It was two hours and ten minutes past the usual height of Luna’s renewed Night Court. Although the Princess of the Night generally kept herself busy to most hours of her domain, save for her favored hours of personal sport and amusement, Equestria’s towering Warmistress had shocked her loyal subjects by having a yelling match with her sister at Evening Court that day, and the rumor-- no, verified news-- on the lips of the patrons of the Darkest Before Dawn Bookstore and Coffee Bar had been that the Warmistress had closed Night Court and kicked even the most influential of nobles, even those she tolerated or liked, out without a word… at Canterlot midnight.

Though the word from the Day Court had been that it was simply a matter of sisterly disagreement gone awry, this news would have been distressing enough for most ponies, no more than ten years past Nightmare Moon's return and in the middle of a war with the mysterious Diseased. For the stockily-built hyper unicorn owner of Darkest, such tidings were ill indeed For though she had only seen Equestria's premier warrior-general from afar, her heart had been lost to the Night since before even Princess Luna's tempestuous return upon the millennial eve.

Short for a hyper but tall and bulkily built enough to make her nature clear, Noble Cause was a favorite of the Canterlot nightlife not only because her coffee was excellent and her selection of books better, but also for being quite the "vision of a Warmare-Sorceress of Yore," as one under-talented poet but decently enthusiastic member of the guard called her. The colt didn't manage to get out of paying his tab, but did manage to avoid being physically booted out or being pantsed by shadow magic, so his buddies advised him to call it a win. Then as now, Noble's white hide and multitude of freckles covering everywhere from muzzle to cleavage straight down, and neck to the breadth of her tough shoulders across tended to flare bright red with her anger, her orange-tinted blonde wild shoulder length mane giving her fiercer faces an almost feral look.

Six foot six but stacked, even for a hyper in more ways than one, Noble's body was built on powerful, compact lines, a weightlifter's physique that promised more pounce for the ounce than even a hyper's usual generous allotment-- promised and fulfilled, as many a scofflaw could attest if promised protective custody-- with only a slight narrowing 'pinch' down from her broad chest to the slight pudge over her powerful abs. The hourglass effect of her broad shoulders was exaggerated by her generous F-cup breasts, generally found ineffectually hidden behind a t-shirt proclaiming her most recent fictional fanaticism but even more so by her curvaceous hips and toned tush that her knee-length skirt could do little to hide. Simple sandals rounded out the affair, and at her throat, she wore a moonstone pendant bracketed by a backing of her own cutie mark, the overstuffed bookshelf.

Noble Cause had pushed her way into the academia-mad city on a combination of cutthroat business sense, a devotion to hours of the night worked by students with more anything than sense, and hence potentially money, and coffee nearly as strong as her mean right hook. Said right hook's ability to send local moofiya mooks looking for a money laundering patsy flying had also established her entrepreneurial domain as one safe from Canterlot's seedier side, and the flare of her horn, temper, and somewhat blunt sense of "humor" left her out of nobles' politics. But even her devotion to matters fiscal had not given her the drive to force into an already saturated Canterlot market.

No, what had brought her and kept her until that fateful longest day was access to the Royal Observatory for her few nights off, and an excellent base altitude for her own rooftop telescope for after-hours fun. Even before the crystal battery revolution, you wouldn't have found Noble Cause in most cities, and the fact that she had voted heavily with the majority of non-noble ponies to endorse the princesses' requirement that all businesses with heavy lighting that shone past the evening hand-off be required to shield them via veils from above might have told you something about how much she loved the Night. That thestrals gained automatic discounts if they were willing to spin yarns for Noble might have said more still.

Anyone who saw the not-technically-illegal but official discouraged shrine to Luna in full aspect as the goddess of the Moon, Dreams, and Illusion, not merely the alicornic avatar or "reigning princess" thereof would probably get the rest of the story. Noble Cause was a reader and a dreamer, and had yearned for the face of the Mare in the Moon since before she was able to get a presser glossy in the shrine. Since there had only been a face upon the moon, waiting in her lonely vigil.

And don't I just wish that mother's cold-hearted businessfilly would let herself close up a little early, Noble thought as she plastered another fake smile on and refilled one of her regular customer's cups while suppressing the urge to slug the usually otherwise fairly intelligent mare right in her gushing mouth. Though if she keeps talkin' about it bein' a conspiracy and claiming the Lady has fallen to Nightmare again, I may change my mind…

Pfeh. Bein' able to arm-wrestle a griffon is not worth the temper bein' a hyper brings. What she wanted to do, badly, was to kick everyone out of the bookstore, carefully clean and lock up, and then do her best to try not to gibber like a foal at her shrine. Suckin' my thumb would also probably not impress.

She glanced at the clock and mentally groaned while laying on the plaster thick and continuing to smile as falsely as a chaos-cultist's promises of a "fun night in bed." Well, alright, mama's little not-a-fool is cheered a bit by the extra clink in the register and the bits in the tip jar, at least. She'd put up with it. Even if she had to keep alternating between rage, hope, fear, and curiosity at the swirling rumors concerning Luna's anger-- had she discovered some old insult or agony while on patrol with the otherwise mostly forgettable alicorn stallion, Shadow Hopper? Had Celestia attempted to force Luna to make reparations for some old crime, or had Luna decided to declare a separate constitutional republic?

And what is the tall bugger the guiding god of, other than taking up too much space on the sidewalk and giving good little mares visions of stuffed stockings for Hearth's Warming Eve?

At fifteen past, a harried looking unicorn mare Noble didn't know wandered in. She was about to write her off as "student, generic magic" from the horn, glasses, and frazzled look-- grey hide and are those dyed Starlight Glimmer stripes, honey? Oh no, please, there are twelve year olds with more book lust than sense who know better to than to try that look, and aren't I glad I was a mare grown before that futa genius got nicked from her weird little cult to be an inspiration to nerdy fillies everywhere? when she noticed something much more interesting, and a real, if harried smile came to her face. A moonstone pendant at the mare's throat.

A very specific design, done by only a very specific jeweler. Noble didn't know the jeweler any more than she knew this mare but she did feel the resonance, the dreamy interchange of extremely subtle magic and faith that revealed the shape of Luna's cutie mark between two layers of deception. The outer layer was an illusion of one's own cutie mark; the inner, Luna's, and the pendant itself was always, always shaped with a bracket of your own cutie mark, delivered by mysterious means after you were accepted.

After you joined the Sacred Rite of the Great Mother. There were no secret signs to be found. It wasn't a cult, despite what fatheads at the university might say. It was just an ongoing act of faith and devotion, a ritual made of devoting one's life to the enlightenment found in the mysteries of the nighttime and harrowing back the foul creatures that befouled the Mother's holy dark. You didn't get in by loving Her Night and watching Her Moon. You didn't join; you were called, selected after some deed recognized by-- whom? Noble didn't know, and didn't really care.

What she did care about, as she wandered casually over to her newfangled and so far relatively non-annoying jukebox, which of course meant that the grey mare had to follow to discuss orders under Noble's weak but effective sound baffling spell, is that this was a sister of the cause. And she might know something.

The mare came close, leaning across the jukebox and pointing at the daily special. Noble was impressed; if the veil hadn't been her spell, she didn't think she'd have noticed the mare subtly reinforcing the spell's power and efficacy with a huge dollop of skill and strength. Her horn didn't even flare. Noble's eyes narrowed. That's not a student's charm! That's the work of a master, or…

The thick Neigh Orleans accent sent Noble's heart thrumming. Not that she found harsh, sardonic tones to be particularly sexy-- too much like listenin' to an echo-- but no one would mistake that voice. Love her or fear her or be mildly annoyed by the consistent condescension, there were few in Equestria and fewer still among the Rite who would mistake the voice of the Great and Powerful Trixie, Archmage of Illusions.

And High Priestess of the Sacred Rite of the Great Mother. Also, kind of as much of a cock as it was possible to be while being vaginacentric.

"Yes, yes, I am glad to see you have functioning ears and the capacity to persist despite limited capabilities and skill, you can recognize Trixie. You may gush appropriately later."

Is it a sin if I punch her in the mouth? This didn't seem like the time to get theological, so Noble just asked, "How can I serve the Lady?"

A sniff came from the mare, whom Noble abruptly realized was definitely smaller than Trixie was supposed to be; the sound was pitched from the right place. "Good recognition time, good answer. You and I may just get along, girl. You can serve by answering questions and by making sure that any gushing-- of either variety-- is kept to a respectful minimum."

Noble frowned, but nodded.

"In…" the disguised Trixie checked the wall clock, "Three minutes now you will be given an opportunity few enough not born with bat wings have ever received. First: Would you follow the Lady at a moment's notice?"

"With all my heart and any kickin' I can apply to appropriate backsides."

Trixie obviously stifled a laugh. "Even better answer. Second: Are you willing to risk your sanity to spare the Lady pain?"

Her heart was throbbing like a legion of marching drums now. This… this is a quest. For the Lady! For all her hard-nosed attitude and take-no-prisoners-or-wooden-bits attitude, Noble yearned for, well, a noble cause. To put cunning and strength and faith on the line for her Lady. Even as her inner fifteen year old was dancing around and squeeing, she met the eyes of Trixie's illusion head on, and said, "Without a moment's hesitation."

The grey mare nodded, smiling. "You actually mean it. Good. Given what the Lady has to put up with from… Nngh. Not a lot of time. Final question: Boobs. You like 'em?"

Noble's jaw dropped. She put her hand on her moonstone pendant, verifying that this was, in fact, another participant, and not some stupid practical joke.

"Not yours, girl. Tits. Knockers. The other reason mares are better than stallions. Do. You. Like. Them? I don't have time for you to sputter like a colt asked out to his first cutecenara."

Frowning, Noble said, "I could be said to have an appreciation for a fine pair, and even if you are Trixie Lulamoon, if you're havin' me on…"

"Won't be me, girl. Won't be me. Thanks for sending the books to the Lady, by the by; don't know how you do it, but she loves 'em every time." As Noble watched, still stunned, the short grey illusion sauntered off to flirt with a pegasus mare by the advert display of "The Neigh Life."

And that was when all the lights dimmed, then went out.

Noble's sense of duty and dedication to her customers, and her deep desire to punch someone, anyone in the face, increasingly for preference Trixie Lulamoon, took over. On automatic, she summoned the pale blue of her magic and coiled it into a ball of phantom light, bright and centrally lit. She might not be Epona's strongest mage, but light and shadow could be said to be her "things."

As the blue light flickered over the room, the gasps and shouts of equine panic turned into an almost communal inhalation of awe. Standing nine foot four and more heavily muscled than any five hyper guardsmares Noble could name, beautiful and curvaceous, eyes fierce and countenance demanding near-prostrate awe from those who even caught the edge of her gaze, Princess Luna Selene Solutae, the Unbound Moon once more, clad in literally flowing and levitating black silk streamers wisping and floating around her form that danced in glorious attendance upon the alicorn's ethereal mane and tail.

The streamers concealed her intimidating and arousing body within the bounds of propriety and yet revealing the taut navy hide over a body containing incalculable might-- and all but fully revealed the glorious inchoate black clouds and crescent moons of her cutie marks. Nothing could conceal the radiance of one of the goddesses of ponykind. Nothing could disguise the awe-inspiring personal presence of Equestria's High Warmistress.

And she looked pissed.

Noble swallowed, trying to think of what she or anyone in the room may have done to attract a goddess' ire, hoping desperately that the rumors were… a happy medium, maybe, on the whole "sister's spat" thing… At least she doesn't look like she's gone nightmare moon? No dragonish...ness? Horseapples, did I offend the Lady by wanting to punch her archmage?

Ponies bowed deeply before the Warmistress, and Noble briefly wondered why the usually personable and informal Warmistress wasn't commanding them to rise. An essential element of stubborn iconoclast, the moon-worshiper in a solar kingdom, however, made her stand, stiff backed, and she drew upon her years of formal education and common sense to greet the Lady by courtesy, not obesiance. "Umm… Welcome, Princess? May I… help you find anything?"

If wanting to punch Trixie Lulamoon in the face was a sin, Noble's Tartarus-count was surely raised by a factor of ten by her murderous thoughts after the Archmage of Illusion, revealed in her purple showmare-hatted glory but by her princess' side, rather than the ad display, laughing like a complete loon. "I told you the girl had some wit, my Lady," she commented at her giant overlady.

A slight curve to Luna's lips at this juncture was deeply reassuring to Noble, who was wondering if her granny's cure for terminal foot-in-mouth (two fifths of the best Coltish whisky, mixed with a Stalliongrad vodka chaser) could be mixed on such a short notice, and if the Lady might take offense. The muscular titan walked up to Noble, her righteous anger and a dark purple flush beneath the skin radiating heat not unlike her elder sister. She looked Noble up and down briefly, an intensely intimate experience that made Noble briefly wish that she had worn panties; for all her stubbornness, Noble was being confronted by the direct gaze of a millennia old leader of mares, and if the moon's soft mystery was found in the periphery, an incredibly arousing and yet terrifying sense of being judged was found there, too.

She has seen my dreams. Noble knew, from what the Rite taught, that while Luna was aware of every dream, day or night, and spent many hours with no small part of her consciousness divided from dreary court life patrolling a shared dreamscape of Epona, the Unbound Moon did not peep into every individual dream, not even of those of the Rite. But the sheer knowing look in Luna's ancient eyes utterly convinced Noble that Luna knew her every aspiration and fear, every nightmare and fancy that was played behind sleeping eyes.

Every fantasy of bein' swept off my feet an' carried off…

Eventually, the ponies in the room raised awkwardly from their bows as Trixie moved like a carnival shill, chivvying customers to return to their own work while Luna stood over Noble. Seconds later, Luna's huge hand cupped Noble's strong chin like a mother-- the Mother!-- with a promising child and said, "I like the strength of you, Noble Cause, and the pride of your heart but little less. Yes, you can help me find something: a hoofmaiden."

Noble's jaw was trapped, but every other customer's did the job for her, and dropped. Silence-- well, silence and a technically silent knowing grin from a certain archmage-- filled the room once more. "M-mother of the Night," she breathed, and almost whimpered when Luna frowned, and looked at Trixie, who shook her head once. Noble was frozen, her freckles blazing and her hide turning pink from embarrassment once again. She wanted to apologize. To babble. To at least say, "Yes, please, me!"

She couldn't, though. After the epithet, she couldn't say anything. She was simply too stunned by the sheer possibilities. If I speak, I'll offer her anything. Anything for the chance. She'll know. She'll know! Paralyzed by fear, she looked up into her goddess' eyes, and saw deep anger slowly receding, and a fey, almost salacious glitter taking its place.

She does know. Noble cleared her throat, and rolled the dice. She pulled back from Luna's fingers-- the hardest thing she'd ever had to do in her entire life, and curtseyed. "If… if you know of me, your highness, you know that I would be honored to be your hoofmaiden." Please let me not be smited for hubris!

Silence shouldn't really get deeper. An area is quiet, or it is not. But the silence did deepen. Breaths were held. All eyes were drawn to the storm of silk and charisma that seemed to radiate off Luna's giant body. She didn't speak for a long moment; instead, she reached into Noble's otherwise sacrosanct personal space and stroked her muzzle lightly. "Matrons of this fine establishment," she said softly, "I must ask you to leave the premises forthwith. Noble Cause is to be sworn to the service of the Dreaming Moon this very night. All debts and markers shall be paid out of my own household budget. Do not deny me this, Noble Cause," the princess said when pragmatism and adoration warred in the smaller mare, her eyes growing flinty. "If you would join my service, know that the Princess of the Night is never penurious with her servants. Dear Trixie, valuate."

Noble knelt before her Lady. It seemed to please Luna, who rested a huge hand on Noble's head as if in benediction while Trixie made a pass with her hand. Magic happened, though Noble didn't recognize the spell. It was somewhat difficult to focus in the first place; the swordsmare's callous on Luna's thumb was stroking the base of Noble's horn like she might a lover, and it was all Noble could do to not begin to immediately moan in lust.

As it was, her taut thighs were suddenly soaked, her muscular quads outlined beneath her skirt in a rush of arousal. Is… she… surely, she can't…

"She can, girl. She did to Trixie, when she first tamed an arrogant showmare," Lulamoon said fondly. Noble didn't look up, but she felt Luna's body shift slightly, looking at her archmage.

"Have you thus been tamed, bratling heart?" came the arch question. "I seem to recall forbidding you the use of the personal third person."

"My Lady, Trixie's mouth is ever yours to command… but please, forgive me when sentiment overawes me when you initiate a new sister."

Noble whimpered lightly, and suddenly, Trixie was down on her knees, hat off her head, and wrapped a surprisingly fit arm for a normal pony as far around Noble's shoulders as she could. "No, Noble, no," Trixie said, gentleness in vast contrast to her earlier sarcasm. "Let it go, girl. Your customers are out and I've put a veil on the place. Trust an old showmare's count, we'll have you paid as promised; trust your high priestess, and make a sacrifice of your desire to your dreams-- to your goddess." She leaned over and gave Noble a rather sisterly kiss on the cheek. "Look up at your Lady. Look into the Eyes of the Moon."

Trembling, Noble looked up. Luna smiled down at her across gigantic breasts easier larger than Noble's muscular torso, sexuality in every inch of her merged with raw power that now seemed to be comforting in the extreme. I can come to no harm in her hands, Noble realized. Luna's smile widened. "I will subvert no will," said the Selene Solutae, "Nor bind any of good conscience. My sweetly sharp and sharply sweet Trixie has scouted the dreams of my initiates, and brought yours from my memory to plead your case, Noble Cause."

Noble shuddered, her mouth opening wide and panting gasps coming out-- gasps, but no words. She whined, not in pain, but in lust. Trixie's clever hands began to stroke Noble's skirt-clad thigh. "This is a final initiation, Noble. When you accepted one of my pendants, you were marked not just because you slew a night terror armed with nothing other than a righteous heart and some half-learned lore. You were marked because you love my Lady. Our Lady." Sparks of light blue began to run up and down Noble's horn, and she spread her powerful thighs, so thin together in comparison to a single one of the rippling, cable-corded limbs in front of her.

Luna's Teats, she can smell me… Luna. Luna can smell my need for her. The Unbound Moon is giving me a hornjob!

Trixie snuggled in against Noble's shirt-clad back. "When our Lady showed me your dreams-- yes, girl, all of them-- and I evaluated you for her Rite, you were given a special blessing that few ponies in the Rite ever receive. Had a single nightmare crossed over their bounds in your mind, our Lady would have known. You suit our Lady… and our Lady knows you've dreamed of her in love and lust alike." Trixie giggled. "You've some self control, girl! The last stallion the Lady initiated came all over the floor before we got this far!"

And then Trixie spanked her. Noble yelped, and tried to move, but she was held fast by Luna's hand on her shoulder and about her horn. "Let it go, I said. A sacrifice. You want our Lady. You want to serve our Lady. So serve. Cum, Noble Cause. Cum, and give yourself over to sweet Dreams." Two blue fingers reached up to the left of Noble's ear, two fingers and a thumb. Trixie snapped her fingers, and Noble tried to move again. Instead, she felt magic wreathing around her clothing. Shirt, bra, and skirt were gone in a teleportative flash; Noble's pussy, drooling on the floor, was exposed to the warm air of the only recently emptied shop.

She came. She squealed and thrashed, grinding her horn against Luna's gentle strength, her sex quivering and clenching against an absent cock, illusory shadows and stars popping out of her horntip and spraying onto the navy blue tits of the Princess! Noble fell forward, onto her knees in Luna's grip, gyrating her hips lewdly, her tail flagged, and her hornjizz coating the underside of Luna's mammoth teats, soaking into and clinging to the magic animating the giantess' streamers.

Trixie smirked and opened her mouth, but Luna cut her off. "If you tell me but once more, Trixie Lulamoon, that you have more fun with other mares in my service, you shall not get to rest between my thighs for a month," she said bluntly. "Spare me your jealousy of Shadow Hopper and mare chauvinism; you make me seem as dearest sister by comparison!"

"Wha-huh?" asked Noble. Yes, Noble, you're definitely impressin' the goddess who just handie-horned you now, aren't you?

Trixie giggled a bit. "You keep me around because I say what you're thinking, my Lady," she said, and then stroked Noble's naked rump. "Congratulations, you've been initiated into the very personal service of the Goddess of the Moon," she said with a smirk. The agile former showmare sat down, and, despite the awkwardness of it, guided Noble's significantly larger body into her lap. For some reason, it felt right to Noble; her urge to punch Trixie's smile being more related to what was passing her lips than the uncomfortable closeness.

Noble's jaw dropped as Luna collected some of the raw magic from her horngasm on two fingertips and brought it up to her lips. "Mmm. Rich… bitter, a hint of Celly's hoarded cacao… I knew you for a shadowspinner, of course, but you'll train up finer with a teacher than your admirable efforts alone, little one," Luna purred, savoring the taste of the hornjizz. "Do continue, my lewd Lulamoon."

"If for various reasons-- you liked stallions of all the silly things, or were in a committed, closed relationship-- this would have involved incense, chanting, and the Lady cradling you in her arms like a newborn." The showmare smirked all the more. "We can get that too, in fact…"

"Hsst, wench. I'll reveal Noble's cause in my own terms and fashion."

"That was a terrible pun, my Lady. So cruel to my adorable if-- oof!-- hefty new sister."

Noble found her tongue at last, "To clarify…"

Trixie laughed, "No, it's not a sin to want to punch me in-- what is it, the jaw, girl? The last one wanted to smack one of my tits right off. The sin would be if you didn't want to. Our Lady demands courage and encourages willfulness, if you know the difference between it and rebelliousness."

Luna knelt down, leaned Noble's chin up again and kissed her. Noble melted; for all her strength, if Trixie hadn't been holding her up, she might have turned into a helpless puddle on the floor; as it was, her gushing sex was probably staining Trixie's robe. Noble didn't really have the emotional room to be embarrassed, and Trixie certainly didn't seem to mind. She tasted… night air, the sweetness of the first inhalation after holding your breath too long. A charge to it, Rainbows Light and Dark, what a kick, if I could sell this as a brew, I'd have them linin' up around the block!

Chuckling, the dark princess released Noble's lips. "Dearest sister enjoys pomp and pageantry, a naughty hint of enlightenment and catharsis held in, gasp, public! But as for me, welladay. I like a personal touch. I choose but rarely, Noble Cause, and I have no hoofmaids in this civilized century who are not simply keepers of the royal locks save bittersweet Lulamoon; I have no need for armorer when Applejack tends our forges and no need for seamstress when Rarity jealously courts the honor. As Trixie says, had it been fated that you should fit my soul like a glove and yet be uninclined to sheath my tongue of times, I'd have brought you pleasure in some wise. I am dreams, Noble one. You have become my Cause now, and I delight in the personal touch of a dream fulfilled."

Noble stammered lightly, but sallied, "I th-think you could say you've filled my dreams, my Lady. Or at least, they'll star you for some time-- more than usual anyway!"

As Trixie giggled, Luna kissed Noble's forehead. "You'll fit in well." She chuckled once again, and passed her hands over Noble's fat F-cups. "Dear, sweet thing that you are. I say this one last time, and bluntly. If you have no objections, your service will include to my lasciviousness, and though your dignity may be… well-used, it shall never be ill used."

Her fingers, long and strong, suddenly trapped Noble's nipples, and squeezed lightly, making Noble groan and rut her hips against the air, achingly empty sex winking as desperately as though the Princess of Illusions had sent her into some false-- or fair!-- heat. "You are mine," growled Luna, and suddenly both Trixie and Noble moaned in unison. "Short of the oathbinding I'll take in my lair, little remains but for you to determine how deeply your service shall go. Two choices."

Luna rose and smiled, continuing to take the fading magic Noble's horn had coated her enormous rack with upon her fingertips, and lick it up between sentences. "If you rise from Trixie's lap and remain nude as you pack for the trip-- take only necessities and treasures, for I'll have your things transported at our mutual convenience-- and I shall keep you as hoofmaiden and occasional partner in the dance through Dream's hottest groves. Put back on shirt and skirt-- leave the bra off, there's a jiggly lass-- and I'll ask before I ensnare your sweet nothing for my wicked whims, mm? Choose, Noble Cause, and choose how far into my Night you fall…"

Noble didn't bother to even pack the skirt. She kept the shirt in a small bag with her ritual implements, maternal inheritance, and the physical remnants of moments most precious; and wondered if the rumors about the princess being fond of fantasy and science fiction were true…

Author's Note

Milkmade Mare happens a couple of weeks before the Shieldmated fic, and while Noble will pop up in both, neither is really required for the other.

Congratulations again, Noble and Cloudhammer. Welcome to the married brigade, and have fun.

Especially the sticky kind. :)