Author's Note

So sorry for the unacceptable delay! I'm trying to get back into writing properly now for all of my stories. Hopefully we can get this going again.

Of Knives and Niceties I

Though the storm clouds had only just started being corralled above the farm by a team of pegasi, the rain fell almost as soon as the last farmhoof had entered the house. It was a very sudden and perfectly timed occurrence; Celestia had a hunch that this was how Princess Twilight Sparkle’s Equestria worked.

The team of workers talked quietly among themselves as they walked slowly down the main hall of the farmhouse. It was an old building, she presumed, for the heavy wooden beams were slowly beginning to crumble and rot and dust fell from above—the woodworms were at work. The walls, too, showed their age; though they had been given a generous coat of fresh paint, the damp still seeped in at certain points and a few patches of wood were a different shade of brown entirely, as if they had been recently replaced. Numerous paintings lined said walls, staring down at Celestia and her company as they walked by.

“Portraits of every farm manager since its beginning,” Coinworthy explained, waving a wing around the hall. Her copper feathers brushed against the artwork with utmost care. When they reached the end, a large and only half-finished painting of the ageing silver unicorn from earlier—the one who had confronted Luna, Celestia noted— could be seen. “And this, of course, is Lady Silverlight Velvet. That poor mare; she never wanted to be a farm manager. She’ll never say it, of course, but ever since she arrived here she’s been sad and quite snappish. But, I suppose, that could just be her normal attitude…” Coinworthy drew her feathers back to her side and let out a small breath. “Nopony gets to really do what they want nowadays though, am I right?”

Celestia tried not to let her confusion show as she mumbled, “Sure,” and carried on walking forwards. With her mind lost in thought, though, she didn't notice that Coinworthy had stopped to turn until it was too late; she collided with the slightly taller mare head first so as to knock her slightly. Celestia yelped and stood straighter, a blush growing on her cheeks. Her companion only appeared dazed, but quickly shook her head to clear it when her colleagues overtook. Nopony stopped to see if she was okay.

“Oh my stars!” Celestia cried and she reached out a hoof quickly, but drew it back at Coinworthy’s somewhat shocked frown. A smile quickly replaced it, and that was enough to ease Celestia’s suddenly frantic heart.

“You are a strange pony,” Coinworthy noted with a swish of her tail. She then opened her wing and draped it across Celestia’s back to pull her closer. “Most ponies can't function properly with all the gloom hanging in this house.”

Celestia nodded idly and bucked her back slightly to move the little Luna griffon into a more comfortable position. Before she could say anything in reply to Coinworthy, however, Luna squawked in indignation and ruffled her feathers. After a quick flick of her tail, she then rose a rear paw to scratch at her underbelly and said, “That’s not gloom.” At both Coinworthy and Celestia’s surprised faces, she then continued with, “It’s a… strange sort of magic. I’d guess it’s dark magic. Curses, hexes, that sorta thing.”

“Hexes?” Celestia asked. She rose a forehoof slowly and then touched it gently back to the ground. Luna stiffened and hopped down so as to land quietly on the floorboards. The action made a quiet, drawn out squeak sound in the corridors.

“Well, sure,” she said, opening her little beak and licking her tongue along the edges. She took a deep breath in through her nostrils then. “It’s got the normal… bitterness that dark magic comes with, I guess, but… it’s just strange. Like there are hints of other stuff too, but I dunno what. If it was light magic it would simply make it smell kinda sweeter. But this is like…” The little Luna-griffon paused and raised a talon to her chin. She scratched slowly before she said, “Like doughnuts! Some are chocolate ones, some are plain ones, and some have spices and stuff. But they all have other flavours too to make them taste nice, like those caramel ones with the salty kick! Same thing, really; there's loads of dark magic in the air, sure, but it's dulled by these weird spells that I can't figure out.” She let her tongue loll out and a goofy grin rose on her beak after that. “You feeling better yet, Tia? I need one of Joe’s doughnuts. Really need one.”

Celestia’s ears perked up. She knew that stallion; he’d always been a little rough around the edges, but Doughnut Joe was a kind soul. He was always there to lend a hoof. Naturally, he was one of the first ponies to have been taken and replaced.

“Oh, that stallion always did make the best cake!” Celestia said with a grin, suddenly taking note of how empty her stomach felt. “He always was so good at it, too. Loves his pastries, am I right?”

Luna’s face turned into a frown. “Uh, no, not really,” she said. She flicked her tail. “That guy hates his job. It's all done by magic machines. He told you himself.”

Coinworthy froze momentarily before her eyes darted behind her; Celestia gulped and forced a smile. She was good at it after so many years. “Oh, did he?” she asked, speeding up in her walk so that she could flash a grin and a small laugh at the pegasus beside her. “I was probably so caught up with cake that I didn't take much notice! As Luna said, I do have just a little bit of a problem.”

Luna snorted. “A little bit? Don't get on Tia’s bad side when cake’s involved,” she said, her feathers twitching as she held back a laugh. “She gets evil!”

Coinworthy was quiet before she grinned and nodded. A laugh—it was a very melodic sound—escaped her slightly chapped lips. Celestia didn't miss the fidgeting of her wings, though, or the way she had almost ascended into a trot down the corridor now.

“Eh, Coinie!” A voice rung out loud from the room which the trio now approached, and it took Celestia a moment to realise that this wasn't her Equestria; she wasn't about to be provoked by a changeling soldier. Such shocks made her jittery these days.

The stallion was quite a handsome piece of work, Celestia noted, if one was to overlook a few details. His green coat, partially hidden under the off-white apron he wore around his chest, was short and dull and looked somewhat lifeless, as if it had been shaved off only to now regrow. His perfectly proportioned face was marred with scars, and one eye seemed not to move quite in time with the other. It took a moment to realise that it was made of glass. Nevertheless, he seemed happy enough in himself; he wore a huge beam on his muzzle and opened his wings wide, ready to wrap them around the smaller mare approaching.

It was too bad, really, that he would never quite be able to hug her with only one working wing. The other was nothing more than a useless limb, almost completely bald except for a single feather which grew from the very tip.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” the stallion said, nuzzling the smaller mare’s chest. A moment later, though, his glass eye latched onto Celestia and Luna and he folded away his wing, nudging Coin into the room. His interest was then fully directed to the newcomers, watching their every move with contempt, as if they were changelings. But then, did this world have evil changelings? Who knew.

“You must be new here.”

“You are not mistaken.”

There was a terse moment of silence as the pair stared each other down. The dull and unenthusiastic chatter in the dining room was also replaced with an expectant silence, every pony watching the showdown with their full attention. It was—as it so often seemed to be—Luna that finally resolved the issue. And to think, she was meant to be the so-called slave in this relationship.

“Hey, hey, mister!” she cried, jumping through Celestia’s ears so as to lounge on her horn. The fluffy, midnight blue tail flicked idly between her eyes. “No need to ge—”

The stallion’s composure went from defensive to downright aggressive in the blink of an eye. From under his near-featherless wing he pulled out a small dagger, the blade readily sharpened. It sliced its way through the stale, heavy air like an axe through bone. As it spun, it made an awful cry, wailing. It was but a metre away, spinning uncontrollably. A deadly dance.

Celestia shrieked and her horn, though muffled by the heaviness of the magic, fizzled into life and snagged Luna’s tail. With a cry she lobbed the tiny griffon across the room so that she landed in amidst a pile of dirty cutlery and plates; she then fell to her underbelly, gasping. The blade whistled across the tip of her horn, sanding off a good inch. The point shattered into dust against the cool stone floor.

“Tia!”

Luna’s cry was one of anguish as she shot out from the pile with a crash and a clatter. She zipped towards the mare and landed with a thud against her chest, then frantically trying to paw together the dust and mold it into shape, desperately murmuring “Come on, come on!” and “Hold that, please!”. And all the while, Celestia could only sit, stunned. And then the reality of what had just happened hit her and she reeled backwards, frantically touching the smooth and slightly bloodied tip of her horn whilst screams ripped from her lungs. She panted and snorted and tossed her head, her overly strong magic spurting in all directions as she did so. The wooden furniture and walls erupted in light where the sparks collided, roaring into life in tiny, fiery infernos.

And then her panic subsided, something warm and heavy and comforting and so, so soft numbing her mind. She let out a breath. Her light show ceased, and the expanding flames died with a pop to leave only slightly charred wood. But, when she slowly wobbled to her hooves and took a few deep breaths, she was met not with stares of horror but of complete and utter awe.

And then the group, with the exception of Lady Silverlight Velvet—who had since vanished—and the stallion, erupted into rounds cheering. Celestia did not know why, but they sure weren't attacking her anymore, so she couldn't complain.