that Hauteclaire isn’t the only one to have something to cover up. As one anonymous source explained:

“We were at Pokey’s restaurant last night with a bunch of other stallions playing cards, and wouldn’t you know it, Big Mac brought in [Porthos] from the farm… …At one point during one of the many games that were played, [Porthos] got into a lively discussion that ended up with him lifting up his shirt and revealing many scars and flesh wounds…”

One mare had this to say about Godiva, the Mouse King’s knight, who you may remember caused a lot of collateral damage when they first arrived and was first seen carrying a wooden pony head on a stick.

“We were at the Carousel Boutique picking up an order, and there we saw Rarity taking measurements of [Godiva] without her dress on… ... She was covered in what looked like a lot of bite marks, like she was a manticore’s chewtoy!”

Another anonymous source from the Mayor’s office had this to say:

“...[Marcus] has been very nice, respectful, and curious about how we do things around here. I found it odd, however, that when Princess Twilight Sparkle came in, he refused to take off his hat when he greeted her. [Redacted] offered to take his hat when he first came to the office, but as soon as [redacted] used magic to take his hat, he grabbed it and started acting peculiar… …I could have sworn I saw some nasty scars on his head.”

The article continued, but Hauteclaire had read enough. Marcus already had his hands full with dealing with what the King has done, and now Hauteclaire had opened up a new can of worms. At least Porthos and Godiva were mentioned as well, so Hauteclaire wouldn’t take all of the blame.

Another article caught his attention.

Disappearing Money: Ponies’ Plentiful Purses Purloined?

For the past few days, many of us have seemed to be misplacing money. It has been happening so frequently that some ponies are crying foul.

“My accountants are bewildered,” said local business owner and investor Filthy Rich. “They keep coming up with numbers that don’t match what is in the bank… …and the bank’s numbers don’t match the actual numbers in my accounts…”

The banks that Mr. Rich frequents have declined to comment.

But Mr. Rich isn’t the only one who lost money. Many people have filed complaints with local security officers about disappearing money. Even Davenport, owner of Davenport’s Quills and Sofas, the place to go for your lounging and listing needs, has been under some financial strain quite recently.

“Ponies have asked me why I am able to sell just quills and sofas,” said shop owner Davenport. “It was a trade secret, but the amount of change we found under cushions of used sofas we bought and sold helped keep my store afloat. Now, for some reason, the money isn’t there anymore… …I’m going to have to expand my selection if I want to keep my shop open…”

These money problems have only started days ago, around the same time the Mouse King and his court appeared out of the Everfree Forest and started handing out bags of bits as compensation for damage they caused.

Coincidence? This reporter will dig further to unravel the truth.

-Big Scoop

Hauteclaire groaned and walked down the hallway towards the dining hall for the morning meeting. He was probably going to get a firm talking-down to from Marcus about the school house debacle, but this would cause both of them massive headaches.

Hauteclaire munched on an apple as Marcus read the paper. Godiva sat farther away from Marcus than usual and tried to avoid looking him in the eye. The King was busy elsewhere reconstructing parts of the castle that he hadn’t been completed yet. Porthos had already left for Sweet Apple Acres hours ago.

Putting down the paper, Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. Before he could say anything, Godiva looked up from the table. “I’m sorry, Marcus! I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to show my scars. Rarity offered to make me something in exchange for all the work I’ve been doing for Ponyville. She said my dress was getting dirty and it would be more ‘fitting for a lady’ to have something nice to wear. And then she said that she needed to take measurements, and…”

Marcus lifted his hand. He walked away from the long, wooden table, one of two that ran lengthwise down the mess hall, towards a window and looked outside. Already, a flock of curious pegasi and their flight-challenged friends had gathered to gawk at the King’s recent renovations. The castle was no longer floating so close to the Everfree Forest, but now just on the edge of Ponyville, which would explain the huge increase in unwanted tourism.

“Godiva, it’s alright, it is. We, well, Hauteclaire and I tried to hide it, we did. But really… How long could we have hidden it, could we? It’s not like we’ve taken a vacation before or stayed in a world long before altering our appearance to better blend in, it isn’t. This is the first time we’re being seen for what we are… or perhaps were, before the exile, this is.” He walked back to Godiva and put a hand on her shoulder. “You may not have as much as an emotional tie to your scars as Hauteclaire and I do, you may not. But you’re not in trouble; they would have found out eventually, they would have.”

Hauteclaire swallowed another bite of his apple. “She used to.” He flinched at the sudden look Marcus gave him.

Godiva didn’t notice this, but she did turn to Hauteclaire and scrunch up her face. “Since when?”

Marcus took another deep breath before continuing. “The point is, if we are going to be staying here, it would be best for us to come clean, it would. Our scars only give them another reason to be scared, but they aren’t a bad thing, they aren’t.”

“Still, we can’t tell them how we are still alive. His Highness would go bonkers if we revealed the truth.”

“...and no more vacation with the ponies…”

Marcus sat back down and looked at the paper again. After a quick glance at the other articles, he folded it up and coughed to get attention. “Godiva, you are to help Fluttershy with her animals today, you are. If you remember, she is one of the friends of Princess Twilight Sparkle we met on the first day, and… um… volunteered her for her services, we did. We seemed to have spooked some of the wildlife here, and the wildlife is very different from our world, they are. You are to listen to everything she says, and you must remain cool, calm, and collected, you must. Try to take things slowly with her, try to. After you have finished up with her, it’s more work for Golden Harvest, it is. Do you have any questions?”

Godiva shook her head with a smile. “Cool, calm, collected. Got it!” She jumped up out of her seat and ran out the window; well, she would have, if she hadn’t tripped over her chair and tumbled out the window. She wiped off her dress before taking off and running through a crowd of concerned onlookers and off towards Ponyville.

As Hauteclaire watched her disappear into the distance, his mind connected a few dots. Hang on. PRINCESS Twilight? PRINCESS Celestia? Lyra’s father knows Princess Celestia, but I also know a Princess who probably has a much stronger tie with Princess Celestia than he does! And she is not away in some other kingdom studying music. And I’m working for her assistant. Oh… oh. I hope I didn’t screw this up. He looked up from his apple core and saw Marcus staring at him. “Alright. I scared a bunch of foals by showing them my face. So shoot me.”

Marcus took up the paper and bopped Hauteclaire on the nose. “I know you didn’t do it to intentionally scare them, I know. I have a feeling that you were goaded into doing it. But still, Hauteclaire, I would have expected more from you, I would.”

Hauteclaire scowled at Marcus. His light tone with an air of disappointment burned his ears more than any insult or raving rant could have. He felt his fingers burying deep into the apple’s remaining flesh.

“I’m going to have a bit of a time coming up with a way I can explain our scars to the ponies, I’m going to; but that won’t be the hardest part.” --He unrolled the paper and pointed to the money article-- “This is going to be a problem. If I can’t get the King to find a large source of gold nearby and sit still long enough to produce coins and recall all of the places he took them from, we might have a riot on our hands, we might.”

Placing down the newspaper, Marcus looked about the room for a bit before pulling up a chair and whispering to Hauteclaire. “Hauteclaire, brother, I’ve talked to the King last night and told him everything, I did. It went… well, much better than I expected, it went. It seems that he has remembered that you wrote the songs, but kept up the charade to annoy you, it seems.”

Hauteclaire continued to munch on the apple core, pretending not to listen to his brother, who took another look around the empty hall.

“It seems more of his memory has been restored, it has; but his mental state is... still troubled. I’m afraid of what may happen if something were to upset or provoke him, I am. I don't doubt he would look for a way to call off the promise if he felt so inclined, I don't. Which brings me to…”

“Why did you do it, Marcus?”

Marcus looked down at his feet while Hauteclaire finished the apple core. He didn’t turn towards his brother when Marcus raised his head. “It happened, perhaps five or six hundred years ago, when it was just me, the King, and a lot of scattered memories…”

Fragmented. It was like being in a dream. Like the kind of dreams one had when you were half awake and scarfed down an onion and bell pepper pizza the night before. Except you didn’t have terrible onion farts when you woke up. However, these dreams were nothing new, but a random assortment of incomplete memories and sensations. Porthos, Godiva, and Hauteclaire were fragmented to the point that it was like they weren’t even alive.

The King and Marcus, however, were lucky to have been restored enough to be able to form thoughts and speak those thoughts, even if they remained in the brain and had no physical form to carry out said thoughts outside of the brain. Inside the brain, an incomplete Marcus and a traumatized King bickered and debated about what to do with some of the memories that floated around them.

“Him… Him… They’re tot because of him!”

“My Kaiser, he wisst nicht was he did.”

“Tot… tot… TOT…. Aquinas is tot!”

“My Kaiser, es war never his fault, es war nicht.”

“Und Gregor. Tot! I could have tasuketa Gregor! But that Hauteclaire! Tot! Tot! Tot!”

“My Kaiser, please! You wissen that Aquinas wanted nicht to be tasuketa!”

“Non! Non! I could have tasuketa him! If es war nicht for Hauteclaire!”

“If you had tasuketa Aquinas, then you wouldn’t have been able to tasukeru Gregor!”

“Non! This is Hauteclaire’s fault! Non, non, non!”

In the brain, thoughts of Hauteclaire reminded one of them of his songs, which started playing in their heads. It didn’t matter which one of them it was, as they both shared an incomplete mind in the incomplete brain.

“Non! Gah! His songs! I hate his songs! I’ll kesu them. I’ll KESU them!”

“Non! Don’t do es! Weare connected, we are! You might hurt Hauteclaire, Godiva, Porthos, or yourself, you might!”

“I’d rather vivo incomplete than with these songs by that uragirimono!”

“Would you risk Godiva or Porthos, would you? My Kaiser…”

“...kesu… kesu… That uragirimono…”

“…My Kaiser… … I war the one who wrote the songs…”

“Was?”

“Hauteclaire didn’t write those songs… I did…”

“... Then, ‘Mice of the Isle?’”

“... We did it together… He came to me for help with the lyrics.”

“...”

“...My Kaiser?”

“...Fine. I won’t kesu the songs.”

Hauteclaire let out a mental sigh. The long argument seemed to finally come to an end… for now.

“When we modoru, we must be stronger! Besser! Motto hayaku! I need to tasukeru our home and be a Great King!”

And thus, the King spent the next few decades thinking of ways he could improve his chances upon his return, until he recovered enough of his brain and mind to act upon those thoughts. And thus, the game was born.

Marcus looked up after recalling the nightmare and saw his brother looking back at him. No longer was Hauteclaire leaning back in his chair, but his whole body had turned to face him.

“...and that is how it came to be, my dear brother. I had to fool myself into believing my lie so that the King would believe it too. However, it has been so long, and he is much more in control of his feelings, that I didn’t have to keep up the charade, I didn’t. But I think I may have fooled myself too well and completely forgotten about it until you brought it up again, I may have. I’m… I’m sorry I let this continue for so long, I am. I was afraid that he might have hurt one of us by deleting part of us, or worse, I was.”

“He… he was going to delete my songs!?”

Marcus nodded. “The memories of the songs, yes, and he might have inadvertently deleted the memories attached to them or worse, even physical parts of us, he might have. He was furious that since you took up some of the brain, he didn’t have enough space to save Aquinas and Gregor.”

Hauteclaire stood up and knocked his chair over. “Well, why is he?… There was still room left for one more! Why couldn’t he have saved one of them!?”

“Aquinas didn’t want to be saved, he didn’t. And Gregor… he had… conditions, he did. But by saving you, it was impossible, it was.”

Hauteclaire stared at his brother, unable to read his eyes under his hat, but Marcus’ mouth kept twisting and turning in anguish and fear. “Well, I’ve had enough of this. Unless you have anything else to say to me, brother, I’m heading out.”

Looking over the room one more time, Marcus rushed up to Hauteclaire’s side. “There is one more thing I’ve been meaning to bring up with you, there is.” Marcus took another look around and leaned even closer. “Do you think we’re being watched?”

Hauteclaire stopped in his tracks. He knew the answer, but he didn’t know if he should tell Marcus. As they both were well aware, the King was quite unstable; if Hauteclaire were to break the promise he had made that one night with the King, who knew what he would do if he found out? However, he seemed to only have meant the ponies that were creeping about the castle at night.

“Brother, I have been shadowed by a being of chaotic intent.”

Marcus leaned in closer and wrung his hands together. “What do you mean, ‘chaotic intent’?”

“There is a horned serpent with the face of a mule, the legs of a lion, dragon, eagle, and goat, and a smile of a devil that has been showing up whenever things are getting crazy. I saw it when we abducted Fluttershy, at our spar in Ponyville, and I saw it yesterday at the school. No one else seems to have noticed it, and I suspect it was behind what happened at the school yesterday.”

Marcus took a deep breath, and his hands tightened. “Do you think it’s a god or a being of incredible powers, do you?”

“Perhaps not like a ‘god’ where we’re from, but certainly something unusual. You haven’t seen it?”

“I can’t say that I have brother, I can’t. But I did learn something troubling yesterday…”

Hauteclaire turned a bit to face his brother.

“... I’ve learned that the large, white alicorn you and Godiva met the first day, Princess Celestia, has the power to raise the sun. Her sister, Princess Luna, raises the moon....”

Hauteclaire blinked. “What? You can’t be serious, brother.”

“Brother, I’m not joking, I’m not. These ponies are no pushovers like Godiva said. I’m afraid that they could actually give us, or more likely, the King, the challenge he is looking for. And I suspect that they are actively taking precautions against us. I don’t know how the King would respond if he found out.”

“So what? We’ve beaten gods before. It’s not like we’d really learn anything from these ponies.”

Marcus shook his head. “You may think so, but the King isn’t all there; if he somehow finds a reason, I’m afraid he may call the game on, I’m afraid.”

Squeezing his forehead, Hauteclaire groaned and dropped his apple core. And I was just starting to get used to this vacation, too.

“Um, Marcus?”

“GAH!” Hauteclaire jumped back and tripped over Godiva’s fallen chair. Staring up from the floor, he saw Godiva standing behind him. “Damn it, Godiva, what do you want!?”

Godiva gave Hauteclaire a light kick on the head before looking at Marcus. “I forgot to ask: Where does Flutterbutter live?”

On top of a long ladder, Hauteclaire was dusting off one of the many roots that hung from the ceiling of their throne room, or map room, or whatever it was. Dangling from the earthen chandelier were crystals with pictures inside of them. Memories, Spike called them. This chandelier was a representation of all the memories he and Princess Twilight Sparkle had experienced in their old home with their friends. The one that had been destroyed by a great evil and fire.

Hauteclaire pulled a string of crystals closer to look at the memories inside. In no way was he looking for anything he could use for leverage, but if something were to come up… Anyway. Hauteclaire sighed as he rubbed the crystals in his fingers. To have all your memories… to not be afraid of having them disappear on you, or even a part of your being, without any given notice… to be alive again would be nice. Well, to be alive without having to be a part of the damn brain. The Mouse King’s brain gave them the gift of intelligence and power, but it also attracted the worst their world had to offer.

Letting go of the strand, he watched it wave back and forth. He wasn’t really focusing on the strand, but he just let his mind wander back to better times. He turned to the head and saw a bump on the root. It looked back at him.

“Hoo!”

“GAH!”

Hauteclaire pushed back on the ladder and reached for his dagger. Fortunately for the owl, gravity took Hauteclaire out first. He fell back and landed flat on his back on the crystal floor.

“Owww…”

“Hoo! Hoo!” The owl flew out and down the corridor.

Hauteclaire laid on the floor for a while, arms and legs spread out. “Stupid owl.”

Spike ran in, and the owl was flying right behind him. Owls prey on baby dragons too? “Hauteclaire! Owlowlicious said you fell! Are you alright?”

Hauteclaire turned over and got up on all fours. Dirt and bits of his body had broken off from the fall. His tail included. He rubbed his back as the dirt and loosened chunks moved back to their original positions. On one knee, he grabbed his tail and stuck it up his backside where it belonged. “Do you realize you have an owl infestation?”

Spike looked at Hauteclaire with an open mouth before shaking his head. “Wait… Oh! You mean Owlowlicious? No, he’s Twilight’s pet.”

Great, now not only have I possibly offended her helper, but I called her pet a pest. You really are good at this “being nice” thing. “Oh… I see.” Hauteclaire smoothed out his clothes and stretched his back. “You’ll have to excuse me. Being a mouse and all, I don’t really get along with owls.”

Spike put on his “Oh” face. “Ohhhhh. I get it now. Didn’t really think about that. Hey, are you alright? That looked like a really nasty fall.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse.” Now’s a good time as any, now that I got him talking to me again. “Listen, Spike.” Hauteclaire chewed on his tongue. “I’m sorry about being a jerk yesterday. It’s just that my brother and I got into a fight not too long ago. I was wrong to take out some of my pent-up aggression on you and Godiva yesterday. Will you forgive me?”

Owlowlicious landed on Spike’s head. Spike looked up at the owl before making a waving motion with his hand. “Ah, we’re cool. It wasn’t anything real big; I could tell that something had you in a bad mood. It was pretty obvious that something was bugging you. You don’t become a great assistant like me if you can’t tell when the people you work with are in a bad mood or not.”

Hauteclaire blinked. He looked around again before staring at Spike out of the corner of his eye. “What, just like that?”

Spike blinked. “Just like what?”

“You forgive me for being a jerk?”

Spike laughed. “Well, you didn’t mean it. I was more angry at you before for doing that ‘yelling’ thing to me. I’ll have to admit, though, it is really cool.”

Wow, things are really looking up for Hauteclaire.

“By the way, your brother is here to see you.”

Marcus came in the same door that Spike had. “Brother! I’ve come to…”

He stopped and looked directly ahead of him. He was face to face with Owlowlicious, who was doing that creepy “turn-your-head-backwards” thing that all owls can do.

Oh crap.

There were very few things that could ever shake Marcus. He could stand up to a drunk Porthos, remain calm while dealing with the most annoying monarch imaginable... but there was one thing that he feared to an almost unreasonable degree. And his biggest fear was inches away from his nose.

Marcus screamed.

“OWL! Kill it! Kill it! KILL THE OWL!” Conjuring up his bow, he aimed at the fleeing owl, drew it, and released the bowstring.

Now, if Hauteclaire was to meet Princess Celestia through Princess Twilight, it would be in his best interest to not let Marcus kill Owlowlicious. Hauteclaire never imagined he would have to defend his natural predator, but life was funny like that. He drew his dagger and jumped in between Marcus and Owlowlicious.

The arrow that appeared in front of Marcus sank into Hauteclaire’s chest. With a single sideways slash, Hauteclaire cut the bow in half. The upper half snapped under the tense bowstring and threw Marcus off balance. Hauteclaire took advantage of the opening, tackled Marcus, and wrestled his hysteric brother to the ground.

Spike gaped at the fighting going on until Hauteclaire screamed at him. “Get the owl out of here, now!” He did as he was told and shooed Owlowlicious out into the nearest corridor, which Owlowlicious probably would have done on his own if it understood Equestrian/English.

After wrestling Marcus to the ground and getting him in a rather weak headlock, Marcus calmed down a bit and stopped struggling. It wasn’t until his breathing slowed down that Hauteclaire let go. “Geeze, brother, we are nigh-immortal and owls still freak you out that much?”

Both brothers stood up and adjusted themselves. Hauteclaire shifted his mask and Marcus adjusted his hat, which had moved during the struggle and revealed a series of long scratches that had scarred over his head.

Marcus coughed and looked at his brother. “I… I know. Silly, right, brother? It was so long ago, it was; but I just can’t get over it, I can’t. Everytime I see one, I remember…”

Hauteclaire grabbed Marcus’ nose. “I know. That happened to you, and I can’t blame you for feeling like that; I’m just glad you didn’t murder Twilight’s pet.”

“That was Twilight’s pet?”

Hauteclaire nodded and let go of Marcus’ nose.

“Oh… That probably would have ended our whole vacation, that would have. Thank you.” Marcus walked to the nearest throne and took a seat. He reached up under his hat and scratched his head.

Hauteclaire sat in the throne next to him and gave Marcus a few moments to collect his thoughts. After some time had passed and Marcus no longer slouched on the throne, but sat up in a more relaxed manner, Hauteclaire spoke up. “So, what brings you to the castle today?”

The ever-present calm smile returned to Marcus’ face. “Oh yes, I have been instructed by the King to be the chef for the dinner between the King and Princess Twilight Sparkle, I have; I need you to be my taste tester this evening as I try out several recipes I’m considering for the dinner, I need you.”

“The King has you doing both pony and mouse cuisine, is he?”

“Actually, that was my suggestion, that was.” Marcus stood up and tugged at his vest. “I will be at Sugar Cube Corner this evening. The Cakes have been nice enough to lend us their kitchen, they have.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“The Cakes. They are bakers and run the bakery that looks like the gingerbread house, they are. I really have to thank you, Hauteclaire: without your help, I probably wouldn’t have been able to get them to agree to let me do so, I wouldn’t have.”

Hauteclaire raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, their apprentice, Pinkie Pie, liked you so much that she helped me convinced them to let me into their kitchen, she did. Even after how Godiva scared them senseless and the King stole some of their supplies.”

Pinkie Pie likes me? “I’m sorry, why?”

“Well, she really likes your singing, she does, and she’s heard nothing but good things about you from a pony friend of hers, she has.”

Hauteclaire blinked a few times and stared at the table in front of him. Marcus turned to the door. “Well, I’d love to chat with you more, I would, but I don’t want to be staying any longer here than I have to, knowing now that there is a…”

“Yes, yes, brother, now go. I’ll meet you at the bakery this evening.”

“Six o’clock, it is.”

“Yes, go.”

And with that, Marcus left with a wave. Hauteclaire turned around to get the ladder, but a little purple eavesdropper was in the way.

“So… Are you all like that around owls, or…”

“No, just him.”

“Ok. What about cats?”

Hauteclaire walked around Spike and adjusted the ladder. “Oh, we’re used to cats.”

After that, Spike was quiet for a bit as Hauteclaire dusted off more roots and memory gems. “Hey Hauteclaire, have you seen the ‘Foal Free Press’ today?”

Oh great. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, I know it’s not any of my business, but you told me yesterday that you could change your appearance.”

What does that have to do with the article. “Yes…”

“And you are sensitive about your face, right?”

“Yes…”

Spike walked up closer to the ladder. “Have you ever considered using that magic to hide your scars instead of covering up with a mask?”

Hauteclaire turned and stared wide-eyed at Spike. “I’m sorry, what?”

The ponies stared as Hauteclaire passed. One who was holding a copy of the Foal Free Press kept looking at the front page and back to Hauteclaire, then back to the page, then to Hauteclaire. Everypony’s eyes were wide as Hauteclaire walked down the streets sans mask. The left half, formerly covered by a gold sun, was now exposed, showing everyone a perfect mirror of the right. Both cheeks pinched in a relieved smile.

How did Hauteclaire not think of this earlier? Perhaps it was because he had been able to make masks before he could change his appearance on his own, and had gotten so used to the idea of masks that he couldn’t have thought of going without one. This change in appearance did so much for Hauteclaire. He didn’t slouch; instead, he held his shoulders back. What was more, he did it naturally, not as a calculated, conscious move to promote his prestige. He even changed the buttons on his cotehardie to suns so that he could keep up the sun motif to emulate Princess Celestia.

Yes ponies, stare in awe. There is no monster here, only the very model of a mouse! As he walked through the streets, he stopped to talk to ponies once at every turn to ask for directions to “Bonbon’s Bon-Bons.” He knew the way after the first time, but he liked asking anyway for the responses.

When he turned the last corner to the street Bonbon’s shop was on, he saw the ugliest pony he ever did see. Bigger than any stallion he had seen, grey, matted fur, tufts of fur on his cheeks and neck that made his face look fat. An ill-fitting indigo gambeson over a blood red tabard held in place by a brown belt that also held a pony head on a stick. His cutie mark was an overflowing beer stein. His red and indigo hat with the purple feather made him look like a hideous quail, and the three fillies following behind him his chicks. In his mouth was a small sack weighed down with something.

It couldn’t be…

Hauteclaire moved closer.

Oh my lord, it is!

He laughed. “Oh lord, Porkos! You make the ugliest pony!”

The large, ugly pony grunted and stomped its large hooves as it approached Hauteclaire, leaving deep hoofprints in its path. “Hauteclaire. Haven’t you more ponies to scare with that horrific face of yours?”

Hauteclaire huffed, tapped his face, and gave a smug grin.

Porthos dropped the sack; it hit the ground with the metallic jingle of coins. “Oh. I see you got the King to fix your face. You don’t watch your tongue, you’ll be needing him to fix it again real soon.”

Sure, he was wrong, but Hauteclaire wasn’t about to correct him. This was too good. “And I see you asked King to make you less repulsive. I don’t think he did a good job, though.”

One of the fillies, Sweetie Belle, jumped in front of Porthos, her head only coming up to the bottom of his barrel. “Porthos, let’s just go. The store will be closing soon!”

Applebloom walked up and took a closer look at Hauteclaire’s face. “Hey, why did y’all not fix your face before comin’ to school yesterday? You scared Twist, you know!”

Before Hauteclaire could respond, Porthos put a hoof between Applebloom and Hauteclaire. “We don’t need to talk with this...” --Porthos bit his lip-- “...guy. Come on, we got toys to buy.”

Hauteclaire laughed again. “So why did you do it, Porkos? Hoping to woo a mare? Buy toys to attract foals? If that’s so, you should have asked the King to take care of your deformities, too.”

Porthos ground his teeth and before shoving Hauteclaire with a hoof. “I wear my scars with pride! They are a sign of what I sacrificed for others. You hide yours in shame. You’re not a mouse worthy of…” He stopped and backed away from Hauteclaire, his barrel expanded with each breath he took. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath.

Scootaloo jumped up and buzzed next to Porthos’ head. “Come on, Porthos. Forget him, we got some charity to do.”

Porthos opened his eyes, leaned down, and took the sack of coins in his mouth. He growled through his teeth and turned away. “Let’s go, girls.”

They fillies trailed behind him. After distancing themselves, Sweetie Belle turned around and gave Hauteclaire a raspberry.

Porkos is buying toys. Ok. Can’t imagine why he is doing that. Marcus is still going to be upset with him that he is using more money. That will give me something to look forward to tonight.

He gave himself a little chuckle at the thought of Porthos being chewed out by Marcus as he walked towards Bonbon’s Bon-bons.

To say that Lyra was excited to see Hauteclaire so soon again, and while she was at work wrapping candies where she didn’t expect to see him, would have been quite the understatement. When she offered Hauteclaire a candy, Bonbon smacked her horn, and the magically-held candy fell to the ground. As entertaining as it was to watch their back-and-forths, Hauteclaire wasted little time getting down to business. It turned out that Lyra did indeed know several other musicians in the area, and she could send the message for them all to meet at a local bar the next evening for the job. Bonbon was perhaps happier than Lyra that Lyra got a job performing for royalty, but they both were rather pleased about it. It seemed Lyra preferred to not seek out jobs and just play for the sake of playing, sort of like Marcus.

The two of them made an agreement: Hauteclaire would meet Lyra the next day with the other musicians and discuss the job. As Hauteclaire left the shop, Lyra and Bonbon went back to wrapping candies and talking about their plans tomorrow.

“Hey there, Haut-sauce! You made it!”

Before anything else could be said, Pinkie Pie swept Hauteclaire up in a really tight bear hug by Pinkie Pie. His head banged against some hanging pans in the Sugar Cube Corner’s kitchen. “I gotta say, I’m sooo excited to be cooking with you and Marcus today! I can’t wait to see what kind of recipes you guys know so that I can learn something new too and then share it with my other friends later, maybe even add some new stuff to Sugar Cube Corner’s menu! It is so good to have you two here.” Pinkie squeezed even harder as Hauteclaire struggled. “And Lyra told me so much yesterday about how you sang and made everypony cry because the song was so beautiful and…”

“Pinkie, darling, you need to let him breathe,” said Rarity, who was organizing the countertop with a variety of pots and pans and ingredients.

Giggling, Pinkie released Hauteclaire. “Oops, sorry. I’m just so excited. We’re going to be cooking for royalty!”

Rarity smiled and rolled her eyes. “Pinkie, you cook for Twilight all the time.”

“Ah, but this time we are cooking for foreign royalty!”

The only thing royal about the King is the pain he causes in my tuckus. Hauteclaire looked to the back of the kitchen and saw Marcus. He had on a bigger smile than usual. “Brother! I’m so glad you made it.”

While smoothing out his cotehardie and herigaut, Hauteclaire looked around the room. “Yeah. No big deal. Got everything taken care of, so I just headed on over.” In the center of the kitchen was a table covered in open cookbooks of both pony and mouse origin. Many bookmarks stuck out of them, indicating the items that would be considered for the royal dinner. There were pots and pans dangling from hangers above the table, still wobbling from when Hauteclaire banged his head against them, and spoons and ladles of all sorts. He opened his mouth to speak, but Pinkie was right in his face, staring at him.

“OOOooooh! Your face looks nothing like in the paper at all!”

Rarity’s horn and Pinkie’s tail glowed the same color before an invisible force dragged Pinkie away. Rarity leaned in and gave Pinkie a few harsh whispers. “Whaaat?”

Marcus clapped his hands. “OK everypony, let’s start preparing for the royal feast, let us!” He walked up and leaned over to Hauteclaire. “I like seeing my brother’s old face again, I do.”

Hauteclaire backed away from his brother a bit. Marcus lifted a hand but let it drop back down in front of him before rubbing it with the other and whispering, “You’re not still mad at me for what I did, brother?”

Hauteclaire scrunched his face up in thought. After a few moments, he let a small grin spread across his cheeks and lifted his hand and held it out for Marcus. Marcus shook his hand and smiled again. They looked each other in the eyes.

“You did what you thought was best to look after me, brother, like you have before.”

“Naturally, brother.”

Both brothers turned to see two ponies leaning in with ears forward. Rarity jumped and pretended to turn through a cookbook with her magic. Pinkie continued to squat in their personal space. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

It’s none of your business, Pinkie.

“Everything is alright, it is. My brother and I had a fight earlier, but we are over it now, we are.”

Rarity’s ear twitched.

“A fight!? That’s not good! You’re brothers.”

Before a sea of run-sentences could be unleashed, Hauteclaire covered Pinkie’s mouth. “It’s alright. We have settled our personal dispute and are ready to move on. Right, brother?”

Marcus nodded.

Hauteclaire eased his hand from Pinkie’s mouth. “That’s great! Let’s get cooking!”

And so the cooking marathon was underway. For the most part, Pinkie and Marcus acted as the head chefs and Rarity and Hauteclaire did what they were instructed to do. It was a rather joyous occasion, and everyone recalled stories and told jokes. The things that these ponies had been through proved Marcus’ earlier concerns. These ponies lived in a dangerous world and were tough because of it. Pinkie would start on a story but go off on tangents, but Rarity would bring her back on course. The stories included monsters, tyrants, and a royal wedding being crashed by emotion-draining bug ponies. That was a strange one.

“...and then I was like, ‘Oatmeal, are you crazy!?’”

Marcus laughed as he strained the apples he had been boiling and poured the water in a bowl of ground almonds to steep. “That reminds me of a certain botched rescue mission.”

“So it’s our turn to share some stories?” said Hauteclaire with a smirk.

Marcus returned the smirk with a nod before slicing up the boiled apples. “Well, do you remember the song Hauteclaire sang at the welcome party?”

Pinkie jumped up. “Do I?! ‘Little ponies, gather round please, as I tell you all a tale!’”

Seeing his work to be remembered so gaily made Hauteclaire feel warm inside. Even though it was a piece he didn’t care much about, it was the first praise and recognition he had received for anything in a long time. He let his smile reach his eyes, if only for a brief moment before pushing it down to a grin.

Marcus chuckled and gave an acknowledging wink from under his hat to Hauteclaire, which could only be noticed by the slight movement in his cheek muscles. “Yes, well, that song is based on true events, it is, but it leaves out some of the more interesting details, it does.”

Pinkie perked up her ears and leaned ever so closely. Rarity did so as well, but more subtly.

“In our first attempt to save our king after he was captured… we messed up, we did.”

“What!?”

“Oh goodness!”

Hauteclaire smiled. He loved this story.

“Well, our king was thrown in the dungeon in a castle. This castle’s dungeon was on the first floor, and luckily enough, the King was chained to the outside wall. Well, Porthos and I snuck up to the castle at night,we did, and after looking through a window, I marked on the wall where the King was, I did. So Porthos tore out the wall and we ran, we did.”

Hauteclaire was already chuckling to himself, and Pinkie must have sensed that something was coming, because she was smiling too.

“It wasn’t until we were halfway between the castle and the woods where we planned to escape that we heard a voice, we did. Porthos stopped and flipped over the wall that he held over his head, and there was a human, there was! Not our king!”

Pinkie raised a hoof. “What’s a human?

“Think a tall, hairless monkey.”

Rarity gasped. “Good heavens! What did you do?”

“Well, we turned around and put him back, we did.”

Rarity was mortified and Pinkie was in hysterics.

“We took out the correct part of the wall the second time around, but this time there were arrows raining down on us and the King was angry, he was. He was yelling at Porthos to flip over the wall he was still chained to, because he was on top, you see, and arrows were coming down on us. So Porthos flips him over, but right when he does, he trips and drops the King, he does. Wall and all.”

Marcus held a hand out palm down to represent the wall with the King under it and a hand faced up to represent the ground. The top hand smacks down into the bottom hand.

“So, Porthos picks him up again and we run back into the woods, we do.” Marcus went back to the bowl of seeping almonds and poured them through a fine sieve, then dumped the soaked almond grinds onto a plate of sliced, boiled apples. “Some angels we were, weren’t we?”

Both Rarity and Pinkie were left agape. One from horror, the other from comedic shock. Hauteclaire muffled his laughter with both hands.

“He had a castle wall dropped on him and lived?!”

Hauteclaire pulled his hands away from his mouth. “Hehehe. He is a tough bone head, I’ll give him that. In fact, it reminds me of another story, this one involving the Shield Bearer.”

“‘The Shield Bearer, the duke’s terror, stole the Mouse King from his throne!’”

Pinkie only heard the song once, and she remembers it so well? She must be some musical prodigy. That, or I’m just that good at writing songs.

“Yes! That is correct. The first time we met the Shield Bearer, he had just beaten up Porthos and chased Philippides from the town to the castle...”

“I’m sorry, darling, who is Philippides?”

“He was our messenger mouse, he was. Little guy, same color as me, he was.” Marcus held out a hand at elbow height. His other hand was busy spreading sugar and cinnamon over the apple slices.

Hauteclaire continued, “Well, the castle gate to the courtyard was closed at the time, so in desperation, the cornered Philippides climbed up the castle gate and started screaming for help. Many of us came out, including the King, and were amazed to see this guy in armor, throwing a shield over and over again at poor Philippides, trying to knock him off the gate.

“We couldn’t open the gate because Philippides was in the way, so our king walks up to the gate and starts shouting at the Shield Bearer. Calling him a coward and the like. Well, the Shield Bearer stops and just stares at the King and says nothing. Even after more provocation and the Shield Bearer still remains silent, the King leans close to the gate and says, ‘What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?’

“Well, the King is laughing, the mice are laughing, everyone is laughing except for Philippides and the Shield Bearer. Then the King makes a mistake.”

Hauteclaire gave another one of his dramatic pauses. Rarity held up well, but Pinkie was shaking like crazy. “What!? What did he do!?”

“He stuck out his tongue.”

Another pause. Pinkie tilted her head. “Huh?”

“Well, the King was only an arm’s distance away from the Shield Bearer, the only thing between them was a gate full of holes. So the Shield Bearer reaches through the gate, grabs the King by the tongue, and pulled.

“WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The Shield Bearer pulled the King’s tongue again and again, smashing his face into the gate.”

Pinkie covered her hoofs and tried not to laugh. “That is so mean!” she said with a snort.

“How dreadful! I hope that ruffian got what was coming to him.”

“It is unfortunate, but the Shield Bearer was able to single-handedly defeat the entire Mouse King Army and us. It was weird, but whenever we got close to him, our magic wouldn’t work, and whatever we threw at him, he turned back against us.”

Marcus stepped towards the ponies. “Pinkie, Rarity, could you get some plates please? These sweets are ready, they are.”

When Rarity and Pinkie turned their backs, Marcus turned to Hauteclaire and whispered, “Don’t mention how our magic works, brother! That is one of the rules, that is!”

“Relax, Marcus. I haven’t given away any secrets. And last time I checked, they don’t have any ‘shield bearers’ to throw at us anyway. They don’t even use the same kind of ‘magic’ as we do, and probably won’t for several millennia by the look of things.”

Marcus sighed. “I suppose you’re right, you are. I guess I’m just a little… on edge, I guess.”

“Brother, we haven’t actually gotten a chance to really…” Hauteclaire chewed on his tongue a bit. “...be brothers, like we used to. So lighten up. I’m not going to do anything stupid to ruin this vacation.”

Marcus smiled again. “I guess you’re right, brother.”

Both brothers turned to see two large, moist, blue eyes staring back at them. “Awww! You two are so cute together! You make me want to send a letter to my sisters.”

Hauteclaire pushed Pinkie away. Then Marcus. But not with a lot of force.

Marcus grabbed the plate of treats and put some on three of the four plates that Rarity and Pinkie placed on the table. “Well, how are they?”

“Oooh! They smell so good!”

Rarity took a small bite and hummed in enjoyment. “Oh! This is simply divine! What do you call this again?”

“It is called Emplumeus, it is. I’m glad you like it. I thought since it had apples in it, it would make a good dessert for the Princess, it would.”

Hauteclaire tasted his and nodded. “It’s good. I’d prefer it with less sugar.”

Pinkie smacked her face onto the plate and scarfed up a few emplumei. She resembled a hamster more than a pony. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, they’re perfect!” She gulped the whole thing down. “What do you think, Marcus?”

“If you three think they’re good, that’s all that matters, that is.”

“Ok, but what do you think?” Pinkie picked up an emplumeus apple snack in her hoof and shoved it in Marcus’ face as he dodged her hoof and continued to back off.

“It’s fine, it is. Really.”

“Come on, take a bite! You made it, so you should get to have some.”

“Darling, he doesn’t have to eat one to know they are good.”

“But he does need to eat one if he is to know what they taste like! Open up, Marcus! Here comes the choo-choo train!”

“No, really, I…”

“CHOO CHOO!”

“It’s because he can’t taste anything.”

All heads turned to Hauteclaire. He shrugged. “He can’t. That’s why I’m here, isn’t that right, brother?”

Marcus nodded and sighed. “He’s right. I can’t taste anything, I can’t.”

Pinkie’s jaw hit the floor, quite literally. Rarity covered her mouth. “You can’t!?”

“It’s true. I can’t taste or smell anything; that is part of my curse....”

“You can’t taste anything!?” Pinkie teared up. “That would make every meal the same. Boring! Unexciting! Life would be so… bland.” She stuck out her tongue at the last word.

“It’s not like he would need to eat, not having a stomach and all.”

Rarity put a hoof over her mouth and made a sickly noise. “Ugh! Please don’t remind me of that…”

“Oh, so we’re sharing secrets, we are?” --A devious grin spread on Marcus’ face-- “And since we are sharing secrets, we are, perhaps I shall tell them something about you, Hauteclaire.”

Hauteclaire raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Marcus turned to Pinkie and Rarity. “Would you two like to learn about Hauteclaire when he was little, would you?”

Both mares grinned at the offer of gossip.

“Oh yes! I would love that!”

“That would be lovely.”

Oh no!

Marcus smiled at the horrified look on Hauteclaire’s face.

“Long ago, back before we met our king…”

Author's Note

Sorry it took so long between this chapter and the last. Life has been a bit bumpy lately.

If it is any consolation, Ch. XII is just about ready to be sent out to pre-readers and Ch. XIII (which has me in stitches) is halfway done.

This chapter pretty much marks the halfway point in the story. I'm surprised I've gotten this far!