Feather lay still on her bed, eyes closed in full contemplation of the night that was lain out before her. She did, after all, have the time to think. She booked the night off, which was rather easy to do considering she had been punctual and on time for all her duties ever since she began her service for the castle. Although she could never have guessed that this particular boon would be the payoff. A date with Luna. Her accumulated years of stagnant work made such an event like being suddenly vaulted forward alike a catapult - or maybe trebuchet - her imagination left her filled with thoughts rich with many possible routes the night could go, most lacking any sort of intervention on her part; rather musing the possible insanity of a love drunken Luna. She had not seen the Princess in week, which while not unusual, the next thing to come of their meeting added a whole new layer anxiousness and eagerness to the whole affair.

Luna informed her via a letter midway through the week on a Wednesday to not be alarmed the next time they meet, which to Feather’s surprise was not told to her elaborately nor in rhyme. She considered what Luna meant, that perhaps she left it to interpretation like one of her many poems. She thought over it for a time, but the train of ideas came to too many unsatisfying ends that she resolved to wait and see instead. She found it much more satisfying to consider what a Princess could plan for an intimate outing. Perhaps a picnic under the night sky? That way Luna could bombard with Feather with unending metaphors of the night and her beauty – it wouldn't surprise Feather that Luna would find a way to make the night all about whispering compliments into Feather’s ear – and as flattered Feather would be, Luna would be missing the point of what a date was supposed to be. However, a night of flattery was the thing Feather Duster least worried about. She felt unease in her gut at the prospect of Luna being excessive – half the realm’s coffers spend on making the most grand ‘date’ ever conceived! – with balloon flights across the nation, swapping aerial for ocean, cruising to Griffonstone to Vanhoover, all the while fireworks marking every mile of the journey; blue roses planted along every stretch of earth that Feather walked upon.

It wouldn't be out of character for Luna to plan something utterly bonkers to show her adoration for Feather, but if the Princess had truly done her research, then chances were it would come to something like that. In truth, Feather didn't know what Luna planned, nor did she know what kind of date she’d like the best. However, as the hours passed; her stomach grumbling, she did find the desire for something simple and conventional.

Partly because she found thinking of the date made her more and more anxious rather than excited, and partly because she wished to distract herself from the grumbling in her belly, Feather Duster climbed out of bed with a sigh. She tried darting her thoughts to anywhere but the date. She stomped over the stool jutting out from under her desk, plopping her flank upon the aged thing and stared deadpan into her mirror. She took the usual steps of preparing for the work day, although this time around she wasn't prepping herself for professionalism, but rather – as difficult as it was to even say the word – to be sexy. Her mane was tied back into a bun, with a few intentional strands hanging down the side of her face. The hairdresser – whom she was sure was just telling her what she wanted to hear – said the style was both classy and beautiful, and Feather hoped to Faust she was right. She fawned over how much make up to wear for nearly an entire hour. In the end, she decided to be minimalist, applying the lightest amount of power to her muzzle to hide her freckles and nothing else. Around her neck she saw the collar of her humble dress – the apparel was the finest she saw that was also affordable for her maid’s salary – and brushed her hoof down the gentle blue garment. It was no coincidence that she picked blue. She took a considerable liking to the color after being first intimate with Luna. It was a way for her coyly parade the fact she was officially ‘with’ the princess, but also because it served as a sweet reminder of the mare, from how soft it was to look upon. The next few minutes were spent thinking about nothing. Aimless thoughts about colors, her freckles and an etched mark on her desk. Her stupor of aught was broken by a sporadic rapt at her door, the woodpecker like strikes prompting her brow to raise in confusion.

“I’ll be right there,” she called, stepping off her stool, yet the knocks didn't cease. “I said I’d be right the- oh… who are you?”

The mare that stood before her stood at her height, yet seemed much larger than her figure suggested. The pony was a unicorn – that was obvious – and the smile she wore was distinctly roguish. Her mane was a very light azure, her coat a grey tinted phthalo blue, the combination of which had a very lulling effect on the maid. Feather cocked her head to look at the mare’s flank, which upon it was a suspiciously ordinary cutie mark – the black outline of a white heart. It wasn't until Feather was forced to look into the mare’s eyes – pressured by such a cocksure countenance – that something sparked in her brain. The cyan eyes the mare wore had a skewering effect on her, that only one other mare in the entire world had the ability to do.

“L-Luna?” she gave the verbal equivalent of a fumble, squinting an eye. “Is that you?”

She smiled. “We art- a-are ready for th- your lesson – ha!” Luna ended triumphant, smug in expression. “Th- you saw through our disguise. Tis true. The heart sees what is invisible to the eye.”

Feather blinked. “You’re… different,” Feather said bluntly, still taken aback.

“Yes. We took a meagre amount of hours to train our tongue to better be unassuming. And our visage? Merely an illusion, taking minimum concentration to maintain,” Luna explained, sounding every bit proud of herself. “This mirage is like a coat, tis also based on our younger self, before a millennia upon thine own – our own – moon, caught up to the present.”

“Uh-huh?” Feather tilted her head, looking over Luna’s form with a slight curiosity, before looking back at Luna’s confident expression. “So, aside from that, what else did you prepare for tonight?”

Luna’s confident expression faded at the question, a crease between her brow appeared and she audibly swallowed. “We. Have. Planned…” Luna emphasised every word, likely to ensure they were spoken properly. “Dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes. Dinner.”

“Oh.”

“Oh no,” Luna took a step back, frowning. “Thou are disappointed? Have we failed thee?”

“No, no, no,” Feather assured, lessening the space between them, “not at all, I’m just surprised you showed… restraint.”

It was Luna’s turn to cock her head. “Restraint?”

“Yes, restraint. I was worried you were going to spend most of the kingdom’s money on this date,” Feather explained in good humour, smiling.

“Ah, we see. You need not worry about that,” Luna reassured with a wave. “Our sister had capped our spending money as punishment for our proposal to invade the Griffon lands.”

Feather gave a nervous titter, unsure of Luna was joking or not. “You want to lead the way?”

Luna grinned. “Yes. We have been loitering for too long. Let us embark for-“

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

“Oh no,” Feather muttered, audibly conveying her frustration; cringing as the words entered her ear.

Feather brushed past Luna, closing the door behind her as the three antagonists walked up to them both, faces sneering and jeering doubtlessly; wearing their masks of cruelty in preparation to belittle the maid. Feather looked with a meek smile to a confused Luna, who looked from Feather to the three with a raised brow.

“From the looks of things it would appear she favors cleaning carpets with her tongue over columns,” the butler remarked, looking to the mare with blonde hair with a sly countenance.

“So you working as a whore on the side or did you spend an entire month’s salary renting this strumpet?” the blue haired mare jabbed, eyeing Luna with a sneer.

“Now be fair, Pristine. She looks to be worth at least two,” the butler complimented, albeit in such a manner it left a bad taste in Feather’s mouth.

Feather was silent. Her lips pursed and jaw tight. At that moment, alongside her general irritancy, when she glanced to the mare at her side, she felt a degree of pity for the three.

“Art thou done?” Luna asked, deadpan.

“What?” the three responded, flatly.

“We are in a hurry.”

“Are you some kind of Princess Luna wannabe or something?” the mare with a blonde mane jabbed, cackling.

“She really is a prostitute. Fancy a bit of the Princess, eh?” the butler shared a laugh with the other two.

Luna sighed. “A long time ago, we would have settled for killing all of ye for such insolence. In this day and age however, we are forced to settle for locking you in the dungeon, or with rendering you a pulp – just barely breathing. However, as finer eyes than our own are present, and we have a schedule we must adhere to, we will settle for simple and painless torture,” Luna dialogued calmly, occasionally switching her sights between the three bemused faces.

“What?” again, the word their mouths flatly.

Feather was confused by what happened next. Between a blink, the split second blindness of her sight before the world was lain out before her again, the three had simply disappeared. Confused, she looked to Luna, whose horn still sparkled with an ethereal blue aura; a smile just as smug as before on her face. Fear flickered in the maid’s body. Just what had Luna done? The question was just as fleeting as the fear, because as soon as it dawned on her what had happened, a sadistic satisfaction filled her. The bullies were gone. Even if only for the night, and if Feather were so inclined to consider this the beginning of the date…

It was off to a good start.

Canterlot. It seemed so much larger than it was prior to her banishment, yet her sister insisted it was precisely the same, exempting the changing stores. Not much room for expansion when you’re situated atop a mountain. Luna, ever since her return – and it was no secret – she hadn't gotten out much. She had seen many different places in her youth, but in the modern era, she settled for being vicarious. She had seen many places afar through dreams. Although she knew it for fact, on occasion the dreamer would create something so vivid she actually believed herself to be there. The fine soft sands of the South, the stone dwellings of the Griffons, and even the canals of the minotaur traders to the North. However, reality was something else entirely. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, would notice the little details that the dreamer would oft leave out subconsciously. The grey lichen on alleyway bricks, the faded whitewash on the less extravagant abodes and storefronts; the coarseness of the pavement beneath her hoofs, the passers-by who so clearly had a purpose in their movements. There was also the slight chill of the high altitude breeze. The mountaintop chill however, was fended off by the warmness of the body walking alongside her.

We loathe the shortness of these legs… but to walk alongside thee? We’d settle even for stumps, Luna smiled towards Feather, stealing a look of the beautiful mare; who at that exact moment had glanced off somewhere. Feather was beautiful, objectively. There wasn't a soul alive who could deny this… at least according to Luna. Under the illumination of soft unfiltered moonlight, Luna truly believed Feather’s beauty was unmatched, an absolute truth.

“What are you thinking about?”

Luna blinked, snapped from her love drunken stupor, cheeks burning. “S-such a silly question,” Luna stammered, looking off to nowhere in particular. “By now thou must know we always are thinking of thee,” Luna said, full of smarm, looking back to Feather with a grin.

“Nice save,” Feather giggled, nudging against Luna playfully. “Also: you,” she corrected.

“Salt on my wounds!” Luna exclaimed, laughing, uncaring of her volume in contrast to the night. “First you act immune to our charm, and then you mock our words.”

“’Act?’”

Luna was quiet, unsure even to herself if it genuinely hurt her or not. “…you jest?”

Feather smiled, leaning toward Luna and planting a kiss on her lips mid-step, making her heart flutter “Yes,” she answered, which put Luna at considerable ease. “It means a lot to you doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“Being able to say nice things,” Feather said.

Luna exhaled through her nose sharply. “Yes. You are not wrong. Aside from honey, the sweetest thing that we can offer to you is praise, of which you are greatly deserving,” Luna informed, scrunching her features a little. “But to be true, tis also something of a succor for our misplaced being. It may come as a shock to thee… you, but we are a little whiplashed from the change of our past to your present.”

“What do you mean?” Feather inquired, and if it meant passing the time, Luna would indulge.

“The present is much more different than the past afore. No one spake the same tongue, nor carried themselves the same, nor ate the same, nor addressed us the same. The first time a pony called us Luna, absent of title, we nearly locked him in the stockade for his disrespect. We were dissuaded by our sister, but that was after we had learned there was no longer a stockade to be found,” Luna sighed, glancing to Feather - who had a crease between her brow – before looking up to her cloudless night sky. “Our night is reliable. Twas the same as we saw it before we were banished. Celestia wouldn’t dare alter the canvas we had painted… if the world changed despite us, then we would remain the same to despite it,” Luna spoke with a stiff determination, before looking back to her love, who remained just as interested. “One of the things we first noted upon our return was the lack of eloquence. Language became a club from what was once a regal rapier; so blunt and lacking in finesse. We act on pragmatism often, this is true, but such things should be left to ‘actions’ rather than ‘words’, so says we.”

“And I like that about you,” Feather commented, and Luna’s lips curved into a smile. “I wish I were the same sometimes. If I were even as half as direct as you, I probably would have dealt with those bullies ages ago.”

“Why did you not seek our help? We would have banished them to the moon for you, if only you asked of us.”

“I hated them… but not that much,” Feather giggled. “There’s a sweet spot to dealing with ponies like that. I tried being friendly to them. Ignoring them. I even tried to tattle on them with the head of staff. Things only got worse each time.”

“Such ponies give us conniptions,” Luna clenched her jaw. “To do such a thing to you… when we found out, our ire at that moment was immeasurable. It took all of our combined will and your presence to dissuade from something worse. But still, rather than combat them with wit and insult, we thought it best to retort with what bullies least expect from their victims: action.”

Feather was quiet. When Luna glanced her way, she saw a skewed expression. “So… what did you do with them?”

“I sent them away. Fifty miles someplace,” Luna spoke with a deliberate vagueness, a smug smile forcing itself into her face.

“Where exact-“

“There ho!” Luna interrupted, eyes focused ahead. ”Just around that street corner, our chosen restaurant of ‘fine dining!’” Luna quickened her steps, trying to escape the question. We cannot be dishonest is deftly avoided! Delightfully fiendish, Luna.

“Oh, a-alright!” replied Feather, hasty clops following her words.

“A-Am I under dressed?” Feather asked, self-conscious.

The restaurant Luna had chosen looked objectively more fancy and prestigious than the cafes and diners Feather herself frequented for lunch most days. Outside it was a misleadingly non-descript whitewashed little building adjoined to a cobbler next door. There was no mistaking it to be a place where food was made; Feather’s nose would not mislead her so, however the establishment reminded her more of a jewelers than any place of eating; with the multitude of silver and gold adorning the walls. Each precious metal was melded into the shape of a sun or moon; masterfully crafted, with arbitrarily placed jewels around the edges of each one. Everywhere her vision went to Feather approximated random patches of the establishment being worth more than the total sum of every item in her room back at the castle, at least monetarily. The ponies in front and behind her into the queue also contributed to this overall feeling, with each pony wearing their avarice proudly upon their bodies, their clothing so fine that Feather didn't feel worthy to even be looking upon it. She was a mere pauper, surrounded by gentry and aristocracy.

“We are dressed in nothing,” Luna pointed out, the disguised princess’ smile attracting her eyes.

“You’re a princess. Nopony cares what you wear. Me on the other hoof…” Feather spoke in a hushed voice, teetering on the name of her station like it taboo, frowning.

“We recommend that you care not for the opinions of the gentry. They measure their own worth with the amount of material things they own, and the number of flanks they have kissed for personal advancement. Many serve mammon second only to us. If it means anything, we think that you’re the finest looking mare here,” Luna assured, the accompanying contact between their bodies making it a success.

“What made you choose this place?” Feather asked, trying to distract herself from the feeling of being gawked at as she shuffled forward with Luna in the line.

Luna scrunched up her expression before speaking, “Well, we wanted to ensure that you ate only the finest food Equestria had to offer… but to due to my stipend, we had to settle for the finest food that Canterlot had to offer… but dining together in the castle seemed to distasteful, and we risked attracting our sister’s attention, so we thought it best to settle for second best, at least according to rigorous research looking at the reviews of many critics,” Luna explained, each pause elicited an unintentional tug at the corner of Feather’s cheek, Luna’s expression thoughtful. “The cuisine here should be satisfactory, we hope.”

“I’d eat anywhere, so long as it was with you…” Feather said, hanging overly long onto silence, rendering it awkward. “Sorry. I’m not good at saying stuff like that,” she apologised, feeling sheepish.

Luna lowered her brows. “Why? Compliments between lovers should flow from the mouth naturally.”

“Not much experience, unfortunately. Sometimes, you sound like a walking talking thesaurus,” Feather said, prompting a smirk from Luna.

“Yes, well, we have had many years to absorb words into our lexicon. But we can’t blame you for that. Compliments of the kind we speak don’t fit well into modern mouths. Apparently open displays of love, both physical and verbal, are met with mock disgust from onlookers. What a way to dissuade affection,” Luna sounded wistful as she spoke.

An idea formed in Feather’s head. “Well, just as I am teaching you, I should learn something as well.”

“Oh?” Luna’s brow rose, her interest piqued.

“I will add words to my ‘lexicon,’ and see if I can shower you with praise just as you do with me,” Feather offered.

“Would be most interesting. But you need not trouble yourself for something so frivolous.”

“Learning how to give affection is frivolous?”

“N-no, but… we… um…” Luna fumbled the retort.

“So it’s decided then. I will learn how to tell you how much I like you with words, just as you do for me,” Feather smiled, gratified in the comfort of finding adequate payment for Luna’s kindness. Of course, she hadn’t the faintest idea where to start, but that was future Feather’s problem. For present Feather, she’d be content at the sight of a blushing Luna.

The line shifted along, gradually closer and closer they got to the rostrum, where behind Feather glanced upon a self-important looking unicorn stallion with a violet coat and a banana yellow mane. Feather heard not a single word from his mouth. He simply flipped open the green wrapped ledger his hoof rested upon, seemingly possessing of some kind of reservation bound omniscience; glancing for less than a second before slamming it shut; leading the couple off somewhere in the back before return. His expression still in stoic pouting. When she and Luna walked up to the stallion, he paused, his porcelain expression cracked; his brow raising as looked between the two mares.

He gave a grandiloquent smile. “Bonjour mademoiselles, and welcome to the restaurant Gourmete. Do you have a reservation?” he asked. However, Feather did not feel privileged to hear his voice. “If not, there’s a delightful little eatery around the corner that might be more befitting of your… financial position.”

“Yes, we do in fact have a reservation,” spoke Luna curtly. “Under the name, Moon-Moon.”

He arched a brow. “Um… okay,” the demeanour he wore shattered into one of visible scepticism. He flipped open the ledger, flipping the pages, brows low as he stared intently toward the book.

Feather had to hold back a scoff. “Moon-Moon?” she whispered.

Luna didn’t say anything, although Feather saw her lips quiver; no doubt holding back a laugh.

“Oh my!” the stallion suddenly exclaimed, earning Feather’s surprised eye. “I am so terribly sorry for hindering you!” the stallion became an explosion of energy, his stoicism fractured and replaced with panic. Feather felt a smugness welling up in her, no doubt acquired by proxy from the mare beside her, who remained silent all the while. “Follow me. Follow me, please!” he said frantically, his suit something becoming as befuddled as he was; tie loosening and buttons coming undone. The apparel was clearly unsuited to the range of motions the stallion was practicing, much to Feather’s glee.

Luna was a complex mare. So Feather didn’t know if she was being deliberately slow in following the energetic stallion or not. The stallion was trying to maintain a pace of leisure, but his body shook with the desire to rush his escort; Luna clearly not allowing the stallion to exorcise his energy. His body jittering like a sugared up foal. Everypony was capable of spite, it just never occurred to Feather that Luna would practice such a thing.

As they walked past the tables, between the gaps, wherever Feather glanced she saw eyes looking back. Feather smiled. Now she could see what Luna was doing. She was changing the intent behind the stares. Feather no longer saw pompous sneers, but instead curious ones – even a few envious ones, from mares and stallions who wished they could draw up the same fuss – and Feather, while still feeling out of place, was now comfortably so. She was tempted to strut… but that would be pushing it. Instead, she showed appreciated in the form of a coy look toward her partner, who caught the gaze without looking back – smiling.

Curiously, they passed by a few empty tables, yet none seemed to be theirs. They walked further into the hall, and with each filled table they passed – the conjoined aromas of gourmet filling the air – the more ravenous and hungry Feather got. It was after her gut groaned, she saw it.

Beneath the gold gilded chandelier in the exact middle of the hall, practically begging the attention of the eye. The space between it and other tables was larger than the others. When they drew closer, Feather noticed depressions in the carpet, where long standing surfaces for eating that were once there were now moved a little further away. Just to have this exact table in the exact middle of the room. In a way, the placement under the chandelier reminded Feather of the castle’s own dining hall, except on a miniscule scale. Whether it was done for that exact reason, or to have Feather centre of everyponies attention, she didn’t know.

And they walked up to it, the stallion pulled out both their chairs with his magic, his horn crackling with a dark green magic. “And here is your table, madam, Moon-Moon. Just as you requested,” his tone resumed the orderly portentous that Feather heard before the upper-class disposition cracked. “A pony will be by to take your orders soon, madams,” he smiled warmly, but Feather’s eye could see the lingering frost. “And thank you for gracing the restaurant with your presence…”

Even when they both sat upon their seats, he remained by the table, eyes expectant for something. What? Feather hadn’t the faintest idea. He wore his smarmy pompous smile, his hoof not so subtly brushing against the pocket of his blazer.

The quiet from Luna made Feather nervous. The princess, who managed to fit as many words as possible into a sentence, was uncharacteristically silent. It occurred to Feather, which was now her second realisation about the mare in such a short amount of time, she had never saw much interaction between Luna and other ponies. They rarely spent time in each other’s company outside the allotted rendezvous. Even then it was chance meetings in the halls or when Feather served her lover evening tea in the grand dining hall. Other than her interaction with the bullies, which was just as curt, Feather never observed her interactions with the ‘common folk.’ So, it was with bated breath that the maid watched the princess.

Luna turned to the stallion, pouting. Feather felt an indomitable weight suddenly fall on her back, and this wasn’t only on hers either. She saw a few other patrons looking on too. “…Go away,” she said, simply, politely.

“Oh,” he muttered, followed by a single quiet scoff, his hooves remained planted. “It is customary to tip, madam. All the patrons of the Gourmette are, as you can see, ostensibly wealthy. It has become tradition for customers to leave something of a tithe to the staff, who are diligent in their service,” he smiled, inflated with ego and pompousness, embodying pretentiousness. If Feather was a more violent mare, she would entertain the thought of punching him. “Well?”

Luna looked to Feather, unchanging in her expression and then back to the stallion, hardened. “Fuck off.”

The voice seemed to become a thunderbolt despite A new kind of quiet filled the restaurant – silence. The low voices, the sound of metal scraping against fine china, the smacking of lips and audible swallows. Gone. Feather didn’t dare to see how many eyes were upon her. Instead, she kept her eyes focused squarely on Luna’s face. Despite how different she appeared than usual in her disguise, the dignity that was etched in every contour of her countenance was still there. The way her hair fell down the back of her head and down past her neck, the slight clenching in her jaw, the firmness of her stare… Feather was breathless. Such an authority.

She glanced to the stallion, whose eyes were wide, mouth agape. Shock, surprise, disbelief. However many other words existed for the same thing, the stallion was all of them. This was definitely not his night. It was, however, Luna’s. After all, she did own it.

He released a few nervous chuckles. “R-right,” he spluttered, “as you command, madam Moon-Moon.” He backed away from them, legs shaking.

“He looked about ready to buckle,” Luna quipped, seamlessly adopting a grin from sternness. “Me thinks he saw through our disguise, acting on his instinct to bow before his princess.”

“I think it’s because you told him to fuck off,” Feather giggled. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

Luna smiled. “Well, when you used it in bed we thought to do a little research on it. Apparently, it does not pertain only to coitus? It’s a very versatile word. We might have to employ it more frequently.”

“Please don’t,” Feather pleaded, giving her a strained smile.

“Oh? Why not? You were very liberal in its use in bed,” Luna said coyly.

“Well, that was different,” she replied shyly, feeling her cheeks redden.

“And why is that?”

“Because it just is. Like does and doth.”

“Oh?” Luna sounded surprised. “You have been doing some research of your own?”

“Well, only a little. It became very confusing very quick,” she chuckled. Thou, thee, thine, doth, tis. After receiving Luna’s fifth poem Feather needed to learn the vernacular as if she was relearning her own language. “I learnt the gist. I imagine if I hadn’t, I would have been totally lost the first time we spoke,” she smiled innocently. In fact, she partly was. Fortunately for her, she was good at picking up things based on context. “But, speaking of speaking. Do you talk to everypony like that?”

Luna tilted her head. “Like what?”

“So… brusque,” she put delicately.

“We did say we liked to be direct. Very much like our disguise, we are short when speaking to our subjects. There exist few exceptions to this. Our sister, the occasional sufferer of trauma in their somnambulist quarter… and you,” she wore a faltering smile. “It is very much similar to why we say… ‘we.’ It informs authority, importance, that we art greater than our physical body suggests. That our station is shared, as is our demesne. We are not merely just Luna, we art our station too,” Luna explained, “we be curt, because it comes with our position. We are a monarch – and besides acting like one - we must speak like one.”

“Do you… thank your staff?”

Again, Luna tilted her head. “Why should we?”

Feather cringed. “What was that you told me your sister taught you the first night we had together? Courtesy, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. And?”

“Maybe try to practicing it just for me?”

Luna scrunched her brows. “Are you asking us to go between the legs of all our subjects?”

“No!” Feather rolled her eyes. “Just try being… nicer. Like you are to me.”

Luna tightened her lips, considering. “To no longer devoid our words of kindness risks diminishing our authority. We would not wish to do so…” she sighed. Feather furrowed her brows, frowning. Luna looked at Feather weary. "We did, however, drop the usage of the royal Canterlot voice at our sister’s behest… we can try."

“Thank you. You can’t imagine how it feels to not be appreciated for your work.”

“…We know the feeling,” she retorted drily.

“Oh…. Oh! I’m so sorry,” her cheeks flushed, forcing a meek smile.

“Don’t be,” Luna laughed. “But this conversation does remind us of something. An anecdote mostly. From when we were young,” she disclosed, the simper appearing on her face kindling Feather’s interest.

“How young?” she inquired.

“So young, we were even smaller than we were now. A foal in mind and appearance, yet five times your age,” she

“Really? It’s hard to imagine you as a foal,” Feather said, regarding the princess’ statement with dubiety.

“Is it? Everypony is a foal at some point. Even us, as hard as that is to believe. Before we were ruler, but still princess, we were quite naïve. And what’s more, our sister was well aware of this,” she explained, leaning forwards. “One jape she played upon us, was getting us to believe that our mouths only had a limited number of words we could speak before out tongues would fall from our mouths, leaving us speechless forever.”

Feather giggled. “Really?”

“Yes, really. She put quite a lot of effort into it as well. She used our scullery maid’s lexicon of grunts as proof of this. Out of fear for our tongue, we said nary a word for months,” she spoke with humour in her tone, smiling whimsically.

“Months?!”

“You must understand. Our sister was our preferred pedagogue, much more entertaining and tolerable than our parents assigned tutor. We listened and believed without scepticism. A folly on our part, admittedly, but spawned many a fond memory,” Luna spoke with a genuine glow, a happiness that Feather liked to see.

“I’d love to hear more about you,” Feather was genuine.

“Well, we have many hours ahead of us. Perhaps our sister can be proven correct, and we can talk our tongues off,” Luna proposed factitiously.

“Lets,” she concurred.

“Good evening,” a mare’s voice joined theirs, attracting their attentions. They didn’t look out of the ordinary for a waitress, being dressed in red and black blazer, and white shirt. The unicorn’s crimson mane and blue coat was distinct, but otherwise, the mare appeared average on all fronts. “What can I get for both of you this evening?” she asked politely, voice twanged with an accent Feather couldn’t place.

“I didn’t look at the men-“

“We will be having these courses,” Luna informed, giving to the mare a small white note with her magic. Feather arched a brow at the pencil also in Luna’s grasp.

The mare took it in her own magic, looking over it briefly before slipping it into her pocket. “Okie-dokie then,” the mare beamed, “I will be right out with your orders soon.”

As she walked off, Feather looked to Luna. “Where did you get the pencil?”

“The stallion had one next to his ledger,” she shrugged.

“Isn’t that stealing?”

“What is there to steal? If we own the state, and we claim dominion over all subjects, that includes the business owners including their private businesses. And within the hold of those businesses, are factories. And from those factories, pencils are produced. So I’m merely taking acquisition of what is mine,” Luna said obtusely, with a self assured smile.

“…you could’ve just said you were borrowing it,” she said, exasperated, a grin coming naturally to her face.

Luna spent a great deal of time planning out every facet of this night. Everything from the walk down a more secluded street to give them much needed intimacy, to the subtle smallness of the table compared to the others, just so that Luna could every so often brush her hind leg against Feather’s own. She also kept herself awake into the late hours of the morning just so that she could manufacture the perfect three course meal for this very night. The entree was a bowl of spiced lentil soup, joined by a couple of soft wheat rolls to soak in it. Feather had difficulty eating that course as she lacked the efficient means of making use of the utensils, who cutely chewed the inside of her cheek across from Luna, eyeing the nefarious bowl with a crease between her brow. Luna, trying her best to remain unwitting to the unfortunate predicament, and offered to aid the mare in the consumption of the course; empathising the foible of spoons for the magically challenged. At first Feather was visibly reluctant, responding to Luna deadpan and reddened cheeks, soon however she was happily – adorably, Luna thought – chomping around the silver spoon and swallowing down every drop.

“You know I could have just lapped from the bowl?” Feather smirked, licking the corner of her lip. “It’s how I’ve always done it.”

“We would never pass up the chance to help those most dearest to us,” Luna said sincerely.

“Right, right. I can’t imagine what would go through your head to see me lapping from the bowl like a dog,” Feather smirked.

“True. It would be most horrible to see you debase yourself so,” Luna nodded, half-smiling. “Such debasement should remain in the bedroom instead. There we could do many dog-like things. Panting, and perhaps with us leaning over thee,” she spoke lewdly, stoking a redness in Feather’s cheeks. “But, whilst talking of dogs is pleasant, we were thinking perhaps of moving onto a topic much more worthy of conversing about. Whilst we wait for the next course.”

Feather smirked. “What?”

“You,” Luna said plainly; leaning on the table and looking at Feather’s jiggered expression with a smile. “What more tantalising topic of conversation could there be than the mare who hath taken our heart?”

Feather wasn’t subtle in her diffidence. “R-right, you’re right. This is a date after all. Um…” she paused, head down and chewing the corner of her lip. Luna just watched, patient. She was aware of how on the spot she had put the mare, and thus afforded her time. Luna did, however, raise an eyebrow at the intent concentration Feather took with the discarded utensil beside her bowl.

“We were not aware you could look upon something so mundane so intently,” Luna remarked with a smirk.

“I was just thought of something, actually,” she took her eyes away from the spoon and looked Luna right in the eyes, a smile of remembered sentiment. “You ever wondered why I’m named ‘Feather’? Despite not being a pegaus?”

“Hmm, the thought hath once or twice entered the domain of thought,” Luna nodded. “Taking your full name into consideration, we thought that your parents were perhaps just alike thee. In some sort of servitude.”

“Well, they do serve. But not under anypony that I know of,” she said ambiguously.

“Oh?”

“They own a pub. In Trottingham,” she continued. “So, they do serve... pints!” she beamed as she finished the exclamation, uncaring of the few eyes attracted to the volume. “The Gilded Accessory it’s called.”

Trottingham? Daughter of tavern owners? Delightful, Luna smiled, her interest in Feather spiked even more with each information filled syllable that came from her mouth. “We did not expect that, but now that you mention it, our ears have always pricked at the sound of some accent from your larynx.”

“Yeah. It’s faded after so long in the West country, but if you know what you’re looking for you can hear it sometimes.”

“Yes, like the occasional twanging of a bell. Trottingham? Is that city still sharing the isle with the Griffons?” she inquired.

“Yep. But you don’t see many, and the few you do see, they keep to their own,” Feather informed. “But back to my name. You see, my father is a unicorn-”

“And we guess that your mother is an earth pony?” Luna blurted.

“No, actually. She’s a pegasus pony,” she corrected. “You’re not the first to think that though, considering what I am.”

“And what you are is perfect,” Luna couldn’t help but squeeze a compliment in. “But tis most puzzling, but not unheard of for a pony to be born of a different tribe than their parents.”

“I know that. But if you know that, then you know how rare it is to happen. Mother and Father didn’t even consider the possibility when they were coming up with names for me. But they’re both strong headed, see? They both had a name, and they both wanted their precious first born filly to be named it,” she explained effusively, a sentimental pensiveness on her face, barely giving Luna time to catch up. “Father had picked Cherub, but mother had picked Feather. Essentially picking between sweet and soft.”

“You mean Feather Duster?” Luna asked.

Feather tightened her lips, looking over shoulder before leaning forwards. “Between you and me,” she spoke in a whisper, “I added the ‘Duster’ so I’d look more appealing on the resume. Having a name associated entirely with cleaning makes you look more suited for the job. I was just fortunate to have half the name of a cleaning tool.”

Luna furrowed her brow, looking at Feather sideways. “This information perturbs me. ‘Feather’, or ‘Feather Duster?’”

“Either. Really, I’ve been called the latter enough times that I’ve forgotten to leave it off most forms I sign, but I digress,” Feather looked abashed, resuming her normal posture. “Getting back to what I was saying, they both had names in mind, but neither wanted to not name me. So they had something of a wager. If I were born a Pegasus, like my mother, she’d name me-“

"And if you were a unicorn, your father would name you," she interrupted, engaged. "But seeing as your not either, we are interested on how they solved that predicament.”

“Well, on the day I was born - or so they tell me – when my father held me, then and there he gave me my mother’s name.” Feather smiled fondly, “he says that when he took one look at me all he saw was my mother. From my beige coat to my tangerine mane, he only saw her. So he says it was involuntary when he called me Feather. Like it was instinct. I’m sure he and mother added a touch of drama to it, making it more special than it was. Who knows, maybe she just yapped his ear off, that she won on some kind of ‘technicality’ or something,” she smirked.

“Your parents sound like wonderful ponies. Do you see them often?” Luna asked.

Feather frowned. “Not as often as I’d like. There’s not much time off in the year to do so I’m afraid. Sometimes, I miss more than my parents. I miss all of it really, the Gilded Accessory.”

“What could you miss about a pub?”

“Plenty, I’d say. I spent so much time on the open floor that I only need to close my eyes and think, and poof! I’m already there,” and she did just that, closing her lids tight and wearing a small silly smile. “The smell of honey from the mead, the sound of laughter and music – Oh the music!” suddenly her eyes slammed open, her mouth opening into a large beam. “You’d love it. The strings, the accordions-”

“Voices?”

“No voices. It was like they were trying to add to the whole feel of the place, ya know? The laughing, dancing, drinking. Merriment and all that,” she explained, and Luna nodded her head. “Thing is, they didn't have a name for their band. It was just four ponies coming together to make music, no motive for fame or money. Although my folks gave them endless access to the tap, so there’s that,” she ended with short laugh, sighing with a breath Luna recognized as nostalgia – something Luna now knew she could consider herself kindred with the mare.

“Sounds pleasant. We understand your longing for it, but something you previous said has been gnawing at us,” Luna had furrowed brows. She had listened to every word Feather uttered, but one piece of her dialogue yanked at her interest. “’Tangerine mane?’ But your mane shares the same hue as chocolate, do our eyes deceive?”

“Oh…” Feather blushed, looking caught, her hoof swatting at one of the brown strands that fell down the side of her face. “Yep. I’m a natural redhead. Freckles too,” she spoke openly, and without care, which further added to Luna’s confusion.

“You don’t sound bashful for your looks. If you care not for your appearance, why hide it?” Luna arched a brow.

She tighten her lips in thought, exhaling through her nose. “Well, I’ve always done it since I’ve come to Canterlot. I did everything to try and fit in. Some things happened naturally over time, like my accent, but other things were harder to hide… I heard how strict and orderly the capitol was, so I made myself unassuming. Back then, I thought it necessary, but now? I’m just trying not to take risks. I heard a mare on the day staff was fired for dying her hair pink once,” Feather shrugged as she spoke the anecdote, expression neutral.

Luna frowned. “It hurts us that you should hide any part of yourself,” she pushed her hoof partway across the table, leaving it there as an affection offer for contact. “We would adore to see you as your true self, nature’s intended.”

“Really? You might not like what you see,” Feather forced a saturnine smile, a crease in her brow.

“Hast thou not been listening? Our love for thee goes deeper than skin, beyond your earthly vessel, our sweet.” Luna weaved back in the archaisms, smiling warmly as Feather met her touch.

“Alright,” Feather sighed. “But if you turn tail and run, I’ll leak your entire collection of poems to the press.”

Luna gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

Feather grinned like a playful scoundrel. “Want to try me?” she asked playfully, leaning across the table.

“We wouldn’t dare, you rogue,” Luna met Feather’s joking tone, and was about to also meet her lips midway across the table…

“Bon appetit!”

Interruption. Coming in the form of a cheerily disposed mare pushing a food cart. Normally, Luna would have acted against such insolence, but her anger was disarmed by the mare’s overly jaunty disposition. “Wonderful,” she spoke with forced mirth; leaning back in her seat, lips lacking a much sought kiss. “The flower bed of fruits?”

“Indeedy!” she affirmed jovially, levitating both the emptied bowls from the table and replacing them with two medium sized silver platters. Luna kept an eye on Feather to gauge her reaction. As the platter’s dome was raised with an amber magic grip, hiding Feather from Luna’s view for a fraction of a second; the disguised princess’ smile twinkly. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Wow.”

“Hath your breath been taken?” Luna asked rhetorically, Feather’s eye glued to the dish.

“This looks amazing,” Feather remarked, eyes aglow.

The ‘flower bed of fruits’ was a very pragmatic name for the main course. Eight varieties of fruit placed upon a bed of just as many types of flower, each sweetened with a peppering of saccharine sugars that were certain to make the mouth water, and hungry for more. “Not the most nutritious meal that we could have ordered, but we sought taste over sustenance. Taking a page from our sister’s book,” Luna giggled.

“I can’t wait to tuck in,” Feather said eager, licking her lips, learning down.

“And two bottles of strawberry wine!” the waitresses voice was marked by two heavy thumps on the table, forcing Feather’s attention. “As requested.”

“Wine?” Feather looked at Luna, puzzled.

Luna nodded to the mare who had dropped off the their course as she walked off with cart in tow. Luna levitated one of the bottles and two glasses, popping off the top and filling the glassware with a finesse trained over many, many dinners. “No meal is complete without at least one glass of wine,” Luna grinned as she placed the glass beside Feather’s platter.

“You say that like it’s a proverb,” Feather quipped, glancing to the liberally filled glass.

“And it should be, because it’s true.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I should,” Feather said pensively, her hoof tracing the rim of the glass. “I’m kind of a lightweight… funny, isn’t it? Considering where I grew up.”

“We insist you should, Feather. It is our favorite concoction, as it dances a delight upon the tongue - so we would simply adore if you could partake in it with us,” Luna cajoled with a puppy-like countenance. “We believe that you will enjoy it as much as we do.”

“Hmm…” Feather screwed up her expression, her head tilting from left to right as she visibly thought over it. “A-alright, I’ll give it a go.”

“Capital!” Luna exclaimed, smiling wide.

Feather placed both hooves on either side of the glass, lifting it up to her lips. “Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Drunkenness did not come easy to Feather. It came hard. She was dreadfully drunk, and aware of it too. Her vision was as slurred as her speech, her eyes feeling loose in her own sockets, and she eventually gave up trying to eat all together. Much too giggly to put her mouth to any other task. She had tucked in and wolfed down half of the delectable meal – of which she voiced her pleasure with every bite - but soon found her lips attracted to the rim of a constantly refilling glass; the savory sweet bitterness of the cerise liquid luring her taste buds back to it every time she parted from the stemmed glass. She was an abject failure in keeping up with Luna, who practically inhaled the liquid. Feather speculated, albeit drunkenly, that Luna’s largest organ was her liver. Which prompted a particularly absurd cackle from the mare, who slammed her hoof on the table repeatedly.

“What are thou laughing at?” Luna asked, a smidge of a slur on her words, resuming her shibboleth unabashed.

“Ten-ton-liver!” Feather snorted, thinking at that moment she had said the funniest thing in the world. “How can you drink so much?” a small moment of clarity in her otherwise intoxicated state.

“Only five glasses worth hath passed through our lips,” Luna stated matter-of-factly, one eye more ajar than the other. “Thou have swallowed half as many.”

Feather’s reply was a wheezing laugh, her race rendered beat red, out of breath. “Oh yeah,” she said quietly, her eyes suddenly squinting, thinking. “What’s half of five?”

“Twice as many as one, short of thrice,” Luna similarly closed her lids, thinking. “Yes, yes, we think that is correct.”

Feather scoffed, blinking. A part of her knew the answer was two-point-five, but the louder – much more drunker – part of her concurred. “Yes, yes, you’re right. You’re really smart, Luna,” she complimented.

Luna smiled silly, looking bashful. “We art truly humbled. We offer thou sincerest thanks, love,” Luna took on a dreamy visage, leaning on the table.

Feather smiled wide, showing Luna her red stained teeth. “Let’s have a drink in celebration of your genius!” Feather raised the empty container with both hooves, licking her lips.

Luna outstretched her tongue before pursing her lips around it into a most curious expression, before shaking her head. “Perhaps not. We often forget the limit of how much we can drink in the moment, but thou must not succumb to the same fault. Thou hast reached thy limit.”

A part of her recognised this as being the most intelligent thing Luna has said since they had both partaken of the drink, but the part of her inflamed by the wine ironically was her childishness, and she pouted. “I want more,” she curled her bottom lip, holding out the glass.

“No, thou hast had enough,” Luna said strictly, pouring an ounce of her authority into her words. “We take dessert, and become homeward bound.”

“Give me more,” she demanded weakly, kicking out her hind hooves, brushing against Luna’s leg.

“No,” Luna responded simply, her horn lighting up as she plugged the bottle with its cork.

“No fair!” she whined, dropping the glass from grip, and kicking her hind hooves like a stubborn foal denied their toy. Luna, much like a parent should, didn’t engage with Feather – barring a haggard look – and brought the bottles close to her.

Feather did - in the sober part of her - appreciate Luna’s keeping the bottle from her. This sober part of her felt relieved that any further escalation that the alcohol might have wrought was nipped in the bud, and she felt a newfound appreciation for Luna’s maturity and motherliness – a quality she’d no doubt have gotten from reigning as a maternal autocrat. However, this sober part of her was overcome with a feeling of dread, as her brain became flooded with thoughts distinctly different from wine. They came about as one of her hind hooves, which she still retained an odd amount of adroitness with, brushed against the inside of Luna’s thigh. Luna remained wearing her stoic expression of authority as the lewd idea formed in Feather’s head. This expression however, crumbled, becoming wide eyed and tight lipped; in contrast to Feather’s cheeky grin, her tongue held past her lips between her teeth.

“W-what art thou doing?” Luna stuttered, her hind legs quivered.

Feather’s hind hooves were outstretched under the table, whilst her fore hooves leant on it, acting as support for her head and its dopey expression. Feather had decided to play their private game, but this time, in public. Feather, as an Earth pony, was expected to be good with her hooves. Fore and hind. Beneath the table, one of her hooves adventurously traced circles around one of Luna’s egregiously full coconut-sized balls; rubbing her other against the left, trying to elicit a reaction from the monarch. “Somepony feels pent up,” Feather whispered, licking her lips provocatively. “I think somepony needs to relieve their pressure…” she teetered off ambiguously, in stark contrast to her unambiguous action.

“Hast thou been given a touch of madness,” Luna hissed, shuffling forward on her chair. No doubt trying to hide Feather’s ministrations, but also inadvertently giving Feather greater ease of access.

“C’mon, I know little Luna wants to come out… well, not so little,” she smirked, trying to stroke Luna’s member out of hiding. “Your bits don’t feel proportionate.”

“W-We didn’t deem it necessary to do so,” Luna kept her voice low, her words interrupted by a momentary pinch of her lip between her teeth. Feather had just caressed one of Luna’s swollen nuts with her right hoof. “We expected lewd frivolity back in the castle, not out in…” Luna bit her lip, before leaning closer, “in public!”

Feather could feel it now, the head of Luna’s python emerging from its sheath. Luna’s thick bestial shaft inched out, despite the reluctance Feather could see on Luna’s face. Whilst one hoof fondled at Luna’s bulging sack, the other pressed atop Luna’s wide cock, mentally recording every inch as it emerged. Feather smirked, “imagine if you walked around with this fifth leg poking out. You’d leave a sticky trail everywhere you walked.” Feather’s sober part had simply ceased to be by this point, giving Feather the last trickles of doubt she had before fading away; her mind focusing on the mare-cock her hoof was pressing into. She didn't count – her mind too drunk to even remember numbers past five – but her mind mentally pictured as it got bigger and bigger, the throbbing excellence getting all big and excited all for her. She felt a bit prideful about that.

Luna exhaled through her teeth, huffing like a bull; hunched over the table. Her eyes were closed, and Feather knew she had ensnared her. Feather could almost feel the heat radiating from Luna’s tool coming out from under the table, she could certainly smell it, although she cared not at the moment if the musk would protrude the nostrils of any other pony in the restaurant. From memory, she could feel every familiar vein along Luna’s cock, the vessels pumping the rod alive to thickness, becoming stiff and rigid right under Feather’s hoof. She sent her left leg downwards, Luna’s quiet moan coinciding with the feeling of something particularly pronounced beneath the frog of her hoof: the medial ring. Very quickly, despite being hidden under the table, Feather was able to get a feeling for the member. She pressed both hooves on either side of the twitching protrusion like she would holding an object, pressing against the turgid flesh softly, before bringing them both back towards her and then sending them back towards Luna; rowing back and forth in an unsteady rhythm as she serviced Luna with uncoordinated caresses and presses.

“Talk,” Feather suggested.

“W-why?” Luna asked, squirming in her seat; looking as though she was trying not to undulate against Feather’s hooves.

“We’ve been talking all night. It would look strange if all of a sudden we stopped talking," she pointed out.

Luna tightened her jaw, and Feather stuck out her tongue. “R-right,” she said firmly, straightening her back, staring at Feather from across the table. “What…what, did you have in mind,” Luna wore a forced looking smile, looking shiftily in her spot; Feather all the while continued to glide her hooves up and down Luna’s shaft.

“Hmm, I think I just felt sticky on my hoof. I think you’re leaking now,” Feather informed, pressing a hoof into Luna’s broad tip. “You’re going to leave a mess on the carpet.”

“Thou art going to leave a mess,” Luna retorted, biting her lip. “And our liquids were not a topic of conversation we had in mind.”

“Hmm… does it feel good?” Feather probed, wearing a smile.

“Doth not that question answer itself?” Luna replied flatly, her member – coincidently - punctuating her statement with a particularly strong throb. “Hast thou any other topics of conversation?”

“No, not really,” she replied, idly pumping the cock by this point; the action coming naturally to her.

“Thy mind is one-tracked. Remind us to never mix alcohol and lust in thy presence again,” Luna said with a half-hearted irritation; leaning forwards again. “The risk we art currently in is immeasurable.”

“Does that mean you want me to stop?” Feather asked, grinning, bringing her strokes to a stop.

“Please do not tease us so,” Luna whimpered. Beneath the table Feather felt it twitch against her hold, subtly going back and forth with the Princess’ hips. “Don’t leave us blue.”

“Umm… okay,” Feather complied almost immediately, chipper. She acquiesced to Luna’s plea, one hoof sliding down Luna’s pole the other coming up towards her, brushing the unflared tip. “I’d only be depriving myself of fun if I stopped anyway.”

“Thou art a minx.”

“Your minx,” Feather stuck out her tongue, finding Luna’s deadpan visage hilarious. “Go on then. Tell me how good it feels.”

Luna gave a frustrated sigh. “Very well,” she kept her voice quiet, marking the end of her sentence with a quivering sigh; no doubt trying to supress the vocalisations of pleasure. “It feels… pleasant.”

“How pleasant?”

“Very.”

Feather tut, shaking her head. “Not good enough, Luna,” she slowed her stroking to grinding halt, simply squeezing the fat cock between her hooves but remaining still. “I want description. Put that vocab of yours to good use,” she encouraged, grinning in reply to Luna’s scowl.

Luna growled, quietly, chewing momentarily on her lip. “Thy agile hooves, they are soft; pleasant, they bring us ecstasy,” Luna spoke curtly, her rushing voice sounding truly desperate. “Please continue,” she squeaked, her brows knitted and her lips curved into a weak smile.

Feather remained motionless, watching Luna with a semi-sadistic smile as the monarch squirmed in her seat; her large cock twitching between her hooves. Feather could feel the thick dollops of pre pass by her hooves as they leaked from the trembling shaft, filling her with a perverse glee. She remained still until she felt the next bead coursing up Luna’s urethra, and along with it she squeezed up Luna’s bestial shaft towards herself, milking the clear sticky fluid from the tip. “Yes, that’s what I want from you. Say more,” she ordered coolly, as her hooves pushed down the skin of the shaft.

A moan was elicited from Luna’s throat, just as Feather passed her hooves over the sensitive medial ring, the monarch reduced to panting. “Yes, yes, we will! If it will please thee,” her voice was a few octaves higher despite being in whisper, reminding Feather of a mouse.

Feather, in her drunken state, got a modicum of pleasure from the monarch’s desperation, seeing such a powerful figure reduced to putty between her hooves. “Good,” she said simply, rewarding the mare with a soft squeeze of her thick column like member; having one of her hooves grind into the sensitive ring. “Keep going.”

“Thy hooves art magic, they please us both, organ and mare. They work with a catlike grace. Thou possess a deftness truly worthy of global appraisal,” Luna spoke her extolment with a gasp, Feather unrelenting of her strokes.

“Make it more vulgar,” Feather commanded, tepidly injecting her words with Luna’s strictness.

“What?” Luna opened her eyes, looking at Feather perplexed.

Feather stopped her strokes. “More dirty.”

“R-right, right,” Luna sounded apprehensive, but Feather knew her lust would overcome properness. “W-we can feel them.”

“Feel what?” Feather arched a brow, leaning her elbows on the table.

“O-our… balls, they churn with impatient seed, begging for release through the only exit available: our member,” Luna narrated with hitched breaths as she writhed in place, her hips lightly moved back and forth in her seat; weakly thrusting her breeding stick in Feather’s hooves.

“What do you want most right now?” Feather asked, feeling the shaft swell slightly in her hooves, watching as its owner bit her lip.

“To rut thee, breed thee, and stick our cock in thee,” Luna replied between pants, eyes clamped shut.

“But what do you want even more than that?” she asked, knowing full well what the answer was from Luna’s throbbing organ.

“To… to…” Luna paused between moans, as Feather increased the speed of her strokes to a rapid pace, the cock swelling to nearly double its size with blood; ready to unleash its load.

“Blueberry cream pie!” the cheery waitress from before blurted, pushing a food cart beside the table.

Feather froze, looking at her. “Uh oh,” despite stopping she still felt the dick swell between her hooves.

“Cum!” Luna finished with a loud and strained cry, uncaring of volume as she passed ungracefully into climax.

Like a fire hose in her grip, Feather felt the strong surge of seed shoot up the cock, and felt the first shot collide with her pussy between her legs; her vagina like a pink, wet, target – creating an audible wet smack upon the collision. The massive cock felt near uncontrollable in her hooves, firing shot after shot of semen. Again at her crotch, then splattering the inside of her thigh, before softening enough to be directed to the now plastered carpet. All the while, Feather kept her eyes locked to the waitress, whose wide smile cracked; gradually degrading into an equally large, and disgusted, frown. Feather, despite her intoxication, felt the full weight of the awkwardness that fell onto her shoulders – and so, just like the waitress, her steadfast composure, held together with alcohol and childlike confidence, snapped at the seams. She tried to force a smile but that made the uncomfortable silence even heavier. She felt it soften in her hooves, becoming limp, the weak trickle of semen from the tip was still felt through the flesh. Feather saw the waitress’s eyes fall, no doubt to look at the sound of something heavy and wet emanating from below the table. One didn’t require the most complex deduction skills to picture what the source of it was, even a drunken Feather knew this.

“We… you see… I… um…” Feather was shocked back into sobriety, partially at least; stuttering and looking back and forth between Luna and the waitress like a lunatic – seeing more than just one pair of eyes staring on at their commotion. Motivation by the panic rising in her gut, she threw her gaze to the Princess. “Luna! What do we d- Luna?” her tone shifted to that of worry, as coinciding with a sigh from the monarch, her entire form visibly pulsated; morphing unnaturally in a few placed, some discolouring too.

Luna blinked drowsily at Feather, before bringing her hooves up, her eyes smacking open in panic. “Climax ruined our concentration. This does not bode well. We believe it is now time to leave,” Luna spoke casually, landing her eyes onto the reeling waitress.

“D-did you say, L-Luna?” the waitress directed the question toward Feather, although her eyes remained stuck to the monarch, whose body began making its unprompted reversion; begging the attention.

“No!” Feather exclaimed, wearing a forced and toothy smile, looking around the table in panic.

“Goodbye,” said Luna cordially, and out of the corner of her eye Feather saw a piece of blue husk peel from the monarch’s horn, and then a flash…

As Celestia read the documents, her horn flicking a scrawl upon the bottom dotted lines, her mind was salted with malicious ideas of enacting convenient tyranny to no longer go past her end day. No longer would she have to sign infernal documents any longer – a workload only increased by her sister’s… withdrawn, personality – and maybe then she could sleep without the dark bruise-like lines forming under her eyes for once. Her thoughts would then carry a dallying pause, a tepid consideration… before she smirked, shaking her head with a small, and private, smile. There was, however, a relaxing kind of ambience whilst she worked. It did make it all the more harder to resist the urge to sleep, but it did lessen her stress considerably. The quiet ripple of liquid when she’d dip her quill in the ink, then the scratching of the sharpened tip against the parchment, the crackle of the fireplace; the low orange hue of the fire casting its light over her. It was calm… but then her ear pricked, and all other sounds became muted to her ears. She furrowed her brows, turning her head so that her eye was cast to the balcony window. Again her ear twitched, hearing the not-so-distant minims of voices.

Apprehensively, she climbed to her hooves from her plush carmine cushion, walking toward the glass paned doors to the outside; a tentative gait applies to her steps. As she got closer, her eyes parted wide, the voices becoming discernable. They weren’t voices at all – they were screams.

Now with panic but utmost of all worry in her chest, she galloped to the balcony doors, horn alighting in a yellow aura; preemptively slamming open the frail doors and tearing one off its hinges just before reaching the outside. She had no time to savor the view of her shared kingdom in the gentle moonlight, climbing her fore hooves on the gray stone balcony and looking down below to find the source of the screams. Her eyes darted around in panic, her horn still alight ready to save whomever needed to be saved. A few seconds of frantic looking passed and she could see nopony below… but then she looked up high... fifty miles high by her estimation.

Her mouth remained slightly agape before it joined the rest of her face in forming a scowl. “Luna!” Celestia growled, unfurling her wings.

She would need to have a very serious talk with her sister.

Author's Note

Wasn't all too happy with this chapter unfortunately. I think shifting perspectives too often might of degraded the quality. It was from here on out that I decided that the perspective should not shift multiple times whilst the scene remained the same or we were going to spend an overly long amount of time with a couple of characters. I also felt it was a tad inconsistent, the way I was describing things from certain perspectives. However, this is an issue that remains isolated to this chapter alone, so there's that.

Note added just now: Due to things at school, I decided to upload this chapter prematurely, as I have to finish note taking on Germany and the late Tudor period which is distracting me from writing unfortunately. After this I will maintain the obligation in my description to upload a chapter every time I complete one in advance (upload 3 when 4 is completed, etcetera) I expect to finish this egregious note taking within 2 to 4 weeks, which then will mark my happy continuation with writing. Cheerio!

Tidbits/Trivia/background things:
1. Celestia's perspective thing in the final portion of the chapter wasn't originally going to be a thing. Luna's teleport away was the original mark at the end of the chapter. This was because I wanted to keep the punishment of the three bullies secret till the next chapter, where Celestia lists it off as one of her grievances.
2. Originally, it was going to be a BJ beneath the table, it was then sex under the table, but in the end I decided to do something I hadn't done before (hence, it's sloppiness.
3. In the planning stages, this was chapter was originally much shorter, serving mostly as a bridge to the conflict that would arise from Celestia learning of Luna's relationship. However, I decided to give Feather some much needed characterization and back-story.
4. The origin of Feather's name, in IRL, was because in the fic before this I intended for her to be a pegasus. However, I pulled a Toriyama, and when I initially wrote the first paragraph to 'No Longer Customary' I forgot when I eventually came back to it. I went off the notes I had made below the paragraph rather than the ones I made in a separate document,
so I never read my desired species for her until long after I had finished it.
5. Originally, Luna's disguise would have faltered entirely, letting everyone in the restaurant know who it truly was.
6. This chapter faced a lot of bumps writing, as the shifting perspectives and my bad decision to wing most of the chapter led to a lot of pauses in writing.
7. I don't drink, in fact, I never have. This is primarily due to my own personal opinion of alcohol and my disliking of the drunkenness. This may have influenced my writing of Feather this chapter, whose character I made a tad more 'bad' as a result.
8. There was originally going to be a cameo of Silver, Synary and Blossom in the resturant,
but I couldn't figure out how to write it in and in the end I thought it was too out of place to hint at yet another sequel.
9. The idea for Feather's backstory was created on a whim when I was listening to irish music, and glanced at the name 'Trottingham' in my word docs. Whether or not her original accent is Irish or bog-standard English/British is largely up to the reader.
10. Compared to chapter 1's 13k words being done in two days, this took a staggering 2 weeks.