Even before I catch a glimpse of the Princess, I can sense her coming to me. Her arrival some minutes ago struck the Crystalabra’s main floor like a skipping stone, the news of her very presence hopping from mouth to gaping mouth as a shapeless, rippling roar. From my seat up in the mezzanine, it was quite a sight to behold: hundreds of little ponies, packed shoulder-to-shoulder in a sweaty, substance-addled mob, all frothing and drooling at the idea—let alone the sight—of their de facto patron saint.
It’s almost beautiful, in a way, such instinctual subservience—and made all the sweeter by how accustomed to it her Highness-in-training must be. It might even be enough to make a pleasant end to this waste of a diplomatic visit, but the verdict on that will have to wait for the morning. Between then and now, I have a lion’s share of tension to work off, and a perfect little lamb to help me already climbing the stairs to my den.
My guards stiffen as she approaches, but relax just as quickly to let her glide by unmolested. I ordered them to do so the moment we arrived, knowing beyond all doubt that just this scenario would arise. If anything, the Princess is earlier than I anticipated. All the better for both of us, then, and hardly shocking at that. In more ways than one, Flurry Heart’s reputation precedes her.
“You lonely up here?” she asks, managing a near-sultry tone even as she shouts over the thumping music from below. I can’t help but smile as I take her in, a perfect portrait of Crystallian degeneracy. The curls of her violet mane are plastered to her forehead, spilling over a hairband of fraying hemp that matches not a single one of the neon bangles dangling off her ankles and ears. And yet beneath it all, her family’s lineage still shines through: she has her father’s eyes, and every delightful inch of her mother’s form.
“Not anymore, your Highness,” I say, taking her hoof gently between my own. She doesn’t react as I press my lips to her fetlock, save for keeping the gormless grin she’s worn since she joined me. “My apologies for invading your kingdom here.”
“What’s mine is yours, your Grace.” She leans luxuriously against the balustrade, stretching her forelegs out as she sweeps her gaze over me. “Or did you wanna negotiate some more?”
“If I did, I certainly wouldn’t be in a place like this.” Against my better judgement, my lips begin to twitch. Flurry’s smile is hypnotic, like a crescent of glinting crystal reflecting the future I see in her smoky eyes. “Although I suppose I could be convinced to reconsider.”
She shakes her bracelets down the slope of her raised forelegs, letting them rest against her elbows as she lights her tribal-painted horn. “Well, then,” she murmurs, leaning forward until her lips brush the peak of my ear. A chilled glass finds its way into the crook of my hoof, balanced on a cloud of amber arcane haze. “Consider this, like, my opening statement.”
When I lift the glass, her magical aura rises with it, providing just enough resistance to keep my attention where she wants it. As she steps back, she trails her magic down my cannon, then detaches completely with a gentle flick on my shoulder.
In the distance, the pace of the music shifts—growling thuds of bass fade into a tinny rhythm that echoes like a one-synthesizer brass band. “You ever been upstairs in a place like this?” Flurry asks me, dragging out her final words like she means to imply an answer. The first sip of my drink bites into my tongue—dry-aged whiskey, accented with a cloying hint of clover that warms my belly and sends a shudder reverberating up my spine. I think the Crystal Empire might just redeem itself yet.
“Show me around and maybe you’ll find out,” I respond. Flurry’s smile wrinkles into a smirk, and she lights her horn again, her magic lingering against my hoof before it liberates my glass from me. The music sways with her as she walks towards the back of the balcony, each jolt of her narrow hips paired with a note in its rising melody. When she pauses on the threshold, her eyes flick back to me, then over to a staircase tucked into the shadows beyond the lower crowd’s eyes.
“Don’t wait up for me,” I order my guards. They--and I—need no further encouragement. In moments we’re alone, hemmed in together by the humid cacophony of this overwrought glacier’s excuse for a night life. Flurry takes my hoof again, this time forcefully into her own.
“Don’t worry,” she says as she alights the first step. “I won’t.”
===
“So you’re from Beygiria, right?”
I have to swallow twice before I can answer her Highness’s question, so large is the sip of whiskey I’ve poured into my mouth. Demureness, I’m told, is a desirable trait for a king, but as long as we’re sequestered away from the masses up here, it’s difficult to justify keeping up such an appearance. Besides—and more presciently now—by the stars this stuff is good.
“Indeed,” I finally get out, my voice echoing inside my glass. “Midilli-born and raised, and likelier to die there than anyplace else. Probably in summertime, if I had to hazard a guess.”
Flurry giggles—a throaty, melodic hum that quickens my pulse for the few moments it lasts. She takes a sip of her own drink, a cherry-red concoction that rises like blood through her pale pink straw. “I didn’t know Beygirians could get hot. ‘F I lived in a desert that big, I’d probably melt like a popsicle.”
A thought of asking what flavor she’d be pops into my mind, but I smother it with another gulp of firewater. For all her fame and fortune, Princess Flurry Heart has the statesmareship of a drunken sailor. The less I interrupt her, the more entertaining my evening is liable to be.
“Anyway, you speak really good Equestrian for a Beygirian,” she adds next, a compact pout written across her brow. “All the rest of your guys ever do is grunt at each other and glare at me.”
“In their defense, that is more or less their job,” I say. “And mine, I suppose, is to speak well.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Flurry flops back and sinks into our plushly lined couch with a sigh, her drink clutched precariously in a clump of sputtering magic. “I thought Daddy was never gonna get out of your meeting or whatever today. What do you guys even talk about for that long, hoofball players or something?”
I have to bite into the rim of my glass to keep my face straight. In retrospect, I’m not sure whether I over- or underestimated Shining Armor this afternoon: raising a daughter like Flurry Heart must take in equal parts the sternness of a child and the patience of a saint. “If only we had,” I manage to say. “It might’ve been a better use of my time.”
“Aw, really?” Flurry says as she sits back up again, wriggling in her seat so that her tail just grazes my flank. “It was that bad?”
“I’d rather not discuss it,” I tell her honestly. And probably shouldn’t, I don’t get to add before she loudly interjects.
“C’moooon, please?” Her sulky grimace returns, now with quivering lip to match. “Daddy never tells me anything. Seriously, like, I live in a frickin’ castle and I don’t even know what’s happening in it half the time.” When I remain unmoved, she changes tactics. “I did get you drinks. Not even cheap stuff.”
I drain my glass and mull over the matter. Damn if she didn’t conclude with an excellent point. While this tucked-away lounge she’s gotten us into is at close to full capacity, it’s accordingly far from quiet. Between the private DJ in the far corner and the ruckus of laughter and conversation in all directions, I doubt anyone could listen in even if they wanted to. And damn her again, her Highness is terrifically skilled at begging.
Oh, what the hell. The mountainous bouncer who checked us in is surely enough of a deterrent to eavesdroppers anyway. I acquiesce to Flurry’s request on one condition, which I communicate by holding up my empty glass and tilting my head towards the bar. With a satisfied smirk, she cranes her neck up and catches the bartender’s attention, beckoning him over with a wink and a dainty wave.
“To make an excruciatingly long story short, your father wants me to renew the same trade relationship between our two principalities to which my father previously agreed,” I explain. “He believes that our current arrangement remains beneficial and fair for both parties. I, to put it mildly, passionately disagree with his assessment.”
“Why, what’s wrong with it?” Flurry asks, crinkling her brow as she passes me my refill. “I thought Beygiria and Equestria were friends.”
I pause for a taste before continuing, and find this pour just as smooth and delectable as the preceding three. I must get this bartender’s name before we leave. Stars be good to me, they’ll have an interest in international travel. “They are,” I reply, “and with any luck we’ll stay that way for a while to come. But the Crystal Empire, your Highness, is not Equestria. Not in a practical sense, anyway. You have your own sovereign territory, your own royal lineage—and most importantly, a near-total dependence on the benevolence of your allies.”
Flurry’s expression is exactly what I expected: a slight squint of perplexion chased by a powerful pull from her drink. Never mind her following along, though. I’m on a roll now, and despite her confusion she’s hanging on to every word.
“Natural beauty and cultural leadership are fine things for a kingdom to own, Princess, but they don’t keep the little ponies fed. Since its modern inception, the Crystal Empire has relied on imports from Equestria and beyond to maintain its food supply, primarily paid for in mining output and luxury goods. My father, bless him, believed our generosity in terms of export pricing would be rewarded in kind by the Equestrian monarchy, and for quite a long time it was. But unfortunately, times have changed, and more unfortunate still, your father refuses to recognize that fact.”
“Sooo…” I can picture perfectly the gears grinding inside Flurry’s head, lubricated by lust and cranberry vodka. “You don’t want to sell us food anymore?”
“Not precisely. I’ve no interest in seeing anypony go hungry, but…” Another mouthful of whiskey helps me find a friendlier way to phrase the matter. “To belabor the point, the little ponies in Beygiria need to eat too. And with winter coming up, it’s hard enough keeping our own storehouses stocked without providing what amounts to charity for a territory with such close ties to Equestria proper. All I argued today was that the Crystal Empire’s burden shouldn’t be Beygiria’s to bear, but…”
All of a sudden, my glass is empty again. A touch of frustration twists my lips together, and makes my last remark more blunt than I meant it to be. “Well, you can see how that went,” I grumble as I slide my glass across the table in front of us. If anything, though, I’ve understated the situation. Out of five hours cooped up inside a drafty great hall atop an impressively uncomfortable chair, all I got was a terrible mood and a toothache from the incessant grinding of them it provoked. At least the whiskey’s done something to help with the latter problem.
“Yeah, that sounds like Daddy, all right,” Flurry admits. Her pouty face is back—and, on repeated viewing, oddly attractive. “You should hear him when I come back late from going out. It’s like, for real, what exactly am I supposed to be at home doing instead? Sitting in my room, knitting and looking pretty?”
Finally, after a while of fighting, my brain finishes second in the race to put words in my mouth. “In fairness, you look pretty outside of your room as well.”
As thanks for my compliment, I get a smack on the shoulder and my empty glass yanked out of reach. “Okay, that’s it. I’m cutting you off,” Flurry growls, but she can’t keep up the act for long. A grin threatens to crack through her tightened lips, just like the twinkle in her eye already has through her pitiful attempt at a glare. I have half a notion to ask what she proposes we do instead, but as it happens she doesn’t even need to answer.
“Flurry! Girl, get your ass over here and come–”
The unicorn stumbling towards us stops dead in her tracks when she sees her royal friend isn’t alone, her eyes widening as her ruby-red bangs flop over her brow. “Oh Luna, sorry!” she slurs to me, hiking the sleeve of her satin dress up so she can gesture with a wavering opaque hoof. “She’s… w-we’re friends. She loves me. I’m Moonstone, you’re… who are you?”
“He’s from Beygiria,” Flurry answers. She nudges me and smiles, turning her head so our accoster can’t see her wink. “He’s super chill.”
“Oh, word?” Moonstone’s eyes narrow, her tongue darting between her lips. She’s looking at me less like a friend and more like a lion would a gazelle. “You, uh… come here with anybody?”
“Just myself,” I say. Flurry nudges me again, a bit harder this time. “But I’m enjoying my company so far.”
“Tight, yeah, that’s…” Moonstone pauses, seeming to bite back something on the tip of her tongue. She looks pointedly at Flurry, and continues only once she sees her nod. “Hey, you wanna come hang with us? We got a room upstairs, totally private.”
Now it’s my turn to glance over at Flurry. “I thought we already were ‘upstairs’?”
The smile I get in return is an altogether new one: secretive and giddy, with just a hint of impish guilt. “Well, there’s upstairs, and then there’s upstairs,” she tells me. “Daddy really hates it when I go up there.”
A prolonged pause strikes the three of us all at once, just lengthy enough to let the implication settle in. “Wanna piss him off together?” Flurry asks me at the end of it.
I decide on pure instinct, and act before it leaves me. Flurry yelps as I sweep her off the couch, her hoof in mine held flush against my chest. “Your Highness,” I respond, “I thought you’d never ask.”
===
The first line hits like a snowstorm, all cold and confusion and blinding white adrenaline. I throw my head back, feel the drifts settle over my throat, let my eyes pop like fireworks in shimmering showering flashes. It’s not the best I’ve had—distant thunder compared to Beygirian lightning—but it’s the best I’ve got now, and it’s got Flurry Heart laid out next to me like a carnival prize waiting to be won.
“Shit,” she says. Her hoof darts to her nose, rubs till it’s rosy. “Holy shit.”
“Told you she was a lightweight,” Moonstone says with a snort. “Now share the love, loverboy.”
I slide the tray her way, and as she bends over it I do the opposite back into my seat. It’s been too long since I felt like this: like just an observer to fate, a cog in some greater machine. Like nobody. No one here knows who I am but Flurry, and all Flurry might as well know is that I’m close enough in age to be trustworthy. She has no idea how much I needed this—needed her to give me an excuse for it. A wild child swaddled in royal protection. A vicarious shot at being one again myself.
“So what’s your story?”
Moonstone’s talking again—a habit of hers, I’ve noticed. She’s reclined as well now, a martini glass hovering by her head and her foreleg around a studly young pegasus in a low-cut black vest. A spherical pendant dangles from his neck. He looks wholly entranced by everything below hers. “Guy like you must have a good one,” she continues.
I consider my own drink for a moment—some sort of cocktail tinged transparent sky-blue. What is my story? Who is the nobody I’ve yet to introduce? “I’m here on business,” I tell her and her paramour. The former sits up, and the latter ignores me completely. “Felt like finding some pleasure to go with it.”
“‘Lestia, aren’t you a character...” she mutters. “C’mon, I said a story, not a couplet.”
I gaze over her shoulder and shrug, out past the balcony where the nightclub’s main feature bleeds into our sanctum. In the lounge it was easy to forget we were still in the Crystalabra, but here there’s no mistaking the sights and smells, or lights and sounds. Twenty yards from the railing, the club’s namesake shudders with each beat of its deafening heart, every laser and blinding strobe mirrored a million times in its dangling, shimmering stones.
“My father was a trade executive,” I finally say. “Head of a huge company, covers half the known world. He raised me since weaning to follow in his hoofsteps, and some of those steps led to the Crystal Empire. So… here I am.”
“So what, you’re here to…”
“Negotiate a deal.” Flurry’s back from the abyss, running her hooves over me like I’m a tree she’s sizing up to climb. “He’s really good at it.”
Moonstone drains her glass in one go, and chuckles as she wipes its remnants from her lips. “Better be, bro. You gotta be what, twenty-four? Five?”
“Something around that.” I try not to let her know how uncanny her guess is. Usually, I’m told I look mature for my age. Moonstone just shrugs the matter off anyway, before stretching out on her bench so her head lands in her partner’s lap.
“Hey, whatever works for you,” she says. The pegasus starts to run his hoof over her mane, an absent-minded motion that she seems not to mind at all. “Me, I’d hate that. All that expectation, being judged by someone else’s example… no the hell thanks. I’m good like this.”
I bet she is. Judging by the sound she makes, Flurry feels the same.
“Screw off, Moons,” she intones through a snort. “Your family’s been mining for five generations.”
“Yeah, but I’m not.” Moonstone’s head swivels towards Flurry and I, drawing a less-than-subtle fidget out of her displaced companion. She grins at both of us, utterly oblivious to him or intentionally so. “This look like a foremare’s office to you?”
“Looks like a spoiled brat snorting away her inheritance,” Flurry says.
Moonstone rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. “Takes one, bitch,” she replies. “Your turn, by the way.”
With a put-upon sigh, Flurry floats the tray back to our side of the table and busies herself overtop it. As for myself, I choose my words on the matter carefully. It’d be impolite to chuckle at her reaction, after all—and probably immature to find it hot. “I take it you and destiny don’t see eye-to-eye?”
Her head snaps up as she finishes with a gasp, her eyes wide and mouth gaping open. She blinks once, twice, then closes back up and shoots me a bleary glare. “See what?”
“He’s asking do you wanna be a pretty pony princess?” Moonstone sings, her last word disintegrating into hiccuping giggles. Flurry looks shocked for a moment, but then her face shrivels inward like a flower blooming in reverse.
“Oh, that’s hysterical,” she growls. “Yeah, damn it to the moon, this all sucks, doesn’t it? You and me both, our lives are just… I mean, wow.” The tray skids towards me, metal grinding on glass, a tight scroll of paper bouncing off its rim. When it comes to rest, a tiny face stares up at me: Princess Regent Cadance, relieved in faded blue ink by a blinding flash from the chandelier.
“What’d I do?” Moonstone looks up at the pegasus, squinting as if he’ll understand it more than she does. “He’s the one who asked…”
“Just shut up, Moons. Just…”
Flurry crosses her forelegs and looks away. I watch the pendulum swing of her mane as she turns, back and forth across her neck like a hypnotist’s swirling watch. When I break away, Cadance still stares at me. Before I continue, I make sure to cover her eyes.
“I get it, you know,” I say once I’m good and ready—great and raring to go. She takes ages to turn around—each second drums against my skull, tunes the swelling bass beneath the floor into a chorus that shivers us shakes me drops like lead into the pulsing pit of my stomach. The room crystallizes—flashes again—and Flurry’s eyes shine in the afterglow, little blue pinpricks of sun-splashed melting ice.
“You get it,” she tersely replies.
“Of course,” I begin to say, but a cough from Moonstone reminds me where I am. “I mean… it’s not as easy as everyone thinks, is what I mean. There’s great responsibility, a great number of ponies counting on you. It’s…”
“Yes it is.”
I choke on my next sentence—not that it would’ve been a profound one. By the stars, I used to be better at this. More practiced, at the very least. “Yes it moondamn is, are you kidding?” she goes on, spurts of secret fire licking at every constrained syllable. “Everything is easy for me. I did nothing to earn this, I-I do nothing to deserve it. I’m a princess because my mom was one first, and she’s one because she’s got extra parts attached. That’s how it works here, that’s how… they all work. They all work for something: the sun, the moon, friendship, love…”
She realizes we’re staring. I realize it in the same breath. “The hell do I have to work with?” Flurry grunts into her hoof. “Whole lotta nothing worth the damn wings.”
Moonstone is dumbstruck. I feel half that coherent. As my heart slows, though, so does my train of thought. Perhaps I’ve denied Flurry some credit she deserves. Time to repay that debt.
“Personally, I like it that way.”
Flurry lowers her hoof. She’s unconvinced, but intrigued enough to let me continue. “It might be an easy role to fill, but that doesn’t make it pointless. You and I, we… you serve an important purpose. As an icon, a… symbol, I suppose. Somepony to look up to.”
She coughs, mutters something I can’t hear. “If you want to know the truth, my job’s easy too,” I go on. “The business, as it were, more or less runs itself these days. I make the big decisions, strike an imposing figure, put on airs once in a while… all things someone has to do. Ponies need us like a machine needs oil. To run along smoothly.”
I find myself staring into my glass, tilting it to and fro so the liquid spins around its ice. “The way things ought to be.”
“Wait, yo, hold up,” Moonstone interrupts. She’s upright again, propped on her rigid forelegs. “You run your company? I thought you said your dad–”
“Died,” I finish for her. Through crystalline beads of perspiration, I watch her clouded face go slack. “Going on nine months ago. Congestive heart failure. He passed as comfortably as one can.” I place my glass on the table, spread my freed hooves before me. “And to his eldest went his empire.”
Circumstances notwithstanding, Moonstone retains the decency to let the somber moment run its course. Even her pegasus friend—did she ever even introduce him?—at least looks sympathetic. “Damn,” she eventually opines. “Sorry, bro.”
I wave off her apology and put on a smile—mostly for Flurry’s sake, since hers out of our four is the most inscrutable expression. “He wouldn’t want me to dwell on it,” I say. Little by little, my grin grows more genuine. “And like I said, the peak of society does have its perks.”
Now Moonstone’s face has darkened too, but all that comes of it that I see or hear is a nod and a moment’s glance at Flurry. Whatever she sees in return proves surprisingly motivational.
“All right, then,” she announces as she clambers to her hooves. “No pun intended, but that sure as sugar tits killed my buzz. You know if anyone else’s out tonight, Flurry?”
Flurry Heart doesn’t stand, nor does she take her eyes off me. “Dunno,” she nearly whispers. “Didn’t bother to look.”
A spell of dizziness flattens me against my seat back, and when it departs it leaves a deep, throbbing warmth behind that fills my body from head to hinds. “There’s always Spire,” the pegasus—stars above, he talks—offers up. For a second Moonstone sounds ready to object, but I don’t see whether her face follows suit. My body is paralyzed, my head lost in a piercing glacial tide.
The spell on me dies when another one chimes to life above the table. Her tray and its contents thus disposed of, Moonstone leans in between us and pulls Flurry onto her hooves. With some effort and internal coaxing, I manage to stand up as well. “Let’s just relax, okay?” Moonstone murmurs. “You with me, girl?”
Flurry rubs at her nose again, then drops her hoof into shuffling motion. Once she’s close to me she stops, her eyes lit like the Summer Solstice. She may not have answered out loud, but I know without a thought what mine would’ve been to her question. Moonstone turns around, and Flurry sidles closer still, pressed in close with a purposeful lilt to her stride. When we reach the hallway, her wing brushes against my neck.
And as we turn the corner and begin to climb yet again, I swear on all the heavens that she looks up at me and winks.
===
I almost crumple into a heap the moment I sit down. Flurry catches me before my hooves can. The room’s still spinning around me, choked with smoke and pods of bodies. She keeps me tethered to this couch, next to her, away from the world. A tube of plastic slips between my lips, tastes like berries and freshly strewn ash. I inhale—float away—fall back—exhale. My lips part. The hookah’s hose hits the floor.[
You’re damn right it’s good, Flurry Heart. I’m pretty sure that’s what she asked me before.
“Sorry about earlier,” she says—real quiet, just for me. “I usually don’t do that much.”
I shake my head. A grin tremors through my cheeks. She can’t think I’m mad. I couldn’t be less so. “‘S fine,” I tell her. “Neither do I.”
She giggles at that—I think she can tell it’s true. She pulls my foreleg up, slips beneath it, nestles her head along my neck. Her throat bobs, vibrates against my own.
“You were right,” she mumbles. “I think you do get it.”
“Mmm,” I hum back. “‘Preciate your faith.”
We sit together for a while, thinking to ourselves, letting everypony else think what they will. So far—stars know how long that is exactly—Spire lives up to its name. It’s perched at the summit of a glass stalagmite, accessible only by magic, reserved for the best of ponies and the lucky few they bring up with them. A grayish purple cloud pervades its single circular room, fed by puffs from its occupants and the bulbous apparati we’re crowded around. Soft music—rhythm and blues, melodic and unintelligible—suffuses the haze, surrounds me from all directions, keeps me right where I want to be.
In front of us, Moonstone sways in her pegasus friend’s hooves, groping and grabbing at every inch of him she can reach. Beyond them, the Crystallian skyline glistens within a battle of light and life, moon and stars against fire and gas. I pull Flurry closer, hook my hoof around her hinds. Her wings spread against our loveseat’s cushion, settling an inch above my dock.
“You know she’s one of the Frozen?”
I tilt my head back, manage to catch Flurry’s eye through the corner of mine. She’s looking at Moonstone, searching for something she looks empty of hope she’ll find. “She was just a baby when it happened,” she says. “When Sombra stole the throne and pulled the kingdom out of time. That’s what ponies call them, the ones who were there: Frozen. And now all thawed out, a whole millennium later.”
Few as they number, the pieces still take a moment to click together in my head. “Wait, so she’s…”
“A thousand years old,” Flurry confirms. “Plus a couple decades. She doesn’t remember anything, but her dad… he doesn’t talk about it. Nopony does. All they know is what they did back then. Who they were in a world that doesn’t exist anymore. And my mom and dad, they just… took over, and nopony in the kingdom said a word about it. All anypony cares about is that they’re better off than before. That at least in their own eyes, they’re not slaves anymore.”
For a moment only silence separates us. Flurry twists around within my grip, stares me down with steely intensity. “Why’d you come here?” she asks me. “Why really?”
“Curiosity,” I answer, grinning. “Seemed like a fun way to spend a night.”
“I mean here at all. To the Crystal Empire. To anywhere, ever. Why do you bother when everything you are is something somepony else did first? When you know it won’t be good for anything anyway? Why do you even–”
Either Flurry cuts herself off, or whatever ricochets off her chest in mid-sentence does it first. Either way, a snarled silver chain lies between us on the couch, attached to a familiar walnut-sized pendant. Moonstone, I see when I turn, has gone on the attack, her partner’s vest peeled back and barely hiding what she’s gone tearing into it to find. The two of them stumble into the fog and—with a burst from Moonstone’s horn—vanish within it. When I look back at Flurry, an utterly mad courage seizes hold of me.
“I don’t know.”
Flurry blinks, prods at the metallic refuse her friends left in their wake. “Don’t know what?”
“I don’t know why I bothered to come to the Crystal Empire.”
The uncultured thrill—the sheer novelty—of such outright honesty drives me towards more of it, a roaring, trembling high better than any I’ve felt all night. “I don’t know why I bothered to negotiate, why I bothered to come up here in good faith. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to go to Saddle Arabia next month, or Stalliongrad after that. It never gets me anywhere, never accomplishes anything. And you, your parents, the whole Crystallian delegation, you’re all…”
“We’re all…”
“Frozen!” I have to stifle laughter at first, then forget to bother when Flurry snickers too. “Rooted in place in an iced-over hamlet in the middle of bloody nowhere! There’s nothing we need from here, no leverage your kingdom has over mine. And still all I hear is what your ponies need from mine, what Equestria wants in the name of magical friendship, and to Tartarus with the rest of us for seeing strength as strength and the world for what it really is. It’s diplomatic theater, all talk and no action, a play put on for peasants’ sake. It’s… it’s…”
“Bullshit.”
I look down at Flurry. A devilish grin glints back up at me. Suddenly I want to kiss her more than anything else in the world. “It’s bullshit,” she repeats. “All of it.”
“It is,” I finish, ”It’s bullshit. Kingdoms, empires, royalty, power… all go to those who take it. Like your parents did. Like my father never could.”
I take her hooves in mine, join my gaze with hers until the world is a tunnel with her—only her—at its blinding, beautiful end. “Like I will,” I whisper. “All of it. Everything. From anyone who thinks I can’t.”
She empties her lungs, flutters her lashes. Her hooves squeeze against mine, and I know she understands. And agrees with me. And wants me to do it.
“Let’s get outta here,” she whispers back. Her horn flares, charges, and explodes us into nothingness before I can so much as nod.
===
Her lips reach mine mid-cast, in the midst of our infinitesimal blink through the space between spaces. The rest of her follows when we materialize again, sweet like sugar, heavy like cream. My back hooves touch crystal—spread apart—slip. I tumble off-balance the instant we land. She’s on top of me before my back hits the ground.
Above us, the night sky spins on, ephemeral, invisible. Flurry is all I can see, all I care to feel. Every part of her is mine to do with what I will, lithe and lively, sensual and overpowering. I choose her lips to start, her delicate, silk-soft mouth that pants as she struggles for leverage, moans at my every counter. From there I move to her cheek, the crook of her ear, a downy patch beneath her neck that draws more blissful noise out of her—a half-started shout that dies in her throat as a squeak.
In less than a moment, I’ve regained control. I roll us over, lay my chest on hers, pull up for a breath and finally get a look at where in the world she’s taken us. My heart catches in my chest, then just as quickly doubles its pace: in all directions spreads the entire Crystal Empire, separated from my shaking hooves by the summit of some smooth stone tower and a good two hundred yards of empty air.
For a few seconds I’m frozen, locked in place by adrenaline and the wind whipping through my mane. In the time it takes the irony to fully sink in, the sky’s furious chill has vanished, drained into still silence as simply as if we’d teleported away again. Once my composure returns, I level a pointed look at the change’s only possible source, her horn still dimming from her latest trick. The Princess’s smile could melt glaciers and start wars. I get the sense looking at her that she’d relish either outcome.
“Forgot to ask,” she says brightly. “How are you with heights?”
A bead of sweat escapes my brow, but otherwise I’m more than composed again. “Good enough,” I reply. It’s enough for her to be satisfied, and for me to pick up where we left off.
We proceed a little slower this time, each movement and motion that slightest bit more deliberate. Flurry’s hooves alight on the back of my neck. I thread my own beneath her shoulders, pull her in as close as there’s room between us for. With every touch of her lips and brush through her hair, the rest of her body responds in kind, her hips rolling, her wingtips curling in delight. She’s the kind of lover that stallions dream about—for me, one of many such that ought to start coming true more often.
Soon enough, her grip grows more insistent. The pressure on my neck shifts directions, shepherding me into the feathery tuft of fuzz that crowns her heaving chest. I can’t help but inhale her scent—like the dead of winter diffused by a roaring hearth-built fire, When I surface from my stupor, she thinks it’s chivalry instead.
“Don’t worry...” she croons down to me. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”
I’ve heard all I need to. My muzzle sinks into her sternum, inches down her ribs peck by gentle peck. When I reach her navel, it rises to meet me, flexing beneath my tongue as she giggles and coos. Her hooves fall to rest on my head again. She strokes my neck, and sighs again.
“Gotta say,” she murmurs. “Tonight went a lot better than I thought it would.”
“I’ll second that,” I mumble into her abdominals. Stars above, she’s even fit for a princess: not too much flab, and just enough meat. One shouldn’t misuse the word “perfect”, but I’m hard-pressed now to think of a better one. And speaking of which…
“Shame it has to end like this.”
Her words reach my ears just fine. A few seconds pass before I can unscramble their meaning. The fog from Spire still lingers in my mind, threading between my thoughts as I try to place them in order. Did she just… what did she just say?
“I mean, at this point I kinda wish you could stay for a while,” she continues. That sentence gets through much more quickly. I allow myself a chuckle before getting back to business. “Sucks you have to go back to Beygiria tomorrow, and then off to Saddle Arabia. That’s where you said your next trip’s to, right?”
I nod, my nose rubbing against her belly.
“Ugh. Bet you’re not gonna have any nights like this one there. Aren’t they, like, super strict about drugs and booze, immodesty and all that stuff?”
I nod again. Almost perfect, is my final judgement. I think I liked her better when all she did was moan.
“Good thing they can’t see you now, huh? Blazed out of your mind with a princess out of wedlock… kind of the whole trifecta there.”
Is this her pillow talk? I guess this is her pillow talk. Easy enough to filter out, I suppose.
“That’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid to just go out and live your life, no matter what anyone else thinks. Me, my parents, the Saddle Arabians, your own guards… and mine too, actually.”
Just above her waistline, my descent slows to a halt. I don’t remember seeing any of Flurry’s guards tonight. Come to think of it, how haven’t I?
“Oh geez, you don’t even know who I’m talking about, do you? Yeah, the guy Moonstone was with, the pegasus. Name’s Sky Rider, 71st Squadron in the ol’ RCAF. Don’t freak out, though, he’s cool. Super paranoid, though. You know that necklace he wears, the big gaudy pendant thing? Moonstone swears it’s got a listening stone in it.”
… A what?
“Like, a little crystal charmed with a recording spell. Just carries it around with him all the time, even out to clubs. Isn’t that nuts? Like, why would you even do something like that? To always have an alibi or something?”
He has a what?
“Course, Moonstone’s totally full of it half the time, so who knows if that’s even true, but holy crap, can you imagine? Everything we did tonight, everything we talked about, and he was right there. Basically right next to us.”
And then right between us. Bouncing off of Flurry’s chest. Trapped beneath her haunch while I said any number of things meant for no one’s ears but hers.
“Damn, and wasn’t Moonstone taking pictures too? She’s totally obsessed with it lately, got this little portable camera that she hides inside hats and dresses and stuff. Who knows why she always has to take candids instead of regular photos, and with that big-ass flash too. Thing went off like a half-dozen times back at Labra. Kind of crazy you didn’t notice.”
A prickling chill grows between my lungs, spreading outwards and inwards until my whole chest feels heavy as brick.
“I mean, she’s cool too, though. Least, I’m pretty sure she is. I mean, she did pretty much throw this thing at me earlier.”
I look up. Flurry doesn’t look down. She has Skyrider’s pendant wrapped around her upraised hoof, batting it back and forth with her magic like a disinterested kitten.
“But whatever, right? Doesn’t matter. It’s cool. We’re all cool.” Now her eyes shift down to me. Subtly, ever so slightly, her haunches tighten around my neck. “You are cool, right?”
My face twitches, then smacks back into Flurry’s chest. I think I tried to lunge at her—the memory’s fuzzy already—and hardly moved an inch. My forehoof slides limply off her collarbone, as far as I could manage to reach. Her hoof with the pendant hangs above her head—well out of reach, still as dead meat.
“Yeah,” she says. “That’s what I thought.”
I can’t speak. The words just won’t come, and even if they did my throat’s too dry to voice them. There’s a twinkle in Flurry’s eyes again, an almost animalistic hunger that feels like jaws made of ice closing around my skull. She’s conquered me completely, could ruin me with a flare of her horn. What’s trapped in that pendant—burned onto Moonstone’s film—is the end of any relationship with the Saddle Arabians, a nightmare of kingship-tainting proportions. She wouldn’t do this to me. She can’t.
“W-Wh…” I have to shape each word with a sandpaper tongue, swallow hard just to get each one out. “Wh-what do you want? I can… I-I’ll…”
“What, exactly?” Her tone isn’t cold, or even calculating. She sounds serene, almost indifferent, nothing like she has the whole night up to now. Exactly like her father, so long ago today. “Take it back? All of it? From everypony who gets in your way?”
“You… t-this is blackmail!”
Flurry snorts, crumples her brow. “Oh, whaaat? Come on, this isn’t that bad. I mean, blackmail would be something big. Like, I dunno, using food supplies as a bargaining chip two months before winter, which for the record seriously sucks up here.” She lifts the pendant again, jostles it into a jerky spin on its chain. “Don’t think of this as blackmail. Think of it as, oh, what was the word you used… leverage."
I squeeze my eyes shut, grit my teeth until my eyelids burn white. Flurry shifts a bit, relaxes her legs, lets my head slump down onto her stomach. “You know, I wasn’t lying earlier,” she goes on. “Being a princess is easy. You’re not responsible for anything, nopony’s counting on you, and it turns out you can do pretty much anything you want with your free time and pretty much no one cares. And so I do do everything I want, whenever I want, with whoever I want… because someday I’m not gonna be a princess anymore, and I will be responsible for things. And ponies will care.”
“What… do you want?” I ask her again.
“What do I… um, nothing?” she says, genuinely puzzled. “I already have everything I want, that’s what I just said. I mean, my parents probably want to keep that trade deal your dad made. Maybe tack on a few tariff revocations too.” She leans her head back, purses her lips in thought. “And now that I think about it, actually, Daddy did promise to get me a hot tub if I got him a troop withdrawal from Luna Bay. So… I guess I want that? Let’s just go with all that.”
“That… I-I can’t…”
“Nah, you totally can. Just catch Daddy real quick before your train leaves tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Stars in heaven, she’s a madmare. A sensuous, two-faced, ruthlessly brilliant madmare. I’ve never felt so debased—or so mortifyingly entranced. “You… you’re…”
“Yeah,” Flurry Heart chuckles, “I am. But only because I learned to be, from the best there are at it. How to be fair, how to win friends and influence ponies, how powerful love is and what you can accomplish with it… and if it’s ever called for, how to go just a little bit crazy. Of course, you don’t really need to know any of that. You’re a king, after all. But if I were you, there is one thing I would take away from all this. It’s very simple, very straightforward, and you would do very well to remember it…”
Her hoof snakes down her chest, wedges under my chin, pushes it up until I’m level with her smiling eyes.
“Do not fuck with my empire,” she says. “Or my hot tub. Got it?”
I have no choice. I can’t resist. Later, I’ll probably wonder if I even wanted to try.
“Yes,” I croak. She tilts her head up, stares at me down her nose. “Your Highness,” I add with a wince.
“Thank you,” she replies, “your Grace."
Suddenly I’m exhausted, my eyes flagging, my legs limp and useless. But when Flurry’s hoof moves, my head doesn’t fall.
“Oh, and one more thing, handsome?”
Her frog flattens against my forehead, pushes it down and back towards her waist. She’s smiling again—hungry—starving.
“... I didn’t say stop.”
