A Swan Amongst The Ducklings

The room was filled with the sound of meaningless banter, drinking, and carousing. Here Lord Worthingham the Third was chatting up Lady Briarpatch about lumber production. Over there was ‘Prince’ Blueblood, leaning heavily on the edge of a couch as he tried not to become sick from too much drink. Further still, several models flocked around the foppish-looking fashion mogul who kept leering at the backsides of the pretty stallions hired to bring drinks.

Above it all, like some benevolent king of old, was her Fancy.

“How much longer before we can remove them, mon cœur?” Fleur De Lis asked just under her breath.

Fancy’s eyes flicked to where she sat at his side. He looked just as weary of the whole gathering as she, but he still, somehow, bore it, whereas her own false enthusiasm had flagged long ago. “Not much longer now. dear. Worthingham and Briarpatch seem ready to cement their deal in one of the guest bedrooms, it appears like Blueblood will be taking his leave rather shortly, and Lady Worthingham has already retired with that nice butler of hers.”

“Briarpatch, now? Worthingham likes the prickly ones, does he?” Fleur tittered quietly, not having the energy for much more. She didn’t comment on the Lady and her butler. That particular scandal was such common knowledge it wasn’t even worth being called such any longer. Privately, she didn’t blame the Lady. When your husband was a cheating bastard who never spent time with you, why not sleep with the help?

“Jet Set seems to have followed Upper to watch her with that sweet little mare she was whispering to earlier.” Fancy said from the side of his mouth. “The rest are all merchants of various backgrounds, they’ll follow along when we say goodbye to the more high-profile guests.”

“Ah, the newly moneyed. So eager to join the ranks of their peers.” Fleur smiled, reaching over to caress Fancy’s shoulder.

“No need to be insulting, Fleur.”

“I meant only that if they but knew the ponies they admired, they would know themselves above these scélérats.” she replied, not batting an eye.

Fancy favored her with a wry little grin, and she melted a little inside. It was astounding how effortlessly he still managed to do such things. “Some of those ‘scoundrels’ are dear friends of mine, love.”

She rolled her eyes. “Exactement! Your friends, Fancy.I will call them what they are.”

“Your own friends are not exactly reputable.” Fancy replied, his eyes flicking to the group of fawning sycophants around Hoity Toity. He took a sip of wine, then set it down as he stretched his legs a little, a long-recognized signal that he was making ready to say his goodbyes to their guests.

“At the very least, my friends do not pretend to be anything but the horrible ponies they are, Fancy.” Fleur grumbled, even as she followed his example, ready to play the role of the wife at his side, graciously thanking them for attending while gritting her teeth behind the smile.

As always during such times, she felt a sense of irony as she stood and acted her part. Her, the wife! What a farcical notion. She was the lover, the mistress, the well-kept companion. She was the mare the wife found out about, usually after the husband had spent a lot of money on buying her affection.

Fancy was supposed to have been another of those. She’d been surprised to find he was single, and more so that he didn’t immediately try to bed her when she’d expressed her interest. He’d actually dated her! Being taken to dinner was something she expected, of course, but less as a means of wooing her and more as a means of continuing to remain in her favor, as she did grow bored, eventually.

Something about him had resonated with her though. Like her, he was fond of fine things, and had powerful friends. Normally, she’d have used him up and moved up the ladder. But, appearances aside, Fancy was more than those who supposedly stood above him. He was minor nobility, but his money was self-made, as he had related to her. A fact he regretted, as the means he’d used had been... less than noble.

That fact had intrigued her. He was no saint, but he seemed to be trying to repent for things that his peers would do as a matter of course. She hadn’t been quite sure what to make of it, but it was terribly endearing, in a quaint sort of way.

She watched him usher Blueblood out the door, clapping him on the back with a hearty smack that you couldn’t actually take offense to. She smirked. Bluey was a bit of a boor, which was why they generally sat him down next to a few fine bottles of wine and let him drink himself into a stupor. It kept him from making an ass of himself.

That left Worthingham and Briarpatch in one of the guest bedrooms, and Jet Set and Upper Crust (and whoever they had taken a fancy to) in another. She made a mental note to get the staff to change the sheets in the morning, but such was a common occurrence.

Her, the wife, the mare that helped him clean up the little messes his friends left with their dalliances. The mare that he held in his strong yet gentle arms at night. She had to laugh at herself for it. She was a fool, through and through.

She’d despaired, at first. For in love though she was, she was a mare in the prime of her life, used to sampling many fruits from the tree. As sweet as he was, she had worried that Fancy too would grow stale to her palate, and then she would be the wife sneaking out, leaving him alone and wondering what he had done wrong, when the answer was of course nothing at all.

“Shall we head on up?” Fancy asked, touching her hoof very gently to get her attention.

“Of course, mon cœur.” she replied with a true smile that outshone any of the facades she’d worn throughout the night.

She’d stayed faithful to him, despite her nature, for many, many months. And in that time, had never been sorely tempted. He was such an attentive lover, so passionate, that she had come to believe she could spend a lifetime loving only him. Content as she was, however, she still indulged in gazing at all those splendid fruits, for they were pleasant to look upon.

In time, he’d found her out. She had thought herself clever, but her Fancy was more clever still, and had whispered to her as she’d glanced at the flowing tail of a particularly buxom maid: “Would you like me to invite her upstairs for drinks?”

That had been the first time, and there had been many since. Sweet little ducklingswho were lured into a night of bliss, leaving in the morning, dazed but happy. And so Fleur was never tempted to leave her Fancy lonely, for it was far more fun to share.

Fancy kissed her on the cheek as he led her upstairs. “I told that nice lad you had eyes on earlier that I’d like to discuss a new position for him. He’s upstairs now. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Fleur bit her lip, throwing her arms around Fancy and kissing him around the neck and ears. She had a few positions in mind as well.

When Fleur had first seen the younger princess, she and Fancy had been attending a party held at the castle. Some midwinter thing, Fleur hadn’t been very interested in the reasoning behind it. It was another event in a long string of events, being attended by the same ponies that always attended. But she was new. Another princess, nearly as old as Celestia if what Fancy had told her was true, and yet she looked like she was just a few years past getting her cutie mark!

Fleur had heard the rumors, of course. The estranged sister, recovering from a long absence. Which was a polite way of saying returning from exile, but from where, nopony would, or could, say. But in the end, where she came from was less interesting than the fact that she was there at all.

The ‘Princess of the Night’ hadn’t been very much to look at, at the time. She’d been a horribly awkward-looking thing hovering near Princess Celestia all night. Admittedly, it was easy to be outshone by the sun, and she felt for the younger sister, having to be compared to such perfection, but it was difficult for Fleur to hold in the giggle she had felt bubbling up as she watched the pair.

The younger followed the older around as if glued to her backside. Indeed, but for the coloring, they could well have been mother and daughter instead of sisters. The younger being a gangly thing, a full head shorter than her sister, with a much shorter mane.

She wondered at that, reflecting how pleasant it must be to look much the same despite having lived so long. Fleur herself was still in her prime, but she knew in time her looks would fade, as a rose that had been cut and placed in water. Not so for this princess, though perhaps it was worse for her if she still looked the ugly duckling to Princess Celestia’s swanlike stature.

Perhaps ugly was unfair. The younger princess was... unpolished. Dull, when compared to the shine of the elder. And her personality seemed much the same. Where Celestia waded through the crowd, the younger simply followed in her wake, making no path of her own. Fleur had been horribly disappointed, as a new ruler in the government might have been interesting, but this little thing seemed unlikely to cause much of a stir.

The Princess made her way through the crowd, the little one following behind (looking distinctly uncomfortable), and stopped briefly in front of Fancy.

“Your Majesty!” Fancy exclaimed. “Always a treat to see you. How heavily weighs the crown and all that, eh?”

“No heavier than any other day, Fancy Pants.” Celestia replied, looking genuinely pleased to talk to him. “And how fares the better class?”

“Haven’t met any yet.” He replied promptly, which Celestia responded to by holding a hoof up to her mouth in order to cover a giggle.

Fleur rolled her eyes at Fancy’s joke. Clearly it was fine when he insulted his friends but when she tried she was being disrespectful. She played the good wife for him, despite badly wanting to chime in at how very right they both were. Instead, she peered past them both, wondering in a sudden pique of curiosity how the little princess was faring while the elder was making small talk.

Oddly, ‘Princess Luna’ was showing signs of life for a brief moment. A flash of irritation crossed her features, followed by impatience. “Tia, must we? If We do this with everypony, winter will come ere we’ve finished.“

Fleur raised a single eyebrow in surprise. Perhaps she had misjudged the little one... At the very least she was not afraid to speak her mind.

Celestia’s eyes flicked back to her sister, her lips pursed, but her expression otherwise unreadable. “Forgive Us, Fancy Pants. This event is a bit early for my sister,” she leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “She gets cranky when I wake her up early.”

They both took their leave then, and Fleur watched the little princess as she left, uncertain what to make of her. All too soon, however, there were other things that occupied her time and thoughts. Rumors surrounding a noble couple having taken out assassination contracts on one another, scandals of a maid having been caught in the bed of Lord Ironshod, shady dealings (especially those she had a hoof in) and more besides. All of these things were all too common in Canterlot, of course, but such was life. One found excitement where they could.

The duckling princess had been all but forgotten. Fleur still thought about her on occasion, but not often. There was more than enough to occupy her without wondering about the little princess that might have been interesting.

The second time their paths crossed, the younger princess was far more interesting, and caused quite the stir.

“We greet thee, fine subjects!” the voice boomed out into the dining hall, causing every conversation in the room to halt and the elderly Lady Goldenrod to faint in shock.

Princess Luna looked about expectantly, a smile on her lips and polite confusion in her eyes. “We were given to understand a celebration was taking place, and wished to join in the festivities!”

Not a word was spoken to her, the only sound a cry for a doctor coming from the Lady’s servant.

The princess swept her eyes around the room. “Are We to understand there will be no games of chance?” she demanded.

Fleur, who was sitting with Fancy, watched the scene unfold from afar. After the initial outburst she turned to her husband, enthralled by the spectacle. “It’s her!” she gasped, a huge smile growing on her lips. “She’s... c'est incroyable, Fancy... she grew!”

Fleur found herself thoroughly confused and delighted by alicorn physiology. The Princess had become almost as tall as Celestia, her mane a fascinating flowing mass of blackness and little points of light, it was as if the night sky itself had come to rest upon her brow. Even her coat, which had previously been the light blues of a sky during a fading sunset, was currently the dark blue of the sky at moonrise.

When nopony answered her, Princess Luna opened her mouth one last time, then allowed it to snap shut angrily. She stalked over to a serving pony, snatching several drinks from his tray, then taking the whole thing. She stood there with tray floating in her magic, gently sipping at a glass floating beside her and glaring at the room in general.

“She seems a little upset.” Fancy observed with a frown.

“Well, of course she is!” Fleur replied, excitedly taking a sip from her glass of wine. “Just look at her, Fancy! She was so... and now she’s...” Fleur struggled with the words, eventually shrugging. “Just look at her! She comes to a party, expecting to make a huge entrance, and nothing happens.”

“Pity. If I’d known she was coming I’d have invited different guests.”

Fleur just watched the princess a moment or two longer before coming to a decision. “I’m going to go talk to her,” she said firmly, getting up from her seat.

Fancy just looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Fleur... I really don’t like that look in your eye. You do know she’s a princess, correct?”

“She’s interesting.” Fleur replied, her smile growing all the more.

Fancy rolled his eyes at her. “Yes, so was that nice flower seller last week.”

“She was jolie, Fancy.” Fleur replied smoothly, not taking her eyes off of the princess. “That is not the same.”

“True, the flower seller couldn’t have you arrested for propositioning her.”

But Fleur was past listening to his reasoning, getting up to make her approach. She slid through the crowds with the ease and grace of one who lives her life in such events. Upon reaching the princess, she swept down into a low, deep curtsey. “Votre Majesté! I am Fleur De Lis, hôtesse to this gathering.”

Her Fancy was close behind her, stepping up smoothly to greet his guest. “Ah, hello, Princess Luna. Good of you to stop by. I am Fancy Pants, you might possibly remember me from the gathering at the palace some time ago. Could I offer you a drink?”

With the princess engaged, something in the room eased, and conversations continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted at all. The only difference was the furtive glances in Princess Luna’s direction, and of course a number of doctors arriving to tend to the poor Lady.

Princess Luna seemed startled at first, but slowly the frustration on her face lessened. “We have many, thank you,” she replied, gesturing to the tray. “What manner of celebration is this? Have you no sport, no games? We had thought We would indulge in merriment, instead we find dour faces and whispers.”

Fleur smirked at the remark, saying nothing.

Fancy coughed uncomfortably. “Well, there’s not much sport going on, sadly. It’s not that sort of celebration, you see. And the only games you might find would be foolish ponies trying to drink each other under the table.”

The Princess pursed her lips thoughtfully. “We are not certain We should indulge in such games. When last We attempted such, We awoke to find a great mountain razed to rubble at our feet. Our sister asked that We be more cautious with drink henceforth.”

“Probably for the best if you don’t, then. But perhaps a bit of conversation, some fine food, and a better vintage?” Fancy asked with an easy smile. “At these sorts of gatherings one is meant to socialize more than celebrate.”

“We might offer merriment of another sort, Princesse.” Fleur cut in smoothly. “Won’t you join us?”

The Princess looked back and forth between them, then shrugged and gestured for them to lead on.

When they were safely seated, Fleur let out a breath she’d been holding for some time. “Forgive them, Princess. These ponies would not know a good time if one walked in and bellowed ‘hello’,” she smiled, giving a little wink to the Princess. “So, what brings you out of the castle?”

Princess Luna smiled back, looking a little uncertain of how to respond. “We had thought... to attempt to connect with Our People by attending a social event.”

Fleur stared at her for a moment, beginning to laugh. After a few seconds, she calmed down as she saw how very confused and hurt the Princess looked. “Excuse-moi, Majesté. I meant no offense, but there were... other events that may have been better for such. Or you could very well have held your own.”

“I... I see.” The Princess replied, looking crestfallen. “Forgive me, I should have considered my plans more thoroughly.”

Fleur looked at Princess Luna curiously, uncertain how she had failed to make her point. “There is nothing to forgive, Majesté! I had just meant that... there was perhaps... mieux ponies than these to connect to.”

Fancy flashed her a warning look, clearing his throat noisily. “What my wife means, I am sure, is that you might have wanted to start with the pony on the street, so to speak. This group tends to be... rather—”

“They are a group of backstabbing, detestable weasels.” Fleur cut in, flashing Fancy a little grin and sticking out her tongue.

Princess Luna let out a loud laugh. Quickly realizing her faux pas, however, she clamped her mouth shut and blushed furiously. “Forgive me. I...”

“No need to apologize, Princess.” Fancy said quickly. “I believe if anything Fleur is the one who owes an apology to you.”

“No! Please, Fancy Pants. She did no harm. Truthfully, I have thought as much myself.” The Princess replied, giggling in a truly adorable way. “But my sister forebore me from saying as much, for fear that I would estrange them,” she muttered darkly, her eyes flashing for a moment. “We did not continence scoundrels, before. Things... have changed.”

Fleur brightened considerably, clapping her hooves together in delight. “There, you see, Fancy? I am not the only one who sees them for what they are.”

“I am aware of their actions, Fleur. I simply choose to ignore them, hoping to bring out better ponies in them as a result.”

“But their actions are what makes them cretins, mon cœur!” Fleur replied with a laugh. “You seem to think they all can be better. Do they not have towish to be better first?”

“Perhaps...” Luna began, then trailed off, her face flush with embarrassment as they both turned to her. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but... sometimes, you need an example to follow. Sometimes... you do not know there is another path, because all you see is the road you’ve paved.”

Fancy’s eyebrows raised in appreciation, and he laughed heartily. “Quite right! And if there is none to follow, then it falls to you to be that example, if you can see the other path!”

A brilliant smile blossomed on the Princess’s face, and she raised her glass tentatively. “To the other path!”

Fancy raised his in kind, clinking it up against hers. “To the other path!”

Fleur rolled her eyes, but smiled indulgently, raising her own glass in tribute to the other two and being the first to drink to the toast.

As the evening drew to a close, Fleur found herself earnestly and honestly having a good time at one of Fancy’s parties for the first time in far too long.

It had nothing to do with their usual guests, of course, and everything to do with the delightful princess laughing hysterically at one of Fancy’s stories.

“You... you mean, after all of that, she still...”

“She’s here, isn’t she? I was certain she’d storm off, but she shed the dress, grabbed a bottle of seltzer water, and went off to the bathroom.” Fancy replied, wiping a tear away from his eyes. “It was a lovely vintage, too. Shame.”

“As if you don’t have better reds in your cellar.” Fleur said, letting out a little huff. “You were very lucky that it didn’t soak through to my coat.”

Luna chuckled in sympathy. “Yes, I’d imagine that would be a problem. You and Celestia could commiserate together. She’s had similar issues after indulging in her favorite guilty pleasure.”

“Princess Celestia’s guilty pleasure?” Fleur asked, trying not to sound too eager. The Princess? She was considered to be above such things. Fleur wasn’t entirely sure Alicorns even made love. Given what little was known about them, it was entirely possible they didn’t. They were ageless, after all.

“My sister has a fondness for sweets,” Princess Luna confided conspiratorially. “And at times... she has been known to stain her coat with frosting. With all other things, she is dainty as could be, but cake is a weakness. On one occasion, in the old castle, she went a week before she noticed.”

“Ah,” Fleur replied, disappointed. It seemed the mystery of Celestia’s sexuality would remain a mystery. It did make her wonder, though, if Alicorns did make love. Fancy had chided her earlier about propositioning the Princess, as if that was the only reason she might wish to make the acquaintance of this beautiful, alluring creature. But the idea, once thought, remained in her mind, and she couldn’t help but be curious. What would kissing a living goddess be like?

The evening finally drew to a close, Fancy ushering the last of their guests out. The servants all set about cleaning the dishes from the evening’s meal, leaving their masters to tend to cleaning out the other filth. Luna remained, not wishing to disturb the guests any more than she had previously, and having no real interest in any of them save for Fancy and Fleur in any case.

When they were safely alone, Luna stood, smiling at them both. “We... We wish to thank thee both for a lovely evening. We apologize for the scene We caused earlier. If... if We might be welcome at another time, We would very much like to attend another gathering.”

She just stood there, looking unsure, and a little nervous. It was as if she expected to be told she wasn’t welcome at all.

Or perhaps, that she should stay.

“I think I speak for both of us when I say you were a wonderful guest, Princess Luna.” Fancy replied, sweeping down into a very low bow. “We’d be delighted to have you again.”

Fleur pursed her lips thoughtfully. She was on the cusp of something, something that could well destroy her, if things went badly. How would the Princess react?

It was thrilling. She hadn’t felt her heart sing with this much excitement in years. She imagined if somepony were to touch her at that moment, they might feel her humming with unbridled energy.

She stepped forward, leaving Fancy’s side, and the Princess watched her approach with a bemused (but not displeased) expression. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with my husband,” she said as she approached. Luna looked confused, and hurt. That turned to surprise and apprehension as Fleur got closer.

Apprehension, or anticipation?

“I’d rather have you now,” she said as she got close enough to whisper, and saying that, she lifted her head up high enough to press her lips firmly to Luna’s.

The kiss was very interesting. She’d wondered about whether she might be repelled by magic, or perhaps struck dead on the spot for her hubris. Indeed, she supposed she was indulging in the very height of arrogance, imposing on the personal space of royalty. She reached out to gently stroke the side of Luna’s muzzle, flashing her a slow, sensual grin. “What say you, Princesse? Would you have sport?”

The Princess had been all but motionless until then, but her reaction was far from pleasing to Fleur. “I.. We... that is...” Her eyes were open wide, like a frightened animal. “I... I have to go!”

With that, she was gone, replaced with a cloud of swirling stardust that swept out of the room under the doorframe.

The room was very silent for a time. Fancy eventually breaking it with a soft chuckle. “I did warn you.”

Fleur stared at the spot in which the Princess had occupied, blinking as if doing so would bring her back. She eventually sighed, nodding her head. “So you did. At least she did not throw me in the dungeon. She is a generous princesse.”

“I just want to know what possessed you to think that was a good idea. You have quite possibly cost us a new friend, and potentially made us a new enemy.” Fancy sighed heavily, picking up a drink from one of trays still laid out. “Why?”

“She looked like she was kissable, so I kissed her.” Fleur said simply. She lifted a drink in her own magic, draining it in one long draught.

Fancy just shook his head. “Very well. I just hope you haven’t scared her off. She was a positive treat to talk with.”

“I hope so as well.” Fleur replied. She looked down into the bottom of her glass, seeing the floor, distorted and divided by the stem of the glass. It was as if she was seeing two paths before her, though in fact, she knew she had picked a path just moments ago.

It was as Fancy had said. She had been on a path of something good, a new friend, one of the two rulers of the nation. The potential political capital was staggering.

But there had been another presented to her: the Princess as more than a friend. She had felt them all click, seen something in them all that had resonated. It had been exciting, and enticing, but that path was unsure. Perhaps if she had waited, not been so impulsive. But seeing the path, she had rushed headlong, and had perhaps spoiled everything.

She was on a path, she could not return. But for a moment, she had occasion to look at the other, and wish she had taken it.

The weeks that followed were detestably boring for Fleur. Her interesting Princess did not return, leaving her with nothing but the cretins at Fancy’s latest party. If not for her Fancy, life would have proven thoroughly unpalatable. But even with him, she had more than one occasion to regret her rashness.

She had been too forceful, clearly. Some mares appreciated being set off balance. It gave them a thrill of doing something forbidden. Many of her ducklings were not even aware they were attracted to females until presented with Fleur’s hungry gaze, and even ones who had thought themselves firmly not often agreed, if only to experiment. Those left her bed with a newfound outlook on their own love life.

If Fleur was honest with herself, she hadn’t cared for their reasoning. She offered pleasure, they accepted more often than not. She’d never thought of herself as being heartless for thinking such. She loved truly, and deeply. She’d simply never found anypony worthy of love before Fancy. Or since. But she made love with passion, and cared for each partner in her way. Perhaps they pined for her, afterwards, but none of them left feeling spited. She had a mate, and was not trying to replace him. This was known, and respected.

The look in Luna’s eyes just before she fled, however... had made her feel something she’d never felt: shame. It was an awful feeling.

Never before had she felt she’d betrayed anypony, even as they’d shouted the word at her as she left when she got bored. She’d never pretended to love any of them, merely offering pleasure and expecting it in kind. And if they offered flowers, gifts, and fine food, she had accepted them graciously. It was not her betraying them at all, for she’d promised nothing more than what she had given.

She’d never betrayed her Fancy, either. She had remained true to him, always. The fact that they brought in toys to play with was not a betrayal, for they did so together.

But the little princess... she had looked at her with shock, and... sadness. There had been no look of rebuke, or rejection. There had even been a hint of fear, though why that would be, Fleur had no idea.

The more she brooded over it, the more saddening it was to her. She should have given more care to the little princess, but she had not. And now, not only had she lost a potentially interesting lover, she’d lost a friend.

Fleur looked around the room in distaste. She had precious few ponies worthy of that word in her life. The mares still in modeling were not friends, they were former rivals. They acted like her friends, because she could perhaps do things for them, but they were manipulative harpies who flocked around the powerful.

With Luna... she had felt something. The Princess was a kindred soul. Odd to think that, for all that she’d only known her for an evening, but as with her Fancy... she’d simply known there was something about the Princess, something beyond mere attraction. The world was full of the banal and dreary, but Luna... Luna had been interesting.

She shook her head, sweeping her gaze around the room, idly wondering if the pretty mare playing cello might be a fun diversion to draw her out of this spiral of sadness. But much like the mare’s coat color, the idea tasted of ashes to her palate. Perhaps she would simply have Fancy chastely hold her tonight. Making love held little appeal to her. She hated that she felt that way, for it was not Fancy’s fault she had run the poor princess off, but she didn’t want to fake enthusiasm for him. He deserved better.

That made her ashamed as well, because he would understand. He always understood. He always knew just what she needed, and when. Which wasn’t to say he was perfect by any means. Perfect would have been boring. Fancy was never boring. Insufferable on occasion, corny, hopelessly romantic, maybe foolish at times... but never boring.

He’d been trying to cheer her up for some time now, and her continued doldrums didn’t seem to faze him. Not for the first time, she recognized how special that made him, and how lucky that, in turn, made her.

She exhaled noisily, looking at the stairs to their chambers. Perhaps it was best to just sleep, for now.

“Everything all right, Fleur?”

“I’ll be fine, Fancy,” she replied, standing up. “I’m going to bed, I think.”

“Very well. I’ll join you once things wrap up. Should I send somepony with a meal?”

“No, don’t trouble them, mon cœur.” She said, kissing his cheek affectionately. Perhaps after a nap she would feel less out of sorts, and give him the attention he deserved. She couldn’t just let one mistake continue to affect their relationship in this way. “I may just lie down for a while.”

Fancy eyed her critically, saying nothing, but his expression spoke volumes. He was concerned for her but also uncertain what to do.

It was just more to feel guilty over. She gave him a brave smile. “Sorry to worry you, mon chèr. Join me soon.” She decided then and there that there would be nothing chaste about when he joined her. As down in mood as she was, she could ignore it, if it would make him happy. She climbed the stairs, making her way to their room.

She lay down, snuggling into the covers on their bed. The sheets smelled very lightly of his cologne. It was a good smell. She closed her eyes, smiling as she thought of her Fancy.

When she opened her eyes, she was at Fancy’s side, looking across the room at Princess Luna, who was demanding to know if anypony wished to bob for apples—

Fleur De Lis.

She looked around, startled and confused. Her home was gone, as were all of their guests. She was in a throne room, but not any she’d seen before. She’d attended Celestia’s court of the sun with Fancy many times, and this wasn’t it.

She stood at the bottom of a tall dias, in a very large room. The walls were dark, made of a stone that seemed to suck away the light provided by the torches that hung from the pillars interspaced throughout the room. The room was empty, shockingly so. The walls were adorned with banners of Celestia’s cutie mark... and Luna’s. In the center of it all, on an ebony throne sitting next to an ivory twin, sat Princess Luna.

“What?” she asked, looking around wildly.

Be not alarmed. We are within thy dream. We have need to speak with thee.

“Princesse?” Fleur whirled back around to regard the figure on the dark throne, who in this time had neither moved nor audibly spoken. Instead, she heard the words reverberating in her own head. “I don’t understand. I was... sleeping? Or not?”

Forgive Us. We imagine thou must be quite disoriented. We came to you in this fashion because We feared returning to thy home in Our shame. We have wronged thee, and wish to make amends—

“What do you mean?” Fleur demanded of the still-silent princess. “Why... why do you— Why would you apologize? I was the one who wronged you, ma chère! Please, forgive me!”

Forgive... you?

Princess Luna stood, looking down at Fleur in confusion. “No! That is... We... We wished to ask...” she looked around, frustrated. “This... this is not as it was meant to be!”

She stomped a hoof down, and the world shattered. In its place was a smaller, less imposing room. A bedroom, by the looks of it, for there was a large bed in the center, upon which sat a miserable-looking Princess Luna.

“Ma petite princesse?” Fleur asked very quietly. “What is happening?”

“I... We... I should not have done this, Dame. I shall return you to your dream—”

“Wait, please, wait!” Fleur interrupted quickly. “I... this is a dream, this is my dream?"

“Yes.” Princess Luna replied, looking thoroughly disheartened. “As I said, I... I was afraid to return to your home, after what I did—”

“After what you—”

“I had no care for how you might react to my presence.” Luna said, continuing despite Fleur’s indignant sputtering. “I admit, I was enjoying our evening together very much, and was too personal in my attention to the both of you. But you must believe me when I say I did not intend to tempt you away from Sir Pants!”

“Tempt me?”

“Aye,” Luna replied, nodding seriously. “But please, you must forget me. Sir Pants is a good and noble pony, and must not be made a cuckold!”

Fleur just stared at Luna, who returned her gaze with equal intensity, albeit for different reasons.

The Princess was the first to break the silence. “Dame, I am so very sorry—”

“Princesse, will you please stop apologizing? You are making my head hurt.” Fleur said, cutting her off.

The room, if it could be called that, was silent once more. Fleur sat heavily on... it was pointless to question what she sat on. For all intents and purposes this was a room, with a princess in it. She was no philosopher to question what reality was.

She laughed suddenly, startling the princess. “Ha!”

“Dame?” Princess Luna asked.

“Ha!” Fleur repeated, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. “I steal a kiss from you, and you think you are the thief! ma chère... You are not to blame for what happened.”

“But I am!” Luna insisted, a puzzled look on her face. She got up and began pacing back and forth, occasionally halting to gesture emphatically. Fleur had rarely seen such an impassioned speech, and she had seen many performances on stage. “I have run that evening over and over again in my mind, examining every detail. A laugh here, a wink there, that bawdy joke about the maid... I was seducing you! Perhaps unknowingly, but not without willing it to be so. I... I never intended for things to go so far, but I very much liked the attention paid to me by my new friends and I found you both very attractive.”

“I find you attractive as well, ma petite—”

Luna nodded seriously, pointing at Fleur. “And that! I enjoy all of your little endearing phrases from the Pranciscan dialect! You speak them with warmth, and they make me shiver!” She sat down with a huff, blowing a bit of her flowing mane from one of her eyes. “This is going very badly. I had meant to address the issue with you in a more officious way. I fear I am only exacerbating the problem further.”

“Officious?” Fleur asked incredulously. “As in a royal proclamation that this attraction must not be?”

“Yes,” came the quite serious reply. “You say you stole a kiss, but that simply is not the case. I laid myself bare in a moment of uncertainty, and you took what I was willing to give, had I but the nerve to offer it. I could have halted your advance in any number of ways, but I saw your approach, I read your intent, and I did nothing. And in doing so I betrayed you both.”

“Princesse...” Fleur stepped forward, and despite her fears of invading space, she did embrace the princess. “You have betrayed no one. I let my passion drive me forward, when my head should have known to speak with you first.”

Luna looked ready to squirm away, but eventually settled down, looking up at her with saddened eyes. “How would that have helped? Is it better to plan adultery? Would Sir Pants have felt better knowing it was premeditated and not an act of passion? Or perhaps you meant to hide it from him forever?”

Fleur let out a musical little chuckle. “Ma petite... I hide nothing from my Fancy. He and I are a mated pair of scoundrels, and we share everything.”

“You...he...what?!” Luna blurted out, struggling anew. “What is the meaning of this?”

Fleur released the slack embrace, stepping back smoothly. “This is why I must ask you to forgive me, ma chère. There was never any danger of a rift between Fancy and myself. My intent was to ask if you might join us, not separate us.”

“I...” Luna’s eyes grew round, and a blush colored her cheeks a delightful purple. “I don’t understand! I was convinced... I planned for weeks... I-I have no words!”

“Then do not say anything, ma petite.” Fleur replied, smiling warmly, her eyes lidded and heavy as she approached for another kiss. “Save your pretty mouth for other things.” She closed the gap, her eyes fluttering closed as she pressed her lips against Luna’s own, surprised at how soft those lips were. As she wrapped her arms around the startled princess, she noted that Luna’s whole body was quite soft, surprisingly so.

She opened her eyes, and found herself face down in her own pillow, a wet mark demonstrating quite clearly that she’d been kissing it. She looked around in disorientation. The warm, huggable princess had disappeared, along with the large, inviting bed. With a great heaving sigh, Fleur rose to a sitting position, shaking her head ruefully.

It had all seemed so real, so vivid. But of course it had been a dream. How simple would it have been, if Luna really did accept her apology so easily? She only wished Luna had been half so responsive that night as she had been in her dream. But, dream though it was, it had been very pleasant nonetheless. She let out a sigh, looking around the room with disappointment. If only the dream had gone on for a time.

A hotness between her legs was still present, and she wondered idly if Fancy would mind chasing everypony off and rutting her senseless. She got up, grimacing to see how messy her hair looked in the mirror. She took a moment to groom, dabbing a little perfume to hide the worst of her scent, then walked slowly and sensually down the stairs.

Whether Fancy minded or not, he would be following her upstairs soon. The party could go on without him if need be.

Maybe that nice cellist could be convinced to take a break and join them. She licked her lips in anticipation.