Author's Note

Chapter Four Recap:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1A_ZpTeq4VOAOxC462Jb0LsUQn5qmPO_HUqGfIm3Df10/edit?usp=sharing

The Long Shadow of Canterlot

The sparkling stone arches of the throne room sprawl out above its single occupant. Massive banners and stained glass windows line the castle walls, filling the room with a brilliant range of color. In the center, aligned neatly with the thrones behind it and the entrance doors in front, is a long, ornate wooden table. And only one pony sits at it.

Princess Celestia chews her salad slowly, briefly pausing to drink from the porcelain teacup to her left. She’s placed squarely at the table’s end, so that she can watch the enormous metal doors as they swing open and introduce a new guest.

Celestia watches as the thin pegasus scampers close to the opposite end of the table, and the doors close behind her. Her mane is dry and messy—as it always was—and with the metal hair stick noticeably absent from the back, the silvery locks have no reason to do anything other than fall lazily against her shoulders.

“Good evening, Moon Dust.”

The pegasus merely nods in response.

“I take it you have some news for me?”

Moon Dust instinctually looks over her shoulder before proceeding. “I have some leads.” She reaches for a pack of cigarettes nestled in the crook of her wings. “The meat looks like it’s being imported. Probably have our friends in Griffonstone to thank for that.” With a cigarette dangling out of her mouth, Moon Dust pauses her explanation to light a match, and subsequently her smoke.

Princess Celestia places her fork down gently, and regards the other mare with a disappointed frown. “Please, Moon Dust. You can at least pretend to obey the law.”

The pegasus looks up after hearing her name, and uses her wing to frantically pull the lit cigarette away from her lips. “Right; sorry.” She says. She then looks awkwardly around her for some place to dispose of it, failing to find one. With a sigh and an act of magic, Celestia helps her subordinate by moving her teacup from one end of the table to the other, dropping it neatly in front of Moon Dust. “Thanks…” The cigarette and match are forced into the cup with a sizzle, thanks to the mare’s efforts.

“Now, what about the guns? Have you traced their origin back yet?” The Princess asks firmly.

“Yes.” Moon Dust replies plainly, without a hint of dramatic effect. “Those are being moved a lot closer to home. The Equestrians are getting their weapons from a crime syndicate in White Tail.”

Celestia momentarily glances off to the side, perhaps to parse the information. “I see. And you have a plan to stop this, I presume?”

Moon Dust shifts uncomfortably once more. “I… can certainly begin to look into it.”

Celestia leans away from the table, stiffening her back and creating a more imposing silhouette. Silence ensues, and the pegasus’s discomfort begins to grow more apparent. She slowly takes a few steps back. “If that’s all…”

“I’m tired of this, Moon Dust.”

The much younger mare pauses her retreat. “Princess…?”

“Tired of liars and criminals and murderers flourishing under my wing. I didn’t hire you for your ability to ‘look into things’, I hired you because you are merciless, I expect you to be—merciless.” The two keep their gazes locked onto one another, Celestia making her order with stone cold delivery. “Is that understood?”

Moon Dust stares unblinking at her matriarch. Her eyes are sharp, and brooding; like a hundred horrors had seared them. “Yes.”

“Good.” The princess replies. “Then you may depart.”

* * *

The cold bite of winter creeps over Equestria, dusting the hills and woods with a thin layer of snow. Light burns in the encroaching darkness, atop a wagon stationed near a small stream and a group of pine trees. Voices can be heard softly from inside, and every now and then a mare’s silhouette passes by the glowing window.

A blue unicorn swivels and poses in front of a large mirror, inspecting her reflection from a myriad of angles. “Hmm.” She muses, staring at the fur-like material lining the collar of her winter jacket.

In the back of the wagon, Starlight Glimmer lounges on a small alcove beneath a fogged window, twisting and turning a wooden puzzle box with her magic. She keeps her focus locked on the curious item, even as the unicorn in front of the mirror turns to get her attention.

“Starlight, do you think I look dignified in a jacket, or is it more of a dazzling?”

“Uh-huh.” The mare dully responds, fidgeting incessantly with the wooden puzzle.

“Starlight!”

The blue unicorn’s hoof stomp and whining is enough to pry Starlight Glimmer’s attention away from the puzzle, only to do a double take on her friend’s appearance. “Hey, is that my jacket?”

She briefly looks down and inspects the garment she wears, before shaking her head and changing the subject. “Nevermind that. Are you even listening to me—I uh—” A wince and another head shake. “I mean, are you okay?”

Starlight can’t help but scoff at her friend’s attempt to correct the narcissism in her reaction. It was charming, in an odd little way. “Fine. Just uh… thinking about your next show, is all.”

The mare in a jacket rolls her eyes and returns to inspecting herself in the mirror. “Oh, please. You’re concerned about the show I’ve done a hundred times now.” She pauses to use her magic and summon a stool and manebrush, planting herself down in front of the mirror and getting to work. “Starlight Glimmer, you’re moping about Twilight Sparkle again.”

“What?” Starlight suddenly responds, with more energy in her voice than at any other point in the night. “I do have my own life, Trixie. Not everything is related to Twilight and her friends!”

Trixie glances to her side with disbelief, before simply returning to her brushing and laying the conversation to rest. For a moment, the mane brushing is the only sound that’s present in the small wagon, as Starlight simply stares at the wooden contraption without actually attempting to solve it.

“Okay, well since you brought it up anyway—”

“Ah-HAH!” Trixie excitedly exclaims.

“—doesn’t it seem like she’s growing kind of distant?” Starlight’s voice trails off, but returns before Trixie can get her two cents in. “And I mean, of course it’s kind of all of them, not just Twilight.” She quickly amends. “But—maybe mostly Twilight…”

Trixie tilts her head and raises her brow dramatically; but at her own reflection, and not toward Starlight. “I wouldn’t know. I kept my distance from her long before you had any reason to.”

“I don’t want their to be distance! That’s what I’m saying!”

“Let me tell you something.” Trixie finally spins on her stool so that she can face her friend. “I’ve known Twilight Sparkle a lot longer than you have, and I promise you—you are not missing anything by not hanging out with her all the time.”

The unicorn in the alcove shakes her head and narrows her eyes. “Didn’t you bring a bear or something into Ponyville when you two first met?”

“That is beside the point! Trixie never brings up what happened at your village like everypony else does, and Trixie would expect the same courtesy from her friend!”

“Trixie’s right, I’m sorry.” The blue unicorn snaps her head back to the mirror as Starlight sighs and sits up, so her legs can dangle over the ledge. “All I meant was… maybe you—well, maybe neither of us were in a great position to judge a pony’s character back then. She’s alright, Trixie. I think you two would honestly get along, if you tried.” There’s no reply from the magician in front of the mirror, but she does ‘hmm’ in acknowledgement. “...And if she also wasn’t so busy all the time…”

Starlight Glimmer leans back into her spot near the window, and allows Trixie to brush her mane in peace. It isn’t until her eyes focus in on the fur-lined coat, that she finds something else to say. “Hey, that’s definitely my jacket!”

Trixie gives a her friend a quick, placid glance. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Starlight scoffs, and leans back into the alcove with the wooden cube and an amused smirk.

* * *

Darkness hangs over the cobblestone streets of Canterlot, but it’s unable to penetrate the warm glow that the shops and street lights project. For snowfall, however, the light only serves to reveal its gentle descent onto the stone below, where it nestles against window sills and crevices in the road.

Several ponies walk this quiet road, two more lively than the rest. Lyra Heartstrings and Twilight Sparkle approach the edge of the former’s restaurant, dark and lifeless as its interior may be. They stop just before the main entrance, where Dr. Heartstrings takes the time to unlock the doors with a silver key. She watches behind them as Twilight heads in, and is quick to relock the door, making sure the sign posted there is still spun to the ‘closed’ side.

“Dark in here…” Princess Twilight needlessly observes. The room is shrouded in darkness, save a glowing red exit sign posted near the back of the restaurant.

“Hold on one second.” Lyra asks of her colleague, just as she heads off to circle around the bar. In this lapse of the unicorn’s company, Twilight turns to watch the enchanting view of the street from behind glass. Snow materializes in the cone of light under the streetlamp, a couple bring their muzzles together lightly as their children trot merrily ahead, and the entire scene is bordered by the restaurant's windows, giving it the appearance of a moving painting.

The lights behind the bar snap on and Twilight turns to see a smiling Dr.Heartstrings behind it. “There!” She exclaims. To Twilight’s surprise, the next thing she grasps in her telekinesis is bottle from behind the bar, levitating it up to the countertop with the label facing outward.

“Wow,” Twilight begins, eyebrows raised. “what’s the occasion?”

Lyra seems content with simply allowing her mischievous smirk to do the answering for her, turning tail and cantering off to the kitchen. “Take a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Twilight Sparkle chuckles quietly to herself, amused by the childlike whimsy her colleague was exhibiting, but willing to play along all the same. She hoists herself up onto a bar stool and watches the kitchen doorway patiently.

As Lyra passes back through it, it’s with two champagne glasses in tow. “Princess Twilight.” She says, smile beaming. Twilight, still confused, widens her grin and shakes her head at the mare’s antics. Dr. Heartstrings begins her return trip to the bar as she finally starts an explanation. “Three months ago—well, technically three months ago tomorrow—we began this wondrous journey into the past, and into the history of our lovely, mysterious, occasionally warmongering bipedal friends!”

Twilight laughs at the long-winded explanation. “Are we to celebrate this benchmark quarterly?”

Lyra approaches the employee side of the bar, and puts the glasses down so that she can start uncorking the champagne. “Well we’ll see how this one goes, and then we can talk about scheduling dates in the future.” The cork comes loose with a satisfying ‘pop’, and a smokey trail of frigid air. The unicorn holds one of the glasses up and pours the golden beverage slowly.

“Do we have our ‘bipedal friends’ to thank for the drink?”

Lyra almost immediately springs into a critical analysis, holding the filled glass up into the light. “Ah, so you’ve noticed. Yes a… Lauret Péri. First made along the shores of ancient France—” Lyra places the glass back down and finishes her thought with a dry tone. “I’m just kidding, I got this at a grocery store down the street.”

The joke earns a giggle from Twilight, who wraps a forehoof around the base of the glass as Lyra sends it her way. “You’ve come terribly unprepared for Canterlot’s first official Human Arts and Culture celebration, haven’t you?”

“Mmm…” Lyra muses while her magic pours the second glass. “Don’t count me out, just yet.” She rushes to place the filled glass down, loosen her winter scarf, then dart off to the jukebox. Her familiarity with the library is almost immediately evident, having a song selected and playing in less than fifteen seconds.

It starts off quiet, a muted guitar picking rhythmically in the background. Lyra leans against the machine as the noise amplifies, bobbing her head in an expressionless ‘cool mare’ act while a second electric guitar plays the chorus with brief, powerful chords. “How’s THAT for prepared?” She shouts over the music, as Twilight laughs gleefully from her seat.

It doesn’t take long for the bottle to lose most of its contents. The bottom becomes nearly visible, and the remaining champagne sits illuminated under the restaurant's lights, a hoof’s reach away from either of the mares. Lyra had switched sides on the counter, sitting on a stool next to her friend, listening and laughing at the stories they delve into. The music continued to play, but was much quieter, and relaxing. A jazzy tune; an echo, played by an ensemble of ghosts.

“So…” Dr. Heartstrings begins, a virtually permanent grin on her muzzle. “...Celestia’s favorite student—what was that like?”

Twilight scoffs. “I don’t know if I was her favorite… She just…” She drifts off, curling her lip back and grazing it with her teeth. “...I don’t know, she knew my parents.”

“Pft—” Interjects Lyra. “Come on, everypony knows what she saw in you. Hell, she probably even knew you were gonna be an element of harmony…” The unicorn’s story trails off as she reaches to finish off the bottle. There’s a meek, barely audible protest from Twilight as Lyra goes to pour more into her glass. This goes ignored. “Oh! Your first trip to Ponyville! Tell me how that went down, like—how did you meet all of your friends?”

The princess pulls her drink close with a forehoof, but doesn’t lift it up for a sip. “Enough about me, it’s… so long and boring.” She says as she rolls her head around a forehoof propped up at the elbow. “Tell me about you! The ponies you met at Starswirl, the spells you had a hoof in writing, the, the—relationship you were last in.”

The last part sends a little shock through Lyra, who’s head recoils back and whose eyes briefly and lazily shut. “Alright. I get it.” Her smile remains as she raises her hooves in mock surrender. “So uh… this, piece I think was composed in the 1930s by Duke… something…”

Twilight Sparkle starts to chuckle and places a hoof on Lyra’s half of the countertop. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to prod.”

“No, yeah; I know.” Her eyes flutter down to the violet hoof still extended out on the bar, then back up to Twilight’s soft, pensive gaze. Lyra’s lips part, and briefly hover apart from one another while she searches for her words. “Uh… how do I…” She turns to look up at the lights, and away from her friend’s eyes; perhaps out of necessity. “...I moved to Ponyville like… ten years ago, now. I was just trying to ‘stretch my wings’, so to speak, and Ponyville seemed like a nice compromise between the country and Canterlot—which, I was sure I couldn’t afford at the time.”

The last of the champagne in her glass empties out, as she leans back and pours it straight into her mouth before revealing anymore. “...Anyway, I was new in town, and I didn’t know anypony. Ended up working at one of those dumb juice stands—you know, like you see on the street corners? Well, she’d… come around, I guess. Order the same thing everyday. One day it finally dawned on me that she didn’t much care for ‘Tropic Twisters’.” Twilight Sparkle smiles and snickers quietly, encouraging Lyra to carry on. “So that goes on for… five years, I think? Things were going pretty good, I thought. It was the longest relationship I had been in.”

“Why didn’t you—” Twilight begins, before clearing her throat and straightening her posture. “—if you don’t mind me asking,”

“Get married?” Lyra guesses, earning a small nod from Princess Twilight. “I don’t know. I guess I was scared; I didn’t know anypony at the time who was married, and... I was getting pretty involved in my schoolwork. Maybe too involved.” The bottle draws Lyra’s attention away for a moment, and she picks it up in her telekinesis so that another round can be poured. This exhausts the bottle’s supply. “Suffice it to say, I felt like there was a growing gap between us, and I was determined to fix that. So one night, I come home from class, I ask her to sit with me in the living room, and I lay it all out. You know, ‘I really like what we have, and I don’t want us to drift apart, let’s have complete honesty from now on…” She punctuates this point of the story with a wave of her hoof. “I tell her: ‘I want to be better. I’m going to make an effort… to be closer with you.’” She says, hefting her glass into the air while staring off at the wall behind Twilight.

“And then she one ups me at our little game by a landslide—and tells me that she’d been seeing somepony else for over six months.” A much needed drink brake incurs, Lyra taking another sip before saying anything else. “She told me so plainly… Like, she was telling me what she wanted from the grocery store.” The unicorn can’t help but chuckle a little, although she does so alone. Twilight’s goofy smile is nothing but an echo. “It’s not all bad, anyway. She left me with experience, and, we can all use a little of that. Oh,” Her magic yanks the glass away as she remembers something else. “and this restaurant, of course.”

A small smile returns to Twilight’s muzzle as she attempts to mirror Dr.Heartstring’s optimism. The inappropriately upbeat tune coming from the jukebox begins to wind down, and before long its medley of brass and rhythmic bass resolves with a single, fading note. And then: silence.

“Lyra, I…” Twilight’s eyes roll up from the countertop, and into the gaze of her colleague. She’s smiling, the mint green unicorn. Her ears are perked and her forehoof lies lazily across the bar in front of her drink. It was like they had never even stopped talking about human music, and Lyra was waiting patiently for Twilight’s critique.

Before Twilight’s thoughts can manifest in any kind of verbalization, the silence disappears, replaced by a new song on the jukebox. It’s a modern sounding guitar, like earlier in the night—but this one is softer, cleaner, and raw; like each note being picked in the chords can be heard individually. They linger with vibrato, and are chained together with the soft metallic sliding noise only a hand could ever make. Lyra tilts her head and closes her eyes, just basking in the melody. Shortly after, the soothing introduction ends, and a slow, sparse percussion joins the lonely guitar for the first verse.

“I love this one…” Lyra says, head swaying gently in rhythm. “This time—the early Twenty-first Century, I mean—this is the period you could probably draw the most parallels with. Doesn’t it sound like something that could have been recorded here in Equestria?”

Twilight’s agape mouth finally seals, and instead of trying to find the right words of sympathy, she simply opts to watching her friend revel in the music, with a smile of her own finally returning.

“When I was… thirteen…” The jukebox sings. Dr. Heartstrings gets lost again, mouthing the lyrics of the song while rocking back and forth on her bar stool. When she opens her eyes again and looks over to Twilight, her sway ceases, and the smile fades. There are tears in Twilight’s eyes, despite her desperate attempt to wipe them away with a forehoof.

“What’s wrong?” Asks Lyra, leaning close for support. The music is deaf to the room’s abrupt mood change, carrying on with its heartfelt lyrics about how ‘you’re the one…’.

Twilight sniffs, and shakes her head as her wings involuntarily start to unfurl. “Nothing, it’s…” Her red eyes dart around the room as she clears her throat and tries to focus on her friend. Once she does, she finds Lyra staring back with her eyes wide open and an air of genuine compassion welcoming the alicorn. “...I really like working with you.”

Lyra Heartstrings can’t help but snicker at the comment, the mare’s professionalism still shining through her ragged, emotional tone. “I really like working with you too, Princess.”

Lyra moves her hoof to gently lay atop Twilight’s, and greets it with a pat that evolves into more of a short caress. Princess Twilight exhales as her wings and shoulders tense a little from the warm contact. Her eyelids flutter over her misty gaze as she freezes in place, but cannot look away from the mare sitting across from her. She bobs her head forward an inch, before retracting it and taking another deep breath. The next time her head bobs forward, it doesn’t stop.

The kiss surprises Dr.Heartstrings for a moment; but only for a moment. Soon her eyes join Twilight’s in closing, and the two twist their heads a little to elongate the contact. When they do finally pull away, Twilight has a gaze like she’s hesitant, or that she’s waiting for a response. The only one Lyra offers her is a quivering smile, and a half suppressed laugh.

The kiss resumes, their muzzles meeting each other halfway this time. The hoof holding tightens with the intensity of the kiss, and Lyra’s remaining forehoof hovers up to sweep back through Twilight’s mane on the side.

They kiss alone at the edge of the light, in a little patch of warmth amidst the snowy streets. All the while, the music plays.

* * *

Night surrenders to the dawn, and the black void over Canterlot is replaced by a brilliant gradient of light.

Twilight’s eyes open slowly. Despite the weather, she finds herself surrounded by warmth; warmth from the blanket, and from the body nestled closely against her back. She stretches out her hind legs and buries her head deeper into the pillow, rousing the mare next to her.

“Your wings come out in your sleep.” Lyra says with a smile and a gentle caress of the princesses’s shoulder. Her eyes remained closed as she brings her muzzle in for a kiss against the other mare’s back.

“I’m sorry.” Twilight admits meekly. “Never really did get totally comfortable with them.”

Lyra chortles briefly, reveling in the shared body heat the two of them emit under the blanket. Both are content with simply lying there for a spell, until Dr. Heartstrings lifts herself up out of the covers and looks down at Twilight with a sleepy grin. “I’m gonna go make us breakfast.”

Twilight acknowledges the idea with a tired nod herself, and surely has plans to join the other pony as she slides to the edge of the bed. But not before she can roll onto her back and pull the blanket close to her chin, staring up at the apartment ceiling with heavy eyelids half-closed.

By the time the princess finally emerges in the kitchen, Lyra is already standing over the stove with smoke curling off of her skillet. She turns to happily greet the alicorn, who, still not quite as awake, leans against the open doorway to watch. “Good morning! There’s uh, orange juice on the table, glasses above the sink there.” She spins around briefly to poke at the food she’s preparing. “I’m making crêpes.”

The sentence obviously doesn’t quite land with Twilight, who narrows her eyes and stares idly at the white tile floor. “You’re what?”

Lyra turns back around and points her spatula at a plate of them already cooked. “Papercakes. Crêpes is what the humans originally named them.”

Twilight’s look of confusion turns into one of amusement, and she huffs lazily; more manageable than a laugh, in her current state. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Course I didn’t.” Lyra responds plainly, returning to the stove top. “I wanted to.”

Princess Twilight makes a smile that Lyra can’t see, then moseys over to the counter to retrieve a glass. While doing so, she notices the assortment of dishes and ingredients that had been assembled on the counter next to the ‘crêpes’. There’s a dirty mixing bowl with a reservoir of batter still resting at the bottom, next to a bag of flour and smaller bowl caked with some kind of liquid mix of ingredients. A small dish of raspberry jam can be seen as well, near the edge of the counter.

Twilight fills her glass with juice, then sets it down on the table. She then makes a trip to the counter where Lyra stands, through pure conviction more than the energy to do so. Lyra’s head twists around for a double take as Twilight’s magic begins to envelope one of the dirty bowls.

“Ah, ah!” The unicorn snaps. “No guest of mine will be doing any of those; especially not hungover ones.”

Twilight scoffs, holding the dish in her magic’s grasp. “I’m not hungover!”

No response is uttered, but Lyra makes sure Twilight can see her smirk and raised brow. The princess rolls her eyes. “I have… a little bit of a headache.” Lyra smugly returns to the sizzling pan as Twilight places the bowl back down.

“You talk with Celestia about migrating all this new data to our libraries? We’re actually sequencing the DNA faster than we can properly catalog it, now.”

Princess Twilight sighs as she returns to her seat at the small kitchen table. “Yeah, she insists our hooves are tied. I’m sure she’s right, too, after what happened with the council…”

The unicorn at the stove turns around with a perplexed look. “What happened—” Her eyes look up at the ceiling light as she searches her memory, and Twilight starts to explain. Starts to, anyway; Lyra obviously reaches some kind of conclusion as she nods her head and returns to the counter. “Ooooh, that’s right. That whole thing.” She puts the finishing touches on a plate of ‘crêpes’ and then lifts them into her levitation. “What a nightmare. And you’re actually fairly close with the High Council, aren’t you?”

“No, I—” Twilight quickly responds, interrupted as Lyra places the full plate of food before her. They’re cooked to a golden perfection, and folded shut with a great helping of jam oozing from their centers. “...Thank you, they look delicious.”

With pep Twilight hadn’t had in at least twelve hours—and likely many more than that—Lyra smiles proudly at the opposite end of the table. “You’re welcome, Princess.”

The alicorn looks up as her friend returns to the counter, assumingly to finish the preparations. Twilight’s gaze searches for something intangible in the gap between the two of them, before falling off completely and watching the breakfast table tiredly.

“You were talking about the council?”

Twilight’s eyes whisk back up. “Oh—yeah, I was just saying that I don’t really know any of them that well. Except for Dominus—and, Celestia and Luna of course.”

Lyra dumps the last papercake out of the skillet and onto a plate, before turning around and bringing it to the table. “I’m kind of surprised. I figured Celestia couldn’t wait to assimilate you after your alicornation.”

There’s a pause in Twilight’s sawing of her food with fork and knife, and she looks up at the mare still hustling around the kitchen with a quizzical expression. “‘Assimilate’?” Lyra shrugs, and makes another trip to the counter to collect the remaining ingredients.

“You know, I just mean like—induct you into her secret administration, or whatever.” She says while placing down the jam and butter. Twilight snickers, and suspends the glass of orange juice before her so that she can respond before taking a sip.

“...Surely, there’s something other than work that we can discuss?”

Dr. Heartstrings purses her lips as Twilight takes her chance to drink. “Yeah—sure, I mean—we could talk about how incredible you were with your tongue last night?”

The comment immediately elicits a reaction in Twilight, who flings her forehoof up to her muzzle to muffle the sounds of her choking on the juice. She takes a moment to compose herself while Lyra leans against the back of her chair with a wicked smirk.

“...I’d… better get back to the castle soon…” Twilight admits, already pushing herself away from the table. Lyra laughs, and swoops in to change her mind.

“No I’m sorry; you stay here and finish your breakfast, I’ll hop in the shower.” She says. It doesn’t take long for her to stay true to her word either, Twilight reaching out as she heads for the living room.

“You didn’t even eat any yourself!” She cries out, watching Lyra’s unyielding retreat.

“The’ll still be there when I’m done!” Her tail disappears behind the wall before she’s even finished responding.

Twilight, hopeless to stop her and alone in the room now, sighs and turns back around. She looks down at the well-prepared meal, and the single bite taken out of it; and then she stares outward, toward the small window nestled above the sink and between the cupboards. Musings hold her attention here, where the red brick of the neighboring building can be seen, and the light filters through in a dusty little square of light.

She smiles. But only briefly, and with eyes that sink low as it dissolves.

* * *

There’s a knock on the office door. Dominus Temporis, leaning back on his chair behind his desk, looks up from his book and toward the sound. “Come in.” He announces.

The handle clicks and the door swings open, revealing a duo of mares on the other side.

“Ah,” Dominus moves his hind claws back and allows the chair to fall flat onto its feet. “Sol et luna! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Princess Celestia approaches first, standing in the center of the dragon’s room. There’s an ornate wooden desk separating the ponies and Dominus, the dragon himself confined to a small half-hexagonal extension of the room, where tall, frosted windows surround him. “Good morning, Dominus. I suppose you’ve known this is coming?”

The amber scaled creature places his book down gently, and smiles at the princess. “Your council inspection. Yes, I’m aware.”

Celestia turns her head and looks at the bookshelves lining the left wall. “I’m sorry, Dominus. I know you’re a trusted ally of Canterlot. I just need to be objective.”

“Not that we could catch him like this if he wasn’t…” Princess Luna quips from behind her elder sister. The comment elicits another smile from Dominus.

“I assure you, I’ve abstained from interfering with fate, and I’d be happy to comply with whatever rules you two deem necessary.” The chair drags noisily across the hardwood floor as the dragon pushes himself away from the desk.

Celestia makes a small but genuine smile. “I know, Dominus.”

The elder alicorn breaks for the left side of the office as her sister takes the right, and Dominus Temporis leans against the wooden support on the corner of the alcove. Beyond the cold glass behind him, there’s a stone tower that protrudes into the nearly colorless sky, and a golden flag that blows gently in the wind.

“So how goes the hunt?” Dominus asks with his arms crossed.

Celestia looks over her shoulder and away from a book that she had pulled from the shelves. “...Everypony’s been clean so far, but—”

“Sorry—” Dominus interrupts, shaking his head. “I meant the other hunt. The radicals.”

“Mmm, our so called ‘Equestrians’?” Luna concludes from her end of the room. “Celestia here has already shut down a good portion of their operations. Three bases they used to smuggle in illicit merchandise, all shuttered in less than a week.”

Dominus’s scaly fingers unfurl as he exposes his palm and looks at the princess in question. “Success worth celebrating, it sounds like.”

“Hardly.” She responds, much to Luna’s annoyance.

“You saved lives, sister. If left untouched who knows what kind of damage could have been caused by those warehouses. You should be proud.”

Princess Celestia doesn’t respond; in fact, her head had never turned away from the bookshelf as Luna had spoken. She cranes her neck down at a cabinet with a lamp atop, and inspects the small lock on the outside. “Do you have a key for this?” She asks Dominus, leaving Luna to roll her eyes and turn back around.

“Yes, I—” The dragon stammers as he navigates back to his desk and pulls open a drawer, its contents rattling noisily as he does so. “—think…” His claw hovers over the drawer, where all manner of keys, pens, folded up notes, pocket watches, and at least one sextant lay before him. “Try… this one:” He pulls out a small golden key, and passes it into Celestia’s field of levitation.

“Thank you.” The princess says. She leans down to the cabinet and pushes in the key, unlocking it after some brief twisting and fidgeting. “We’ve made progress against the radicals, true, but the fact remains that they shouldn’t have ever been a problem in the first place.” There’s a strange assortment of items in the cabinet, mostly seem to be magical in nature. A few crystals, vials filled with glowing fluids.

Luna looks up from the book she’d been flipping through, and watches her sister curiously. “Nopony’s perfect, you know. That doesn’t mean anypony must be at fault, either.”

This gives pause to Princess Celestia, who stares at her younger coruler with a contemplative gaze. As the two remain there, locked in their wordless debate, Celestia’s eyes begin to trail down away from the alicorn’s face, and toward the object held in her levitation. The title of the book is left visible, but barely legible at the angle Luna holds it. “What is… that?”

Princess Luna holds the book up so the other occupants of the room can see the tile, as she cocks her head around to see it herself. “‘Dracula?’ I’m getting the sense that a human wrote it.”

“That’s right.” Dominus chimes in, happy to rejoin the conversation. “Fantastic tales of the dead returning to life, and men creating life themselves; these were literary concepts beginning to really bloom during the late 19th century. The author, Abraham Stoker, would die poor and in failing health. But his writing, and its imaginative use of myth and legend persists even today...”

Celestia quietly paces over to the end of the room Luna stands at, eyes fixated on the bookshelf.

“They’re all man-written.” Dominus says. “Those ones over there. Started a bit of a collection.”

One of the books comes sliding out of its spot on the shelf with the help of Celestia’s magic; a plain, tan book with thick brown binding and its title printed by its lonesome on the cover. ‘Helmet for My Pillow’, it reads. ‘Robert Leckie’. The princess opens the cover gently, and begins to flip through some of the pages.

“That was written by a soldier during the second World War. It’s a personal telling of his experiences.” Celestia pauses her reading upon hearing Dominus’s comment, and looks up at him with eyes sharp and attentive. “I keep it up there for… historical context, I suppose. I realize an interest in history may seem ironic for a creature like me.”

Princess Celestia looks again at the row of foreign literature, then closes the one held in her magic shut, and resumes their discussion. “Again I apologize for the intrusion, Dominus.” An apology met only with the dragon’s shrug and dismissive frown. “This will all be over soon enough, but in the meantime—expect more of it.”

“I understand completely.” He responds with a small smile.

Celestia briefly matches his optimism, then allows the smile to fade as she turns around and nods at Princess Luna. The younger alicorn puts back the copy of ‘Dracula’, waving briefly to Dominus before turning around and following in her sister’s hoofsteps. Celestia still holds onto the tan book as she leaves.

The two of them walk down the castle hall in silence; at least until Princess Celestia speaks up. “What you said back there…” She begins, without actually turning around. “...about nopony being perfect…”

“Yes?” Luna asks curiously.

The next step Celestia takes brings her trot to a halt. She turns so that she can see her coruler, and waits for her to gait to cease as well. “I need to know that you’re willing to ignore that sentiment.”

Luna, now more confused than before, twists her expression tighter and cocks her head. “How’s that?”

“This…” Celestia motions around her with a wing. “This all didn’t come to be because I settled. It’s the product of centuries of work and willpower. And I won’t watch it crumble before me.”

“Celestia, nopony exp—”

“This isn’t about anypony’s expectations, this is about what I know must be done. And you need to be with me on that.”

Luna’s mouth hangs agape as she studies her sister’s cold, stern look. A scolding that Luna couldn’t help but feel unwarranted. “Okay.” She says with a sliver of Celestia’s conviction.

“...I intend to lead the first perfect nation. This has been the goal since the castle was erected. It’s why my citizens have purpose. It’s why there’s singing in the streets. And it’s certainly why nopony in Equestria has ever needed to write something like—this.” Luna’s eyes flutter in shock as Celestia pushes the book against her chest. Her magic instinctively takes hold of it as Celestia’s releases, even though her attention is planted firmly on the ivory alicorn herself. The magnificent, flowing mane turns away with her head; and without another word, her trot resumes.

Celestia finishes the rest of the walk down the hall by herself, and Luna can do little but stand frozen and watch her.

* * *

The grounds outside of Twilight’s castle are littered with snow; although, it’d seem like the last of it had fallen. A pegasus wearing a black aviator jacket trots through it diligently, right up to the golden double door at the base of the castle’s crystal trunk. She knocks three times, then stands back and waits. There’s a look of discomfort on her face.

Rainbow Dash doesn’t need to wait long before the doors swing open, and reveal The Princess of Friendship to her. “Hi, Rainbow!” She beams, bangs bouncing a little in her excitement.

Dash forces a smile and nods back. “Hey Twi’.”

“It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other! Please, come in—”

“No, that’s alright, I really can’t stay long, I just… I uh…” Twilight settles against the edge of the door and waits patiently for an explanation, Dash scratching the back of her mane while she searches for it. “...You’re not gonna like hearing this, but… Canterlot’s told us to bulk up the security around your property.”

“Oh?” Twilight asks curiously.

“Yeah, it’s just with… you know, all the stuff that’s been going on lately. I figured... I should at least be the one to tell you.” She finishes with a grimace and her head bowed down a bit.

Twilight doesn’t have much of a reaction at all, save for looking out toward the horizon and quietly saying “...Huh…” This confuses Dash, who shakes her head and raises a brow.

“You’re not… mad? I thought you hated the guard hanging around.”

Twilight shrugs it off like she’d lost a single bit in a bet. “If Canterlot thinks it’s necessary. I mean, I know they’re just kicking the tires on things until all of this ‘Equestrians’ nonsense blows over.”

Rainbow Dash winces. “‘Kicking the…’?”

Twilight’s eyes squeeze shut, and she playfully scolds herself with a hoof raised to the forehead. “Right, sorry—human expression. I just mean that they’re being thorough.”

“Mm.” Says Dash, eyeing the gleaming Twilight with suspicion. “...Did a new library open in Ponyville or something?”

Twilight burst into a fit of giggles. “‘A new library’, that would be just like me, wouldn’t it? You’re pretty funny, Rainbow!”

Dash’s own smile is crooked, and forced. “Right… It just seems—”

“I’ve met somepony.” Twilight blurts out. This almost immediately triggers her eyes to clench shut and a grimace to form on her muzzle.

“...’Somepony’? Somepony like a coltfriend ‘somepony’?”

“Yes. But—er, no, a marefriend, she’s a mare—but in a capacity that is not too dissimilar to a—” Twilight pauses, and stares at her friend’s blank expression through winced eyes. “Could you not tell anypony about this, actually?”

“You brought it up!” Dash observes.

“I know, but it just kinda—stumbled out, and, I’m not sure that I’m ready for… you know, and I haven’t really talked to her about…” Princess Twilight trails off as she stares at the distant scenery, and Dash’s mouth slowly grows further open.

“Wait, is it the doctor?”

Twilight fixes her gaze on the pegasus at her doorstep. “Huh?”

“The one you work with—’Heartseen’?”

“Lyra Heartstrings, yes. But you have to keep this to yourself; just for now, okay?”

Dash snickers and rolls her head, apparently delighted to learn this bit of information. “Sure thing, Twi’.” The princess nods, and the two appear to have concluded the subject. That is, before Rainbow Dash eyes her friend curiously, and reopens their dialect. “So uh… is she—you know, your first?”

Twilight’s eyes narrow. “What? Oh, no—of course not. My fourth, actually.”

Now is Dash’s time to act surprised. “‘Fourth’? You had three marefriends before this? How come we’ve never talked about it?”

“One marefriend, the other two were stallions.” She quickly corrects. “And I don’t know, it never felt… relevant, I guess. To be honest, I’m not sure why we’re talking about it now.”

Twilight shifts awkwardly away from the door she’d been leaning on, and Dash, frozen in place and with her lips barely parted, stares onward as sense comes flickering back into her eyes. “Right. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I even… said that.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come inside?” Twilight asks sympathetically, moving aside so that she can show the castle’s entrance hall. The pegasus looks at it briefly, before shaking her head away from the invitation.

“No, I really have to get going.” Slowly she begins backpedaling away from the doors. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

She starts moving quicker now, pivoting around and jogging down the steps as Twilight takes a step toward her. “Rainbow Dash?” She calls out, voice twisted between confusion and sympathy.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” Dash responds, not waiting for another word before turning her head back around, and taking off to the skies. This leaves Princess Twilight standing in her doorway alone, still confused, and watching her friend slowly shrink into the distance.

* * *

Snow drifts lazily from the gray skies outside the shop’s window, among the trees and in a sheet atop the grass. The shop itself is rather small, and worn-down; a faded sign with a fish being yanked from a stream is fixed to the roof. And in this small shop, just past the warped glass of the window, sits a pony with her back to the wilderness. The coat around her back and wings is mottled, and misshapen, with feathers splayed out around the exposed pink flesh. Her mane is dry, and tangled—even if it’s up in a bun. There’s a single hair stick that holds it in place, long and metal. It drives up through her locks at an angle, and protrudes out the other end with a fine, razor-edged tip.

“Alright. See you ‘round, JJ.”

Moon Dust watches the two at the counter closely, both of them diamond dogs. The clerk collects the bits the customer had dropped on the counter, and the customer takes his newly acquired propane lantern with him as he says goodbye, turning away from the counter shortly after. Moon Dust’s stare is unyielding as she watches the diamond dog pass by, forcing him to frown and look away.

There’s a little bell on the shop door that rings as the creature passes through it. The remaining diamond dog next turns his attention to the mare sitting patiently in his shop, leaning against the counter and motioning to her with a nod. “What can I do ya’ for?”

Moon Dust quietly stands up, and approaches the counter in no hurry. The floorboards creak underhoof as she does. “I need some live bait.”

“Fins, or?”

“Crawlers.” Moon Dust is quick to specify. “Preferably around three inches.”

The clerk nods his head and moves to the back, where a long cooler rests. “Fifty? Hundred?”

“Fifty will do.”

Again, the diamond dog nods and obliges, opening up one of the refrigerator hatches and reaching in. He pulls out a round, white container, sliding it out onto the counter before taking his position behind the register. “That all?” Moon Dust doesn’t respond, but she does nod her head; more than enough, for the diamond dog. “Five bits.”

The pegasus drops a small pouch she had been carrying in the crook of her wing, retrieving the money and placing it out on the counter.

“Smart thinking, going out there now.” The clerk says.

Moon Dust narrows her eyes. “How’s that?”

“Win’er fishin’. Out there now while all those fair-weather pansies are takin’t easy.”

The register rings as the store owner deposits the bits, and Moon Dust focuses her attention on a rack of postcards. “Well… cold never bothered me much.” She grumbles. The metal rack whines as she turns it, revealing a vibrant depiction of the woods in shades of red and orange, boat out in a lake surrounding by the falling leaves. ‘Greetings from White Tail!’ It cheerfully exclaims.

“Hey, you got a map of this place?”

The man closes the register and looks up. “Of the woods? Sure—” He reaches down below the counter at the same time Moon Dust instinctively places a hoof on top of it, closing the distance between the two of them. “What’re ya looking for?” He asks, flattening a large map out before the mare. Moon Dust keenly inspects it.

“Well, it’s a bit unusual… but I’m only in the area for a couple of days, and I thought I’d might as well swing by and see my cousin while I’m here…”

“What’s ‘er name?” The store owner asks.

“Magnolia, Sparks.” Hearing the name causes the diamond dog to lose focus on the map, staring up at Moon Dust as she continues. “Yeah I don’t live close, so we don’t get to see one another much. But I thought I’d come around and surprise her.”

“‘Magnolia’, you said?” The diamond dog turns his head a little as he asks, ear facing Moon Dust.

“That’s right.”

The clerk heaves his breath and raps against the countertop with his knuckles. “Well… Magnolia ain’t ‘round Lake Hope, she’s more up on the outskirts, I think.” He slides his paws off of the counter and begins slowly retreating to the back. “Lemme get ‘er number for you real quick, and then you two can sort it out.”

Moon Dust nods, and returns her own forehoof to the floor. “Alright.”

The diamond dog flashes a smile and then turns around, walking down a small corridor and entering the room at the back.

Alone now in the shop, the mare backs away from the counter, and stands in the center of the room so that she can look around. There’s a bass hanging up on the wall over the door, and a strand of lights running over it and connecting to the next wall. This end of the shop only has the bench Moon Dust sat on earlier, and a frosted window that the wind howls behind. The walls connected to this one then, and parallel from one another, are lined with shelves and racks. Hooks, fishing line, sinkers, reels, lures; and propped up on the end nearest the counter, is a small assortments of rods. While true that most of the items in the shop are geared for anglers, there’s also a scattering of general outdoors equipment, like boots and lanterns.

The floor creaks as Moon Dust slinks over to the end of the hall, and leans against the window on the outside corner. She steadies her breath, and waits—concentrating her focus on the opposite corner, and the small section of hallway she can see from there.

There’s a dull thud in the back room, and Moon Dust hugs the wall closer. Her wing tip shoots up and wraps around the hair stick, readying it to be loosened at a moment’s notice. She steadies her breathing and waits… for the diamond dog to reemerge, for another sound; for anything.

But nothing comes. Moon Dust slides along the wall and peeks around the corner, eyes fixated on the door at the end of the hall. There are no longer any audible sounds—save the muffled howl of the wind.

With her wing still firmly wrapped around the metal hair stick, Moon Dust grits her teeth and begins her trot, moving cautiously to the door. She stops just before it. There’s an ‘employees only’ sign posted on the top section, and a brass, rounded door knob to squash any lingering suspicions Moon Dust might have about the place being inhabited with many ponies. She watches the light under the door, and turns around so that she can dig her forehooves into the floor leading away from the doorway.

The door slams open on the first attempt, Moon Dust bucking into it with her hind legs. She spins around as quickly as possible—only to face an empty room. There’s a phone left dangling over the edge of a wooden desk, the dial tone still discernible when the pegasus gets close enough to hear it. Documents and folders lay sprawled out on the desk, some of their contents having dropped to the floor. And at the end of the small room opposite of Moon Dust, just above the desk, is an open window. Its curtains blow gently in the winter wind.

The pegasus moves to the window and sticks her head just far enough out to see the ground below. There’s an irregular pattern in the snow, like something or some creature had fallen there, and a trail of paw prints leading away from the shop and into the woods.

Moon Dust watches the trail with narrowed eyes. “Counting on you being as dumb as you look…” She murmurs to the wind.

* * *

The diamond dog’s breathing is ragged and uncontrolled. He plunges through branches and snow as he scampers forward, looking over his shoulder constantly for any followers. The surrounding bramble scratches at his skin and occasionally drags him down, all the more reason for his increasing panic.

Finally, he bursts into a clearing with irregular breath and a heaving chest. He pauses his run for the first time since he’d jumped into the woods, and stares at the structure in the center of the clearing. It’s a cabin; modest in size and with windows dark.

The clerk rushes up to the building’s porch, throwing the screen door open before taking another look at the forest behind him. He pounds on the door with his fist between nervous glances behind him, waiting desperately for somepony to answer.

This does not happen. The diamond dog beats in desperation against the door a final time, and tries hopelessly to push on the locked door handle. His paws brace himself against the door as he bows his head against the wood, and squints his eyes close with a grimace. “Come on… please, please please pl—”

A rustling in the woods behind him interrupt his whispered begging. He spins around and watches the trees, painted in splotches of white and brown. Every now and then the frigid wind lifts up their dried branches, crackling and dropping a small batch of snow.

The clerk’s eyes are wide while he searches the horizon. He takes slow and steady steps edge of the porch, then keeps his gaze trained on the woods as he shuffles down the stairs. Once out in the snow, he pauses for a brief moment to continue watching in fear, then he bolts for the woods around the back of the cabin, nearly tripping as he does so.

With the diamond dog gone, the clearing returns to a scene of peace and silence. The trees create a kind of natural border for the cabin’s yard, walling it off at around half an acre away. There’s bramble too, spreading low beneath the tree branches and encroaching a little further inward toward the cabin. Some of that bramble begins to shake around as a creature emerges, slinking low and eyes on the house. Moon Dust checks her surroundings briefly, then relaxes her stance and begins to close the distance between her and the cabin.

As she approaches the porch stairs, she pays close attention to the snow, where there is only one trail left by the fleeing diamond dog. At the top of the stairs, she takes the chance to try the door handle with a hoof, though doesn’t act surprised when it won’t give. She looks along the front wall of the house and out over the edge of the porch, inspecting for any kind of entrance.

The inside of the cabin is silent, save for the occasional clattering of the screen door caught in the wind. And for the sound of a brick crashing into the bedroom, as it flies through a window. Moon Dust clears out the remaining glass shards with a thick branch, then hurdles through the impromptu entrance. She drops into the room and is immediately thrown off by something.

The house is lifeless. There’s a thin layer of dust on all of the furniture, and not the sound of hoofsteps nor even of a ticking clock can be heard. The pegasus travels through the bedroom and out into the hall, meeting a similar deathly stillness out there. The one sound that can be heard in the house—that of the screen door clattering against its frame—slowly draws Moon Dust out of the hall, through the kitchen and into the living room.

She looks around the room, pausing at the strange gap on the floor where there’s no furniture. An unusually large gap, for such a small room; especially considering the lack of a couch. Moon Dust folds her legs and lies down in the gap, inspecting the markings on the hardwood floor. Sure enough, there are four imprints down there; corners where the legs of something sat for a very long time.

Another detail draws the pegasus’s curiosity as well: light scratches. Not just in the area, but all over the living room floorboards as well. Moon Dust scowls and pushes herself back up to her hooves. “Magnolia is a griffon…” She says, to her audience of an old reclining chair, and an empty fireplace. “...or at least was...” The mare spins around and heads back into the kitchen.

A view of the backyard from over the sink briefly holds her attention, but it isn’t long before Moon Dust is walking back toward the bedroom she entered through, trying to inspect the house through a new set of eyes. Before passing to the other side of the doorway, she looks up—noticing something interesting on the second floor. She takes the flight of stairs on her flank, and stands at the top of them with her head tilted almost all the way back.

There on the ceiling, painted white and without any sort of string or handle, is a hatch. Moon Dust leans against the banister to get a better look, almost unsure if it even is a hatch, and not some kind of strange ceiling patch or something.

She closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them again, she makes sure to steady herself in the center of the walkway, directly underneath the hatch. Her wings unfurl and her hooves dig into the carpet, the mare staring at the ceiling entrance with an oddly intense look. With heavy breath and a flap of her fleshy wings, Moon Dust leaps into the air, and takes flight.

The pegasus almost immediately cries out, losing her focus and dipping back down toward the floor. Her flight is crooked, the weight of the mare sagging to the left as her wings beat furiously to try and ascend higher. But it’s not enough, and she comes crashing back down into the carpet with a howl of agony.

Moon Dust stays there, down on the carpet while she regains her strength and steadies her breath. Her nearly featherless wings stay splayed out for a moment, jittering uncontrollably as the slowly collapse back inward. Even after they do, Moon Dust remains with her muzzle down on the floor, looking around the hall with an arched brow and her ragged breath suppressed in the carpet.

Soon after, the sound of a large piece of furniture being pushed down the hall disturbs the ghostly silence. Moon Dust strains against it, pushing it from the side with her shoulder, and watching the dark trail it leaves behind in the carpet. Its contents shake and rattle along the cabinet's short journey, a glass goblet rolling off and hitting the floor with a dull thud as it finally ends.

Moon Dust effortlessly scales up the hallway banister, then the cabinet next. A cloud of dust bursts into the air as the pegasus punches up into the attic, sending the hatch off into a pile of boxes. She grabs the ledge with her forehooves, and heaves herself up into the musty room with a groan. Once inside, Moon Dust takes a look around the cramped area.

There is only one source of light, a small window at the end of the attic. It shines over a collection of old and misshapen cardboard boxes, Moon Dust discovering a collection of vinyl records when she opens the lid of one. Her hind legs dangle out into the hall while she reaches under the surrounding support beams, feeling for anything out of place. Next she pulls her entire body up into the cramped space, and reaches up for the ceiling beams, the wooden supports running at a slant and parallel with one another.

A discovery up there ends her search. She pulls down what her forehooves had encountered when groping around; a notebook. And a rather thick one, at that. Moon Dust flips through the pages, turning herself to the side so that she can catch as much of the light as possible.

19073, Edith: January 2nd.
Round ball paper cartridges, 6 boxes.
24 bits: paid.

The writing is all neatly penned, organized by date and alphabetically after that. Moon Dust flips through more of the book.

20104, Arnold: February 16th.
Tobacco cigarettes (gold), 2 boxes.
10 bits: paid.

There are pages and pages of these financial records, seemingly spanning years. Moon Dust decides to turn things back, scanning some of the first pages to get a better sense of the timeframe.

15352, Cave: March 9th.
Round ball paper cartridges, 1 box.
4 bits: paid.

The pegasus finally looks up from the book, gazing into space while she considers the newfound information. She looks toward the small window with fogged glass, and the small bits of snow that fall silently against it.

The aged binding audibly crinkles as Moon Dust closes the ledger. It had obviously been sitting up there for quite some time; but today, it would leave in the hooves of a new owner.