J'adore

Chapters

Two | One Of These Mares Is Not Like the Others
Three | Age Is Just a (Large) Number
Four | Ponies Aren't Supposed to Have Fangs
Five | Siren Song
Six | Revelation
Eight | The Stone Pegasus
Nine | Hope Lives On
Ten | Fit for a Pauper
Eleven | Breaking the Bank
Twelve | The Burden of Choice
Thirteen | Man o' War and Secrets
Fourteen | The Second Commandant
Fifteen | Memento Mori
Sixteen | Enter Sandbox
Seventeen | Royal Appointment
Eighteen | The Last Draconequus
One | Lament Of a Welfare Scrounger
Seven | A Working Relationship

Two | One Of These Mares Is Not Like the Others

Early morning sunlight bathed Canterlot’s Mane Street, which was already beginning to fill with bright and chipper morning ponies, ready to seize the day.

Luke wished he had even half their enthusiasm. As if the daunting prospect of starting a new job in a big shiny tower full of ponies that probably weren’t going to like him very much wasn’t enough, he also had to face this day having had only three hours sleep.

He’d already contemplated just staying home about three or four times whilst getting ready that morning, and as he stood staring up at the huge marble structure, he couldn’t help but consider bailing out once more.

The only thing that stopped him was the thought of Celestia’s smug face when she found out. And she would find out. He’d never hear the end of it, and he’d more than likely end up working as her ‘royal pet’ out of pure shame.

No. It was time to grow some balls and go to work, whatever that work may be…

A quick perusal through a couple of fashion magazines Luke had hastily bought after Celestia had left was enough to tell him that J’adore was the leading modelling company, not just in Canterlot, but all of Equestria. Its founder, some old mare named Fleur de Lis, was a rich Prench supermodel, and pretty much everything she and her company did influenced the fashion industry in some way.

The magazines hadn’t mentioned much more than that, and with the severe lack of an internet-like system in Equestria, Luke felt as though he was walking into this job mostly blind. He trudged up the stairs regardless, feigning a confidence he didn’t feel.

The heat of the sun was chased away by a magically generated air conditioning field as he passed through one of the five revolving doors built in to the vast front of the building. The white marble balconies looming overhead looked even more impressive from the inside, the golden helix glinting in the light shining from the vast wall of glass panes. A long marble reception desk shaped like a giant horseshoe dominated the lobby. It ran most of the way around a raised platform bearing a large statue of a very pretty unicorn mare reared up on her hind legs.

The statue looked friendly enough, but the actual unicorn sitting behind the desk was looking at him as though he had gotten lost. “Can I help you?” she squeaked, the barest hint of terror in her voice.

Luke cleared his throat, the confident-sounding line of relevant questioning he’d rehearsed in his head as he’d laid awake in bed last night promptly vanishing from his mind in an instant. “Well… uh-I… Celestia… said there was a job for me here… somewhere,” he stuttered, quite pathetically.

The mare blinked, her maw slightly open and one of her fuzzy little ears flicking against her mane. Her horn flared, a silvery sliver of magic fumbling around in the breast-pocket of her tiny black uniform and pulling out a quill and a small bottle of ink.

Luke gave her an apologetic look, wondering if he could get away with just turning around and walking back out of the place, but a second receptionist that he hadn’t noticed sidled into view. “Forgive me, but it sounded like you said Princess Celestia told you to come here?” she said, her cute little voice ever rising with an upward inflection.

Luke cleared his throat again, seeing as it hadn’t really worked the first time. “Yes. She did,” he muttered, already beginning to regret embarking on this pointless endeavor.

In fact, it wouldn’t have been that much of a surprise if the Princess had just made this whole ‘job offer’ up as some sort of joke… Well, actually, it would. That would be incredibly mean. Celestia liked to joke, but she wouldn’t go that far. Would she?

“What’s your name?” asked the first mare, having fished out a fresh scroll of parchment from a drawer in the desk. She looked at him expectantly, her pretty eyes unblinking.

“Luke Nona. Look, the Princess said there’d be a job for me here. She didn’t say what it is, but she told me to be here at eight ‘o clock,” he explained, trying to ignore the two mares looking at him as though he was an escaped mental patient. He failed. “...you know what? You obviously had no idea I was going to show up, so I’m just gonna go ahead and get out of here,” and shove my foot so far up Celestia’s plot hole that I kick her teeth out.

“Oh, you’re the new trainee airship pilot!” the first mare suddenly exclaimed, looking down at the post it note now stuck to her hoof. “Look, it says here, ‘Luke Nona will be starting his flight training today. Send him up to the dock as soon as he arrives.’”

Luke blinked. “I’m the what now?” he muttered. Did she just say airship pilot?

“Sorry,” the second mare said with a sheepish grin, “I guess we were expecting a pony.”

“Yes, please—forgive us. The dock is at the top of the tower. You have to take the first elevator up as far as it will go, then you need to get out and head along the corridor about sixty hooves, take a left, then a right, then another left, and along to the last door on your left. That’s the the main shoot studio, you can’t miss it. Head through there to the express elevator on the far side, and that will take you up to the dock,” she nattered off, pointing a fuzzy hoof to the first elevator. “Sompony will meet you up there and let you know what to do next,” she smiled.

“I… what?” Was she seriously expecting him to remember all of that? He had a hard enough time remembering what day of the week it was, nevermind a labyrinth of directions.

The other receptionist gave him a big happy grin as well. “Elevator, sixty hooves straight ahead as you get out, then left, right, left, last door on your left. Go through the studio to the second elevator, and that will take you up to the dock,”

Luke took a deep breath. “Okay. I think I’ve got it.”

He hadn’t got it. In fact, he was nowhere near.

The elevator was easy enough, but how far was sixty hooves, exactly? He made a fist, which was about the size of a hoof, right? There was probably around three fists to a foot, so… twenty feet?

That could’ve been one of two different red-carpeted corridors on the left, which led away in slightly different directions. Only one of them had an immediate right, however, so that was the one Luke chose.

Who in their right mind would make him a trainee pilot anyway? Was this old friend of Celestia’s crazy? Perhaps it was even Fleur herself? Had old age driven the mare mad? He hadn’t a clue how to fly an airship. Hell, he could barely fly a kite.

Grumbling inaudibly to himself, Luke reached a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. He blinked. “Shit.” … It was left, then right… He threw a glance back down the empty corridor. I should have taken a left on this one at some point, he pondered, but not for long.

The double doors sprang open in a blue glow, and Luke found himself looking down at a young blue unicorn with a bleach-white mane. She was very pretty, probably a model, by the look of her perfectly styled mane and tail. She took one look at him, threw back her head and screamed.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA! GUARDS!”

Two burly unicorn stallions, one silver and the other grey, appeared behind her, but even they paused at the sight of him. Luke panicked. Somehow, he got the feeling it would be a bad idea to stop and ask these ponies for directions.

He bolted back down the corridor, taking the first right he found, then a left, then another right, and sprinted… and sprinted… Crap. There were no more branching corridors, just a dead end up ahead.

“Halt!” boomed one of the stallions, but Luke had just spotted a plaque on the door to his left that read ‘STUDIO’. Hoping it was the studio with the second elevator he was supposed to take, he tumbled through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

This was a mistake.

The studio was packed with supermodels, near enough all of which snapped their gazes to him when the door slammed. The walls were covered with heavy black curtains that hung from a rail that ran the entire circumference of the room, save for a large green screen on the back wall. A multitude of lights hung from specialised racks on the ceiling, and a quick glance revealed four expensive looking cameras on thick metal tripods dotted about the room.

“Hi!” Luke croaked, tottering away from the door. He could see it. Right there. The elevator. All he had to do was reach it. “D-Dont mind me. I’m just gonna…” he pointed feebly at the lift. “Yeah… Sorry… S’cuse me,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper as he carefully shimmied around the pretty mares. At least they weren’t screaming at him.

One of them in particular caught his eye, and Luke had to stop for a double take. Damn, that’s a good looking horse… Her coat—partly covered by a short blue dress with white pleats that hugged her barrel in all of the right places—was a purer shade of white than that of freshly fallen snow. It was perhaps whiter even than Celestia’s, if such a thing were possible. She looked barely a day over twenty two, around a foot taller than any of the ponies occupying the room, and her perfectly spiralled white horn seemed to be proportionally longer than any other unicorn’s as a result. The silkiest of pale pink and white locks cascaded from her head and rump in the kind of lengthy graceful curls that were guaranteed to get any red-blooded male’s attention, whatever species they happened to be.

The only other article of clothing she wore—if one could even call it that—struck Luke as a little out of place. It was the dark leather collar fastened around her neck, studded with what looked to be sharp platinum spikes, of all things. But that wasn’t the most alarming thing about it. What really sent a shiver down his spine was the bright, elongated hexagonal sapphire embedded in the center. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but it made him feel a little uneasy. The gem was so bright that it almost appeared to be glowing.

The mare’s pale violet eyes regarded Luke with mild curiosity, as opposed to the fearful glances thrown by the other models. He could almost feel her gaze, and it seemed to excite the butterflies in his stomach to the point of making him feel a little giddy. He was suddenly aware he’d been staring at her inanimately for the better part of fifteen seconds. Even then, he couldn’t quite will his feet to just take him to the elevator. Maybe he was imagining things, but he thought he caught perhaps the barest hint of a smile from the supermodel. The fleeting moment was broken however, when the door suddenly crashed open.

BANG.

“Stop right there, criminal scum!” yelled the silver stallion, who had finally caught up. The look of glee on his face suggested he was very happy to have discovered Luke in a room full of supermodels.

Luke rolled his eyes. Perhaps it had been a stupid idea to run. “Look, I think there’s been a misund-” he began, but his words were cut short by the door of the studio banging open once more. Several of the models gave looks of exasperation, but quickly adopted a more neutral expression when they spotted who had entered.

A roughly middle-aged looking earth pony came striding in, her pale blue coat covered in a stylish black dress and a rather expensive looking camera lens clasped between her teeth. A pair of black rimmed, pink designer shades obscured her eyes, and her mane and tail were shoulder and hind-hoof length masses of neatly-cropped white. She waltzed past Luke as though he was nothing more extraordinary than a coat rack and carefully screwed the delicate bit of kit onto one of the cameras.

“Ausgezeichnet. Now, where were we?” she glanced around the studio, spotting the unicorn bodyguard in an instant. “Silver Shield? What are you doing here? Sky Swan is not due her shoot for another hour, at ze very least.”

The aptly named Silver Shield appeared a little taken aback at the earth mare’s nonchalance, but raised his hoof to point at Luke regardless. “This… monster managed to sneak into the building to harass the models!” he blindly accused.

Luke scowled, just as the mare finally seemed to notice he was standing in the middle of her studio. She gave him a brief glance, her rolling eyes finding the stallion once more. “He’s supposed to be here, you blithering brute! Zis is ze new trainee pilot for Fleur’s ship. A company newsletter was sent out to everypony zis morning, but obviously nopony bothered to read it. Again. Der Sonne zuliebe!”

“Oh,” muttered the stallion, glancing from her to Luke, disbelief evident in his eyes. He looked almost afraid to contradict her. “Are you sure?” he finally asked, in a voice that would be more suited to a pony a third his size.

“Out! Get out of mein studio!” snapped the mare, her nostrils flaring with rage. The stallion didn’t have to be told twice. He scarpered as fast as his burly legs would carry him. A smirk curled Luke’s lips as the door slammed, but it fell right off his face when the mare rounded on him instead. “What are you waiting for, Luke? Get up to the dock. I have thirty photo shoots to complete by ze end of the week, and you’re distracting my models.” With that, the mare turned back to her camera. “Come now, Fraulein, give me ze magics!”

She wasn’t wrong. Their fear of him was gradually dissipating, much of it being replaced with the same idle curiosity afforded to him by the extremely pretty mare with the choker collar. Hopelessly enthralled, his eyes found her again. There was something about this pony, and it wasn’t just the fact that she made every other mare in the room look like a pack mule in comparison. It was almost as if something deep in her eyes… deep in that gem of hers, in fact, was calling to him.

The smile on her face faltered, her eyes flicking to the bossy earth pony behind the camera. Apparently she had caught wind of the model still observing Luke. The earth mare turned. “Why are you still here?” she snapped.

“Sorry!” Luke muttered, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the unicorn. He gave the earth pony what he hoped was an apologetic look and covered the rest of the room in long strides, stooping low to jab a fist to the hoof-sized call button next to the elevator.

The doors slid open, and Luke quickly stepped inside and jabbed at the button labelled ‘Sky Dock’ several times. The pretty mare’s eyes flashed over him once more before the doors closed, the lift jolting into motion. No pony had ever had such an effect on him. Hell, he was certain he wouldn’t become so flustered if he ever met a human supermodel.

Luke knew one thing for certain, though. He’d have to rein in his wandering eyes. Fleur de Lis probably wouldn’t want a pilot that lusted after her models. As the lift ascended the tower, he wondered if he would get to meet the famous old mare.

Click. “Ooh, ja, ja. Das ist gut.” Click. Click.

Viola Terracotta, a blood red unicorn of Saddle Arabian descent, flicked her long flowing mane over her back, striking a practised pose that she knew would please Photo Finish.

Photo Finish was indeed pleased, happily snapping more and more photos, but Fleur de Lis was much too caught up in an increasingly irksome internal battle with her darker half to notice.

Le suivre.

Her eyes narrowed. And do what, exactly? Such a suggestion was ludicrous for a mare of her stature. A quick swipe of her tongue over her teeth confirmed an alarming suspicion: she had fangs. Small, half extended fangs, but fangs nonetheless.

This was not ideal.

Normally, her dark counterpart lay dormant in the back of her mind, a docile beast that cared very little about Fleur’s hectic schedule. Through seemingly countless restaurant openings, theatre premieres and art exhibits, she was barely noticeable to Fleur, and completely imperceptible to anypony else. She just fed silently and sparingly on their admiration and unwavering attention, and nopony was any the wiser. Sometimes, Fleur would sing, if the beast was feeling particularly hungry. But most of the time, idle interest was sufficient.

That was, of course, up until about five minutes ago, when a tall, rugged looking creature from another world had entered the studio.

Some seventy years previously, give or take, Princess Celestia had covered up a highly embarrassing incident involving an aggressively amorous warlock, that had quickly progressed to being an unmistakably dead warlock by the time Fleur had lost her temper with him.

As repayment, Fleur had agreed to give this young ‘man’ a job. Had she known her unruly counterpart was going to develop such an inexplicable interest in him, however, she might never have agreed to take him on.

After all, it was not the nature of a siren to covet an individual more than the attention that could be gained from said individual—they just didn’t work that way… unless… Fleur barely suppressed a shudder.

She’d lived over a thousand years without running into that particular kettle of fish… No, it couldn’t be that. It just couldn’t. He wasn’t even a pony, for Celestia’s sake…

Le suivre!

Fleur exhaled through her nose. Non!

Click. Click. “Ja, just like that, Fraulein!”

Nous devons parler avec lui.

Fleur felt a sigh escape her. A foreboding sigh that she hadn’t even known she’d been holding. No amount of ignoring the situation was going to make this go away. She would probably just end up destroying the studio, and scaring the living daylights out of everypony. No, it was best to just go and see why her darker half was suddenly craving his company.

All she had to do was make a discreet exit…

“Ja, das ist gut. Vork it, Viola, ja, like zat-Fraulein—where are you going?”

Fleur had barely taken three paces towards the lift. She froze, eyes wide and thoughts scrambling. “I left an important memo from Princess Celestia in my office on Le Tesson, mon amie, I fear I may need it,” Fleur lied, keeping her eyes glued to the lift.

Photo paused, probably shooting Fleur a look dripping with skepticism. Fleur didn’t look. “Well, if you must, Fraulein,” Photo said, amidst the sound of more photos being taken.

Instead of going for the lift, Fleur burned away some of her anxiety, allowing her magical ember to flare through her horn. With a loud CRACK and a bright flash of pink, she teleported.

That had been way too easy. In all the years Photo had been her manager, Fleur had usually had to resort to reminding the earth pony who was in charge in order to get five minutes to herself. She couldn’t help suspecting Photo’s apparent nonchalance was perhaps a facade of sorts.

No matter, the thought was quickly pushed from her mind, rather forcibly, by her siren, who had just spotted the human up on the quarterdeck of the airship she’d just teleported to.

Upon exiting the lift, Luke was greeted with a sight that finally managed to drive thoughts of the gorgeous unicorn from his mind. He had emerged in a large domed lobby at the very top of the tower, its curved ceiling painted red and detailed with gold patterns depicting several stylised unicorns. He followed the red carpet out onto a large balcony, next to which a huge airship loomed, its vast white gas bag adorned with the three stylised lilles blocking out the morning sun.

“Woah…”

Who in their right mind would put me in charge of that? It was as if someone had taken an eighteenth century warship, removed the sails, and replaced them with a giant helium chamber. It even had gun ports, though they all appeared to be closed off.

Like the domed ceiling of the sky-lobby, the ship was painted red, with a plethora of gold trim lining the gun ports and long railings. Even the rigging bore traces of gold, as well as its three large masts rising up to the helium chamber. Large silver lettering that spelled out ‘Le Tesson’ was painted on the side of the hull, where a scaled down, carved and polished wood version of the unicorn statue in the building’s main lobby had been fitted as a figurehead.

“Like what you see, lad?” croaked a gravelly voice.

Luke gave a start, spotting an elderly pegasus stallion hobbling past him. He’d been too busy admiring the ship to notice he was no longer alone. “It’s amazing,” he muttered.

“You must be Luke, eh? I’m the Captain of this here floating mansion. Captain Vertical Strike, but everyone just calls me Vert. Come on, I’ll show you the ropes. She has a lot of ropes, after all,” the stallion barked, voracious laughter following his words.

Vertical Strike shuffled up to a rope lined gangway leading to the ship. His pale blue coat was faded in places, and his mane and tail were the kind of washed out white of a stallion a few decades past his prime. His great age hardly appeared to hinder him at all, however.

“This is Fleur’s ship,” he began, making his way up the few steps to the polished quarterdeck. Luke followed, his eyes still wandering over the immaculate craft. “She’s a fiery mare, once she gets familiar with ya. I suspect it’s the Prench in her. I’ve been working for her for fifty years now, and she hasn’t changed much in that time. Not much at all.”

“How old is she?” Luke asked, running a palm over the golden wheel of the ship. He’d expected paint, but it became quickly apparent that the entire wheel was plated in gold.

Vertical Strike snorted, his bark-like laughter returning. “Nopony knows her exact age, she doesn’t discuss it with mere mortals like you and I. All I can say is she’s a damn sight older than the rest of us.”

Luke pictured a venerable old noblemare, with a muzzle bearing the stress lines brought on by a long career of hard work. Priceless pearls encompass her neck, and she no doubt had more riches and exuberant wealth than she knew what to do with. He knew the type. Canterlot was full of them. Why would somepony like that hire him? Celestia’s influence was the only thing that sprang to mind. Was that really all it took?

“Will I be meeting her?” he asked. It would probably be best to avoid such an acquaintance, lest Fleur did turn out to be a stereotypically vain Canterlot elitist. They usually didn’t approve of anything too out of the ordinary, and Luke was as far from ordinary as it was possible to be in a land inhabited by magical ponies.

Vert grinned. “Oh, I suspect you will, at some point or ano-”

CRACK.

Luke whipped around so fast he nearly cracked his neck. It sounded as though someone had just fired a gun. He didn’t see anyone brandishing a weapon, but what he found instead was perhaps more surprising. The pretty unicorn from the studio was now stood in the middle of the main deck. Had she just teleported? Such an ability was not very common at all. In fact, the only ponies Luke had met thus far who were capable of such a feat had all been alicorns.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Vert chuckled, but Luke was barely listening, his eyes glued to the pretty mare now trotting towards him with that same curiosity in her eyes from earlier. “Listen, I’ll leave you two to chat, I have to go and do a routine checkup on the old Star Drives. The unicorn adaptation unit has been acting up, and with me being the only pegasus aboard most of the time, the ship won't move without it.”

With that, the old Captain opened a hatch in the deck, slipping out of sight.

“Oh… Um… Okay,” Luke muttered, but Vert had already left him. Alone. To talk to the extremely pretty mare now just a few feet away.

Don’t fuck up.

Author's Note

Luke is dumb. He has no idea. lel

Sorry for the kinda-sorta cliffhanger, but it's okay—you shouldn't have too long to wait for the third chapter.

I also apologise to any fluent French speakers for butchering the language, as I no doubt have. There's only so much one can do with online translators, and being able to speak French is not a skill I possess.

Also, top of the feature box—was not expecting that. :rainbowderp:

Finally, if you're looking for another HiE to read, make sure to check out Greater Lights: Adaptation if you haven't already. An update has just rolled out for it as of posting this chapter.

Three | Age Is Just a (Large) Number

It took a moment, but Luke just about managed to pull his attention away from the supermodel to listen to the panicked voice in the back of his mind. Speak of the devil, Vert had said. Did that mean… Was Fleur coming up to the dock? All he could see was the pretty young mare still wearing her blue dress, those curious eyes wandering over his form as her gait slowed with each carefully measured step. A quick scan failed to reveal any potentially frail old noble mares on or around the ship.

“Jees… I thought the boss was coming,” he half laughed, leaning against the ship’s wheel and letting out an explosive sigh.

“Oh, did you?” the mare countered, her face lighting up in amusement. Her voice was silky smooth, the thick Prench accent something akin to a layer of icing on a particularly exquisite cake. Maybe this was Fleur’s granddaughter, or something? He quickly stood upright and tried to act like he had at least a small modicum of professionalism. If she really was a relative of the rich boss-mare then his ass might already be on the proverbial chopping block.

“Yeah,” he began, his eyes half-reverting back to searching for any sign of elderly mares. “I don’t know if Fleur has met a human before. I reckon the sight might startle her. Wouldn’t want to go and do that now, would I?” he chuckled. It would be just his luck if he ended up terrorising the CEO on his first day. Hell, he might just give the mare a heart attack. The tabloids would have a fucking field day: ‘GENETICALLY ENGINEERED GIBBON MAULS J’ADORE BOSS’ would be plastered all over the front page of tomorrow’s Herald.

The pretty mare’s lip trembled, and one of her ears flicked rather adorably. She grinned. “Tell me, mon cher—’ave you seen any photographs of Fleur, no?”

Luke faltered somewhat. Of course, she’d hit him with the one question to which a truthful answer would expose his half-assed approach. He’d hoped his woefully incompetent research of the company wouldn’t come to light this quickly. “Well, no. But, I did read up a little on J’adore last night,” he calmly argued, but stopped there, as he didn’t really have much more to add after that other than what was already common knowledge.

The mare gave him a slightly amused look, tilting her head so that her wavy pink mane partly obscured a pale violet eye. Damn, she’s just so pretty. Luke could probably look at her all day and not get bored.

“So, you ‘ave no idea what she looks like?”

“Well, an old noblemare, I’d imagine?” Luke reluctantly admitted. She had to be old, right? Vert said he’d worked for her for fifty years, and his face was already beginning to resemble an elephant scrotum. Fleur’s probably looked like the tired old leather backseat of a nineteen-eighties BMW.

The mare’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. She let out a sort of strangled laugh that made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

A pause. “You really ‘ave no idea. ‘Ow… refreshing,” she mused, her pretty eyes surveying him with renewed interest.

Luke stared right back with a slightly puzzled expression. “Who are you?” he slowly asked. She was a model, that much he knew, but why exactly had she followed him up here? Come to think of it—he should have been asking himself that from the start. Pretty mares didn’t usually make a habit of following him around—especially pretty mares that required a whole other level of definition for the word ‘pretty’.

The mare didn’t answer. Instead, she flashed him a smile that made his heart do a sort of belly flop in his chest, running her tongue along a set of perfectly white teeth.

The trapdoor through which Vert had disappeared opened once again, the elderly stallion slowly clambering back out of it. His eyes found the mysterious mare and his face lit up. “It’s a good thing you’re here. I reckon I’ve fixed the old adaptation unit. Loose auxiliary crystal, it was,” he muttered, placing a forehoof on the wheel and the other on one of the golden control levers sitting beside it. “Couldn’t give her a quick whirl, could yeh?”

The mare gave a slight nod, her horn instantly flaring with an unmistakably powerful pink aura. A loud hum of energy rent the air surrounding the ship, the deck vibrating as though something big and heavy had just awoken in the depths below. “Ahh, perfect,” Vert cried, gently nudging the lever with his hoof. Luke felt the entire airship sway with each point of contact, as though it were suddenly fighting to break free from the thick mooring lines securing it to the dock. “Excellent, Fleur,” Vert jovially commended, beaming at the unicorn.

Every hair on Luke’s body seemed to stand on end. He’d like to think he’d gotten used to magic, having lived in Equestria for over a year now, but holy shit… She’d just made an entire airship move all by herself! That wasn’t normal. Wait… what was that he’d just called her?

Vert appeared oblivious. “Good thing I spotted that gem, or you might have had to wait weeks to start your training, not to mention all the location shoots that would’ve been delayed,” he chuckled heartily.

Luke stared at the mare in horror, quickly coming to realise just why she had followed him. He should have known there’d be a catch. She didn’t say anything, but her horn flared again. The pretty blue dress she was wearing gracefully fell away like the petals of a flower before his eyes, revealing her perfectly sculpted barrel and hindquarters. On those hindquarters, was the trio of stylised lilies that were her namesake. The same trio of stylised lilies that were plastered to the front of the building, the side of the airship gas bag, the uniform of nearly every employee at the company, and dozens of billboards throughout the damned city.

Vert finally noticed that all the colour had drained from Luke’s face. “You okay, lad? If that’s airsickness, then you’re in the wrong job.” He barked out a laugh.

Luke choked. He did indeed feel a barely repressed sickness well up in his stomach, but it had nothing to do with flying. Well, an old noblemare, I’d imagine? The words kept running through his head, over and over. “You… You’re F-Fleur?” he gasped. They were swiftly joined by Vert’s. Mere mortals like you and I… He was being literal. Well, shit. That meant she was... “Y-You’re immortal?”

That killer smile hit him again. This shit was unfair. Ponies weren’t supposed to be sexy, dammit!

“Oui, mon cher,” Fleur de Lis chuckled, her glittery laughter flowing over his ears like a fine silk.

She sounded like she had the holy grail of feminine treasures tucked away under that lovely tail of hers. Not that he wanted to find out… except he kind of did. Fuck. No. She was a horse.

A ridiculously good-looking horse, but still a damned horse. With hooves. And anime eyes. And crotch tits.

Fucking crotch tits.

Vert’s eyes widened, comprehension dawning on his lined muzzle. “You turn up for a job at J’adore, and you don’t recognise Fleur de Lis?” he asked, incredulous.

Luke tried to pull himself together, but couldn’t quite manage it. How the hell was he supposed to know? He hardly made a habit of keeping up with the pony fashion industry. He wasn’t a pony!

Fleur came to the rescue with another flash of those pearly whites. “I don’t mind. ‘Ee can ‘ardly be expected to know, when ‘ee is from anozzer world.”

Another cardiac spaz-attack. Shit… This was quickly getting out of hand. A quick clearing of the throat put him back on track. Kind of. “Ahem… Yes, um… my apologies, Lady Fleur. Princess Celestia failed to mention that you were…” he began, but immediately foundered when his carefully planned, face-saving meticulous oration was met with a very un-noble-ish snort.

Fleur de Lis brought a dainty white hoof to her muzzle, barely holding back a fit of giggles. What the hell? Was this a joke to her? Was she just playing with him before she fired his ass? Even Vert looked as though he was failing to hold back a smirk.

Fleur’s demeanour took on that of a poorly conceived facade, and she lifted her muzzle as though she was trying to scratch her back with the tip of her horn. “See to eet that you do not fail to acknowledge my most venerable excellency in the future, young colt! ‘Lady’ Fleur de Lis does not tolerate ignorance from anypony! Not even uneducated peasants such as yourself!”

Vert fell over, his forehooves clutching his sides. He may as well have been having a heart attack from the way he writhed around on the deck—he was at that age—but the uncontrollable laughter certainly suggested otherwise.

A glance back to Fleur revealed a smug grin on her flawlessly pretty face. It was pretty obvious that this pony did not require a filter. “Hilarious,” Luke deadpanned, throwing all caution over the side of the building.

She ran her tongue over her teeth again—aww, fuck—her eyelids lowering to very unbusinesslike levels. Now, Luke wasn’t overly perspicacious when it came to judging character, but she was either fucking with him, or she wanted to fuck him. Or both.

The possibility that the latter theory may have held some truth was positively terrifying… but most unlikely. Though she clearly didn’t act like one, Fleur was still a noble.

“I think you will fit right in here, mon cher,” she purred.

The sunlight caught the sapphire in her collar, and the flash of dazzling blue was mimicked in her eyes for just the briefest of moments as she licked her lips. Once again, the same feeling of curious unease struck him, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. In fact, he wasn’t even sure ‘unease’ was an adequate description.

“Fleur!” called a voice, promptly shattering the gathering tension like a bowling ball through a mirror. Luke could’ve sworn he’d heard Fleur emit a small nicker from her muzzle, but it may have just been the creaking of the ship.

A strikingly red, long-legged mare with a wispy white mane and tail was cantering across the dock, her eyes brimming with curiosity. Her muzzle was a slightly different shape to that of the average Equestrian mare. It could be argued that she was perhaps the Equadorian counterpart of “Arabian” horses back on Earth, but Luke wasn’t too keen on querying such a presumption.

“Photo says she needs you back down in the studio for group shots,” the mare said, her middle eastern accent confirming Luke’s suspicions. Her eyes swept over him, and she gave him a smile not unlike the one Fleur had given him not a moment ago.

Luke returned a smile of his own, out of politeness more than anything, something Fleur silently observed with an odd, if not blank stare. A second glance revealed nothing out the ordinary, however, as did a third, more in-depth look at the boss-mare’s face.

“Ah, Viola! Yes, of course. I am sure Vert and Luc will manage without me for now,” Fleur replied, flashing Luke a glance. He quickly stopped staring.

“Don’t be gone for too long, now. Can’t teach him how to fly with the ship stuck at the dock all day,” Vert chuckled, who had barely paid any attention to the exchange and was busy fiddling with the assortment of levers next to the ship’s wheel.

“Au revoir!” Fleur chirped, springing over the gangway like a frolicing foal. “Come, Viola. We mustn't be late!”

The Arabian mare was quickly encompassed in a pink aura, picked right up off the dock, spun one-eighty degrees and popped back down again, all in the blink of an eye. She was afforded one dizzy glance back at the ship before she was swiftly herded into the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Luke turned to face the pegasus at his side. A barrage of snorts escaped Vert’s muzzle, despite the hoof held up to his face.

“What?” Luke muttered, summoning all mental restraint to keep from rolling his eyes. It wouldn’t be wise to piss of his mentor on his first day, no matter how much of an ass he was currently being.

“Have yeh been living under a rock?” Vert wheezed, slapping a forehoof to the wheel and panting between laughs like a grizzly bear with a chest infection. “Ah get that yer different and all, but how can yeh live in the city of Canterlot and not know who Fleur de Lis is?”

Luke scowled, feeling more and more stupid by the minute. “I thought she’d be… well, old!” he argued. Was it too much to assume that old meant a face full of wrinkles, tins of Werther's Originals and pony Alzheimer’s? Well, maybe that was exaggerating a little, but still...

Vert laughed even harder. “My dear colt—she is old!”

“No, I mean… I thought she’d look old… But, she looks…” Several words came to mind, absolutely none of which a human should ever use to describe a quadruped. That didn’t stop Luke, though. He cursed under his breath.

Vert’s snorts died down a little, the stallion levelling Luke with a knowing look. “Don’t be getting any ideas, colt. You’d have to have angels flying out of yer arse to get with the likes of Fleur.”

“Yeah—I wasn’t getting any ideas,” Luke hastily countered, trying his best to ignore the veritable swarm of ideas bouncing around his mind.

Vert snickered. “Hey, yeh don’t need to lie. Ah don’t blame yeh. Hell, ah’ve tried a few times myself, over the years,” he admitted. “O’ course, she never really took anypony seriously, perhaps least of all the rich noblestallions. She don’t need their bits, that’s fer sure,” he chuckled.

“So, she’s single?” Damn it. Luke coughed, bringing a fist to his mouth, but that just made him look like even more of an idiot.

Vert’s resultant, overly-smug smile made his skin crawl. “She don’t do relationships, but yer welcome to try. Just promise me you’ll let me know in advance. Ah love watching her reject folk.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Luke muttered. He had no trouble picturing what Fleur’s reaction would no-doubt be if he was actually stupid enough to try and make a move on her. An icy shudder ran the full length of his spine at the implication.

“Oh, it’s practically an art form. She’s very good at it. Real polite and gentle like, but you can tell the guy’s heart still shatters into a thousand pieces. She doesn’t much care for that part, but ah don’t think she can help it all that much.”

“Can we just get to the learning now?” Luke snapped, perhaps a tad too ferociously.

Vert didn’t appear to be remotely offended. “Alright, alright—I’m just messin’ with yeh,” he chuckled. “Happens to all the new guys at the firm after they meet the boss. Just take note of the warnin’, though, and there is an actual warnin’ in there besides the teasin’. Don’t go barking up Fleur’s tailpipe, ‘cause there ain’t no guy—be it you, me, or even fancy folks like Prince Blueballs and his ilk that’re gettin’ a crack at what’s under there.”

Fleur was not the best company for her noble peers at Hoity Toity’s luncheon later that day, though only Photo Finish knew her well enough to realise that something was playing on the mare’s mind. In a word, it was annoying.

“What is bothering you, Fraulein? You’re eating even less than you normally would.”

“Nothing, mon amie,” Fleur persisted for the third time in around half an hour. She idly watched a waiter trot by, a platter of hors d'oeuvres expertly balanced on his back, but she was in no mood for pretentious food.

Ever since Fleur had laid eyes on Luke, the siren seemed to want nothing more than to follow him around like a lost puppy, and resorted to rattling around the inside of Fleur’s mind whenever he wasn’t in her direct line of sight. Three photoshoots of trouve Luc... parle lui... fait le sourrire, was enough to make anypony lose focus. Sure, the human was pleasant enough, and ended up being quite a pleasure to converse with after he’d figured out she wasn’t going to fire him for not recognising her. But she just didn’t understand the obsession. Even now, the siren was muttering in the back of her mind.

Veux Luc.

Fleur was evidently too slow to disguise her look of exasperation, as Photo Finish, annoyingly knowledgeable as always, called her out. “Is it ze pilot?”

“Non!” Fleur snapped. Several ponies, Hoity Toity among them, glanced around at her outburst. She quickly grabbed a nearby copy of the Canterlot Herald. “Fleetfoot did not win ze Wonderbolts’ derby.”

Veux Luc.

“Blast! Such a shame, I myself had high hopes for that mare,” Hoity added, before turning back to the one of the delegates from Saddle Arabia he was currently chatting to.

Photo leaned in, lowering her voice so none of the party guests could hear her. “It’s her, isn’t it? She’s pining for him, ja?”

“Non, she’s just…” But Fleur hadn’t the foggiest idea just exactly what her siren was up to. For all of the years she had lived, through wartime, famine, peace and windigo ice age, the ancient water demon had never shown the slightest bit of emotion towards another living being that hadn’t been rage. That was an emotion that had been all too common in the first few centuries of their shared eternal existence. But wanting to talk… to make somepony smile? It was practically unheard of for a siren.

Veux Luc.

Mais pourquoi, ma vielle amie?

The siren did not answer, choosing instead to claw restlessly at the inside of Fleur’s mind. Fleur let out a dejected sigh. This was becoming tiresome.

She knew hardly anything about him, but her dark counterpart was adamant that they should be spending all of their time with him, despite that being practically impossible to justify. Ponies would start to talk, and Fleur knew from experience that ponies talking often twisted the truth to extreme proportions. The only viable option she had was to fast-track his practical flight training. Of course, that would mean altering her schedule—something she probably couldn't get away with for very long, if at all…

“Come. Ve go!” Photo suddenly announced, grabbing Fleur around the midsection and practically hauling her away. Pulled from her thoughts, Fleur allowed herself to be whisked from the party, the siren still prowling restlessly in her head.

Author's Note

Please point out any typos/editing/formatting issues if you happen to spot any. :-P

The French in this chapter is awful. If you speak French, I can only apologise.

Next chapter is at 3k at the time of posting this. :coolphoto:

Four | Ponies Aren't Supposed to Have Fangs

Luke’s first week at J’adore was quite possibly the most eventful of his life. Learning how to maneuver a three hundred tonne airship over a densely packed highrise city was not something one could achieve in a few days, though he’d been giving it a damn good attempt. It was a task made more difficult due to the fact that without the stunningly pretty, and therefore highly distracting Fleur de Lis aboard, the ship was nothing more than an oversized helium balloon.

“So, you’re saying Fleur herself powers the ship?”

“Eeyup,” croaked Vert. “These old warships usually work off of pegasi power, but as I said—I’m the only pegasus here. I could pull these here levers for three days straight, and the ship wouldn’t move an inch.”

“Why not?”

Vert snorted. “Dear colt—I’m an old stallion. Even thirty years ago, I’d never have had enough power to get her moving by myself. It usually takes a team of at least thirty pegasi to crew a ship of this size.”

Luke frowned. “But, Fleur can power it herself?”

“Well, yes. Fleur is anything but the dainty noblemare the fashion industry has painted her. She’s lived long enough to attain a level of magical ability that most unicorns will never see in their lifetimes. Of course, to her, one of their lifetimes is nothing more than a flash in the pan.”

By the end of Luke’s second week, he’d gotten the hang of it a bit better, Vert only having to intervene once or twice each day. Even Fleur’s ever increasing presence failed to put him off as he slid the ship into port so they could go to lunch, the pretty unicorn beaming by his side.

“We make a good team, you and I, no?” she quipped, deftly brushing a few stray locks from her face as her horn light faded, the hum of the Star Drive engines winding down.

“Now, hey. Don’t go replacing me with a newer model just yet,” Vert croaked, waving his hoof at Fleur. “Ah may not have eternal youth, but I’ve still got a few years left in me.”

Fleur shook her head. “I could never replace you, mon ami,” she said sweetly.

This seemed to mollify the stallion somewhat, and he practically floated along towards that sky lobby with a big dopey smile on his face. Luke followed, his barely repressed snort forgotten in an instant, driven away by Fleur’s sudden proximity to his side.

She’d been doing this a lot, lately—hovering around him like a moth to a flame. It wouldn’t have been that much of a problem if he hadn’t had to keep stopping himself from reaching over to scratch her ear, or give her mane a stroke. She was just so damned cute, it was hard not to. But given the fact she was his boss, it wasn’t really the smartest thing to be doing.

“Why don’t we go out for lunch, no? A friend of mine ‘as just opened up a new restaurant in ze Equinox district,” Fleur said, now trotting slightly ahead of him toward the sky dock elevator.

Luke’s gaze idly followed the gentle swishing of her silky tail, a silky pendulum cascading over her lovely rump, before the realisation of just what she had suggested hit him. “Wait… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He had many memories of the Equinox district, and none of them were particularly pleasant. It was effectively a large gated community where the royal castle was situated, and home to quite a few of the higher-end establishments of Canterlot that weren’t situated on and around Mane Street.

‘Common’ ponies weren’t allowed in without invitation or appointment, something the nobles took great pride in reminding everyone that was stupid enough to hang around and listen to their entitled drawling. Luke hadn’t set foot in the place since he’d lived in the castle, despite having Princess Celestia’s assurances he could return anytime he liked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Fleur probed with a look of bewilderment. The elevator doors opened in front of her, despite no one hitting the call button.

Luke frowned, stepping into the lift after her and making room for Vert to follow. Surely she could put two and two together? “I’m not exactly popular in that place. The nobles hate me.”

The revelation was met with a pout, to which Vert raised a questioning eyebrow. Luke was too busy to notice, suddenly very aware how large Fleur’s pretty eyes were. “I don’t hate you, mon cher,” she softly reassured.

Luke shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “Yes, well, you’re the odd one out. The rest of them were glad to see the back of me when I moved,” he muttered as Vert stepped into the lift. The doors closed, and they began to descend.

“‘Ow about you, Vert? Would you like to join us, no?”

Vert snorted. “I’d sooner have my wings plucked bare with a pair of rusty fire tongs than set hoof into that place,” he chuckled heartily.

Luke raised his eyebrows, throwing a glance to Fleur. That was… blunt, even for Vert, but the supermodel just rolled her eyes. She gently pressed a hoof to Luke’s leg. “You will come, though, Luc, yes?”

A small shiver ran through him at the way she said his name. That accent certainly wouldn’t be getting old anytime soon. “Yeah, alright,” he muttered, his cheeks reddening.

A small ding signalled the lift had reached the studio, and the doors slid open, revealing-

“Where have you been, Fraulein?” a formidable looking Photo Finish shot at Fleur, before her gaze snapped to Luke. “Ah, of course. I should have known!”

Fleur’s eyes were quick to roll, but she met her manager with a smile regardless. Everypony else had already left for lunch break, it seemed. “Luc and I were just going for a spot of lunch, mon amie. Would you care to join us?”

Photo dismissively waved a hoof. “Nein, I have a mountain of new recruit portfolios to sort, but never mind that—Coloratura vants you to make an appearance at her party tonight, seeing as you didn’t bother to turn up at her Castle Grounds Unplugged event on Tuesday.”

“That was this week?” Fleur squeaked, her cheeks reddening. Her ears flopped somewhat, and Luke had to rather forcefully remind himself it would be highly inappropriate for him to play with them.

“Ja! I told you three times Monday afternoon, but you were too busy playing airtours with your little boy-toy to listen.”

If Fleur gave any indication she’d heard what Photo had said, she hid it quite well, which was considerably more than could be said for Luke. His cheeks suddenly felt as though they were going to ignite. He positively glared at Photo Finish with the intensity of a thousand superheated knives, but she wasn’t even bothering to look at him. How she even got away with half the stuff she said was beyond him.

“Send ‘er my apologies, won’t you? And of course, I will attend ‘er party. Now if you will excuse us, Luc and I ‘ave-”

“Yes, yes, go have your little dinner date. Just remember to show your face at Rara’s mansion tonight. Ve don’t want to upset her. You know how she gets,” Photo said dismissively. She almost sounded like a mother admonishing her child.

Fleur gave a curt nod. “As you wish,” she smiled, trotting through the empty studio without another word. Luke followed, throwing a scathing glance to Photo Finish, who had already busied herself with rearranging a platter of silverware into the shape of a spork.

“Sometimes, I think she forgets ‘ow much older I am than ‘er,” Fleur chuckled, once they were halfway out of earshot.

Luke bit his tongue, the question burning on the tip of it threatening to escape. It was pointless. He knew she wouldn’t tell him. Instead, he compromised: “How come you’re immortal? I thought it was exclusively an alicorn thing?”

Fleur didn’t answer immediately, but her gait slowed a little as she turned to look up at him. Luke spotted a glint in her eyes, mimicked by that gem of hers, the platinum spikes of her collar making it seem all the more menacing. It would have been quite alarming if she wasn’t smiling.

“A lot of ponies over the years ‘ave asked me the very same thing, mon cher. Normally, I would lie to them in an ‘eartbeat,” she claimed, mystically.

Luke waited for her to elaborate as they approached the main lift that would take them to the lobby, but Fleur seemed perfectly content to leave him hanging.

“Sooo?” Luke pressed further. He knew he should probably quit pushing his luck, but curiosity demanded an explanation.

The lift doors sprang open for the supermodel, and she stepped inside, turning on the spot and sitting delicately on her haunches. An ear flicked, and she blew a stray lock of mane out of her face. Her sapphire was glowing. Luke followed her in, the doors snapping shut behind him.

“I do not wish to lie to you, Luc,” she began, her voice suddenly shaky, and laced with a subtle undertone that Luke had never heard before. “Maybe one day you will know the truth, maybe not. But… until then-” she faltered.

Without so much as a scrap of warning, Fleur turned, rearing up on her hind legs to quite a formidable height. Deceptively strong forelegs pinned Luke’s shoulders to the polished metal wall of the elevator, and Fleur’s pretty face was suddenly inches from his own. Holy crap.

Luke’s heart leapt to his throat, his hands shooting to her sides to help steady her—she looked about ready to fall. He watched in silent intrigue as her eyes, wide and piercing, slowly morphed from their usual pale violet to a stunningly deep sapphire blue, the very same shade as the gem in her collar. Only when the whites of her eyes were completely engulfed did he manage to speak.

“Um… What is happening here?” he muttered, his voice quick and shaky, but Fleur didn’t appear to acknowledge a word. She just leaned in closer, her barrel pressing against his chest, her maw slightly open… Wait… Were those fangs?

Holy shit. She had fangs. Ponies weren’t supposed to have fangs! The fuck...

DING.

A blink, and sapphire eyes were pale violet once more.

Fleur was already trotting—firmly planted back on all fours—through the elevator doors before Luke had even realised they’d opened. He attempted to catch his breath, his heart pounding the inside of his ribcage as he scrambled out of the lift after her. Just what the hell had all that been about?

“Ah, Fleur! I was just about to come find you,” said a cheery voice.

Luke recognised it as belonging to Sunfire, the pretty mare that had believed him lost on his first day. “The post arrived,” she said, passing over a small stack of letters addressed directly to the CEO.

“Merci, mon amie,” Fleur said, capturing the letters with her pink aura and idly sorting through them. Some, she made disappear with her magic as soon as she’d opened them. Others, she set on fire with a roll of her pretty eyes. One of them had her smiling as she read it, and another appeared to be a rolled up copy of a newspaper - “Sacrebleu!” With a louder than usual pop, that too disappeared in a flash.

“And, Luke, your identification badge arrived,” Sunny continued, disregarding Fleur’s pyrotechnics entirely and holding up a laminated pink card.

“Sweet! Thanks, Sunny,” Luke exclaimed, taking the badge, which had a picture of his face alongside a hologram of the company logo on it. The company logo, of course, being Fleur’s cutie mark. He barely refrained from holding the card against Fleur’s flank and comparing the two. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d find it funny.

“Come, Luc. We do not ‘ave much time,” Fleur announced, suddenly sounding a tad more annoyed than she had before receiving the post. She trotted for the doors, her long legs carrying her at a fair pace.

Luke had to resort to a half-jog to keep up. Just what the hell had gotten into her? Other than the demon that had presented itself in the lift, that is. He still needed to ask her about that, though it may not have been the best time.

A wave of hot air blasted Luke—the air-conditioning of the lobby becoming quite apparent with its sudden absence. Canterlot was thousands of feet above sea level, but still managed to be swelteringly hot in summertime. Would it kill the pegasi to maybe whip up a small breeze once in a while?

“Er… Is something wrong?” Luke cautiously asked, when Fleur didn’t lessen her breakneck pace. The ponies on the street barely had any time at all to be starstruck by the supermodel before she cantered past them, mane and tail swishing with each graceful step.

The idly muttered question brought her to a stop so quickly Luke had to do a sort of tiptoed off-balance side step in order to avoid pelvis-smashing her rump. That would have been a great way to start lunch. Fleur barely seemed to notice how close she’d come to being involuntarily violated, however. Her anger morphed into concern when her eyes found him, something Luke couldn’t help noticing the locals were paying a rather uncomfortable amount of attention to for his liking.

“It’s… nothing,” was her tepid reply.

There comes a point in every relationship when two acquaintances make the transition to becoming friends, and therefore get to call each other out on their respective bullshit.

Because, this was definitely bullshit.

The only problem was, Luke wasn’t sure if this highly successful, drop-dead gorgeous social butterfly of an uncharacteristically kind and considerate, most-wealthy benevolent noblemare actually considered him a friend.

Did she?

Because, if she did, then he could tell her she was full of it, and get away with it. But if she didn’t, he could potentially be walking his sorry ass back to Gilded Scroll and her often condescending conjectures about his current state of employability.

And seriously, fuck that.

“Um… Are you sure?” he countered, perhaps more tepidly.

Ears at half mast—he was in the clear, for now. “Luc, you do not ‘ave to tip-hoof around me… It is just, ugh. Zese ponies, zey go too far!” she nickered, drawing the attention of a group of passing mares.

All of them stopped dead in their tracks, gawking at Fleur as though she were the pony-Jesus. A thought occurred to Luke. “Uh… Do you usually walk to lunch?” he interjected, hoping the subject change wouldn’t be too glaringly obvious.

“What?” Fleur muttered, apparently lost in her own thoughts. “Oh, no. I usually teleport, but I didn’t know if you would like zat or not.”

“Wait, you can teleport others?” Luke asked, several other questions forming in his mind. Could she teleport humans? What was it like? Before he could get any of them out, however, a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Luke?”

Beige coat, grey mane tied up in a bun, large frame spectacles and a jaw that was practically on the floor in present company. The brown paper bag she’d been levitating fell haphazardly out of her telekinetic grip at the sight of Fleur.

“Gilda! Fancy seeing you here,” Luke greeted, not even trying to keep the smug look off his face. Not so unemployable now, am I? “Fleur and I were just heading out for a spot of lunch,” he added with a grin the size of a bicycle wheel, a hand subconsciously making its way to her withers.

Fleur twitched at the contact, her eyes widening. Shit. Maybe touching her was going a bit too far? She hadn’t minded in the lift, but then again, she hadn’t been herself, had she? Either way, he discreetly withdrew his hand, hoping it didn’t look too awkward.

“You… missed your appointment earlier today,” Gilded Scroll managed to croak, evidently still trying to figure out how one of her job-seeking clients was casually strolling through Canterlot with arguably the most elite of Canterlot’s elite that ever did elite.

“Did I?” Luke chuckled, blissfully aware that he no longer needed to go to the dole house for handouts. “My apologies,” he uttered, holding a hand to his heart.

The look on her face was gold.

Still, he supposed he should have told them. But with everything that had been going on, it had completely slipped his mind to let them know he’d found a job. Well, no time like the present. “I suppose I should have said—I got a job at J’adore,” he boasted, patting the image of Fleur’s cutie mark embroidered into his uniform.

Gilded’s mouth opened and closed a few times, her eyes eventually falling on Fleur as though awaiting confirmation. The supermodel did not disappoint.

“‘Luc is ze new trainee pilot of Le Tesson,” Fleur purred, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes. “‘Ee is very talented. I only wish I could ‘ave found ‘im sooner.”

Damn… She was laying it on a little thick there. It’s not that Luke didn’t appreciate her efforts to ‘big him up’, as it were, it was just… those eyes—Fuck.

“He flies your… your ship?” The mares accompanying Gilded now switched their attentions to Luke, it seemed, each eyeing him with renewed curiosity. Some of them even took a step or two closer, their inquisitive muzzles quickly gaining proximity.

“Yes, ‘ee does,” Fleur replied shortly, her tone suddenly a lot less accommodating. She turned to Luke, a few her wavy locks whipping with the motion. Her eyes fixed onto him with a resolute finality. “And yes, I can teleport others,” she said with a smile, raising a dainty hoof to wave at Gilded Scroll and her friends. “Au revoir!” she sang.

Three syllables, and it felt like someone had took a taser to the butterflies in Luke’s stomach. Not that he was given much time to think about just why the hell that would happen. Fleur’s horn ignited, and in the blink of an eye, her magical ember had intertwined itself around every fiber of his being and pulled him through a fleeting rip in spacetime. It happened so quickly that he barely had time to even feel the discomfort. It felt as though he'd been plunged into the bottom of a lukewarm lake for a fraction of a second, and then he was suddenly standing, just like that, warm and dry at the large wrought-iron gates of the Equinox district.

“Woah…” Luke muttered, almost losing his balance. So that’s what teleportation feels like. Neat.

The entrance was flanked by a couple of stoic looking guard-mares, their coats as white as the marble pillars in front of which they stood and their golden armour gleaming in the sun. They took one look at Fleur and the gates were swung open so fast Luke barely managed to stumble out of the way before he was punted halfway down the street.

They gave a hasty salute, to which Fleur just smiled and shook her head. “Come, Luc. I ‘ave an errand to run before we go to lunch, if you would be kind enough to accompany me, no?”

Shooting a scathing glance to the two unicorn guards, not that they bothered to acknowledge him, Luke smoothed the creases out of his shirt. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered. Fleur could lead him through the gates of hell and he’d probably still be inclined to follow her.

Author's Note

So, yeah.

I guess this is a little later than expected, but I've had to pick up an extra shift at work in order to pay for another motorcycle tour of Europe coming up in July. This obviously leaves me with less time for writing, so just bear with me. :twilightsheepish:

As usual, let me know if you spot any typos/editing blunders.

Also, special thanks to Riprexe for helping out with the French.

Five | Siren Song

If the J’adore headquarters was a noble’s wet dream, then the Equinox district could perhaps be considered their veritable utopia.

Everypony who stepped hoof in this place was a somepony. Be it famous theater stars, musicians, supermodels, notorious high-rollers who made their fortune in Las Pegasus, or just plain old nobles who wore their disposable income over their perfectly maintained coats in the form of expensive clothes and jewellery. It was this exclusivity that really got a noble’s ego-juice flowing.

Because of this, Fleur got considerably more attention here than in any other part of the city. If there was one thing nobles loved, it was to be associated with immensely more successful nobles.

“Ah, Fleur de Lis! How are you this fine day?” projected a haughty-looking beige-coated mare with a golden horseshoe for a cutie mark. Her horn was poking through a hat of the same colour with several large black feathers sticking out if it, her white mane tied up in a tight bun. It kind of looked like a crow had started building a nest on the top of her head, then realised it was a really shit place to build a nest.

Fleur merely smiled and gave the pony a nod. She opened her mouth to say something, but four more ponies had already materialised from the outdoor seating area of a nearby cafe, one of them wasting no time in whipping out a camera.

“Excusez-moi, we are just passing through, thank you,” Fleur politely informed them, but she would have had more luck trying to convince a bugbear to play the trombone.

A few of them finally noticed she wasn’t alone, their gleeful expressions swiftly being replaced with the look a pony might’ve got when discovering a fresh dog-turd on the underside of their hoof.

“Um… Fleur, the alien is following you,” the beige mare crudely whisper-shouted, pointing a golden-horseshoe clad hoof at Luke. Here we go…

Luke was about to fire a well-deserved dig at the travesty on her head, but Fleur had already taken a step closer to the mare, their difference in height glaringly apparent. “Golden Shoe, am I correct?” Fleur barked, glaring down at the shorter unicorn.

“You know my name?” the mare squeaked, a rather stupid grin chasing away the worry that had crept onto her face in an instant.

Fleur’s voice gained a sickeningly sweet quality to it that gave Luke the same feeling of unease he sometimes got when he looked at her sapphire. “Oh, I know who you are, ma chère. I ‘ave ‘eard the tale of ‘ow you sent your subordinates to sabotage nearly every other farrier in this city for your own personal gain. Now you can charge everypony your ridiculous prices for their shoes—after all, why wouldn’t you? Now that they have no alternative.”

Much to Luke’s immense satisfaction, Golden Shoe’s face deflated like a collapsed souffle. Fleur hadn’t lifted a hoof, or cast an aura. She simply hadn’t needed to. The disapproving, judging expressions of her peers were the ultimate bitch-slap for a status-seeking pony such as this.

“As for your jibe at my colleague, are you really suggesting that I lack the perception to notice that there is a man accompanying me?” Fleur continued, her eyes piercing. “I, witness of over ten thousand moons, target of several assassination attempts, fail to realise I am being followed by a being as tall as Celestia herself?" Fleur took a step back, and Luke nearly had a mini heart attack when she reached up and gently touched a hoof to his chest. "Do you not perhaps see my cutie mark upon 'is chest?" She took a step towards Golden once more, lowering her voice to a whisper that could barely be heard over the idle chatter of the street. “Did you not perhaps think to put two and two togezzer, and come to the conclusion that ‘ee is my friend?”

Golden Shoe cowered under Fleur’s gaze, her head whipping to the curious looks of several more bystanders that had noticed the juicy scene unfolding before their eyes. Nobles did love their gossip, after all.

“Eheh… Excuse me, I have to go…” Golden Shoe squeaked, the solid-gold horseshoes the were her namesake clip-clopping on cobbled lime as she trotted away, slowly at first, but soon breaking out into a canter as ponies continued to nudge each other’s shoulders, point, and whisper.

“Nice hat,” Luke called after her, but she didn’t look back.

“Come, Luc,” Fleur sighed, striding by the the group of ponies still trying to get her attention. A few more cameras had joined the first, and her tail was perhaps slightly lower than usual. “Once upon a time, being a noble used to mean something. It saddens me that our once great aristocracy has devolved into nothing more than a group of mindless socialites,” she muttered, but Luke was too busy giving himself a mental bitch-slap for noticing the precise angle of her fucking tail. Seriously? “Of course, we are not all zis way. There are still some true ‘noble’ ponies.”

Taking a few longer than usual strides, he caught up. There was something she’d said earlier that had struck him as a little odd. “Have ponies really tried to kill you?”

They rounded a corner onto the gleaming white-paved street leading up to the castle gates. Luke had plenty of memories of this place. None of them were particularly pleasant. Though, it didn’t seem quite as bad with Fleur by his side.

“It ‘appens, from time to time,” Fleur replied, though she seemed a little… distracted. Her tongue flicked over her lips, almost too quickly to see, and her eyes appeared fixed on a small group of street performers playing a jazzy-sounding number. One of them—a cute little yellow pegasus playing a tambourine—shot Luke a smile. That was all the warning he got before Fleur started to sing.

The performers didn’t miss a beat, not that anypony would have noticed if they’d stopped playing. The rapt, undivided attention of every soul in the busy street was suddenly glued to the Prench supermodel as though their continued existence depended on it.

Holy shit. Luke felt his jaw practically drop to the floor. If an orgasm could be conveyed as a collection of soundwaves, then it would surely take the form of the heavenly tones gracefully slipping from her lips. He had no idea what she was singing—it was all in Prench—but it didn’t matter. Every fibre of his being was instantly, irrevocably enthralled.

Her sapphire glinted at him in the sunlight as she deftly stepped around him, her eyes mimicking the beautiful deep blue hue of the gem as her serenade twined itself around his heart. There was no escape. He didn’t want to escape. His only desire was to hold her. He felt his knees impact the ground, his arms reached out. He needed to feel that beautiful coat pressed against his bare skin, needed to sate himself inside her—wait… what?

Where the fuck did that come from?

Luke was suddenly aware Fleur was no longer singing, and that he was kneeling in front of her with his arms outstretched like some sort of weirdo. He grimaced, dropping them to his sides. Fleur looked… unstable. Yeah, unstable was probably the best word to describe her. Her mane was whipping back and forth in a non-existent whirlwind, her eyes were glowing like high-powered xenon spotlights and she was surrounded by a subtle blue haze that was slowly but surely being consumed by the gem in her collar. Her expression was strained, almost as if she was having an internal battle with herself over what she was supposed to be doing.

A blink, and with a grimace that mirrored his own, she appeared to remember.

“Merde.”

CRACK.

The street imploded in a haze of colour and pressure. Not a split second later, Luke’s feet slammed down to the floor quite a bit harder than they had after the first teleport. He promptly lost his balance, and fell right over onto a middle aged unicorn that had been wafting herself with a paper fan.

She screamed, as did several other ponies occupying the courtroom Fleur had just teleported them to. Celestia was sat behind a large judge box-thingy, or whatever the hell it was called, watching the scene unfold with a slightly puzzled expression.

“I must speak with you at once, mon amie. Zis cannot wait!” Fleur demanded, with a look that suggested it would be very unwise for the Princess to refuse.

“Order, order,” Celestia began, the room full of nobles screaming curses at Luke as though he had just murdered several of their children. “Such language, Mrs Constance—he barely touched you. Calm down, for pony’s sake.”

When the nobles continued to scream regardless, Celestia simply let out a sigh. “Court is temporarily adjourned,” she muttered, though no pony seemed to hear her. “Follow me please,” she added to Fleur and Luke with a wave of a large, perfectly preened white wing.

Celestia led them out of the courtroom and along a myriad of corridors until they reached a familiar royal dining hall. Luke had spent many a meal time in this room, mainly because it was one of those blessed areas of Canterlot Castle that was off limits to non-royal nobles. A long dining table sat in the center of the room, most of the chairs accompanying it tucked neatly underneath, bar the one at the very end, where there was a rolled up newspaper sitting on the table next to a half-drank cup of coffee.

“I see my sister had another late morning,” Celestia commented. The hopeful attempt at lightening the mood was not lost on Fleur, it seemed.

“I need to speak with you,” she insisted, throwing a worried glance at Luke. “Alone.”

Luke scowled. Yeah, she was his boss and everything, but she damn well owed him an explanation for dragging him back to the castle. “Hold on a second, Fleur. I have several questions,” Luke began, torn between getting his point across and wanting to keep his job. Just what the hell had that impromptu sing-song in the street been about?

Fleur gave him a wide-eyed forlorn look. For a split second, she was a mere shadow of the mare he’d first met in the studio, looking more like a little lost filly than the big, important CEO of a fashion empire. “Luc, I…” she whispered, and her horn gained a familiar glow. “I shall explain… later.”

CRACK.

Luke twitched, bracing for yet another impact with the ground, but it never came. He was still in the dining hall.

Alone.

He scowled. “Oh, I’ll just wait here then, shall I?” he yelled, his voice echoing around the empty hall.

Thirty seconds of silence passed. A minute. Two.

“She isn’t coming back,” he muttered, resigning himself to sitting in Luna’s abandoned chair, his elbows on the table. Just what the hell was her problem, anyway? The day had started off great. But then she’d started acting all weird. Ponies weren’t supposed to have god damned fangs, or glowing eyes. Or even be able to sing like… Hell, there wasn’t an adjective adequate enough to describe what had went on in that street. It was almost as if she had opened a gateway to his soul with nothing but her voice. And he hadn’t even tried to resist. Shit was fucked.

With a long, drawn out sigh, he cracked his knuckles, half wondering if he still had a job or not. These thoughts were forcefully punted out of his mind, however, when he caught a glimpse of his own face staring up at him from the news paper. “...The fuck?”

Quickly grabbing it, he unrolled it to find a photograph of himself, Vert and Fleur talking on top of the skydock. He wasn’t wearing his uniform. This must have been taken on his first day. Just above the photograph was a headline that read:

J’ADORE TAKING EQUAL OPPORTUNITIES TOO FAR?

Modeling empire J’adore, considered by many to be the ultimate in photography and fashion consultancy, wowed the city of Canterlot last week by being the first company worldwide to hire an alien being. Yes, that’s right folks, you heard it here first at the Canterlot Herald. Some say this is yet another attempt by their notorious Pony Resources department to convince everypony that their Equal Opportunities policy is unmatched.

While this certainly fits their profile, I can in fact reveal that in this case it was not the griffin, zebra and hippogriff-loving fanatics of that department that facilitated this particular appointment. No, it was none other than Fleur de Lis herself that hired the alien—to be the new pilot of her private airship, no less. Several city officials have already condemned the move, voicing their legitimate concern that it is perhaps unwise to allow an as-yet completely unknown entity control of a decommissioned warship that is cleared to fly in close proximity to the city, given the location of the company’s dock.

We took to the streets of the illustrious Equinox district to try and gain some insight into this creature. Acclaimed noblestallion Top Hat Tootington the Third, had this to say: ‘I have no idea why Princess Celestia even let it within a thousand hooves of the Equinox district, let alone give it room and board in the royal castle! The way that thing strut around acting like we ponies owed it something was simply abhorrent. Not that I’m doubting her methods, mind you. Sometimes I just think she’s too generous for her own good.’

It appears the Princess’ hospitality eventually did run out, as the creature, ‘Look Nona’ moved out of the Castle and began claiming welfare some time ago, up until his recent employment at J’adore.

“Fucking liar!” Luke yelled to the empty dining hall, holding the paper at arm’s length as though he might catch tabloiditis. As if he needed more reason for ponies to hate him—now there was the Shitrag Herald just plain making up lies.

And Top Hat! Fucking Top Hat Tootingington the Turd. Luke knew this pony on a first name basis, having had a couple of run-ins with the wealthy stallion the few times he had ventured outside of the castle.

You could call the guy a slimeball, but that would be an insult to slimeballs. Top Hat was one of the few ponies that had went as far as to sign the ‘Evict the Alien’ petition that had been making the rounds amongst the hardcore elitist in the Equinox district. Thankfully, Celestia put her hoof down on that one pretty quickly. Like, literally stomped on it outside of the Castle gates and told everypony to stop being bigoted assholes.

She hadn’t used that exact phrasing, but most ponies got the message. Things had actually been a bit better since then. Luke didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have Celestia on his side.

Throwing the paper back on the table, Luke resigned himself to dreading the bi-weekly meetings with Gilded Scroll he was probably going to be having again very shortly. After all—Fleur would have to be crazy to keep him on the payroll after this.

CRACK.

The soft, spongy texture of the lone midday Canterlot cloud met Fleur’s hooves, courtesy of the cloudwalk spell that was all but second nature to her at this point. Fleur loved walking the clouds—the great blue yonder resembled the sea enough to placate her darker half.

Alas, that wasn’t the case this time.

VEUX LUC!

“-never thought anypony would be quite so bold as to teleport me from my Castle against my will, but I suppose you certainly fit the bill,” Celestia chuckled, letting her wings fan out in the slight breeze.

Well, she’s not angry. Let’s see how long that lasts. “I should 'ave never done zis favour for you!” Fleur growled, taking several hoofsteps toward the sun goddess, the siren still wailing in her head.

Annoyingly, Celestia’s cheery expression remained. Fleur may well have complemented her regalia for all the reaction she got. She snapped her jaws, pointing an accusatory forehoof as her fangs snipped together like razor blades. “You… You, with your knowledge and power and unfathomable foresight. You knew zis would 'appen. You got to know ‘im, seen ‘ow wonderful ‘ee was and you knew.”

Celestia lounged on the cloud as though it were a duvet made of the finest fabrics money could buy. She still had that stupid grin on her face. “Do you not like him? I can find him another place of work if need be-”

“You know that eez no longer an option!” Fleur growled, the whining, pining siren in her head demanding she teleport back to Luke at once. “I… I ‘ave lived for so long, in peace-”

“Peace,” Celestia chuckled, smiling fondly at a sparrow that had just alighted on her hoof. “Is that what you’re calling it?” The bitter derision in her tone was subtle, but Fleur didn’t miss it.

Some of the venom escaped Fleur, but she still stared the Princess down with a slightly blue-tinted, steely gaze. “Yes, peace, and more importantly—control. Isn’t zat what you want? A tame beast, living peacefully amongst your unknowing subjects?”

“What I want, is for you to be happy,” Celestia sighed, casting a forlorn look at the sparrow being carried away by the breeze. “I’d give up the crown to be a siren... to have a chance to spend the rest of eternity with someone to call my own. Here you are, with the opportunity of your endless life, and you’re just too scared to admit you’ve found your consort.”

Fleur flinched as though somepony had just hit her with a shock spell. “Do not use that word.”

Ears flat to her mane and her tail between her legs—the dreaded confirmation coursed through her with every beat of her heart. It was irrefutable. Not every siren found her consort, but for those lucky enough, the only other thing required was time—a resource that was of course, an inexhaustible commodity.

Ruthless inevitability would of course dictate that she pursue Luke with an irrational determination. What if he rejected her? Would she end up enslaving him, as others of her kind have done in the past? The thought made her sick to her stomach. And that wasn’t even the worst possibility…

“Bit for your thoughts, my old friend?”

Celestia had barely spoke, but Fleur still nearly jumped out of her coat. She cleared her throat. “Everything… eez going to change now, wezzer I like eet or not.”

Celestia smiled, a true smile this time, not a smirk. Her horn began to glow. “Now, that’s a healthy mindset. If I were you, I’d be doing everything in my power to guarantee a favourable outcome for everypony.”

With a flash of dazzling sunlight, the cloud was empty once more.

Author's Note

I was originally working on a (completely unrelated) Marble Pie clopshot to release with this chapter, but I couldn't finish it time. I've decided to wait until JimboTex finally gets around to finishing the Shimmy fic that he's been working on for over two years instead. (If that ever actually happens of course :-P)

As usual, let me know if you spot any typos/editing errors. :rainbowkiss:

Six | Revelation

The short walk from the Royal Castle to Restaurant Row was completed in near silence, bar the distant rush of the city’s waterfalls and the idle chatter of the nobles. Luke still had no idea if he even had a job anymore, and the uncertainty was effectively thwarting his attempts to strike up a conversation. He lagged behind Fleur a couple of paces or so, hands in his pockets and a perpetual scowl darkening his features.

She still hadn’t explained shit, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask. For now, at least. After her little private chat with Celestia, she’d barely even spoken to him, other than to ask if he liked spicy food. In all honesty, he hated the silence.

“We’re supposed to be back at work in like, five minutes,” he muttered, glancing at a nearby clocktower.

One of Fleur’s ears flicked, her beautiful blue eyes flashing to the clock. “Work can wait. I… ‘ave things to discuss with you,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

Great. She was probably going to fire his ass. Well, it was good while it lasted. He was going to miss flying an airship. It was by far the coolest thing he’d ever done… “You’re gonna fire me, aren’t you?”

Fuck. The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Fleur stopped in her tracks, her head whipping back so fast her mane flew all over the place for a second. Her face was a picture of utter bewilderment. “What? … What gave you zat idea?” she quickly shot back at him, the words flying from her muzzle so fast he barely caught them.

The interrogative, slightly blue tinted stare he got from her was enough to make him wholly regret even opening his mouth. “I, uh… I just thought with you going to talk to Celestia-”

“I ‘ave no plans to fire you, Luke,” she firmly stated, her tail flicking in agitation. It almost sounded as though she was trying to reassure herself, more than anyone else. “But I do believe I owe you an explanation for some of my recent… be’aviours, toward you.”

“Oh, really?” Luke muttered. About damn time. “Are we finally going to talk about what happened in the lift? Or the little singsong in the street?” he challenged. It was good to finally get the words off his chest, even if Fleur was looking more and more ashamed with each question. “Why do your eyes change colour? And what the hell is with the fangs? Are they real?”

“Yes, zey are real,” Fleur sighed, “I shall explain inside. We do not want to be over’eard.”

They rounded a corner into an alcove between two large high-class restaurants. A smaller establishment was nestled between the two, its styling clearly more ethnic in comparison. A large sign depicting a bull elephant holding a wooden ladle in its trunk was fixed above an empty plaque over the doorway, which sat between two large golden framed bay windows. The place had a decidedly ‘Indian food’ vibe to it, backed up by something that smelled suspiciously similar to the south-Asian cuisine.

The whole building looked blatantly out of place in the Equinox district, especially on a street like Restaurant Row. Most of the “Restaurants” here only sold the same crappy, pretentious food, that was often not much more than a few mouthfuls of overpriced tofu.

“Huh. I’ve never noticed this place before,” Luke pondered aloud. He’d thought he knew of every small business in this city, having tried to get a job at just about all of them. This one seemed to have slipped under the radar.

“Zis eez ze Tasty Treat. A friend of mine works here,” Fleur said, the door swinging open in her telekinesis.

The interior followed more or less the same theme as the exterior, utilising warm colours for the walls and the ceiling drapes. Small round wooden tables and stools with satin cushions on them gave the place a homey feel, something that was rare in the city of Canterlot. A small number of booths lined the rear corner, next to a minibar which sat just in front of the bull elephant logo fixed to the back wall.

“Could we have a private booth, if it eez not too much trouble, ma chere?” Fleur asked, her tone slightly hushed.

Luke pulled his eyes away from examining the elaborate gold stitching of the ceiling drapes, his gaze landing on the pretty mare Fleur had spoken to. It was fairly obvious, even to him, that this pony perhaps originated from a different part of Equador. Her muzzle was a different shape, as were her eyes. She wore a gold headband behind her horn, and her ears were adorned with blue-topaz studded earrings.

“A booth again?” the pony asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, at least you brought company this time,” she jibed, flashing Luke a grin that showed off a set of pearly white teeth. Her accent was way too similar to Indian to ignore, prompting a bout of internal facepalming.

Fleur huffed, blowing a few strands of mane from her face and levelling the mare with a mock glare. “Is zis ‘ow you treat all of your customers?”

“Only our disgruntled investors,” she fired back, quick as a whip, before turning to Luke. “I’m Saffron Masala, seeing as Little-Miss-Live-Forever hasn’t bothered to introduce us.”

“I was getting to zat,” Fleur interjected, already trotting to the corner booth.

“Luke,” Luke replied, thoughtlessly holding out a hand like a fucking moron.

Saffron’s lack of hands was of no concern to her, it seemed, as she just nuzzled his palm instead. Her fur was almost as soft as Fleur’s. Almost. “Well, Luke, why don’t you go and sit down with your marefriend and I’ll get the two of you a couple of menus?”

Luke nodded, and even took two whole steps toward the booth before his brain finally caught up with what she’d said. “Woah, woah, wait a minute!” he shot at the exotic mare, but she’d already disappeared like a fart in the wind. He was left holding up an index finger to an empty room, bar the small number of customers enjoying their lunch in between stealing not-so-subtle glances at him.

“She eez messing with you, Luc. Come and sit down,” Fleur called from the booth. She even said it with a straight face. Hell, she was smiling for the first time in hours, in fact.

Luke grit his teeth, already beginning to feel his stupid face reddening. Like nearly everything in Equestria, the table was hopelessly too low for any human that wasn’t accustomed to traditional Japanese dining furniture. As a result, his shin had a thorough disagreement with its edge as he shuffled his lanky frame into the booth.

“Ow,” he gasped, eyes watering through either pain or embarrassment. He wasn’t even sure which anymore.

Eventually managing to sit down on the small bench, Luke crossed his legs. It was just about the only way he could sit, as there was practically no room beneath the table. This place really wasn’t designed with humans in mind.

“Are you okay, mon cher?” Fleur asked. She only moved an inch or two closer, but that was more than enough to close the gap.

“M’fine,” Luke muttered, suddenly mindful of the proximity. Hell, her cutie mark was near enough pressed to the side of his leg. Talk about close quarters. The booth wasn’t large, not by any means, but there was a whole other bench on the adjacent wall she could utilise if she wanted. And her scent… holy hell… Luke had no idea what perfume she was wearing, but it was making him want to cuddle her like a fucking waifu pillow.

Such desires were wholly inappropriate for an employee to have towards his boss… His devastatingly pretty, immortal equine boss… Fuck. The silence between them had officially transitioned to the “awkward” phase. He had to say something. Anything.

“I can’t believe she said you were my… my-” Oh, god—not that!

Thankfully, Fleur just smiled, and Luke found the effect was even more pronounced up close. He suddenly had to stamp on the urge to put an arm around her. "Why do you think I usually come ‘ere alone?"

Saffron Masala—Master Troll-Horse Extraordinaire—sidled up to the booth flashing those pearly whites again in a triumphant smile. “Here are your menus, my dears!”

Luke took one with a disapproving glance, but didn’t say anything other than “thanks.”

Once she had disappeared again, Fleur closed the curtain over the booth entrance with her magic, blocking out the rest of the restaurant. Another flash of her horn, and the idle conversation of the other patrons, the clatter of pots and pans and sizzle of cooking food from the kitchen, all of it was snuffed out so quickly Luke thought his eardrums had burst.

“Woah…” he muttered, his voice completely devoid of reverb. It was if he’d stepped into the most overdesigned recording studio ever conceived. “This is freaky.”

“I cannot risk anypony overhearing us, Luc,” Fleur began, her impeccable diction even more pronounced in the deathly silence. She placed a hoof in his hand. His fingers reacted instinctively; wrapping around her fetlock before he’d even considered if such an action was a good idea or not. “What I am about to tell you ‘as been a state secret for over three thousand years.”

A state secret? Was he going to be getting a visit from the pony feds if he listened to her explanation? And three thousand years… Was that how old she was? The questions were already piling up, yet she’d barely even told him anything yet.

“You ‘ave already figured out zat I am not a normal pony. I am immortal, but not an alicorn, and sometimes I ‘ave fangs, and luminous eyes. Not many ponies know about zose last two, but you alone ‘ave have seen more of zose traits than all of the ponies I ‘ave met in the last century combined. Zis, and only zis, eez why we are ‘aving zis conversation right now.”

A pause, during which Fleur slowly closed her eyes. She seemed to be steeling herself. “I am both possessed by, and a part of an ancient race of water demons known as sirens,” Fleur whispered, her eyes, unmistakably lilac at the present moment, searching his face for a reaction.

All Luke could do was blink stupidly a couple of times. It sounded like she was trying to tell him she was possessed by a fucking demon. Flashbacks of the movie The Exorcist played over in his mind. Was she going to start speaking in a demon voice and pissing everywhere?

“I… I don’t know what to say to that,” he said, half wondering if she was just pulling his leg. He kind of hoped she was, actually. “You’re… possessed?”

“In laymare’s terms—yes. She and I are like two ‘alves of an ‘ole. Normally she eez content to stay in the confines of my mind, but she eez drawn to you for some reason, I… I do not know why. She… She likes you a lot,” Fleur finished, her ears flattening against her mane, her eyes breaking contact. An unmistakable blush formed on her cheeks as soon as she got the words out, and Luke got the impression it had taken her a fair bit of courage to admit it.

“She… likes me?” Luke repeated. He was starting to sound like a parrot, but the things she was saying were flying so far out of left field that he couldn’t help it.

Fleur nodded, and Luke didn’t miss her eyes over analyzing his reaction again. “Sometimes, she can take control. Zat eez when ze fangs come out, and my eyes glow.”

“Okay…” Luke trailed off, placing his free palm flat on the table. Coolness invaded his skin. The amount of sweat that accumulated on it in the five minutes or so they’d been talking was quite alarming. “What about the singing? Why did it make me feel like…” he began, but ended up stopping himself. Why did it make me feel like I had just tripped and fell in love with you? He finished in his head. That was probably the best way to describe how it had felt, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say it out loud.

Fleur’s ears flattened even further, pressing into her silky mane. Luke felt the tiniest little tremor through the fetlock still grasped in his hand. Her eyes were as huge as grapefruits, and she gave him the same look she had before she had teleported in the royal dining hall. “There eez a reason my true race eez a state secret, mon cher. Sirens ‘ave a bad reputation for two reasons. The first eez because of what we must do to survive,” she explained, her voice gaining an uncharacteristic tremor to it that Luke didn’t recognise. He gave her fetlock a little squeeze without any thought.

“Sirens depend on the attention of others. If we do not feed upon zem, we grow weak, and fade away to something unrecognisable.” She gave a shudder, her ears flicking for a second. “Abstinence will not kill us, but we become shadows of our former selves. Of course, many ponies interpret our need of attention as vanity, which eez why we ‘ide our true identities. What you saw earlier was a breakdown of control on my part.”

“So… You were… feeding on me?” Luke began, unsure of whether or not he should feel violated somehow. It certainly shed some light on the sudden infatuation… Then again, blaming his whole underlying attraction to Fleur on some freaky ‘siren’ effect seemed kind of cheap. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t enjoying just sitting close to her, talking to her, and this ‘siren’ was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

Fleur slowly nodded. Her ears were still flat, eyes still scanning his face. It was like she expected him to be mad, or something. “Are there, like… any negative effects to this ‘feeding’?”

“Non, but… some ponies have labelled it ‘brainwashing’ in the past. It eez not, but misinformation—especially negative misinformation—spreads like wildfire in Equestria,” she added, subconsciously massaging his palm with her fetlock.

“Ze second reason sirens ‘ave a bad reputation eez because of an event zat ‘appened a little over a thousand years ago. As you ‘ave rightly guessed, sirens use zeir voice to placate zeir prey in order to feed. Well, back in ze age of ze Pillars, three sirens that ‘ad an un’ealthy thirst for power took zis ability one step further, and attempted to enslave ze ponies of Equestria. Zey even tried to recruit other sirens in zeir betrayal, myself included. I, of course, never strayed from Celestia, but I believe zey managed to rally a small number of followers before zey were ultimately banished by ze Pillars. Ever since zen, ze ponies of Equestria ‘ave ‘ad an in’erited distrust of sirens.”

Luke had thought the prejudice the nobles had shown themselves capable of was bad, but he quickly came to realise it probably paled in comparison to the shit Fleur had probably dealt with over the years… all one thousand-plus of them… hell, maybe even more than that. “What are these ‘Pillars’?”

Fleur's face took on a slightly forlorn look, and she closed her eyes, dipping her muzzle somewhat. After a moment of two, she gave Luke a bittersweet smile. “Ze Pillars of Equestria were a group of remarkable ponies zat lived all zose years ago. Zey protected Equestria in times of need, proving themselves time and time again,” she added, her voice a lot quieter than usual. Luke was already wishing he’d kept his stupid mouth shut.

“Forgive me. One of zem was ze best friend I ever ‘ad. She was the sweetest pegasus you would ever meet, and a fiercely loyal friend. Above all else, she gave ponies ‘ope, ‘ope for a brighter future. I… I ‘ave not thought of ‘er in quite some time,” she trailed off.

“Fleur, forget I said anything, really,” Luke muttered, gently squeezing her fetlock. He felt like an idiot for asking, even though he couldn’t have known. Being immortal probably got old real fast after watching a few dozen friends die.

The sapphire gem in her collar chose that moment to softly illuminate. Luke threw it a glance, but paid it no mind… for a few seconds, that is. After about ten, the impulse to reach out and touch it grew too powerful to ignore. The fact that he was supposedly fearful of it never even crossed his mind. He caved, his hand lifting from the cool wood of the desk, tracked by violet eyes as it made its way closer and closer to the platinum spiked collar. A faint afterthought pointed out that this was probably a stupid idea and could potentially result in a pair of fangs being embedded into his flesh, but Luke barely heard it over the soothing sound of waves that had inexplicably filled his mind as he stared into the gem. He didn’t even question the auditory hallucination, if that’s even what it was. Likewise, Fleur appeared to be a passenger in her own body. Whilst her eyes were violet, she made no move to stop him, instead watching with idle curiosity.

After a perceived age, his fingers made contact with the sapphire. It was cold. Like, ice cold. A sharp intake of breath cut through the silence like a knife, and Luke’s gaze flicked up to witness Fleur’s eyes rolling up toward her horn, which had began to glow of its own accord.

The aura, though still pink, managed to knock some sense back into Luke. He was being a fucking idiot messing around with a demon. It was a wonder she was letting him get away with it. He quickly broke the contact, squeezing his damn-near frozen fingertips in attempt to chase away the numbness.

It took a moment or two for Fleur to regain her composure, during which Luke began to regret touching her. What if that gem was a huge no-go area? He’d never seen her not wearing it, so it was obviously very important to her. Christ, he was a fucking moron. He may well have just casually laid his sweaty fingers all over something that was precious to her. Yeah, she hadn’t stopped him, but maybe she was just too polite to say?

Fleur’s eyes were fixed to Luke as though he was the most interesting thing in the world to her. “Not a soul ‘as touched my sapphire in over seventy three years,” she said, a look of mild bewilderment on her face.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Luke began, once again cursing his stupid curiosity.

Fleur didn’t even appear to be listening to him. “The last being to do so was a warlock by the name of Gronag…”

Luke blinked. “A warlock? Wait… those are a thing here?”

“... She killed ‘im for ‘is boldness.”

Luke opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. Did she just say that this “siren” killed what was presumably a sapient being? Or were warlocks just like animals in Equestria? Either way, a sense of dread was slowly beginning to build up in Luke’s chest. Was Fleur a psychopath? Because it was sure as hell starting to look that way.

Fleur smiled, chasing away some of the panic. “Luc… You ‘ave nothing to fear from ‘er,” she reassured. Fuck. Was it that obvious he was a little freaked out?

“What? I’m not scared,” he blurted out, his free palm now back on the desk. It was perhaps even sweatier than before at this point… “I just… you… she killed… Wait, are you winding me up?” he stuttered, half hoping this was some ill-conceived joke.

Fleur’s smile faded, and she shook her head. “I am not proud of what ‘append, mon cher. I fear that if Celestia ‘ad not stepped in to smooth things over, I would ‘ave been driven out of ze city for good,” she sighed, adjusting her collar with a forehoof. “Every siren ‘as a collar or a chain about ‘er neck, with a gemstone attached to it. Zey can take the form of either a ruby, an emerald, or a sapphire, like my own, but zey hold a momentous power within zem in comparison to a common Equestrian gemstone. A siren cannot feed without ‘er gem, so she will not take it very lightly when others interfere with it.”

A deathly chill travelled the length of Luke’s spine. There it was: proof that he had pretty much been unknowingly prodding a dangerous beast with a stick.

Fleur’s grin returned, along with a short snippet of musical laughter. “Luc, you look like you ‘ave just seen a ghost,” she chuckled, gently running her fuzzy fetlock over his hand. “Think of it like zis: if she ‘ad taken offence to it, you would ‘ave ‘ad no idea.”

Luke grimaced. “Because I’d be dead?”

Instead of answering, Fleur leaned in close, brushing the soft hairs of her cheek against his. The heavenly scent of her mane permeated his nostrils. Strawberries and cream. He was too mesmerised by her forwardness to even consider how ridiculous that was. She was sweet enough without clichéd hair products, that was for sure.

“She could never ‘urt you,” Fleur whispered, and Luke felt a soft forehoof brush over his chest. “Now, let us order. I’m sure Saffron will be growing tired of waiting,” she happily chirped, her horn flaring with the pink aura and levitating a menu in front of them.

Luke blinked, his own menu lay on the desk, forgotten. Maybe Fleur was aware of what she was doing, maybe not, but she was practically sitting in his lap… Not that he minded, of course… He should mind, though. She was his boss, and a unicorn, not to mention she was harbouring a fucking she-demon inside of her.

POP.

Sound burst back into life, bringing with it the background conversation of ponies having their lunch, the clatter of cutlery on pottery, and the occasional bang of a pot or pan from the kitchen, all of which now seemed about five times louder seeing as they had been absent for the past however long… Luke wasn’t even sure how long he and Fleur had talked.

“Luc?”

Oh… she asked a question. “Yes, my dear?” He grinned, perhaps emphasising the last two words.

Fleur raised an eyebrow. “Pensez-vous que vous êtes drôle, mon amour?”

Luke mimicked her, raising one of his own eyebrows. He’d picked up a little Prench from her, but not that much. “Umm… What?”

“I said, ‘ave you decided what to order, no?” she asked, flashing those pearly whites.

Luke frowned. “No you didn’t.”

Fleur smiled. “You accuse moi of dishonesty?”

The curtain glowed for a second, before sweeping back to reveal Saffron Masala, who had an even larger grin on her face than usual. “Have you two made up your minds, then?”

“I’ll have the usual, please, mon amie,” Fleur replied.

Luke studied her face, still half-trying to figure out what she had said in Prench. She usually said ‘mon ami’ or ‘mon cher.’ ‘Mon amour’ was a new one, and he wasn’t sure what it meant. He hadn’t heard her use it when talking to anyone else, that much was certain.

“The house special soup, of course. And for your strapping young stallion?” Saffron prompted.

Luke rolled his eyes. “The same, if you don’t mind.”

Saffron gave a nod, bowing out with a grin.

The food arrived surprisingly quick, Luke putting it down to Fleur being a high profile regular of the restaurant. Saffron Masala was never too far away, it seemed, always popping over and offering to refill the wine glasses and bread plate, or otherwise finding some excuse to linger. The soup was delicious, and not quite as spicy as he was expecting, which was a bonus. He’d rather not have the shits at work… Oh, shit… work. Luke wasn’t sure if he’d be able to fly the ship after three glasses of wine.

His boss was a bad influence. She had drank four glasses.

Once the empty bowls and glasses had been taken away, Luke requested the bill from Saffron, if only to get her to go away and stop cracking jokes about the ‘date’ they were having. It wasn’t a date, it was just lunch.

“So, you like ze food here, no?” Fleur asked, her lithe frame still practically pressed against his side.

“Yeah. The food, the company. It’s all good,” Luke chuckled, before realising what he’d said. That had been a flirt, sort of. With his boss… That third glass of wine was really proving to be a mistake.

Fleur didn’t seem to mind. Hell, he wasn’t sure if she even noticed. “I know, right? Zesty Gourmand can go and shove ‘er three hooves up ‘er tailhole! Zis place does not need zem,” she chuckled, loud enough to draw the attention of some of the other patrons. They glanced through into the booth, eyes peeled and ears stood to attention.

“You’re damn right we don’t need them,” Saffron piled on, seemingly appearing from thin air once again. The waitress set down a small tray with a piece of parchment and a couple of mints on it, before flashing a smile and disappearing again.

Luke glanced at the bill. Just under seventy bits. Not bad for two mains, a side, and a decent sized bottle of wine. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out the coin pouch he always carried around. Wallets weren’t a thing in Equestria—neither were credit cards, for that matter. It taken quite a while to get used to this method of carrying cash.

It was only after he’d fished out four twenty-bit coins that he noticed Fleur had went deadly silent.

“Luc… What are you doing?” she asked, in a tone that suggested he’d just pulled an AR-15 out of his trousers.

“Paying the bill. What else?”

“Put zat away!” she whisper shouted, glancing at the other ponies in the restaurant. They had long since lost interest, but Fleur had apparently become super self-conscious all of a sudden.

“I get that you own shares in this place, but I’m pretty sure we still have to pay,” he chuckled, dropping the coins onto the parchment.

“Ze newspapers will tear me a new tailhole if they find out I let a stallion pay a bill!”

Luke blinked, shooting her an incredulous look. “That’s ridiculous, besides—I’m not a stallion,” he quipped. These ponies and their matriarchal tendencies, man.

Fleur’s horn flared, the deposited coins and the coin pouch disappearing with a flash. Luke felt them instantly rematerialise in his pocket. He sighed. “Fleur, come on-”

“I am ze third oldest pony in this city, and zat damn well earns me ze right to be old fashioned. An honourable mare never allows a stallion to hoof ze bill,” she harrumphed, turning up her muzzle like the true noblemare she was. Another flash of her horn left a shiny one hundred bit coin sitting on the parchment instead.

“Way to one up me,” Luke muttered.

Fleur shook her head, her beautiful pink locks falling about her face. “Ugh… You don’t know Saffron like I do. I would never ‘ear ze end of it if I did not overtip,” she sighed.

“It’s funny you should mention the papers, though. Y’know they’re already ‘tearing you a new tailhole’ just for hiring me, right?”

Fleur, who had been halfway through finishing off her fifth glass of wine, almost did a spit take. “You know about ze article?” she squeaked, after swallowing so fast her cheeks turned a rosy colour. “‘Ow did you find out?”

“Luna left a copy of the Herald on the dining table in the Castle.”

Fleur let slip a long, drawn out sigh. “She ‘ates zat paper, as does Celestia. Zey only read it to check if zose parasitic ‘journalists’ have written anything about zem. If Celestia ‘ad not sent a copy to me zis morning, I would not ‘ave even known myself that zey ‘ad mentioned you.” A soft white hoof landed on his chest again. “Luc, please do not take anything zey say to ‘eart. Ponies like Top 'At are ze scourge of ze nobility.”

Luke snorted. “You don’t have to tell me that. I’ve been itching to lay a beat down on ol’ Turd-face since I arrived in Canterlot.”

The corners of Fleur’s mouth twitched, but only for a second. “Now now, it eez not proper be’aviour for stallions to fight. It eez better to leave any disagreements for ze mares to deal with.”

Another snort. “You really are old fashioned,” Luke chuckled, just as a cuckoo clock on the wall announced it was two o’ clock. “Anyway, we’re now over an hour late… Why are you still sitting in a restaurant with the hired help?”

Fleur scoffed somewhat, shifting a little against his side. Once again, Luke had to bat down the urge to put an arm around her… he really had to watch that. “Luc, you are ‘ardly just ze ‘ired help. You are ze First Officer of Le Tesson, and… dare I say, my friend?”

She smiled, her tongue running over her teeth again and her eyes glimmering like huge violet supernovas. Luke cleared his throat. Damn, those eyes. She really knew how to turn on that pretty pony charm. “Oh, I don’t know about all that. Wouldn’t want to get a reputation for brown nosing the boss now, would I?” he teased, cracking a grin.

That earned him a nicker and a small hip check. “Ugh… Typical stallion. Come, mon cher, Photo Finish will ‘ave my ‘ead impaled on a spork if we turn up much later zan zis.” With that, Fleur rose up from the bench, leaving a noticeable emptiness at Luke’s side. Her long legs gracefully navigated around the table with ease. You certainly wouldn’t believe she’d just drank nearly half a bottle of wine.

Luke got up himself, with quite a bit less finesse than Fleur had. It was hard to ignore the playful flicking of her tail, which was near enough at eye height as he clambered out of the booth. She was probably doing it on purpose. Well, either her, or the she-demon riding shotgun in her mind that had apparently taken a liking to him.

Either way, that shit was distracting.

Author's Note

I'm back from holiday (vacation) now, so updates should resume a better schedule once more.

As always, let me know of any typos/editing errors in the comments below.

:rainbowkiss:

Eight | The Stone Pegasus

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Luke asked, after finally managing to pick his jaw up off the lime tinted cobble lining Mane Street.

There weren’t really words in his vocabulary adequate enough to describe just how beautiful Fleur looked. Yeah, she was a supermodel. It was to be expected, right? But holy crap. At this moment in time, she was making every other supermodel look like a mountain troll with lyme disease.

“Do you not like it?” she asked, examining the short little number she was sporting—a deep purple, deliciously fur-tight one piece with the tiniest pleated skirt. In fact, it was perhaps the tiniest dress Luke had ever seen a pony wear—the perfect balance of slutty and sophisticated. The whole ensemble appeared to be fashioned out of a fine silk, and was accented with gold, including the large purple bow tied at the top of her mane.

“Do I like it?” Luke repeated, dumbfounded. That bow made her look freakin’ adorable. “Fleur, you look… amazing. I…” he faltered, grimacing down at his own attire, which paled in comparison. “Are we going to a high-society place, or something? I’m starting to feel a little underdressed.” Very underdressed. Like, shorts and a T-shirt underdressed, to be precise.

“Nonsense, you look positively dashing, mon cher,” Fleur replied, looking a little pleased with herself as she trotted a few paces down the street. She didn’t make it very far before stopping to glance back over her withers at him, those long black eyelashes fluttering so blatantly on purpose. “Come, mon cher. We mustn’t be late.”

Luke swallowed, taking a few steps towards his date. Wait, was this a date? It kinda felt like one. Fuck. He didn’t really know.

The working day had just drawn to a close, although Luke had gone home hours ago. Fleur had instructed a rather surprised-looking Vert to allow him to leave early in order to change for the Wonderbolts Derby. If only he’d done a bit more research, he might’ve returned wearing something that didn’t suggest he was going to a fucking beach party.

The stream of ponies spilling out from the five revolving doors of the J’adore tower was already starting to become a torrent. It was fairly evident by the all of the raised brows, shoulder bumping and hoof pointing that Fleur’s employees were perhaps not accustomed to seeing her casually standing just outside the building at kicking-out time looking like sex on a stick. In fact, many of them were throwing confused glances to Luke himself, probably because she was still beaming at him expectantly with those beautiful eyes of hers.

Fuck. Why did he agree to meet her right outside the building at five O'clock? There were bound be some rumours making the rounds after this. Knowing nobles and their love of gossip, some pretty huge rumours. Hell, even Vert was already beginning to notice that Fleur had been spending more time up at the dock than she used to, even with her busy schedule.

“Maybe I should go home and change?” Luke muttered, second guessing his attire once more as they strolled past Rosewood Entertainment.

“Zere is no time for zat, Luc. Stop stressing,” Fleur admonished, turning to glance up at him. “You look very handsome.”

Luke barely held back a snort. “Yeah, sure I do. Y’know, I’m starting to think you see me through rose tinted glasses, ‘cause I don’t think many ponies would agree with you on that one,” he chuckled, before realising just what he’d implied.

She’s your boss, dumbass!

Instead of the scathing look he’d expected, Fleur just laughed, and it was hard not to smile at the way her face seemed to light up. “Per’aps you are right, mon amour, but ask yourself zis—do you really care what a bunch of old nobles think?”

“Well, I care what one noble thinks, and she’s pretty damn old.”

Fleur’s eyes widened in mock disgrace. Totally worth it. “Were you never taught to respect your elders? I am over one ‘undred times your age, after all.”

Luke blinked, completely thrown. Holy shit… Was that true? “You’re over two and a half thousand years old?”

Fleur merely gave him a wry smile as she trotted straight through a group of photographers that were in the process of papping her. “It is not polite to ask a lady ‘er age, mon cher,” she purred, the camera wielding vultures scrambling out of her way like rats running from a wildcat. Fleur might’ve trampled them flat had they stayed put. Such deliberate ignorance was actually quite impressive.

Made sense. She was probably used to their shit by now.

After fifteen minutes of walking, the paparazzi having been finally chased away by a couple of pegasi mares from the royal guard, Fleur took a left onto the large boulevard where the Canterlot amphitheatre was situated. The building gave off the impression of being extremely old, and where most of the city’s palette was comprised of white marble and gold accents, this structure was made almost entirely of stone. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the Colosseum of Rome, back on Earth. Four storeys of meticulously detailed arches made up the outer shell of its slightly elliptical shape, each running the entire circumference.

“I’ve always wanted to see what’s inside this place,” Luke admitted. Being previously poorer than the lowliest peasant, he’d never had the bits to attend any of the events that had taken place at this particular venue. “This place, and that bathhouse across the street,” he added, nodding to a sprawling complex of beautiful flora and gleaming marble opposite the amphitheatre. Part manicured garden, part ionic temple, the place was huge, and looked rather inviting, to say the least.

“Non, Luc! Don’t you ever go in there!” Fleur snapped, spinning on her hooves to face him with a torrent of blue fire in her eyes. As if that wasn’t alarming enough, her fangs shot out, two gleaming white shards glinting in the afternoon sun.

Luke nearly jumped out of his shorts. “What? Why?” he half yelled back, eyes darting up and down to the street as though someone was about to jump out and murder him. When no one did, he levelled Fleur with a look of utter confusion.

“That’s the ‘Ouse of the Rising Sun, Luc,” Fleur explained, flicking her tongue over her fangs, which disappeared with the contact.

Luke blinked. “I don’t follow.”

“It’s a whorehouse,” she deadpanned.

“Oh…” he murmured, her reaction finally starting to make sense. “Wait, you honestly think I’d go to a whorehouse?”

Fleur gave him a pitiful look, and it worried him perhaps even more than her little demonic flare up. “Oh, Luc… The whores aren’t mares. Zey’re stallions.”

“Huh?”

“If you went in there, zey would snap you up quicker than Celestia swipes the last piece of cake.”

“Wait… Are you saying?” Luke trailed off, the colour draining from his face. The only reason he hadn’t went in there looking for a job was because he’d thought it was a bathhouse, and he wouldn’t have liked the humidity. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d have signed up to be a prostitute.

“Zey are always looking for exotic species to ‘ire. The mares that frequent zat place like a bit of variety, so I’m told.”

“I can’t believe Celestia lets this happen,” Luke pondered aloud, glancing at the tall marble pillars and perfectly trimmed rose bushes. The place looked like a national heritage site. Never in a million years would he have guessed it was actually a brothel.

Fleur let out a snort that quickly turned into a fully fledged laugh. “Oh, Luc… Celestia owns the place—it’s hers!”

“Celestia owns the place?” Luke repeated, incredulous. The tea drinking, cake loving, beloved ruler of Equestria and sole matriarch of the sun owned a fucking stallion whorehouse? “Holy shit, really?”

“It was built for ‘er as a gift, to ‘ouse the ‘arem of stallions she used to keep, back in the day,” Fleur explained, turning her back on the place. “I don’t think she visits much nowadays, if at all.” She looked up at Luke with wide eyes. “Promise me you will never go in zere, Luc.”

Luke met her concern with a reassuring grin. He didn’t need convincing to not step foot in the place. He already had a job he enjoyed immensely, at a company he was beginning to adore. “I promise,” he said, and before he knew what he was doing, his fingers had found the base of her ear.

Almost instantaneously, Fleur’s eyes were blue again, and she gently leaned into the contact, the furry appendage atop her head flicking uncontrollably. A feminine moan slipped from her lips, accompanied by a low purr that created an odd unison effect. Luke faltered, the eerie sound making him lose his nerve a bit. If he’d needed any more proof she was harbouring a demon inside her, there it was, clear as day.

“Uhh… Fleur? Are you okay?” Luke muttered, trying to ignore the ungodly racket his heart was making in his chest. She’d already stated on several occasions he had nothing to fear from her—and he believed her—but holy shit, did that sound creepy as fuck.

Fleur blinked, her eyes violet again. She looked flustered, and a little lost. After a short pause, she spoke. “I’m not saying I didn’t like zat, but I’d rather you didn’t touch me like zat in the middle of Starswirl Boulevard,” she flatly stated, her eyes worriedly darting around at the ponies passing by… ponies, Luke realised, that were looking at them with wide-eyed expressions of shock.

“Did I just do something stupid?” Luke slowly said, his eyes scanning the onlookers with steadily rising panic. Pretty much all of them were looking at him like… Oh, shit. An excerpt from a book on pony social behaviours came back to him with all the force of a speeding truck. Pony ears! Ponies don’t like their ears touched by strangers because… they’re a sensitive area. Fuck!

“Shit… Fleur, I forgot about… Ears aren’t sensitive on humans, I just assumed…” Wait… Luke’s thoughts caught up with him. Did she just say she wouldn’t have minded, otherwise?

“It is okay, Luc,” she quietly reassured, the fine fur of her cheeks reddening adorably. Her eyes flicked to the majestic arches of the amphitheatre lobby. “Just… wait until we are alone next time,” she added, her voice barely audible.

Next time?

So, there was going to be a next time. A wave of anxiety hit Luke like a battering ram. If he wasn’t mistaken, he had just been given permission to ‘pet’ his siren-harbouring, ancient-unicorn boss on her ears—which were supposedly an erogenous zone for a pony. Well, that’s what the book had said, anyway. Up until this point, he’d kinda figured Fleur was just being friendly, but even he couldn’t write this off as anything other than an obvious green light.

Was she actually interested in him?

She had been upfront about the fact her little dark counterpart had taken a liking to him, but as far as he could recall, Fleur herself hadn’t really discussed her personal feelings in great detail. Maybe they weren’t all that different from the siren’s?

“Ahh, Fleur! I was wondering when you were going to turn up,” said a familiar voice from inside the building reception, a familiar voice that positively wrenched Luke from his thoughts in an instant.

Glossy white coat, dirty blond mane with way too much product, and a look on his stupid face like butter wouldn’t melt in his stupid mouth. Of all the nobles in Canterlot, this asshat was amongst Luke’s least favourite.

“Good afternoon, Blueblood,” Fleur said, her voice perhaps a little colder than it usually was. Luke followed her into the reception area, trying to keep his eyes from straying down to her flanks. Even though her tail was maintaining her modesty like it always did, he still kinda felt like a bit of a creep eyeing up her rear end when it was sticking out of that tiny little skirt.

“All set for our dinner at the castle later this evening?” Blueblood asked, leaning against the long wooden lobby reception desk like he fucking owned the thing.

“Say what?” Luke blurted out, before he could stop himself. Were they going to dinner later on? It probably wasn’t any of his business if they were, but after everything that had happened, it sure as hell felt like it should be.

Fleur flashed Luke a bemused look, and he could have sworn it had morphed into a smile before she turned back to Blueblood. “Sorry, mon ami, but Photo Finish meant what she said when she told you I couldn’t make it.”

The prince stopped leaning, slowly raising himself up to his fullest height, which was rather sadly still a good three inches shorter than Fleur. Half a foot if you took horns into consideration. He flicked his mane out behind himself, and Luke was surprised it was even able to move with the amount of wax caked in it. Levelling her with a slightly overconfident look, he launched into what sounded like a rather rehearsed argument. “The derby only lasts two hours, I’m sure you’ll have everything wrapped up here by about nine PM. That leaves us plenty of time to have a wonderful meal, and perhaps a few drinks afterward?” He wiggled his eyebrows, and the sight quite forcefully reminded Luke of a fedora-tipping Nice Guy™. Hell, all he needed was a neckbeard and he’d be set.

Fleur visibly cringed, taking a step backwards. “Maybe some other time,” she said, though her tone wasn’t particularly convincing.

Luke contemplated just telling the prince to shove his offer up his plot hole, but he doubted Fleur would appreciate him trying to butt in and fight her battles for her. She was probably older than the ancient-looking amphitheatre they were currently stood in, after all.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the golden-coated unicorn receptionist mare began, her magenta eyes flicking between Fleur and Blueblood. “But, you’re needed up on the production stage for sound check,” she addressed Fleur. “Your friend has a seat in the Somnambula box, as you requested.

“Merci, mon cherie,” Fleur quickly replied, looking quite relieved. She gave Luke a nudge with her flank, before quickly rearing up on her hind legs and following up with a stealthy nuzzle to his cheek. “I ‘ave to go. I will probably ‘ave to stay on the production stage during the show, but I will meet up with you as soon as it ends, mon cher,” she whispered, her forhooves draped over his shoulders.

“Oh… Okay,” Luke muttered, caught completely off guard by the contact. His palms instinctively flew to her sides to help steady her, and Blueblood adopted the expression a bulldog might have when chewing on a wasp. “I’ll be waiting in the… Um…” Luke glanced at the receptionist.

“Somnambula box,” she repeated, her eyes wandering to Blueblood, who was now looking like he might have an aneurysm.

“Do you want me to take you zere?” Fleur asked, her large violet eyes mere inches from his own, full of concern.

“No, no… I’ll find it.”

The soft fur of her cheek nuzzled against his skin again, and Luke felt his heart flutter in his chest as Fleur dropped back down to her hooves. “Thank you for accompanying me, Luc. Au revoir!.”

CRACK.

A flash of pink light, and she was gone.

“Since when did you start hanging about with Fleur de Lis!? Have you put some sort of alien monkey spell on her so she’ll like you? I simply cannot believe that she would ever have anything to do with you otherwise-”

Luke sighed, slapping a palm to his forehead and resting his elbows on his knees. He’d found the Somnambula box, but unfortunately, so had Prince Blueblood.

The room was unlike any other he’d ever set foot in. It was located dead center, right at the top level of the ampitheatre. The large panoramic window offered a magnificent view of the cloud-comprised floating raceway below, where some of the Wonderbolts could be seen starting their warm up routines. A quick scan of the production stage down at ground level revealed Fleur, easy to spot as she was the tallest pony there, chatting to a couple of mares, one of them wearing a flight suit.

There were only eight seats in the box, all on one row, each constructed of solid gold and red velvet. Shit, they looked more like thrones than event seating. Luke felt ridiculously out of place. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a crappy T-Shirt for fuck’s sake. Just about everywhere you looked, there was a hoof-carved sculpture or a priceless painting depicting some famous mare or stallion from throughout pony history. Even the artex pattern on the ceiling looked like a fucking masterpiece.

But all of it paled in comparison to the larger-than-life painted statue of a beautiful pegasus, by far the biggest art exhibit in the room. Clearly the centrepiece of the box, she sat on her haunches between the fourth and fifth seat like a stoney sentinel, her wings neatly folded against her sides. Her coat was pale scarlet in colour, her mane and tail dual-tone dark blue and turquoise. The golden diadem of ancient Egyptian styling she was wearing gave her a distinct Cleopatra vibe. Just the sight of her was making him feel better. He had no idea why. All he knew about her was her name.

Somnambula.

He was half tempted to ask the mare and stallion sitting on the other side of the box for more info on the mysterious pegasus, but they seemed to be doing their best to ignore his existence. If only Blueblood would do the same…

“-how? Just how is this even possible? Why, Fleur de Lis is practically a nonpareil among the nobility. What on Equador would she be doing entertaining the likes of you?”

“Would you just be quiet, already?” Luke muttered, gazing out of the window again.

“How? You were always such an oddball when you lived in the castle. How did you gain Fleur’s approval? She has never invited anypony to attend a prestigious event with her before. What makes you so special?”

“I dunno. You’d have to ask her,” Luke lazily replied, leaning back on his throne and placing a hand on the pegasus statue. The sound of stone shifting met his ears as she suddenly turned to peer down at him, her eyes glowing yellow.

Luke’s jaw dropped, and he was suddenly smacked in the gut with that feeling you get when you miss a step going down a staircase… multiplied by about a thousand. “FACKING HELL!”

Blueblood promptly fell off his seat. Good thing, too, as he would have been wiped out by Luke scrambling arse over bollock toward the door if he’d stayed put.

A fleeting glance over his shoulder upon reaching the door revealed the statue’s forlorn expression; her ears, once alert, now hanging limply against her mane. “What… What the flying fuck?” Luke panted, doubled over and gasping for breath, one hand on the golden door handle. He still had half a mind to run screaming from the room like a mental case.

Blueblood picked himself up off the floor, his face the picture of irritability. The mare and stallion on the other side of the room were also silently making their outrage known through the use of some pretty interesting facial expressions. Luke may well have found them hilarious, but he was a bit preoccupied with the apparently very much alive stone pegasus statue in the middle of the room.

“It’s enchanted, you moron,” Blueblood cried, conjuring a paper fan out of the air and wafting himself with it.

“Well, no one told me! Jesus!” Sometimes, it was easy to forget there was a lot more to magic than glowing horns and bangs and smoke.

“Look—you’ve upset her, now,” the prince accosted, reclaiming his seat. “Just wait till I tell Fleur.”

“Why would Fleur care?” Luke shot back at him, gingerly sitting down next to the statue again. All of the other seats were reserved, and Fleur hadn’t bothered keeping one for herself, seeing as she was hosting the derby. The pegasus continued to gaze at him dolefully. Ugh… as if he was actually freakin’ guilt tripping over a statue. She just looked so sad. He kind of wanted to pet her, but he kept his hands to himself, for now.

“Don’t you know anything? Somnambula was one of the Pillars of Equestria back in the day. She lived over a thousand years ago, and was Fleur’s closest friend,” Blueblood explained, as though such a tidbit should be common knowledge.

“Oh,” Luke muttered, looking at the pegasus in a whole new light. So, this was Fleur’s old friend. Great. Now he felt even worse. Holding out a palm, he slowly ran it over one of her wings. I’m sorry.

As though she had heard his thoughts, a small smile split the mare’s muzzle, and she closed her eyes, her ears perking up once again.

“Hanging about with Fleur like the two of you are best pals… You don’t even know anything about her,” Blueblood huffed, glaring out of the window with a face like a smacked flank.

“Why do you even want Fleur? You’re a Prince, you could probably have just about anyone else,” Luke argued, rounding on the stallion. “You had all those mares fighting over you at the castle—good looking mares, too, I might add, yet you’re sitting here in Fleur’s favourite box just hoping she’ll come up here.”

Blueblood scowled. “I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. The prince was still ridiculously easy to read. “Is it ‘cause she’s immortal and she’ll stay ‘young’ and hot forever?”

Blueblood didn’t answer, instead crossing his forehooves and avoiding Luke’s gaze. Thank Celestia for small miracles, the silence was golden, but Luke wasn’t about to waste an opportunity. “Don’t you think you’re maybe… ehh, reaching, a bit?”

That got his attention. “I do not reach for anypony!” he bit, his waxed up mane practically vibrating with butthurt. “If either of us are reaching, it would be you!”

Luke leaned back in his seat once again, his fingertips still stroking Somnambula’s wing. The stoney mare was mute, presumably, but her face suggested she’d be purring like a kitten if she had vocal chords. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Fleur is just my boss, and she asked me here as a friend. You’re reading all kinds of crazy things outta nothin’, if you ask me,” he replied, with a wide grin.

“Oh, whatever. It matters not. She will soon realise that I am a much more superior suitor than you could ever hope to be,” Blueblood said, with an air of haughty finality.

Luke snorted.

“Fillies and gentlecolts!” Fleur’s magically amplified voice rang through the whole amphitheatre, breaking up the tension that had accumulated. “Welcome to the Wonderbolts’ Derby. The competitors are taking zeir place at the starting line, and our race will begin momentarily.”

No sooner had she finished making the announcement, four ponies spilled into the room looking like they’d just ran a small marathon—another middle-aged noble couple, who quickly trotted past Luke with their muzzles upturned, and two younger stallions wearing top hats that hailed Prince Blueblood as soon as they spotted him.

Thankfully, they acted as though Luke was an inanimate fixture to the room—something that suited him just fine, truth be told. He had all the company he needed in Somnambula, anyway.

Grinning at the stoic mare’s contented expression, he settled in to watch the race, with hope, in the archaic sense of the word, filling his heart.

Author's Note

Why, yes, I do plan to write a Somnambula x human fic at some point.

Let me know if I derped editing this so I can blame it on JimboTex. :twistnerd:

Nine | Hope Lives On

The distinct rush of pegasi flight blasted through the amphitheatre. Subsonic, although only just, six Wonderbolt competitors raced toward the finish like feathery bullets, but only two had any real chance of claiming the top spot on the podium.

“Well, I am sure zis comes as a surprise to nopony who ‘asnt ‘ad zeir ‘ead stuck under a rock for the last few weeks,” Fleur announced, her magically amplified voice ringing loud and clear from the production stage, “but ‘ere we are again with a two pony showdown. Who is your money on—the veteran, or the new filly?”

The crowd roared, row after row of ponies stomping their hooves so hard, it shook the building’s foundations. Of course, it still wasn’t enough to drown out the growling inside Fleur’s head.

Veux Luc!

Due to the hustle and bustle of the crowd, the dazzling arena lighting, and Fleur’s outright refusal to blast those pesky pegasi whizzing past every six seconds or so with a thaumic radiation beam, the siren was in a bit of a foul mood.

“Risky move by Rainbow Dash,” Fleur noted, just as the prismatic pegasus squeezed between a stone pillar and a rather annoyed-looking Fleetfoot. “It is clear zis pony is keen to prove she isn’t as green as the ozzers would ‘ave you believe. Rounding the final corner now, and it looks as though it’s going to be ‘er second Derby win in two months-oh dear,” Fleur trailed off.

Pushing her luck yet again, Rainbow Dash had shot into the final bend carrying way too much speed, and had ended up smashing through the window of the Starswirl box as a result.

The crowd erupted, this time with a collective “OOOOOOOF!” as a flurry of blue feathers fluttered down from the pegasus-shaped hole in the glass.

“Well, zere you ‘ave it, mares and gentlecolts, experience wins zis round,” Fleur cried, just as Fleetfoot soared through the finish line in a flourish of barrel rolls. “Back on form for zis mare, zis is Fleetfoot’s third win of the season, Spitfire claiming a ‘ard-fought second, and Misty Fly having to settle for the final podium spot.” A flash of her horn, and the amplification enchantment lifted. “Better get somepony up zeir to check if Rainbow is still in one piece, no?” Fleur addressed to the stage manager, who looked as though he was about to faint.

Rainbow Dash, it transpired, was perfectly fine, the mare having ricocheted off of Starswirl the Bearded’s stoney head and punted Top-Hat Tootington the Third from his jewel-encrusted throne like a pseudo pony-pinball. She had an uncanny knack for emerging unscathed from situations that would probably earn any other pony a lengthy stint in hospital for weeks, this incident being merely the most recent in a string of minor catastrophes.

“I’ll have your wings for this!” screeched Top Hat, his voice breaking like a pre-pubescent colt’s might. In the span of five minutes, he’d managed to blow the whole thing out of proportion, and was now convinced that Rainbow Dash had actually been plotting to murder him all along.

“Top ‘At! Be mindful of your words!” Fleur admonished, levelling him with a look of mild exasperation. So flamboyant was his tantrum, the nurses tending to Rainbow had taken the precaution of calling her up to the box to keep the stallion in check.

Fleur had half a mind to tell them to call the guards. She had neither the time, nor patience to deal with Top Hat, especially when she could be meeting up with Luke.

Luc…

Bientôt, mon amie.

“She nearly killed me!”

“Zeir is not a mark on you—you are well aware of zis, Top ‘At. Now, I do not want anozzer peep out of you, or the staff will be forced to inform the guards of your misbe’aviours,” Fleur countered, keeping her voice calm and treating the situation as though it were nothing more exciting than a mundane business deal.

Top Hat scoffed, an ugly grimace claiming his muzzle. “Shouldn’t you be on some dinner date with that lanky alien cretin by now-EEUURRGGHH!”

Just like that, several thousand years worth of discipline training and restraint conditioning measures were thrown from the metaphorical window by… a few petty words? Fleur was so utterly surprised it had taken such a paltry amount of provocation that she simply stared at the stallion—a passenger in her own body. Top Hat lay pinned, suspended five hooves above the floor, his body pressed against the polished wood of the box wall. His fur was bathed in the deathly blue glow of the siren’s gaze, his limbs unmoving and his breath quick and shallow.

“Veux-tu mourir ce soir?” the beast hissed, a duality of vocal tones ringing through the room.

Top Hat could only stare into the dark abyss of his fate. The true blast of a siren’s gaze was, after all, unrelenting. It was only the terrified, motionless stares of the nurses and nobles alike, along with a very confused-looking Rainbow Dash that spurred Fleur back into action.

Non!

Three seconds of brute force later, and the worthless pig was spared. For now, at least. He fell to the floor with a moderate thump. He didn’t get up again.

Il est toujours en vie! Screeched the siren, clawing at Fleur’s mind like a raging tigress.

Are you trying to get us banished? We do not attack stallions—no matter how abhorrent they are! Grabby warlocks notwithstanding, Fleur was not a coltbeater.

“Forgive me, but I ‘ave someplace to be,” she announced to no one in particular, her voice uncharacteristically shaky for somepony who had just commentated on a sporting event. Without even bothering to bid any of the ponies staring at her farewell, she teleported away without a thought.

“You’re just like a big stoney kitten, aren’t you?” Luke chuckled.

Whoever had enchanted this statue was an absolute legend. Stonenambula had perhaps been more entertaining than the derby, not to mention she’d kept Prince Tryhard and his dumbass friends from throwing snide ‘monkey’ related comments at him.

Yep, it turns out that a clip around the ear from the rock-hard wing of a seven foot stone pegasus really drops the arse out from a snarky noble. Luke had laughed so hard, he’d fallen off his throne. Blueblood’s friend had probably lost what little IQ points he’d had from such a wallop, judging by the way he’d cradled his battered head in his hooves for the rest of the race.

The three of them had scarpered not long after, the two noble couples on the other side of the box eventually following suit after Rainbow Dash had tried to one up Fleetfoot and got a faceful of glass for her efforts.

Now, it was just Luke and his new best friend.

“I could just take you home. I probably would, if I had somewhere to put you.”

The thought of the statue sitting next to his beat up old couch, preening her stoney wings in the middle of his sitting room brought a smile to his face. She’d no doubt take up most of the space, but that kind of felt like a fair compromise. It would be worth it for the company alone.

“Of course, the guards might have a thing or two to say to me if I just lead you out of here, wouldn’t they?” he added, running his palm over her wing again.

Stonenambula closed her eyes, her grin almost as wide as the box window. She shifted, detaching her hooves from her plinth completely and rolling onto her back with an almighty thud that rattled a set of expensive looking china in a nearby display case. There she lay, her legs sticking up in the air like some sort of monstrously-sized house cat.

“Oh, you want to me to rub your belly, do you now?” Luke chuckled, raising his eyebrows at the extent of the enchantment. This was some OP as fuck magic. Damn.

The underside of her barrell was smoother than her wings. Luke scratched away, chuckling at the increasingly hilarious satisfied-stone-horse faces she was making.

CRACK.

A flash of pink briefly illuminated the box. Even though Luke had been expecting it this time, Fleur’s freaky teleportation skills still managed to scare the crap out of him. “I really wish you’d send a warning first, or something,” he muttered, picking himself up off the floor for the second time that evening.

The stone pegasus, clearly displeased with the lack of attention, leaned up to nudge his arm with her muzzle, nearly knocking him out of his seat again. “Woah, okay, okay,” Luke chuckled, giving her a good scratch under the chin for her efforts. “Don’t know your own strength, do you?”

“I see you ‘ave made a new friend,” Fleur observed, a forlorn look darkening her features.

Stonenambula turned at the sound of Fleur’s voice, those big yellow eyes falling on the unicorn, and her demeanour changed, quite considerably. Luke was forgotten like last night’s leftovers, and she got to her hooves, centering herself on her plinth and laying down on her barrel.

Neither of them were smiling.

Luke waited with bated breath, but neither of them said anything, either. Made sense for Somnambula, he guessed. The statue was mute. But, he’d have thought Fleur might’ve said something. Anything.

“What was she like?” he asked, after a few moments.

Fleur shifted her gaze to Luke. Her eyes, always so full of vitality, whatever colour they happened to be at the time, now appeared dim, and lifeless. “Somnambula was the best friend I ever ‘ad, but zat alone is not what was so special about ‘er,” she lamented, raising a hoof to gently brush the statue’s cheek. “Zis mare… zis remarkable pony managed to do something zat I ‘ave never witnessed in all of my years.”

“What?” Luke prompted, when Fleur paused, dropping her hoof back to the floor and simply observing the statue with sorrow in her eyes.

“She befriended a siren. My siren,” Fleur finally answered, the sapphire in her spiked collar emitting a dim glow with her softly spoken words. “It is not in the nature of a siren to make a friend. Some barely tolerate zeir ‘osts, let alone others. Most see the general population as nothing more than a source of sustenance.”

The stone statue stared, unblinking, unknowing. It was beginning to make sense to Luke why Fleur was perhaps a little unenthusiastic with her interactions. Granted, the enchantment was clever, but to her, it was probably nothing more than a pale imitation of the mare she once knew.

“Somnambula was the pony that pulled me from my darker days during the age of the pillars. I was never a true renegade, but I was per’aps ‘eading in zat direction. Even Celestia ‘ad given me multiple warnings. Singing in the streets every ozzer week? Spreading just the tiniest slivers of strife through the city for my own amusement? I ‘ad done it, and I ‘ad felt no remorse. That all changed when I met Somnambula.”

Luke kept his silence. He was all ears, perched right on the edge of his seat. Fleur probably hadn’t spoke of this for hundreds of years, to anypony. A historian would probably kill for this level of insight into the past. The fact that she trusted him enough to share it with him made his insides feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Zis mare changed me. Made me realise I was being a terrible pony… Made me realise I was giving in to the darker path that ‘ad claimed many a siren before me,” Fleur said, her sapphire glowing a little brighter. “Our race was more despised zan ever, back then. She would ‘ave been completely justified in rounding up the pillars and banishing me like Starswirl ‘ad done to Adagio, Aria and Sonata, but she saw fit to spare me.” A solitary drop accumulated in the corner of one of her pretty violet eyes. Violet eyes, Luke realised, that had a soft blue shade hiding in their depths. “Starswirl was all for getting rid of me, but Somnambula put ‘er ‘oof down,” Fleur cried, visibly shaking with… hell, Luke had no idea. Regret, perhaps?

It seemed like something much more than that. “The years zat followed our meeting were the ‘appiest of my life. I ‘ad a true friend… We ‘ad a true friend,” Fleur said, glaring at the unblinking, expressionless statue laid before her with something akin to malice. “But like everything in zis endless existence, she was taken from us, way too soon!” The blue shade in her eyes grew steadily brighter, along with the glow from her sapphire. A second later, those eyes were staring Luke down. He gulped, gripping the arm of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. “And you know what the worst thing about it is? We cannot even mourn ‘er because we do not truly know zat she is dead!”

Silence cut through the chamber like a blade, despite the distant sounds of the crowd dispersing from the amphitheatre. Ponies laughing, foals crying, the general babble of conversation, all of it may as well have been a million miles away as far as Luke was concerned.

“What… What do you mean?”

Fleur didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze was set upon the statue of her old friend once more, which was acting more and more like it had been completely untouched by magic. Even the yellow glow had vanished from its eyes. “At the base of Foal Mountain lies a temple. A temple that ‘as been untouched by pony ‘ooves for over a thousand years. It ‘as become a monument to the Pillars of Equestria, as it is the place where zey sacrificed themselves, Somnambula among them, in an effort to contain a considerable threat to Equestria.”

A short silence followed her words, during which Luke could only sit and stare at the statue of Somnambula with a slightly wistful expression. This pony and her friends had given their lives to save Equestria, presumably. It was acts such as this that portrayed true nobility. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he acknowledged. “What were they fighting?”

“A stallion calling ‘imself the Pony of Shadows.”

Luke frowned. “The Pony of Shadows? Isn’t that… like, a ghost story? I’m sure I heard a foal talking about it when I used to wait in line at the dole house,” he nervously pondered. The little filly’s mother had even scolded her for trying to scare her brother with an ‘old pony’s tale’, if he remembered correctly.

“‘Ee was as real as you or I, believe me. An old friend of the pillars. A unicorn, named Stygian,” she growled, the demonic undertone of the siren sending a rather unpleasant shiver rattling down Luke’s spine as the name passed her lips. “‘Ee grew jealous of the pillars, tried to steal from them. Zey turned their backs on ‘im in retaliation, and the darkness overtook ‘im, a darkness so powerful that a simple banishment was not possible. In the end, zey had to follow ‘im into the abyss, so that ‘ee would be truly contained,” she said, some of her ire escaping her. All she had left was a sorrowful gaze for the motionless statue of her long lost friend. “She never told me what she planned to do. Never told me Stygian had been lost to darkness. She knew I would ‘ave never allowed her to sacrifice ‘erself. She knew I would ‘ave tried to fight ‘im.”

Luke kept his silence. It really sounded as though Fleur just needed to vent. He was content to just listen.

“Of course, ‘er silence on the matter was just anozzer means of protecting me. I would ‘ave lost, back then. I was not strong enough,” she murmured, bowing her head. “The saddest thing is—if it ‘ad all went down today, I could ‘ave crushed ‘im in a fucking ‘eartbeat. Even as an immortal, time still makes a fool of me,” she sighed, suddenly looking more tired than Luke had ever seen her. She gave the statue one last look. “I miss ‘er so much. Zis statue… It is nothing, compared to ‘er.”

Stonenambula smiled no more. She just sat, motionless, eyes dull and grey. The stoney expression was mimicked on Fleur’s face. “Maybe we should get out of here?” Luke suggested, already getting to his feet. “You sound like you need a pick me up.”

Fleur smiled, some of the warmth usually present in her eyes returning. “Yes, I was just about to suggest the very same-”

POP.

A flash of green light snuffed out her words, a rolled up scroll bearing a seal Luke instantly recognised as the royal insignia falling from its point of origin and landing at Fleur’s hooves. The ridiculous amount of times Luke had had the very same thing happen to him when Celestia had been pestering him to go and work for her was something he wasn’t going to be forgetting for a long time.

Fleur plucked the scroll up off the floor with her magic, unravelling it and scanning the contents. Barely three seconds passed before she let out a sigh. “I ‘ave to go,” she muttered, rolling her eyes and making the scroll vanish with another spell.

“Why?”

“Because I nearly killed Top ‘At twenty minutes ago and Celestia no doubt wants to lecture me about it.”

Luke’s mouth fell open. She nearly what twenty minutes ago? “Oh, come on!”

Fleur blinked, a bemused expression on her face. “Am I missing something? Are the two of you friends now?”

“Fuck no! But you could have let me watch… or, y’know… actually killed him,” Luke snickered, picturing Top Hat’s stupid face with ‘x’s for eyes. “Come to think of it, I’d have been fine with either.”

Fleur’s smile was suddenly as wide as Stonenambula’s had been when he’d scratched her belly, and the ‘blue tint’ in her eyes became a full on pool shimmering azure, engulfing the whites of her eyes. “Don’t encourage her! She’ll be trying to kill the nobles just to impress you now!” Fleur chastised. She sounded mildly annoyed, but her face was telling a completely different story. Shit was just plain weird.

“Yeah, best not actually do that, little miss water-demon,” he quickly added, before realising that that had been the first time he’d addressed her alter-ego directly. It was odd, to say the least.

The blue glow faded from her eyes, revealing violet irises once again. “I do not know how long I will be, but I will catch up with you for zat drink if I ‘ave time, mon cher,” she said, rearing up onto her hind legs, she claimed his shoulders with her forehooves and gave him a lengthy nuzzle.

Luke took in her scent, and it almost made him ask her not to leave. His hands found her sides, the silky material of her dress warm to the touch. The sensation of her fur rubbing against his beard, the feeling of her barrel pressed to his chest… It was a little overwhelming, if he was honest.

“Au revoir, mon amour,” the demonic voice hissed, just as something hot and wet grazed his cheek. One bright pink flash and a loud CRACK later, and Luke was standing by himself.

“Did… Did she just lick me?” he muttered to the empty box.

As if she was waiting for Fleur to leave all along, Stonenambula’s eyes lit up, and she gave an affirmative nod.

The vast blanket of Luna’s cosmological artistry met Fleur’s eyes, her hooves finding purchase on the polished marble balcony of Celestia’s private tower. A late-night audience with the solar Princess in such an illustrious and personal locale to the crown would probably have the average noble drooling all over the floor, immersed in rapturous fantasy about all the bragging rights they’d have after having attended such an appointment. But as it was, Fleur was way more concerned by the fact she had just licked one of her employees.

Or rather, her siren had.

You thirsty harlot! If the board finds out about this, there’ll be hell to pay!

Mien, was all the reply she gave.

Luke is an employee! Not the last cookie in the jar you don’t want somepony to steal!

“Fleur?” Celestia prompted.

Fleur hadn’t even noticed the alicorn standing right in front of her. The golden crown, regalia and horseshoes she normally wore were absent, and there were noticeable dark patches beneath her eyes. Celestia had never been much of a night owl, something for which Fleur felt perhaps even more guilty necessitating an immediate appointment due to losing her temper.

“Sorry, mon amie. I was a little distracted.”

Celestia smiled, the warm glow of her horn summoning a bottle of wine in an instant, which she levitated over to a marble patio table. “I hear that’s been happening a lot, lately,” she commented, taking a seat at the table, where two glasses had just materialised in a fleeting flash of gold.

Subtle and smooth, as was Celestia’s style. Fleur could already feel the regret welling up in her stomach. Celestia cared deeply for the welfare of her citizens. Even assholes such as Top Hat.

“Please, sit,” Celestia offered, half filling the two glasses.

“I know why you called me ‘ere,” Fleur said, sitting on the bench on the other side of the table. “I… lost control. I do not know why,” she lied, hoping her face didn’t give her away. If she could cut this little meeting short, then it was worth a shot.

Of course, it was damn near impossible to pull the wool over this pony’s eyes. “You know exactly why,” Celestia countered, pausing to take a measured sip from her glass. “However, I can forgive your dishonesty on this occasion. I know this can’t be easy for you.”

A gust of wind swept over the balcony, shifting Fleur’s mane a bit. Celestia’s was unaffected, answering as it did to an otherworldly force. “I… I cannot seem to ‘elp myself where Luke is concerned. Top ‘at could ‘ave called me every name under the sun, even attacked me to a certain extent, but to insult Luke like he did… She… she became… uncontainable,” Fleur begrudgingly admitted. Her darker half been perilously close to flying off the handle in general as of late, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the fact that her elevated temper could be traced back to the week Luke first started working at J’adore.

“Well, of course she did. Even I wouldn’t be so foolish as to try and reason with a siren defending the honour of her consort. Be it through physical confrontation, magical intervention, or simple conversation—none are likely to work. But have you considered that Luke may be immensely more successful at calming her?

“Ee was not zere,” Fleur deadpanned, choosing to ignore the ‘C’ word.

“You have a horn, yes? Teleport to him. Hold him close. Wrap your hooves around him so tightly that she has no choice but to forget whatever silly thing she was angry about and just enjoy his presence,” Celestia suggested with a somewhat smug grin, as if such a solution was the simplest little thing.

“But what if ‘ee does not like zat?” Fleur snapped, springing to her hooves and slamming a forehoof to the table. Celestia’s inattentive condescension was quickly becoming tiresome. She may as well have been explaining the obvious to a child. “I know ‘ee could calm her down in an instant, every siren knows zat is what a consort does. But the scale of ‘er sorrow would be unprecedented if ‘ee pushed us away. Zat sorrow would quickly turn into equally devastating levels of rage. She would never ‘arm ‘im, even in zat state, but she would lay waste to everypony else zat got in ‘er way.”

The Passive and Unflinching Celestia took another carefree sip of her wine, before carefully setting the glass back down on the table. Her tongue swept the length of her lips. “I guess that’s a risk you’re just going to have to take.”

“In your city. Around your subjects?”

Celestia gave the wry, knowing smile she was famous for. “From what I’ve seen, neither of us has anything to worry about, but you’re too clouded by needless anxiety to realise.”

Fleur sat back down, huffing out a sigh. It was only then that she realised her hoof had left a small crater in the marble table. One brief flash of her horn later, and it was gone. If only all of her problems could be solved so easily. “Okay… I shall make a move on ‘im. I knew it was going to ‘appen eventually,” Fleur muttered, the words unintentionally emerging as something of an epiphany as she said them. “I… I think I am ready.”

Celestia smiled. “You can go now.”

Grabbing her untouched wine with a resolute sliver of pink aura, Fleur downed the entire glass in one go and charged her horn for a teleport. She hadn’t the foggiest idea where Luke was, but to her mild surprise, her magical ember warped around her horn, presenting her mind with a lofty view of the streets of Canterlot. It startled her so much, the spell imploded in a puff of smoke.

Had she… Had she just seen the world through Luke’s eyes?

The connection… It was already beginning to form. Never before had she been able to teleport directly to an individual without knowing their location first. Teleportation magic just didn’t work that way. For a siren and her consort, however, it was a different story.

A shiver ran along the full length of her back, even though it wasn’t particularly cold. She had found him. She hadn’t even been looking, but here he was. Her consort. She had personally known sirens who had devoted their entire lives to the search, and when they had found nopony to call their own, cast themselves willingly into the abyss, rather than suffer through the rest eternity in solitude.

It was so sad. The only way to win at this game was to not play. So Fleur had done just that, and it had worked quite well for thousands of years, or so she’d thought.

This was only the beginning. The Everlasting Enchantment had been triggered, an involuntary bit of siren magic coveted by every little filly born into the race, and revered, craved and cherished by even the highest order of elders. It was going to change Luke, in ways that he could not possibly imagine.

He wouldn’t even see it coming.

Firing up the spell once again, she teleported, her dark counterpart guiding her to where she needed to go.

Author's Note

This chapter breaks canon just a tiny bit, as Celestia and Luna were supposedly school fillies when the pillars went missing, which would put them at around a thousand-ish years old. In this fic, they’re way older, so yeah… I’m just gonna gloss the fuck over that. :-P

As usual, let me know if you spot any typos or editing mistakes. :rainbowkiss:

Ten | Fit for a Pauper

Now that the Derby was over and done with, Luke couldn’t really regret his choice of attire so much, especially considering the unusual—even for Canterlot—warmth of the night. Celestia had lowered the sun probably an hour or so ago, but a humid warmth still hung heavy in the air. If he’d have worn a suit, it would have been clinging to him with sweat by now.

Late night patrons of the many bars and clubs dotted the streets of Canterlot, their swivelling ears seeking out the muffled sound of thumping, repetitive music like little fuzzy radar dishes. Being a Friday night, they were no doubt eager to blow off some steam, and probably the majority of their wages as well.

Luke may have been inclined to do the same, but all of his finances had been going towards a small savings account, the end goal of which was to get him the hell out of the dilapidated shithole that was his current apartment. Had he been a pony, the small endeavour of saving up for a mortgage deposit might have been an easy feat, especially with the crazy amount of bits Fleur was paying him.

But, Luke was not a pony.

This, coupled with the fact the Crown Bank was run pretty much exclusively by nobles nowadays, meant he didn’t have a pegasus in a thunderstorm’s chance of ever having quite enough.

Four times. Four times they had inexplicably raised the deposit percentage on the modest little apartment uptown he was trying to buy, with a ridiculous thirty five percent being the latest requirement. The place was perfect, as well. Practically a stone’s throw away from work. Celestia might’ve had something to say about their obvious prejudice, but the mere thought of yet another bail out invalidated the fuck out of the pitiful remnants of his man card. She had got him the job, and that had been more than enough. Of course, the option of just renting a nicer place remained, but that just seemed like a waste now that the bits were flowing in.

Rounding the corner of a small apothecary, a mini heart attack presented itself in the form of a certain long-legged siren standing there on the lime-tinted cobble, a large grin on her face, those huge eyes and that oversized purple bow making her look like something from a Japanese anime.

“Jees, woman! Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“I thought you did not like me teleporting right in front of you, no?” she quipped, wiggling her hindquarters mischievously, so that her tail swayed hypnotically from side to side.

“Yeah, the slendermare approach isn’t really much of an improvement,” Luke observed, trying to tear his wandering eyes away from her ass. Seeing as her cutie mark was effectively a famous brand logo, it was kind of like she had designer flanks. The fact he found that notion so… alluring made his cheeks redden in shame.

“Do I have something on my flank?” Fleur half-squeaked, worriedly glancing back over her withers.

Crap. Luke was quick to flick his gaze to an advertisement for traditional herbal medicines in the shop window. “Other than a fashion icon, no,” he muttered. She’s your boss, she’s your boss, she’s your boss—stahp staring at her butt! With a quick clearing of the throat, he went for a casual lean against a standing floor sign belonging to the apothecary. “So, how’d your little meeting go with-ahhfack!”

CLATTER.

Turns out the sign was quite a bit lighter than first envisioned.

“Oh, my!” Fleur spluttered, her face throwing out equal measures of mirth and concern. “Are you ‘urt?”

Luke barely managed to sit up before she was sat on her haunches right by his side, forehooves already checking for injury and horn charged up in readiness.

“M’fine,” he grumbled, internally cursing the stupid thing with the foulest language he could think of. As if she had just caught him staring at her ass, then he’d fell on his ass right in front of her. Real smooth, Luke, you fucking pillock!

Fleur’s cheeks puffed out, hooves still roaming his form for any sign of cuts or bruises, eyes brimming with restraint.

“Go on, you can laugh. Someone might as well.”

Her ears fell, as did the rest of her. She ended up leaning heavily into his side, mane haphazardly falling on his shoulder, laughing her flanks off in the middle of the street. Several ponies stopped to have a good rubberneck at the commotion. The ones that weren’t drunk started pointing hooves and whispering to each other in hushed, excited voices.

“As much as I hate to interrupt your amusement at my expense, we should probably get out of here before somepony snaps a photo of us rolling around in the street,” Luke muttered, his arm instinctively wrapping around the still giggling unicorn so she didn’t end up face-planting the ground herself.

“Oh, Luc… Forgive me,” she snorted, her muzzle bumping the underside of chin more than once. “I ‘ave not laughed like zat in quite some time.”

“Yes, well, at least one of us got a kick out of it,” he muttered, quickly getting to his feet and uprighting the downed sign. Fleur’s laughter died at the sudden absence of bodily contact, and her ears dropped a shade, as well. He might’ve felt a little guilty for not letting the little kinda-sorta cuddle continue, but it was important to remember that she was a supermodel. A supermodel with a lot of die hard, psycho fans that would probably make it their number one priority to hunt him down with torches and pitchforks if the editors of the many bloodthirsty gossip magazines plaguing the city ever got their grubby hooves on a pic of him with an arm wrapped around her.

Stallion’s Weekly had already heavily implied that their relationship was “perhaps more than that of the average employer and employee,” and that was without a scrap of evidence. Luke paled at the thought of what they would write if they ever knew the truth. As far as he knew, Fleur didn’t really make a habit of hanging around with her employees after working hours. Well, with the exception of ponies like Photo Finish, and perhaps the make up mares whose names he kept forgetting. But even then, they were still doing a job.

“So, where would you like to go for zat drink, mon cher?” Fleur practically purred, undeterred by his minor evasiveness, it seemed. She was on her hooves again, already trotting a few paces down the street, ears rotating left and right as she scanned the various shop fronts with mild interest.

“Somewhere where you won’t get papped?” Luke hopefully suggested, dragging his feet along after her. It would be nice to find a quiet bar to just sit down and relax, without being bothered by the press, or starstruck fans, or ponies that just wanted to know what a hyoo-man looked like up close. If he had a bit for every colt or filly that trotted up to him and give him a lengthy blast of wholly inappropriate staring, he’d have… well, four bits. But that wasn’t the point. Sometimes the parents were there as well, and did they tell their annoying spawn to maybe cut that shit out? No. Of course they fucking didn’t.

“Well, zat narrows things down to the company ‘eadquarters, the inside of my estate, provided we stay away from the perimeter, of course, and maybe a couple of the stricter honourable mares’ clubs in the Equinox district. Zey tend to keep the paparazzi out, but I cannot say what their stance on you will be,” Fleur pondered aloud, trotting in slow, small circles around him, not unlike a curious feline might around a new toy. “Zey aren’t going to say no to somepony like me, but zey probably wouldn’t be good company for someone like you,” she said, her grin perhaps a little wide for his liking.

“In other words, they’re full of narcissistic ‘noble’ asshats, then?”

“Zat is one way of putting it, oui.”

“Well, that rules that out.” Of the ponies that frequented the Equinox district, even those on the ‘bearable’ end of the noble spectrum were bad enough.

“I actually own a nightclub, but it is being restored at the moment. Hmm… ‘ow about zis,” Fleur proposed, a bottle of wine materialising in front of her in a flash of pink. “We ‘ave a clandestine drink in the street, while I… um, walk you ‘ome?”

Luke blinked. “Walk me home? Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” he queried, paling a little. The thought of potentially being invited back to Fleur’s huge mansion was… well, terrifying, but exciting at the same time, mainly because of what might occur there. Not that he was implying anything would, of course. But, Little Miss Water Demon could potentially show herself. Maybe, she’d have free reign to come out and play? Such a notion should have scared him, and it might well have done, a few weeks ago…

“Well, of course not! The mare always walks the stallion ‘ome. It would just be silly the ozzer way around,” Fleur countered, trying to pass the conviction in her tone off as a playful facade. He knew she was just testing the waters.

It had quickly become apparent during Luke’s short time in Equestria that the nation was primarily mare dominant. There was a reason the place was ruled by Princesses, after all. Luke hadn’t a clue what it was, but certain gender roles appeared to have swapped sides. Stallions were big, masculine enough to fit the bill of being a bodyguard for a pretty mare, and most of them generally acted pretty similar to the human versions of the gender back home. But, at the same time, mares would often go out of their way to be the main breadwinner of a family, fight for the right to be with the stallion of their choosing, and just generally be the main instigators of things such as relationships.

“You know I’m not a stallion, right?” Luke reminded her.

“And you know zat doesn’t matter to me,” Fleur coolly replied, her eyelids lowering over that slightly blue tinted gaze.

And, there it was, as expected—that look a mare sometimes gets when she simply will not accept ‘no’ as a viable answer. This would have been fine. Great, even, were it not for the fact Luke currently resided in the indoor equivalent of a dumpster. This mare had grown accustomed to luxury beyond the average pony’s wildest dreams. What the hell was she going to think of him when she found out he lived like a fucking squatter?

“Eh… Maybe we should-” Luke began… but, no. That wouldn’t work, either. If he suggested going back to her place, then it would just come off as pushy and way too forward… Or, would it? Taking into consideration the gender role flip—would it perhaps be like a chick wanting to go back to a guy’s place back home? It was weird as shit to think of himself as the ‘chick’, but to Fleur, he might well be just that very thing. It was almost like she was putting the moves on him. Fuck… it was just so confusing.

And kind of flattering. Like, holy shit—a freakin’ supermodel was trying to ‘woo’ him.

“Forgive me, Luc. I do not wish to be intrusive. It is just… the night is so young, and I like spending time with you,” she said, gazing up at him with weary eyes. Her ears had flattened a shade, and it may have been a trick of the light, but he could’ve sworn she was pouting a little.

Shit. It was hard to say no to that beautiful face. She was right—it wasn’t particularly late. But… If he agreed to let her ‘walk him home’, he could hardly turn her away at the door when they arrived. Perhaps a warning was required. “Alright. But, I should probably mention, my apartment is… modest.”

Fleur blinked, a peculiar smile spreading over her muzzle. “Zat also does not matter to me, mon cher.”

Luke gave the mare a comically wide grin. “Eh, heh-heh… hold that thought,” he muttered, giving her a solid boop on the snoot and promptly setting off along the street. Welp. There wasn’t any point wasting time. If she was going to see the cesspit de Luke, then it was perhaps better to get the ordeal over and done with so she could start judging him.

So much for his as-yet untarnished image.

Fleur blinked adorably, her grin widening and one of her ears flopping back against that ridiculously oversized bow. “I am sure it is not zat bad,” she laughed, breaking out into a slow canter at his side. “Where do you live?”

Luke drew in a breath. Shouldn’t she already know? She was his boss after all… Unless the admin staff took care of all that stuff. Yeah, they more than likely did. “Slateside.”

Fleur blinked, almost missing a step. “Oh.”

“Annnd, you’re judging me,” Luke confronted, holding his head high like the most righteous of snot nosed nobles.

“I am not judging you, mon amour.”

“Liar,” Luke shot back at her, his feet automatically turning left onto Stonesaddle street. It was one of the few roads that led into Slateside—a neighborhood which was pretty much the Canterlot equivalent of an English council estate.

“No, Luc—I-” Fleur began, but stopped dead in her tracks, eyes fixed on a small charcoal-coated bat pony sat on her haunches at the intersection.

Luke’s heart leapt up into his throat at the sight of the thestral. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fucking Stonesaddle street! How could he have forgotten? The adorable little bat pony’s pointy ears swivelled, her amber feline-esque eyes rolling upwards. Her little face simply lit up when she spotted him.

She’d went all out tonight. Long purple and black socks, lurid fishnets over her flanks, and her long, bushy purple tail hairbanded multiple times at the dock. Everything was on display.

Luke frantically waved a flat hand at his throat behind Fleur’s back, his expression manic. If Glory pulled her usual spiel of trying to get into his pants in front of Fleur, well… he wasn’t sure what would happen, and he wasn’t particularly keen on finding out, either.

“Hi, Luke!” the bat pony purred, flicking her tongue over her fangs. “Are you finally going to let me r-”

“Ahhhh-dah-dah-dah… Eh… heh… Glory… Hi,” Luke gasped, sweat suddenly running down his brow. Fleur’s puzzled look suddenly became very apparent.

“Do you know zis pony?” she asked, eyes flicking between them.

“Wait… Are you… you’re Fleur de Lis…,” Glory muttered, squinting through curly bangs. Her heavily mascara framed gaze flicked back up to him. “Luke… why are you walking through the red light district with Fleur de Lis?” she chuckled.

Fleur’s eyebrows raised even higher. “You’re on first name terms with a hooker?”

Luke flinched so hard he nearly stumbled. “Look—this is the quickest way home from work for me, and I’ve been pulling some late nighters these past couple of weeks, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he argued, levelling his boss with a stern look. “She kept, uh… saying hello. What was I supposed to do—blank her?”

“Ahem—I prefer mare of the night,” Glory interjected, sluttily flicking her tail with a lurid grin, little pointy fangs on display. Both Luke and Fleur ignored her.

“Why not take a carriage?”

“Carriages cost bits.”

“Tartarus, Luc, you can get all the carriage rides you want on your expenses account. Just use zat!”

“I have an expenses account?”

“Yes! Did Sunfire not give you your cheque book?”

“Wait… you work at J’adore?” Glory interrupted, her eyes lighting up like solar flares. “Here I was thinking your ass was broke,” she laughed, flaring her leathery wings. “So, how about it? You gonna put those bits to good use, stud?” The lewd bat pony flagged her tail like a broodmare in heat.

Fleur’s scowl turned into a blue-tinted glare. “Excusez-moi?” she growled, the deadly blue aura of her horn piercing the night, fangs a lot longer than the bat pony’s extending into view.

“Glory… please, I’m flattered, but no,” Luke quickly countered. Fleur was looking like she was about to go all murder-corn on the clueless mare. She had quite enough bad press flying through the grapevine at the moment without throwing ‘dead hooker’ into the mix. “C’mon, Fleur, it’s not far now,” he muttered, subconsciously trailing fingertips over her withers.

The delicate contact was just enough to chip away at the siren’s sudden mood swing. Her horn delaminated, eyes slowly returning to their usual violet, she allowed herself to be led away.

“What the… Are you a vampony, or something?” Glory called from somewhere behind them.

Fleur didn’t bother turning back, but her ears gave a noticeable flick, and her mouth was perhaps thinner than Luke had ever seen it. He made a mental note to speak to Sunfire the very first thing Monday morning regarding that expenses account.

Barely five minutes of silent strolling later, and Luke found himself gazing up at the four storey apartment complex, the washed out white stone looking even more drab and depressing than it usually did. The small patch of greenery leading up to the communal lobby was noticeably unkempt, populated mainly by various weeds and shrubs. The landlord only ever showed her face when sompony wasn’t keeping up with their rent arrears. Luke very much doubted even the simplest of horticulture would be very high on her list of priorities.

Fleur, effortlessly stunning knockout as she was, looked ridiculously out of place in front of the mundane building. Luke knew in an instant she was trying to keep her face as neutral as possible, but the subtle tells were there.

“Um… Would you like to come inside?”

The mare’s petit nostrils wriggled a bit, probably due to the overflowing trash cans beside the entrance, but she lifted her chin regardless. “I would like that very much, mon cher.”

She even managed to make the words sound sincere. Luke grinned at the sheer effort. Let’s see how long that lasts. Taking out an old brass key from his pocket, he jammed it into the lock. Several seconds later, the useless old mechanism finally gave the rusty click he was waiting for, and with a good kick, the door yielded, revealing the crappy interior.

“Come on in,” Luke said, stepping into the lobby with a smile, allowing Fleur to trot on tepid hooves past him. He closed the door after her, the familiar musty smell filling his lungs.

If Fleur had any reaction to the odour, she managed to hide it well. “Thank you,” she replied, violet orbs flicking from the mildly stained carpet, to the old set of mailboxes built into the hallway wall, several of them sporting large dents.

“My place is on the ground floor.” Stopping at the third door on the right, number seven, Luke took out a second, smaller key, though this one’s corresponding lock put up a bit more of a fight, as per usual. “Ugh… One moment,” he muttered, wrestling with the stupid thing. It was almost as if the apartment itself was ashamed of her very presence.

The door opposite suddenly opened, revealing an unshaven earth stallion wearing a tatty old nightgown, his brown mane and tail in a dishevelled state. He gave a wide mouthed yawn, blinking groggily as though he hadn’t seen sunlight for days. A strong smell of cider joined the must hanging in the hallway. “Oh, hey, Luke. I was wondering when you’d get back. I’ve ran out of sugar, you don’t happen to have…” he slurred, but the words died, his tongue falling out the side of his mouth when his sleepy gaze landed on the international billionaire supermodel stood casually in the hallway. Poor guy looked like he was about to have a seizure.

“I’ll take a look, Brockhoof,” Luke chuckled. “Just pick your jaw up off the carpet. You know old Iron Teats never has it cleaned.”

Click. “Ah. There it is.”

With a strained creak, the door swung inwards. Brockhoof’s jaw flapped a few times, but it appeared the gift of speech had temporarily abandoned him. Fleur’s friendly smile further sealed his sudden vegetative state. She deftly stepped inside.

Even as the door closed, the stallion stood like a petrified statue. “Is ‘ee going to be okay?”

“Eh, he’ll be fine. Probably won’t remember anything when he wakes up tomorrow afternoon,” Luke said, throwing his keys down on a small pile of scrolls on the side table. “Anyway, what do you think?” he asked, his grin wry.

The supermodel took a couple of steps, which was all her long shapely legs were able to without bumping into the coffee table. Muzzle scrunched, one of her ears gave a solitary flick, eyes surveying the room with increasing levels tongue holding. “You… You have a sink in your lounge,” she observed.

“Yes, yes, or… perhaps it’s a couch in my kitchen,” he countered, plonking himself down on said couch, though his grin soured a bit when one of the exposed springs gave him a good poke in the backside. Oww…

Fleur opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. She looked a little lost, gaze still sweeping over the peeling wallpaper, a forehoof hovering in the air as though she was about to take a seat beside him, but couldn’t quite will herself to do so.

Luke’s grin faded. This… This had been a dumb idea from the start. “I did try and warn you,” he gloomily muttered.

Fleur’s ears dropped. “Why do you live like zis, Luc?” she slowly asked, eyes full of something that looked a lot like sorrow. It didn’t make him feel any better. “I know you said modest, but zis… Am I not paying you enough? Because I can-”

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just,” he began, the scrolls on the side table taunting him from afar. He knew he shouldn’t bother her with this. Fleur had much more important things to be dealing with.

“Just what?” she prompted, her eyes, so full of concern, looked even prettier than they usually did framed by those silky pink locks. Maybe he could tell her? It would certainly be nice to discuss the issue with a friend. It wasn’t like he was asking for a bail out, or anything. Advice was all he needed.

Fuck it. “I didn’t want to rent a more expensive place, because I’ve been trying to buy a place uptown. But, everytime I go in for a mortgage consultancy, they go and up the deposit. Just… take a look at that scroll on the side table. It should put things into perspective.”

Fleur frowned, her pink aura instantly grabbing the Crown Bank parchment. It floated through the air, unravelling itself and stopping in front of her. She read, and the frown deepened into a full blown scowl by the time her eyes reached the bottom. “Zey have no right to do zis! I cannot believe the Crown Bank would stoop so low. I shall seek out zis-” she glanced at the name of the mortgage consultant “-Equity Rose, and ask her just what in Tartarus she is playing at.”

“Fleur, you don’t need to do that-” Luke began, but the mare had already slipped into full on business mode. There was no stopping her now.

“If the buck stops with her, then she will lose her job,” Fleur all but growled, the scroll slipping out of her aura and landing on the coffee table. “If she is taking orders from the ‘igher ups—probably the more likely scenario, I am ashamed to say—zen the Crown Bank will not only lose zeir biggest client, but zey will probably earn the wrath of zeir founder as well, for I can guarantee she knows nozzing of zis,” she added, her accent flaring with the passion behind her words.

“Woah, hold on a second. You don’t need to go bothering Celestia with-”

“Luc, come with me tonight. I cannot in good conscience leave you to live like… zis!” the supermodel cried, waving her hoof overdramatically around the small apartment. “Especially considering zese ‘eartless ‘nobles’-” she spat, the word rolling off her tongue like snake venom “-are making up excuses to deny you the means to start a better life.”

“Come with you? What do you mean?”

Luke’s words finally gave her pause, the resultant ear flop suggesting she may have gotten a tad ahead of herself. “I do not mean to brag,” she began, quite a bit more quietly than before, “but zeir are seven suites in my home, five of which are unoccupied. You are welcome to use any one of zem you like until you are able to find a suitable place of your own.”

Luke’s eyes widened. Did… Did she just freakin’ ask him to move in with her? “That’s really not necessary… kinda feels like I would be imposing a bit,” he muttered, despite already picturing Fleur fresh out of the shower early morning, her wet mane and tail trailing on the floor. Perhaps they could even make a habit of walking to work together… Damn it.

Her lips thinned, ears perking right back up in defiance. “Luc, you ‘ave mice living in your walls, not to mention zat big ‘ole over zeir,” she argued, pointing to a football-sized crater in the plaster, through which a small patch of white stone could be seen, as well as a tiny bit of night sky.

“There’s normally a mirror covering that. It fell off the other day. I just haven’t got around to fixing the hook yet. And I do not have mice.” Probably not, anyway. Judging by the scratching sounds at night, it was more than likely rats.

Fleur’s horn flared, and an unnerving number of small rodents came crawling out of the woodwork, chased by the magically induced heatwave she’d just conjured inside the interior wall. That’s what it felt like, anyway. Fucking OP unicorns, man.

“Okay, so maybe I have a few mice.”

Fleur puffed out her chest, raising her horn high and levelling him with an annoying look that simply screamed I told you so. “Luc.”

“What?”

“Pack your essentials. I shall teleport zem ahead, then we shall walk to my estate, so you know where to find it,” she said, in a tone of voice that simply dared him to argue.

Luke, recognising a battle he would not win, merely let slip a tired sigh. “You’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer, are you?”

The supermodel smiled, simply beaming now she had gotten her way. “Non.”

Author's Note

Thanks to ScrambledCrackers for help pre-reading this chapter.

Let me know if we missed anything. :rainbowkiss:

Eleven | Breaking the Bank

It hadn’t taken long for Luke to pack. A quick scavenge around his bedroom revealed most, if not all articles of clothing he owned within about five minutes, but they weren’t exactly clean. If he had known the prior evening that Fleur was going to insist on ‘saving’ him from his crappy abode, he’d have made the effort to stop procrastinating and go down to the laundry room in the basement.

Never saw much use, that laundry room. It was, of course, to be expected. Ponies that weren't into the Canterlot fashion scene rarely wore clothes for aesthetic appeal. But even if they had, the place would have probably still been underutilised, given the smell of some of the inhabitants of the complex. They were nice ponies, but some of them had fallen on hard times, and their personal hygiene had taken a bit of a hit as a result. Brockhoof was a prime example of that.

Luke was glad to be leaving the place behind, but the prospect of going to live on Fleur’s estate was not something he could ever take lightly. She hadn’t thought this through—not like he had, anyway. The press were bound to find out at some point. Just what awful things were they going to print about her when they did? The rumours were already flying like shit off a griffin claw, but the mare was just too damn nice to care about their libelous scribblings.

His gaze had never strayed from her during the walk to the Equinox district, the long graceful waves of silky mane and tail swaying gently with her practiced gait. The gentle clip-clop of her hooves echoed through the deserted, pristine streets, leading him far deeper into the ‘posh end’ of the district than he had ever needed to go. The castle entrance was situated next to the east side of the upper plateau, where most of the shops, restaurants and bars were located, but Fleur had strolled through the thestral-guarded gates and passed all of that by.

Now, Luke found himself walking on polished freakin’ marble enchanted with some sort of anti-slip spell, and this was just the street. The houses grew in size and grandeur the further the supermodel led him, going from large detached buildings with modestly sized, perfectly manicured lawns to huge mansions mostly hidden within multiple acres of walled off land.

And, the gates—it was as though the residents were trying to outdo each other with the sheer size and imposition of their gates. Huge, towering wrought iron masterpieces of metalwork set between marble pillars seemed to be the running theme. They would of course, give way to crystal-lit gravel paths leading through blooming gardens that rivalled those of the royal palace.

“Luc, you are awfully quiet. Are you okay, mon cher?”

“What? No… I mean, yes. I’m fine… Just tired,” Luke muttered, eyes still taking in the sheer extravagance of the neighbourhood. Some of these rich fuckers had their own personal water fountains. Not the tiny crappy ones, either. Freakin’ huge statues of various creatures—ponies, hippogriffs, manticores, even a full size dragon, set in the center of large circular pools.

A warm pony cheek pressed against Luke’s hand, making him jump a bit. He smiled, a set of even warmer lilac eyes gazing up at him. “It is okay, mon amour, we are ‘ere,” Fleur softly spoke. “We just need to acquaint you with the gate. Once it learns you are welcome, you may come and go as you please.”

Resisting the urge to give her a good scratch behind the ear, Luke gave her a bemused look instead. “Acquaint me with the gate? Does it have a mind of its own, or something?” he chuckled, glancing around for said gate.

There was a marble archway at the end of the cul de sac that looked like it could’ve housed a gate, but apart from an elaborate depiction of a sleeping unicorn expertly incorporated into the metalwork, the wrought-iron barrier in the archway looked as though it was just another part of the fence. There were no visible hinges at all.

Fleur stepped up to the arch, face emotionless, eyes studying the frontal view of the unicorn contained within the metal. Eyes, Luke couldn’t help noticing, that were already starting to change colour. In a matter of seconds, the switch had been flipped. Trident glowing from sapphire, Fleur opened her fanged mouth, her mane and tail dancing in the sudden breeze that swept through the neighbourhood.

Luke drew in a breath, automatically taking a step backwards. He knew what was coming before it even happened. The last time she had sang, there had been a bunch of street performers backing her up. Not this time, though. The harsh wind whipped through the leaves of the many trees lining the estate, the rustling crescendo rising and rising, until the eerie sound of a music box cut through the din.

“Uh… Fleur? Is this normal?” Luke yelled, but he could barely hear his own voice. Fleur’s, however, rang loud and clear:

Forever we shall live
For never shall we die
The sea is where we roam
The sea for you and I

Our search is at an end
For what was always ours
We’ll never let him go
‘Tis our heart he shall know

The siren’s beautiful voice downplayed the rustling of the leaves, the howling of the wind, the creaking of the ornate copper street lamps—all but the mysterious chimes of the phantom music box were suddenly muted as though they had never been.

Luke fell to his knees, the cold sting of marble barely registering. There it was—that urge to hold her close, as close as he could get her. To run his fingers through her gleaming coat, to lay with her for an eternity. But, something was different this time. It wasn’t just Fleur he craved—no. An equal longing for the dark creature dwelling inside of her was just as apparent. The dark creature that was supposedly born of evil. A beast that had killed time and time again, fed upon the emotions of others, and was said to care for very little other than her own welfare.

Yet, in that moment, all of it just seemed like a bunch of minor details, holding no real significance. This beautiful creature was simply misunderstood.

As if sensing his very thoughts, the siren turned, that half lidded, fanged smile delving into his soul in the blink of an eye. “Ouvrir.”

The music box faded, leaving behind only the relative calm of the night that had pervaded the walk. A metallic grinding sound was quick to break the semi-silence, and Luke snapped his gaze to the gate. It had not opened, but the unicorn woven into its peculiar design had awoken, and she was staring at Fleur though embedded gemstone eyes as blue and endless as the sea.

A nod, and the solid iron bars ceased being solid at all, fading to a light haze, before evaporating completely, like smoke, leaving an empty archway.

“Zere. She knows your face,” Fleur beamed, all traces of the siren now nowhere to be seen. She made a move to step through the arch, but paused. “Luc… Why are you kneeling on the ground?”

Luke remained motionless, his jaw hanging lopsided for a second. “All of that… just to open a gate?” Talk about needlessly complicated. Then again, this was Fleur. Casual extravagance was kind of her thing.

The supermodel raised an eyebrow, hips swaying as she made her way through the arch. “This is a cullis gate. It needs only simple voice command, spoken by the siren zat enchanted it, to allow access to an ally.”

“Okay,” Luke said, pushing himself to his feet. “But what about all the singing?”

Fleur blinked, her gaze flicking back to him. “Singing?”

“Yes. Singing.”

“I sang?” she squeaked, her ears flopping adorably.

“You did.”

She turned, her eyes wide. “What was it zat I sang?”

“I dunno, I heard a music box, and I think you sang something like… ‘forever we shall live, for never shall we die’. Then something about the sea, then your search was at an end, and then…” Luke trailed off, the last part of her heavenly verse replaying in his mind. He felt his cheeks redden with the recollection, and promptly opted to omit that particular part from the recital. “Is this seriously not ringing any bells?”

Fleur’s ears flattened further still. “L'éternel enchantement,” she breathed.

“Come again?”

“It is… getting late, mon cher. We should really go inside,” she said, her voice soft, hooves already crunching down the gravel path leading further into the estate.

“Okay, so I guess that’s another thing we’re not talking about. Fair enough. It’s cool.”

Her ears lifted. “Luc, please. I know you want answers, and I shall give zem to you, in time. But it ‘as been a long day. I would just like to settle into the retiring room for a glass of wine. I am ‘oping zat you will join me, no?”

“You have a retiring room? Wait—what am I talking about? Of course you have a retiring room. You’re a multi-billionaire.”

“Well, actually, zere are six-”

“Six? Just how big is this pla-” The gravel path curved around the last towering sycamore tree blocking the view of the estate, and Luke’s jaw fell open.

Fleur’s house was always going to be big. That was to be expected. But the sheer size and extravagance of the building laid out before him arguably rivalled that of the royal castle. The structure consisted of several wings constructed of gleaming white marble, attached to a main section that must have been around seven stories high. No less than three towers were incorporated into the architecture, the tallest of which stood alone, its foundations built into the cliff-edge boundary of the city. It was connected to the top floor of the main building by an ancient-looking white-stone viaduct hallway bridge, complete with windowless white-stone arches and an umistakeable supervillian-lair vibe.

The grounds surrounding the castle—because calling it anything less would just be ridiculous—were mostly flat. A deep plain of unwavering green separated the thick tree line from a… “Is that… Is that a freakin’ moat?”

A suspiciously narrow bed of shimmering, tropical blue water enveloped the entire circumference of the building, terminating at two waterfalls cascading over the cliff either side of the ominous-looking tower. A golden drawbridge spanned the water, giving access to a thirty foot tall archway barred by a thick iron portcullis.

Fleur’s smile suggested Luke was perhaps the very epitome of naivety. “You are once again forgetting zat I am a siren, Luc. Through the ages, not everypony ‘as been so graciously oblivious to zat fact as zey are today.”

She trotted serenely around a larger-than-lifesize statue of a rearing unicorn, not unlike the one in the headquarters lobby. The only difference was that this one was a water fountain, set not upon a plinth, but in a large circular, gem-lit pool, the water cascading from the unicorn’s horn. “I needed a place zat would ward off any glory seeking vigilantes. Zis castle fits zat purpose quite well.”

Luke stepped up to the drawbridge. The rocky depths of the moat were also strewn with gems of varying shapes and sizes, all of them illuminating the clear, colourless water. “There isn’t even any water flowing in here. How does this thing not drain?”

“Zis ‘moat’ is in fact what is known as a ‘soul bridge’. It is self replenishing. Any who seek to ‘arm the inhabitants of a dwelling it protects shall be cast away for zeir efforts. It breaks all forms of deception, sees through the most iron clad of lies,” she said, with the tiniest hint of playful suspense, hooves clunking over the golden drawbridge. “It is infallible.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “A soul bridge?”

Fleur stopped just shy of the portcullis, spinning on her hooves to face him. “I did not name it,” she muttered, eyes a hair trigger away from rolling. “Now,” she sat on her haunches, suddenly beckoning with a dainty forehoof. “Come to me, mon amour.”

“You still haven’t told me what that means,” Luke said, already halfway across the drawbridge. “Is it the same as mon cher?” he mocked, in a ridiculously butchered attempt at her accent, “or mon ami?” Fleur’s eyes did roll this time, but she was smiling as he stopped beside her. “Or is it something else?”

Springing to her hooves again, the supermodel’s horn flashed, prompting the heavy iron portcullis to grind into action, slowly lifting. “It means you are terrible at Prench.”

Beyond the still lifting portcullis, an equally large set of polished oakwood doors, complete with thick iron hinges, swung open without prompt, revealing a spacious entrance hall. An open plan staircase leading to a first floor balcony dominated the centre.

Luke’s gaze flicked around the room, its priceless paintings, masterpiece sculptures and long hanging wall banners of red and gold all competing for attention. “I feel like I’ve just stepped into the Gryffindor common room.” This space alone was perhaps three times the size of his whole apartment.

“Ahh, mademoiselle Fleur, you are ‘ere. Would you like me to-mère de céleste, qu'est-ce que c'est?”

The grey unicorn that had just stepped through one of the many side doors slapped a hoof to her face, her irises inflating to the size of grapefruits and her ears tanking. A pause, and she quickly adjusted a small crease in her otherwise pristine maid uniform. “Forgive me. I did not realise you would be bringing ‘ome company.”

Fleur tilted her head, ears pointed to the ceiling, a look of mild disbelief on her face. “It?”

The maid pony took a horrified step back. Her eyes now looked as though they were about pop out of her skull. “I-I-I’m sorry, mademoiselle Fleur, for my outburst. Zat was v-very unprofessional of me. I was just… startled,” she squeaked, gaze flicking up to Luke for a split second.

“What’s happening here?” Luke muttered, even though it was pretty obvious. Unfamiliar ponies did this all the time.

Fleur’s eyes darkened, azure creeping in. Her lips thinned. “My ‘ead maid thinks you are a monster.”

“No, F-Fleur, please.”

“Eva, you should know zat Luc is no more a monster zan you are,” Fleur began, her voice already morphing into the dual-tone affair that always sent shivers down his spine. “Le seul monstre ici est moi!”

The trembling unicorn maid let out a small shriek at the sight of bared siren fangs. Spinning on her hooves, she disappeared back through the side door so fast she may as well have left a smoke silhouette of herself.

Luke took a few steps toward the door, but the mare was long gone. “Was that necessary?”

“Argh… no,” Fleur all but growled. “Stupide sirène. Non. Zis ends now.” Her horn suddenly summoned a fleeting flash of pink so bright it nearly bleached the china. “Tout personnel. Réunion dans le hall d'entrée. À présent,” she called, her magnified, booming voice shaking the walls of the castle.

Luke flinched, ringing eardrums and half-singed retinas making his head spin. “Jees woman, you trying to blind and deafen me at the same time?”

Fleur did not answer. Instead, she simply sat on her haunches in front of the doors, which had since closed themselves, and waited. Barely twelve seconds passed before a portly blue stallion wearing a very smart looking tuxedo appeared from a hallway to the left. He gave no reaction whatsoever to neither Fleur nor Luke, instead trotting to the center of the room and standing at ease. He was joined not long after by three mares, all of them wearing maid uniforms. One of them might have gasped upon spotting Luke, but a second glance revealed absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. They joined the stallion in the center of the room, imitating his stoic silence.

More and more of the castle staff congregated in the hall with each passing moment, until around thirty ponies stood before Fleur and Luke, all dressed to the nines in fancy tuxedos and maid gowns that made Luke look like a street urchin. The head maid, however, was absent.

Fleur got to her hooves, ears flicking in a way that suggested she was agitated, but suppressing the emotion. Luke was getting more and more clued up to her mood just by observing her ears. They were oftentimes a dead giveaway. “For zose of you zat are unaware,” she began, addressing her staff, “zis is Luc. ‘Ee is both a colleague, but more so a friend of mine, and ‘ee shall be staying with us for the foreseeable future. I only ask zat you treat ‘im with the same kindness and respect you would show to any pony invited to stay in zis castle. Now, even though I ‘ave never made a point of openly discussing it, I am very much aware zat all of you ‘ave figured out for yourselves the true nature of my being. I ‘ave turned a blind eye to many a fearful glance, and a deaf ear to countless ‘ushed whispers over the years, and I will certainly continue to do so. But I would be remiss if I did not warn you of the potential consequences you may face if you ‘appen to insult my tall friend ‘ere.”

“Fleur,” Luke intervened, already sensing the metric fuckton of crazy she was about to dump on her servants.

“No, Luc, it is important zat zey hear zis. I… ‘ave a lot less control in situations concerning you zan I am usually accustomed to,” she said, turning back to her staff. “I cannot be ‘eld accountable for what might ‘appen when I am not myself. Be sure zat you give me absolutely no reason to be anything ozzer zan myself. Do you understand?”

Thirty ponies nodded at once, their expressions resolute, and this seemed to satisfy the supermodel. “Dismissed.”

Not fifteen seconds later, and the vast entrance hall was as empty as when Luke had first set foot into it. “Good talk,” he muttered, though his tone was practically swimming in sarcasm.

Conveniently, Fleur appeared oblivious as she trotted swiftly over the thick red carpet. “Yes, quite. Now, ‘ow about zat drink, mon cher?”

Luke shook his head, letting out a small chuckle. “Sure.”

So early was the morning, that Fleur—only ten minutes previously fast asleep in her vast super-queen-size four poster bed—could practically hear the very crack of dawn. The phrase was not to be taken literally, she knew, but the glass of wine she had shared with Luke in the grand retiring room the previous night had swiftly been followed by another, and that one by several more as well. It was only when several bottles of Château Farriere had been liberated from the wine cellar that Fleur finally managed to drag herself to her bedchambers.

Luke had not lasted long in the grand scheme of things. The human had passed into peaceful slumber after his sixth slowly consumed glass. The siren, perverted as she was, viewed this occurrence as something of a missed opportunity to steal a few snuggles, but Fleur was above such unchivalrous behaviour, and had instead carefully levitated him to the vacant Manehattan suite.

“Will zat be all, Miss Fleur?” asked Lily Fern, the makeup artist’s lit horn applying the final finishing touches to the signature flowing waves of Fleur’s mane and tail.

Bow Tie, Fleur’s faithful butler of over thirty years, telekinetically pulled back the heavy satin drapes of the bedchamber, allowing ruthless rays of sunlight to filter unapologetically through the spacious room. Fleur squinted. “Yes, zat will do fine, ma chere. I ‘ave business to attend to-”

Knock knock.

The door was thrown wide, the ever-effervescent and punctual Photo Finish trotting into the room with no less than three maid mares in tow. The maids busied themselves tidying and organising, making the bed to such perfection that not a single crease could be seen and taking away the small bowl of oats that Fleur had hastily nibbled at upon being awoken by her butler.

“Guten Morgen, Fraulein,” Photo said, tone unusually curt. She pulled a rolled up copy of the Canterlot Herald from the neckline of her dress, unfurling the newspaper out onto the freshly made bed, much to the carefully concealed chagrin of the maid mares. “You should have came straight to me after your little outburst at ze amphitheatre yesterday. I could have run a little bit of damage control if you had bozzered to tell me. Now zat insufferable nag of a noblestallion is milking ze situation as much as he can.”

Fleur glanced down at the paper with a look of disgust. Most of the front page was taken up by a photograph of Top Hat being levitated out of the amphitheatre in a spinelock sphere enchantment. There was even a grim look seemingly permanently etched on the face of the doctor casting the spell. “I did not ‘urt ‘im anywhere near zat badly. If I ‘ad, she would ‘ave rejoiced for hours.”

It was true that her darker half often took pleasure in the suffering of others. Not something Fleur cared for, but true all the same. Though through years of subtle conditioning, she had managed to narrow down the siren’s interest in such potential victims to only those who truly deserved it.

“It matters not! He will still spin his web of lies regardless. You know how much he hates Luke. Such blindsighted racism is an ugly agenda, especially for a stallion,” Photo muttered. “I’ll have sompony make a statement to ze press on your behalf.”

“Speaking of racism,” Fleur said, her eyes darkening a shade. “I ‘ave an unscheduled appointment to attend at the Crown Bank zis morning. I would very much like it if you would accompany me, no?”

“Vhat appointment? I vas not made aware of any bank appointment today,” Photo challenged, perplexed.

“Zat is because I was only made aware of it myself last night.”

“Vhat do you mean, Fraulein?”

Fleur did not answer. Instead, she charged her horn, eyes shimmering with a subtle blue underglow like sunlight shimmering over the surface of a vast ocean. “Ve go!” she cried, and both the supermodel and her confused manager vanished in a bright flash of pink light, leaving the maid ponies to finish their work.

The resounding crack that echoed upon Fleur and Photo's sudden appearance in Mane Street was enough to startle the few ponies that were present at such an early hour on a Saturday morning. Early shoppers beating the rush, savvy business ponies on their way to weekend meetings, tourists keen to explore the Capital city from dawn till dusk, all gave a start at the teleportation.

Fleur knew it was indeed customary for a high profile client such as herself to have had an appointment made when making a visit to the Crown Bank. The higher ups running the place much preferred plenty of notice of time and purpose, mostly so they could have their most capable staff present, and query any topic ahead of time. But considering the circumstances on this occasion, Fleur very much thought they deserved nothing more than a surprise visit.

Photo Finish flicked her gaze from left to right, as though she was surprised to suddenly find herself standing in the middle of Mane Street. “Fraulein… Zis is not like you. Vhat has happened?”

Fleur’s horn flashed, and the siren gave a low growl inside her mind as the scroll appeared. “Read zat. Quickly,” she muttered, thrusting it to Photo's hooves. A moderately sized gaggle of Manehattenite mares were in the process of making a beeline straight for them.

“Oh my stars! That's totally Fleur de Lis!”

“Sweet Celestia! It is, it's the immortal supermodel…”

“Can we get a photo-”

“NEIN! Miss Fleur is extremely busy. Get out of here before I tan your flanks!” Photo snapped.

Whether it was because they hadn't encountered a raging middle-aged Germaneic mare before, or that they just weren’t used to such sudden confrontation, the Manehattenites scarpered from Photo Finish like rats from a flood.

“Hmm… Ah, yes,” Photo murmured to herself, walking along three-legged with her muzzle inches from the parchment. “So zey are raising ze deposit. I guess zey were always going to try to keep him out of Uptown. Bad business not to keep the majority happy, and ze ponies zat live in zat neighbourhood aren’t exactly xenophiles.” Photo barked out a sudden joyful laugh. “I bet zey never thought you’d see zis letter.”

“Non. I very much doubt it, mon amie.”

The towering double doors of the bank swang open silently and without prompt, giving way to a lavishly decorated interior. Whilst the exterior was the epitome of aged, yet imposing stone architecture, the inside of the building had been renovated so many times through the years it had lost all of its old world charm. A young unicorn stallion, fresh out of school, by the look of him, was stood behind a small welcome booth, its flashy gleaming marble enchanted to emit a welcoming azure glow. Despite the emulation of daylight right under his muzzle, the colt’s eyelids and ears were drooping as though he had mastered the act of micro-napping whilst standing upright.

It was only when Fleur had stopped right in front him, a businesslike, yet still warm and friendly smile on her muzzle, that he realised the bank had customers. “Bonjour, mon jeune ami. I am looking for Equity Rose. Could you go and find her for me, s'il vous plaît?” she chirped, with just the right amount of endearing inflection.

The young stallion blinked, his eyes widening so much they may have popped out of their sockets if given half a chance. Jaw flapping two or three times before any sound came out, he managed to croak out a barely audible. “I… I… F-F-Fleur de-”

“Yes, yes, it is Fleur de Lis, beautiful, immortal, eternally youthful, blah blah—just go and get zis banker for us already!” Photo Finish snapped, waving the rolled up scroll threateningly at the poor stallion.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Within five minutes, he returned with a dainty, off white, bespectacled unicorn in tow. The young stallion proceeded to keep his gaze glued to anything but Fleur, but Equity Rose was eyeing Fleur with a look of utter bewilderment.

“You requested to see me?” she timidly asked, her voice decidedly mousy.

Fleur gave the mare a wide smile. “Oui. If you would like to follow me, ma chere.”

With barely a thought, Fleur’s horn ignited, and a sound rather like lightning tearing through the skin of an airship helium chamber rocked the bank for a split second, prompting a series of shrieks from the tellers behind the counters who had been pretending not to eavesdrop. The poor receptionist stallion nearly jumped out of his coat, but Equity Rose was too busy staring at the twenty-hoof wide portal that had just appeared in front of her. Born of shimmering blue flames, the unmistakably demonic anomaly looked grotesquely out of place hanging in the air, smack bang in the middle of the glitzy bank. It looked, in fact, as though it should lead anypony that stepped into directly to the deepest and darkest pits of Tartarus, but as it happened, it lead only to Fleur’s office.

Turning glossy tail, Fleur deftly stepped through, her ears popping at the sudden change in air pressure. It was fairly obvious Equity Rose was about as guilty as the poor receptionist colt now attempting to hide behind his welcome booth, but she had a high enough position in the bank to have a voice. A voice that Fleur needed to scream at the top brass as loud as equinely possible.

“Well, zat’s new,” Photo Finish muttered. She eyed the portal warily for a second, but ultimately followed Fleur through into her office.

Equity Rose looked to be on the verge of hyperventilation, but Fleur merely widened her eyes a shade, and the middle aged unicorn hopped through the casually pierced wormhole like the blue flames encircling it were nothing more frightening than a glow in the dark jump rope.

Relaxing the physics-defying torrent of magic rushing through her horn, Fleur allowed space time to heal itself with the same thunder-like CRUNCH as before. “Please, do not be alarmed, ma chere. I wish only to discuss a piece of correspondence you sent to my colleague. Photo, if you would?”

Photo Finish unravelled the scroll onto Fleur’s desk.

“I am given to understand zat you raised ze deposit on zis apartment no less zan four times.”

“I… I…” Equity stuttered, eyes darting from the slightly curled parchment to Fleur, then back to the parchment. “I am not at liberty to discuss these matters. C-Client confidentiality, you understand.”

“Well,” Fleur replied, leisurely taking a seat behind her desk, “considering the J’adore Corporation holds by far the Crown Bank’s largest account, I would suggest zat you… liberate yourself.”

Equity Rose gave an audible gulp, anxiously shifting her weight between her hooves. “Miss Fleur, please, you have to understand that I-”

“Who told you to hike ze deposit?” Photo interrupted. “Tell us zis, and we will guarantee you keep your job.”

Equity’s resolve wilted under Photo’s piercing glare. “It was Platinum Ring. Every application Mr Nona sent in, Platinum Ring instructed to me to raise it. I didn’t ask questions, I just did what was asked of me-EEK!”

CRUNCH!

The smouldering portal erupted once more into being with a flick of Fleur’s aura. “Would you kindly go and fetch ‘er for me?” Fleur asked, a hint of sweetness to her voice.

“Y-You want me to-”

“I know she is zere. She invites me to every quarterly board meeting, and if I am not mistaken, zere is one due to take place in ten minutes, no?”

Equity paused, steeling herself for a moment. “I’ll let her know you wish to see her.” With an air of relief, the mare swiftly jumped back through the portal, which Photo was busy examining in more detail.

Her forehooves probed at the edge, but could get no closer than an inch or so, blocked by the built in safety element of the enchantment. “Everytime I think I haff seen all of your cards, you pull something even more ridiculous out of ze hat.”

Fleur smiled. “Zis one is actually nozzing special, mon amie.” As wise as Photo Finish was with her vast knowledge of fashion and cutting edge photography, like all mortals, the earth mare was truly blind to the infinite potential of the magical aura.

A portal was just very primitive form of magical transportation, which fell out of fashion thousands of years prior when the hugely more efficient and easier to master teleportation spell was discovered. It was so rarely used in modern times in fact, that to a modern Equestrian, it often appeared quite alarming.

“Ahem,” came a small, high pitched voice from just through the portal.

A tan coated unicorn dressed in a smart black blazer and tie combo, brown mane tied up in the tightest of buns and a tail cropped uncommonly short stepped quite gracefully through the portal. A look of trepidation flashed over her features, but it was gone almost instantly. “Greetings, Miss De Lis. Miss Rose informed me that you wanted a word, yes?” The thick platinum ring encompassing the base of her horn glinted in the light from the portal, which imploded with the usual CRUNCH. Platinum Ring didn’t even flinch.

Fleur had never really cared much for jewelry. Her sapphire and platinum spiked collar were more than enough. Platinum Ring, however, not only wore her signature hornpiece, but many other items as well. Diamond earrings, a golden necklace, and even a golden dock ring banding the base of her tail. She was probably wearing more bits than the price of the apartment Luke had been trying to purchase.

A low growl rippled through her mind at this particular observation, swiftly followed by demands to make the mare eat every last display of wealth decorating her body. As tempting as that was, it would just cause more problems than it was worth.

“Oui. Do take a seat, ma chere. I would very much like to discuss a mortgage application made by a colleague of mine,” Fleur said, motioning to the swivel chair in front of her desk.

Platinum Ring perched herself on the edge, wasting no time in clearing her throat. “Yes, Miss Rose mentioned you were curious as to some of the bank’s policies regarding-”

“Cut ze scheisse, Platinum,” Photo Finish interrupted, a hoof slamming down to the desk. This time, the banker did flinch. “Ve vant to know why you raised ze deposit on Luke’s application.”

Platinum paused. It was a long pause, as though the mare had exhausted all avenues of possible explanation. Her vacant, businesslike expression quickly morphed into one of sheer desperation. “I had to do it, Miss De Lis,” she spluttered, choosing to ignore Photo altogether. “Some of the residents of Uptown got wind of Mr Nona’s application and spread the word. It took less than two days for the petition to start, and it had over a hundred signatures within the first few hours. My hooves are tied, Miss De Lis. If I was to approve Mr Nona’s application, the repercussions for the Crown Bank would be immense.”

Fleur let the mare ramble out her reasoning, but couldn’t really find it in herself to pity her position. Being an enabler of racism was just as abhorrent as the act itself, when it came down to it. Platinum, apparently done talking, merely sat with a pleading look on her face. “Well. It appears zat you ‘ave a decision to make, Mrs Ring. I do not know the combined value of the business the Crown bank is set to lose if you decide to stop zis discrimination against my colleague, but I am willing to bet zat it is not more zan the Crown Bank will lose if the J’adore Corporation transfers accounts to Hooves Fargo.”

The fur on Platinum’s face suddenly bleached itself. “Y-You wouldn’t… You can’t,” she gasped, clutching the desk for support.

“I do not wish to brag, but if I wore clothes with pockets, Mrs Ring, J’adore’s board of directors would practically live in zem.” Not entirely truthful. Some would rock the boat, especially if pressured with such a questionable decision clearly influenced by a personal matter, but Platinum didn’t need to know that.

The bank mare stared blankly at the carpet for the better part of a minute before looking at Fleur again. “All of this, for a… a colleague?”

With no warning at all, Fleur’s field of view suddenly widened, the room elongated, and a sharp pain pierced her jaws in four precise places. Both Platinum Ring and Photo Finish were bathed in a shimmering azure glow. “Tu oses m'interroger?” She felt the words leave her mouth, and fought ferociously to wrest back control, lest there be a dead banker in the middle of her office.

Either Platinum was fluent in Prench, or the dual toned words put the fear of the gods in her. With wide eyes, she began to babble a mile a minute. “Zero percent deposit. Five percent interest. I’ll be happy give Mr Nona the keys myself. Anything for a friend of our most valued client, Miss De Lis, and of course, I’ll be happy to facilitate the ongoing partnership between the Crown Bank and the J’adore Corporation, Miss De Lis.”

One forcibly recalled image of Luke’s smile to placate the raging siren later, and Fleur blinked, the room appearing normal once more. A quick swipe of her tongue failed to reveal any fangs. I told you to leave the talking to me, she hissed internally, but the siren had since progressed to planning out the logistics of mating with Luke, and precisely how their bodies would fit together. Fleur blushed, quickly driving the inappropriate fantasy from her mind. Thankfully, neither Platinum nor Photo seemed to notice.

“Problem solved,” Photo Finish cried triumphantly. “You can go now,” she added to Platinum, casually waving a hoof at the door.

“No,” Fleur said, before she could stop herself. Merde. It’s not like she could blame it on the siren this time, either, engrossed in such lewd indulgences as she was.

“No?” Platinum repeated, a look of horror on her face.

“Luc no longer ‘as need of zat apartment,” Fleur continued, cursing her pitiful resolve.

“But… But you…”

“I wished to see where your loyalties lay, Mrs Ring. Be thankful of the knowledge zat I am satisfied, for now.” Fleur nodded to the door, opting not to disturb her Saturday morning workforce again with the unsettling noises of archaic spells. “You may go.”

Platinum Ring’s business mask returned, most likely a facade, of course. “Good day, Miss De Lis.” She swept from the office without another word.

Photo Finish slowly shook her head as the door swang closed, hitting Fleur with a look that made her feel about fourteen years old. “You’re like a Diamond Dog with a big shiny rock, you know zat?”

Fleur let slip a small chuckle. “I really don’t think ‘ee will mind, in the grand scheme of things, mon amie.”

Author's Note

Let me know if I derped editing this, eh? :twistnerd:

Twelve | The Burden of Choice

Equity Rose carefully nudged her ivory spectacles back up her snoot, ears flicking swiftly in succession. She was studying the piece of parchment in front of her as though its contents called for nothing less than the highest level of deliberation. That’s how it came across to Luke, anyway. Give the mare a shirt and tie and she could pass for a car salesman, albeit a rather unusual one.

“Sooo… what rate are we talking here?” Luke meekly asked, fingers crossed behind his back. Less than six percent, less than six percent, come on now.

“Well, taking into careful consideration your limited credit history, I'm pleased to tell you we can offer you a rate of eighteen percent.”

Luke blinked, a lead brick dropping to the pit of his stomach. “I’m sorry, it sounded like you just said eighteen percent.”

The barest shadow of a grin flashed over the mare’s face. “I did just say that.”

“But that’s… ridiculous. Look, I know there’s no way to prove it without somehow building an interdimensional bridge to Earth and putting you in contact with a credit agency, but I had a car loan for like, five years and I never missed a single payment. Surely that has to count for something?”

Equity frowned, her expression morphing into one of almost comical bewilderment. “What’s a car?”

An explosive sigh escaped Luke. This stupid mortgage application was beginning to feel like a pointless venture. “It’s like a… a cart that pulls itself. We humans use them to get around—not important. Is there any way you could reconsi-OH SHIT!”

Back on Earth, Luke had indeed bought a car through a hire-purchase scheme. An Audi S5, black, tinted windows, leather seats, very classy. It was perhaps a little on the expensive side, but he was somewhat of an enthusiast, and it was better than wasting money on cigarettes or drinking every weekend. As soon as the beloved ride popped into the forefront of his thoughts, however, it also ploughed through the cubicle wall, smashed Equity’s desk to pieces and crushed the mare herself against the stone outer-wall of the bank in a rather explicit display of vehicular carnage.

“What the fuck!” Luke half screamed, launching himself out of his too-low chair and backpedaling so hard his back actually hit the door. The car’s alarm blared, just like it used to when those little shitbag kids would kick their footballs at it just to get it to go off. The front crumple zone had done just that: crumpled. Equity Rose was quite clearly dead. There was even a puddle of red slowly beginning to stain the carpet beneath the spot where she was pinned.

“Fuck… Fuck!” Luke panted, bile, revulsion and panic rising in his throat and chest, each threatening to overwhelm. He had to turn away. Her eyes were still open, and with them being so large, the blank, lifeless stare they gave off made his skin crawl.

None of this made even the slightest bit of sense. How the fuck had his car followed him to Equestria? It sure as hell hadn’t been with him in the Alps. And who the hell was driving? Heart pounding in his chest, Luke stumbled forward, peering inside, but the interior was empty.

Beep beep. The alarm stopped.

“We never liked bankers,” said a voice.

Luke whirled around to find a vaguely familiar blue alicorn stood exactly where he had been standing not a moment ago. “Luna?”

Princess Luna, immortal diarch of Equestria and Goddess of the Moon. Luke had only seen her once, maybe twice in all of the time he’d spent in Equestria, and she may as well have been mute for all the talking she’d done on either one of those occasions.

The mare stepped up to the Audi. “What a peculiar machine. Does every human have one of these?” she asked, completely disregarding the dead unicorn slumped over the bonnet.

“Never mind that—why is it here?” Luke gasped, still trying to regather his wits.

“To relieve your anxiety, of course. Whyever else?”

Luke stared at the princess. “Did you do this? Are you fucking kidding me? She’s dead, Luna. One of your subjects. Do you even fucking care?”

Luna finally threw a glance at the half crushed corpse, but she turned her gaze just as quickly back to Luke, a look that almost resembled pity on her face. “So naive.” Lifting a forehoof, she stomped, the impact shattering the floor. It promptly broke into thousands of tiny pieces and fell away into an endless void. Luke jumped out of reflex, but there was nothing for his feet to push against. He just floated in the air as the walls disintegrated around him. The remains of the desk soon followed, along with his car, Equity’s corpse, everything literally fell to pieces in a bizarre display of accelerated entropy, right before his eyes.

Only Luna remained, eyes glowing white, body lit by an invisible source of warm light. When nothing else particularly horrible happened, comprehension dawned. “Oh… So this is the inside of your big box of mind altering magic tricks, then?”

Luna gave a rare smile. “A blunt hypothesis, but nonetheless accurate.”

“Had to hit me with a dead pony, didn’t you?” Luke deadpanned. “Couldn’t just ease into it with a creepy clown or a monster under a bed?”

“Ah, but the ending of a life,” Luna began, her horn meticulously weaving a blanket of stars out of absolutely nothing, “even violently, is not something one should ever take for granted.”

Luke closed his eyes, and by the time he opened them again, an endless lawn of moonlit green had met his feet. The sensation of gravity suddenly being turned back on was almost enough to detract his attention from what Luna had said. “Normal ponies don’t say things like that, Luna. You know that, right?” he intoned, shifting weight between his feet. This lawn, field… whatever the hell it was, was unnaturally flat.

"We could never claim to be a 'normal pony', considering the message we must deliver," Luna ominously replied. Her hoofsteps, though quiet against the moonlit grass, could be heard with perfect clarity in the unnaturally dead silence of the night.

"What message?" Luke asked, almost out of reflex.

“Our sister may regard what we are about to tell you as 'interfering' but we disagree. We believe you have a right to fully understand the choice you must make.”

Luke kept pace with the alicorn, throwing her a sideways glance. "A choice? What are you trying to say?" he fired back, thoughts instantly turning to his job, to his boss.

Luna turned, and for a moment, she looked far older than an ageless immortal had any business being. “You stand unknowingly at the threshold of the order of ancients. The pendulum is swinging, the gears already in motion. The siren will take away from you the gift of a natural death, and with it, the knowledge that your existence is finite. To one who has lived their life as a mortal, this probably sounds like a blessing. We are here to tell you the truth: it is not."

The barest hint of a breeze flowed over Luke’s skin, though, it could have been a mirage, given the bombshell Luna had just dropped. “Are you saying… I’m going to become immortal? I… I can’t die?”

Luna slowly shook her head, ever-flowing mane swirling with the motion. “Nay, dear human. We are merely informing you that if you continue to allow Fleur to lead you down your current path, the burden of choice will be thrust upon your shoulders, whether you like it or not. Through instinct and inaction, you will see generations flash relentlessly before your eyes, each one ageing whilst you retain your youth, before disappearing into an afterlife you may never experience.”

Luke felt the lead weight return to the pit of his stomach. Burden of choice. The prospect of living so long that one would actively wish for death was a terrifying one, now he was being forced to give it some thought. “So, if I ever wanted to die… I would have to kill myself? Is that how it is for Fleur?” he asked, sombrely.

Luna paused for a few moments, her gaze locked onto the ever distant horizon. “Fleur no longer has that choice. The magical ember grows ever stronger, given time. Her power is greatly underestimated, even by herself. We very much doubt she could find a way to destroy herself, even if she was utterly determined to do so.” Another wistful pause, during which Luna seemed to be contemplating things unknown. “You, on the other hoof, given the fates are kind to you, would be limited only by your will to survive—an instinct far harder to suppress than the average mortal realises.”

A long silence followed. Luke gazed out over the vast expanse of never ending meadow. It was as though he was standing in a metaphor of his current predicament, but the more he thought about it, it seemed like a no-brainer. What could be better than to live forever by Fleur’s side? Was he really being so small minded?

Luna didn’t prompt him for a response. "An inevitable death is a gift, dear human. Think wisely before you decide to relinquish it," she simply said, the unnaturally flat field being engulfed by an indistinguishable haze at her words of warning. Luke blinked at the sight, but Luna was gone by the time he opened his eyes again.

His lucidity lingering, the knowledge he was asleep drove his body to crave consciousness, and it wasn't long before he found himself lying beneath a heavy satin quilt.

"Dude. C'mon."

"I can't, M-Mr Tall Creature sir."

"Look, it's important. I'm kinda in the middle of an existential crisis here, so I'd really appreciate it if you scooched your furry little butt over and let me go talk to Celestia."

The questionably-small-for-a-royal-guard blinked from the inside of his helmet, which appeared to be around two or three sizes too large for his head. "My orders are clear. P-Princess Celestia is not to be disturbed while in day court," he squeaked.

Luke refrained from rolling his eyes, instead turning to the slightly taller guard, who appeared to be under the impression that if he just stared straight at the wall opposite, he wouldn't be obligated to join in the conversation.

"What about you? You new here as well?" Luke asked. He didn't really want to play the 'do you know who I am?' card, but he was running out of options.

The guard visibly flinched, his gaze flicking up to Luke for a split second. "Our new-ness is irrelevant. We are royal guards!" he declared, his voice wobbling an octave higher on the last couple of words.

The smaller guard also remembered he was supposed to have a spine. Tiny foot stomp. "It is our sworn duty to protect the crown and their assets. You, creature, are in breach of the royal castle code, directive nine-J, addendum b: no individual shall interrupt a royal court hearing without prior auth-"

"Oh, why are you here? Didn't you move to that hovel in Slateside?" a very familiar, overly-entitled voice interrupted.

Luke spun on his heels, just as Prince Blueblood cantered along the marble-clad hallway like it was a catwalk for pretentious ponies. "No matter, I'm here to speak with the Princess. Guards, escort this trash back to the ghetto, would you?"

Blueblood made a move toward the heavy wooden court doors, but the tiny guard, around a head shorter than him, held out a hoof. "Court is in session, Prince Blueblood. I'm afraid I can't let you in."

Luke raised his eyebrows.

Blueblood raised his even higher.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter, you pathetic little runt? I am a royal Prince, and I have business to discuss with Princess Celestia, whom I should not need to mention is my aunt-"

"Hold on a sec there Blue-tits, are you familiar with the royal castle code?" Luke interjected, holding up an index finger. "Directive nine-J, addendum b clearly states that no matter how many pinot gris grapes you jam in your asshole every night, you can't just waltz into the court whenever you feel like it."

Blueblood knickered in disgust. "I'll have you know that-" he began, but Luke didn't find out what Blueblood would have him know, as the courtroom door was suddenly bathed in golden light, swinging open with a disproportionately loud creak.

Princess Celestia loomed over Blueblood and the two guards, her usual smile absent. A look of mild irritability adorned her features instead.

Blueblood began talking regardless. "Auntie, these guards tried to stop me from entering! Me, of all ponies! I recommend they be dismissed immediately."

The guards shared a look, but Celestia's steely gaze never left Blueblood. "For what, exactly? Doing their jobs?"

"And the human-" Blueblood began, ignoring Celestia completely, but Celestia held up a hoof.

"-the human has important matters to discuss with me. You want a third aide to cater to your every whim during the gala, even though a mere second is an unnecessary waste of castle staff time. In fact, a majority of the other nobles are foregoing a service aide this year." She tilted her head to the side. "Would it perhaps be too foolish of me to assume you would follow such an example?"

Blueblood looked as though he was about to start turning the colour of his namesake. "But… But-"

"Leave, nephew dearest. I'm busy."

With her words, the tiny guard began softly headbutting the Prince's chest, nudging him backward, the slightly taller one following suit.

"I still get two though, right? Aunty?"

Princess Celestia motioned with a wing for Luke to follow, and Luke did so, making sure to grin widely at Blueblood being slowly buffeted along the corridor before the heavy courtroom door swung shut.

Celestia led Luke through a courtroom of which was mostly filled with wizened old ponies. A few of them gave him a curious look or two, but most paid him no mind, too busy taking notes. One old stallion with a particularly long beard appeared to be taking a midday standing-nap.

"Nephew dearest?" Luke repeated, once Celestia had closed the door to a private court-adjacent conferencing room they had just entered.

Celestia merely sat on her haunches and gave him a deadpan stare. "Just what is so important that you felt the need to pester my new day court guards for an impromptu appointment during session hours? It's not like you to seek my advice these days."

Luke leaned against the large solid oak conference table, half contemplating trying to hide his newfound dilemma. Probably a futile effort, truth be told. Not much got past Celestia. "What’s it like? Being immortal?"

Celestia's eyes darkened, her semi-vacant facade vanishing. A short pause. "What did she tell you?"

Luke let out a sigh, glancing at the lavishly ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling chamber. He knew he was throwing Luna under the bus. "She said I'd have… a choice to make," he muttered, her words playing over in his mind for what felt like the hundredth time. “But, she was a bit cryptic about the whole thing, I mean… She said I might be immortal?” Saying it out loud just made it sound all the more ridiculous. How could a human of all things indefinitely cheat death?

“Well, that is her style.” Celestia let out a tepid sigh. “I must confess, I would have much rather preferred you to wake up in twenty years time and ask yourself why you look exactly like your twenty-something self, but I digress.”

A long pause followed her words, Luke too lost in his own thoughts to fill it. After a while, he spoke. “Why? Why do I get to be an immortal? I wasn’t born one. Why won’t I die just like everyone else?”

Celestia closed her eyes, partly covered by her shimmering multi-hued mane, before opening them again. A familiar POP rattled the chamber, followed by deathly silence.

“To most of my subjects, a siren is a mythical creature. The ghastly horror of an old pony’s tale, perhaps. But there are a select few, you now among them, that know sirens are in fact very real,” Celestia rapidly spoke, getting to her hooves. Her wings hugged her sides, her voice dropping to a near-whisper despite having already cast the sound-lock spell. “Tell me, Luke, just how much do you know about Fleur’s little friend?”

Luke was caught a little off guard, having only discussed the siren with Fleur herself. Well, Fleur and now Luna. “Well, I…” he began, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“It’s okay Luke. I’ve known Fleur since she was a filly. Equador was a very different place, back then.”

“Well, from what I’ve gathered, a siren is a water-demon, a separate entity bound to a host. They feed on desire, and they hate pretty much everyone,” Luke listed off, careful to omit that the last rule didn’t quite extend to himself in Fleur’s case.

There was a twinkle in Celestia’s eye that suggested she might have known more than she was letting on. “True, on the surface, at least, but any history tome worth its salt could have told you that.”

“So there’s more?” Luke asked, puzzled.

Celestia threw a glance to the conference room door, then quickly back to Luke. “There’s an ancient bit of siren magic that every siren secretly both fears and craves. You won’t find any reference to it in a book—they never talk about it if they can avoid it. Even before sirens were considered the mythical beings they’re painted as today, they kept this little detail locked away from anyone but their own kind,” Celestia spoke, her horn flashing, though nothing happened. The deathly silence continued. “The only reason I know about it is because I’m several thousand years old.”

“Did Fleur tell you?”

Celestia shook her head, ripples flowing in waves through her mane. “Heavens, no. Fleur wouldn’t tell a soul. Any siren that divulges the secret and gets found out is outcasted at best, but more likely hunted down and murdered.”

Luke shuddered, half contemplating simply ignoring his curiosity, but it prevailed in the end. “So, what is it?”

Celestia grabbed Luke’s shoulder with a wingtip, and he nearly had a mini heart attack as she pulled him close, her large lilac orbs menacing. “Luke, you must promise me that you will not discuss what I am about to tell you with anyone other than Fleur—do you understand?”

“Okay! Relax… I got it,” Luke stuttered

Celestia released him at once, quickly resuming her pacing. “There is one thing every siren craves more than anything else in the world, even more than the endless admiration of the many. It is known as a consort. A consort is a perfect companion—the one true love, if you will, and the only love a siren can truly experience. If a host dares to force their siren to open up to any other potential suitor, they risk killing that suitor, for they are not the one. To a siren—a suitor is either a consort, or a nothing. It is something that deep down in their hearts, every siren knows she hardly deserves, but it is so, regardless.”

Luke stared in awe, thoughts flowing through his head a mile a minute. He had questions, but Celestia continued before he could ask any of them.

“Each siren is afforded but one consort for the entirety of her endless life. From the moment a consort is born they become magically bound to their siren, but the connection is weak. Unfinished. It is only when the two meet that the connection begins to strengthen. The siren knows immediately when she has found that which she has been searching for, but the host may well be oblivious.”

Celestia paused her pacing, levelling Luke with an oddly forlorn look. “Some sirens go for millenia, searching, driving themselves crazy with the notion that their consort may have been born, lived their life, then died, long ago, forever lost to the cruelty of time.”

A sweeping shiver flowed down Luke’s spine at the malice with which Celestia had hissed the last word. It felt like she had just cast the darkest curse known to ponykind, but there was nothing magical about it.

“Why… Why are you telling me this?” Luke finally whispered, his mind suddenly blank, unable to think.

“Because Luna was right. Luke, you are the counterpart to Fleur de Lis. You are her consort, and now you must make a choice.”

“Me? But… I-” Luke breathed, his palms suddenly clammy. He felt backed into a corner, like the walls were suddenly closing in. Fleur de Lis, thousands of years old, head of a multi-billion bit business empire, not to mention one of the most powerful sirens to have ever lived, and he was her only shot at love?

Celestia closed her eyes momentarily, her features softening. “I know this is a lot to take in-”

“Are you sure it’s me… I mean…”

Celestia smiled, and Luke felt a tiny bit of weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s never taken any kind of suitor before you, despite the thousands of creatures of all races that have tried to gain her affections over the years. She has always been too afraid of killing them.”

A fleeting moment of panic set in, but it was gone as quick as it had come. Luke knew Fleur could never hurt him. It was true. He was indeed her consort. The revelation settled, laying heavy on his heart.

“How do you know about all of this?”

Celestia’s smile vanished. She turned away for a moment, wings pressed tightly to her sides. “An old student of mine. She was young, by siren standards, just over six-hundred or so. One day, she hit me with a freezing spell out of the blue, then, just… started talking,” Celestia spoke, slowly, her voice dropping to a mere whisper. “I tried to block out her words when I realised what she was doing, but she forced me to listen, even though I kept screaming for her to stop. It didn’t take long for the others to find out, of course. They have their ways. She… took her own life about two weeks later, before they got to her. They would have killed me, too, but I had Fleur on my side.”

“Fleur…”

“-is an outcast from her own race, because of me. I owe her an immortal lifetime’s worth of favours,” Celestia finished for him. “She, of course, only ever owed me one.”

“The one that led me to her,” Luke whispered.

Celestia nodded, her horn flashing. The muffled sound of idle chatter once more emanated from beyond the closed chamber door. “Make your choice, Luke. Either way, you have my full support."

Author's Note

It's been years.

Time really does make fools of us all. :moustache:

Thirteen | Man o' War and Secrets

An arc of lightning traced a menacing fork through the night sky, briefly illuminating the snow capped peaks of the Unicorn Range. The deep rumbling boom of thunder was quick to follow, reverberating against the vast underside of Le Tesson's helium chamber. Luke felt as though his fingers had frozen solid to the golden helm of the airship, which was currently doing its best to pull his arms out of their sockets. The lumbering vessel swayed violently in gale-force winds, the usually gleaming decks taking a thorough rinse from horizontal rain lashing in from the starboard side.

"Hard to port, colt! We need to be downrange of Vanity Point," Vert yelled over the creaking of the ship. "We're too far east!"

Luke swore aloud, squinting through the rain-lashed sky. His uniform was soaked. The ship was pitching up and down in the wind so much that he only had a few seconds of visual on the horizon before it slipped out of view again. A deep, bellowing wretch emanated from somewhere behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of a thick liquid hitting varnished wood.

"Fifty bits. Pay up," grunted one of the minotaur road crew. Several other baritone voices cheered in triumph and commiseration.

Luke scowled, wrenching the helm to the left. Le Tesson slowly began to list to starboard in protest, which made absolutely no sense for an airship. It was quickly becoming apparent that this particular airship was often prone to the odd mood swing.

“Thanks Rook,” sneered a deep voice from somewhere behind him.

Those. Fucking. Minotaurs. They were one of the reasons Luke had been dreading his first location shoot. He’d bet his annual salary none of them could fly even a normal sized airship level in a thunderstorm. Le Tesson, however, was on par with the largest cruise liners of the Bon Voyage fleet.

Fleur, usually so prim, proper and collected, had her forehooves hooked over the gold-trimmed quarterdeck railing next to Luke. Her rain-soaked mane and tail whipped wildly back and forth in the wind. She was grinning into the maelstrom like a mare utterly content, her horn glowing so hot it was turning the rain into steam.

It had only been a few days since Celestia had hit Luke with the knowledge of what he truly was to Fleur, and he hadn’t a clue how to bring the subject up in conversation. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. How do you tell someone you’re their only option?

Fleur caught him staring, and she flashed him a smile that barely hid her half extended fangs. Clearly, Little Miss Water Demon was enjoying the weather. Either that, or the potential for the ship to plough into a mountain.

“That’s it, that’s it. Bring her down steady now,” Vert called, pulling a lever to Luke’s left.

Le Tesson lurched downwards with a fair bit more haste than normal. Pony and minotaur alike made their discomfort known via a diverse plethora of colourful language. Luke himself would have been lifted off his feet if he hadn’t been gripping the helm. He scowled yet again. The ship had done nothing but misbehave ever since they had left Canterlot just over an hour ago. It was as though it had a mind of its own.

“Set her down here, Luke,” Vert yelled, motioning a hoof to a small plateau of open grassland just off the starboard side. A makeshift dock had been constructed off to one side of the clearing, with several large concrete anchor points dotted around the edge. A small mountain hamlet lay just a little further up into the valley between the two largest peaks—Helix Gap.

Luke yanked the momentum-arrest lever before Vert had even finished speaking, then immediately had a mini heart attack as the ship completely ignored the input and ploughed into the sodden grass regardless. The resulting lurch sent one of the minotaurs bouncing down the quarterdeck stairs onto the main deck. His face hit the rain-soaked wood with a wet thud.

Vert slapped a wing over Luke’s shoulders, forehooves clutching the railing. “Good… That’s good, colt,” he praised over the sound of several minotaurs laughing at their fallen comrade.

“No it wasn’t. What the hell is up with the controls?” Luke countered, just as the fallen minotaur pulled himself to his hooves and shot him a look of barely contained rage. It was only when the beast spotted Fleur’s gaze that he dropped his own to his hooves, quickly trotting back to his station to help his crewmates unravel the thick mooring lines..

Vert waved a dismissive wing. “Le Tesson is an old ship, Luke. She’s allowed a few quirks.”

“Quirks?” Luke half-yelled over the din of the rain and the loud whine of the ship powering down. “I told her to stop and she ignored me! That’s a bit more than just a quirk.”

Vert finally folded his wings. He paused for contemplation. “Heh… maybe you’re right. That was a fair bit o’ delay. I should probably check on that crystal again. It does keep coming loose,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “You best come with me. Might as well learn how to troubleshoot it yersel’.”

“Zat can wait, mon ami,” Fleur interjected, dropping her forehooves down from the railing. She whipped her waterlogged mane out of her face. Luke was pelted with heavy droplets of strawberry scented water, and he held his hands up in mock exasperation. “It’s late, and I think everypony deserves a break.” She beamed at Luke. “Especially Luc.”

“I don’t care what we do. I just want to be dry again.”

The grand lounge, by far the largest of Le Tesson’s many rooms, was packed with a variety of very well dressed ponies. As was customary for location shoots, the J’adore corporation always threw a noble’s ball on the illustrious airship on the first night. To be invited to such an event meant that you were considered a very important pony.

Luke did not feel like a very important pony, and not just because he wasn’t a pony.

He was, of course, the only human in the room, sitting on a golden-trimmed, red velvet studded chaise lounge—just one of the many pieces of opulent furniture contained within. It was accompanied by various tall-backed armchairs, golden-legged hoofrests and large imposing display cabinets showcasing various trinkets and curiosities. The dark oak wood-panelled walls hosted several priceless works of art, and there were multiple ornate chandeliers hanging from the raftered ceiling.

A roaring fire crackled merrily in a solid marble fireplace at one end of the room. Priceless ornamental figures of the many creatures of Equestria sat either side of it. One of them was a one to one hundredth scale ursa minor, which still managed to completely fill one corner all by itself. Its glittering constellations reminded Luke of a Christmas tree.

At the other end of the room was a large stage, complete with a drum set, full-size grand piano and a small ensemble of musicians that were currently playing an oddly familiar song. One of them in particular was a very pretty grey-coated earth mare, her talented forehooves causing the cello she was playing to sing like no other could.

Quite possibly the best dressed stallion in the room was singing into a magically powered condenser microphone. He was wearing the pony equivalent of a tuxedo, and a freakin’ monocle, of all things. Luke had seen him more than a few times at the J’adore headquarters. His name was rather fitting—Fancy Pants.

His eyes never strayed from Fleur as he sang.

Luke slowly shook his head. Poor bastard had probably been trying to get her attention for years. It wasn’t easy to miss the desire in his eyes. She wasn’t even looking at him, instead engrossed in a conversation with a group of supermodels that were hanging onto her every word just off the large dance floor. As though she could sense Luke’s gaze, Fleur’s eyes found his, and she flashed him a smile, waving a forehoof.

Luke’s heart did its usual backflip, and he flashed a smile back at her before she turned back to Viola Terracotta. Fleur was wearing a short cyan dress that gently sparkled in the warm light cast by the chandeliers. It was nothing special, really, but that didn’t mean Fleur wasn’t by far the prettiest mare in the room. Nopony else even came close.

Her instructions were clear: sit, and they shall come. They being stallions, of course. Apparently, there was a certain ritual of the noble class that Luke had never known, or even remotely gave a shit about before Fleur had enlightened him. Stallions were expected to congregate around the most popular of their gender and exchange pleasantries. Luke hadn’t a clue how he was supposed to be the most popular stallion. He didn’t have any male friends, other than Vert perhaps, but Vert had ignored his invitation as per usual. As for the noble stallions—most of them turned their noses up at him, and the ones that didn’t often had schedules too hectic to socialise with extraterrestrial anomalies.

“Chardonnay, First Officer Nona?”

Pulled abruptly from his thoughts, Luke carefully took the offered glass of wine from the silver tray expertly balanced on the waiter pony’s back. “Thanks, Chop.”

The stallion gave a small wink, quickly disappearing between a couple of extremely pretty supermodels. One of them had a coat of cerulean blue, with a bleached white mane that flowed like a glossy river over her back. She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Luke grinned. “Hello, Sky,” he said, raising his glass and clinking it with the one levitating in her cerulean aura. “Silver Shield still think I’m a rusher?”

Sky Swan gave a musical chuckle. “No. He’s still jealous of your pull with Fleur though.”

Luke held up his free hand with a smile. “What can I say? I guess I just have that… animal magnetism.”

For once, this wasn’t really all that much of an exaggeration. Being a close personal friend—though much more, in retrospect—to the most influential supermodel in Equestria had its perks, after all. Luke was currently better dressed than he had ever been in his life. He wore an expertly tailored pinstripe vest suit over top of an expensive dress shirt. A swanky bow tie and brand new pair of dress shoes completed the ensemble, all courtesy of the Element of Generosity herself. Speak of the devil…

Rarity, dressed in a sparkling sequin creation that made her look like a fairytale princess, emerged from the crowd and deftly took a seat next to Luke. She took a carefully measured sip of her champagne, her eyes finding him from behind a masquerade intricately decorated with diamonds and exotic feathers. “You still look positively dashing, my dear,” she praised, bumping her forehooves together in delight.

Luke let out a short laugh. “Thanks. I mean that, as well,” he added, thinking back to the clothes he’d worn to the derby. “I never thought I’d be able to fit into a setting like this, but these clothes stop me standing out like a sore thumb, at least.”

“Nonsense, darling. You look like you belong. I daresay you are the stallion of honour this evening, being so far into the good graces of Fleur de Lis.”

“Heh… Um… What do you mean?”

Rarity gave him a look positively dripping with skepticism, before taking a slightly larger sip of her champagne. “Why, from what I hear, she’s finally found a fitting consort in you-”

CRACK.

The glass Luke was holding shattered, spilling wine onto the thick red carpet. “How’d you know that? Who told you?” he shot at her, his voice barely a whisper. Thankfully, none of the other ponies in the room appeared to have heard her.

Rarity appeared taken aback, her ears drooping. “I just thought the two of you appeared to be getting along rather well, is all. I didn’t mean to offend-”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Luke quickly said, cursing himself for being such a moron. “You’re right, we’re… we’re pretty close, I guess.” This was Rarity. The word ‘consort’ was just a common part of her vocabulary.

“Are you okay, dear?” Rarity asked, her magical aura collecting the pieces of broken glass from the floor. They flew back together in an instant, leaving an intact, empty wine glass.

“I’m fine. Just got a strong grip,” Luke quickly said with a forced chuckle, grabbing the floating glass. On top of his game as always, Chop reappeared with his silver tray, allowing Luke to exchange his drink. “Thanks again, Chop.”

The waiter pony gave his usual wink, disappearing around the side of another couple of stallions who had just emerged. Luke blinked, his eyes flicking back to Rarity, silently begging her to say something as a diversion.

Rarity, however, appeared oblivious. “Well, I’ll leave you colts to chat then, shall I? I’m sure you’ve much to gossip about,” she said, positively beaming at him.

Luke shot her a pleading look, but she had already begun making her way over to a gaggle of mares hailing her from the dance floor, the nearly-empty glass of champagne bobbing along beside her.

“Ah, First Officer Luke!” exclaimed one of the stallions. “It is quite the pleasure to see you, young colt! Do you mind?” He gestured to Rarity’s vacant spot, sitting down before Luke had so much as spoken a word. “Come, Fancy,” he added, motioning for the other stallion to join them.

Fancy Pants, having finished his sorry serenade to Fleur’s deaf ears, sat down on Luke’s other side. “Evening, Luke.” His tone was pleasant enough, and his smile appeared genuine.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Luke muttered, elbows to knees, idly gazing at the stitching in his new shoes. Of all the ponies he could have been talking to at this particular moment in time, Luke certainly wouldn’t have picked these two. In all fairness, Fancy Pants was pleasant enough. Hoity Toity, on the other hand…

“Gentlemen? Ha, you really are an odd fellow, Luke,” he exclaimed rather loudly, flamboyantly sweeping his long purple velvet robe behind him and taking a sip of his champagne with a practiced forehoof. The action caught the eye of more than a few supermodels, their gazes barely concealing the hunger in their hearts.

Hoity Toity lowered his purple designer shades, leaning in so close that Luke was wafted with an alluring cloud of Parfum D’etalon. “So, Luke, my tall, bipedal friend. I must ask, for curiosity simply drives me—what is the, ahem… situation between you and our most gracious hostess?”

Luke looked up from his shoes and leveled the stallion, barely inches from his face, with a raised eyebrow. “We’re colleagues. Friends, some might even say…”

Hoity took another sip of champagne. Luke took a swig of wine.

“It pains me to probe, my dear colt, it really does, but I think you may have a rather modest evaluation of your relationship with Fleur. You see, I have lived in the city of Canterlot for many years, and never once in all of that time have I seen the illustrious icon that is Fleur de Lis take such an interest in a stallion.”

Luke, rather pointedly, grinned. This motherfucker right here. “Oh, Hoity. You have a keen eye, my friend. But, I think on this occasion, you are sadly mistaken,” Luke countered, taking another large gulp of wine. This one hit a bit different, the creeping buzz of alcohol making its presence known. Hmm, not bad. “I’m a human, and I think Fleur merely finds me fascinating. A curiosity of sorts, perhaps. That really is the long and short of it, truth be told,” Luke wildly bullshitted.

Hoity returned a grin of his own, placing an expertly hooficured foreleg on Luke’s shoulder. “Well, I happen to hear through various contacts of mine that you visited Fleur’s estate recently. Is that correct?”

“Oh, do give it a rest, Hoity. Let the man enjoy himself, won’t you?” Fancy Pants admonished.

Hoity merely smiled, taking another sip of his champagne.

Luke flashed Fancy a look of thanks, feeling a newfound sense of comradery for the stallion. “Who is that?” he asked, nodding to a charcoal-coated mare who had taken Fancy’s place behind the microphone. Her jet black mane had a white stripe running through it, and the emerald-green dress and scarf combo she was wearing set her perfect figure aflame.

“That’s Ræven. Group-C modelling recruit. Pretty, but a bit of an oddball,” Fancy answered. “She’s popular, though. That’s why I hired her,” he added, observing the mare with a smile. She had the rapt attention of most of the ponies in the room, it seemed. Her song, like Fancy’s, was quite familiar.

“You work in Pony Resources?” Luke mused. The thought of a stallion such as Fancy sitting behind a desk pushing paper seemed ill-fitting, considering he practically looked like a model himself.

“I’m the head of PR, Luke. I thought you knew this?” he chuckled, taking a sip of his telekinetically hovering amber drink.

“Huh, I guess I just assumed you were talent,” Luke pondered aloud. “Hey, is that whiskey?”

“Marecallan Lalique Six Pillars, of course,” Fancy said, blushing slightly. "Would you like to try some?”

“Please.”

Chop appeared before Fancy even had a chance to request service. “I’ll make a note of your preference, First Officer Nona.”

“Put it on my tab, Chop,” Hoity instructed, flashing a smile to the mares still stealing glances at him.

“Thanks,” Luke muttered, a little confused. This was mostly a J’adore exclusive event, with only a few exceptions. Whilst Hoity didn’t technically work for J’adore, any and all drinks were on the company dime, employee or not, even the expensive ones.

Hoity graciously waved a hoof. “Don’t mention it, Luke. Besides, I bet you’re used to such fine liqueurs, being in the company of the head honcho so much.”

Luke rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the whiskey. The smooth liquid left a satisfying burn in his throat. Ahh, that’s the stuff. “Hoity, the only reason Fleur spends so much time around me is because she has to be there for my training. If any other pony was capable of powering this ship then-”

Luke faltered. His heart began thumping violently in his chest. He was suddenly hyper aware of it, as though it had always been a constant familiarity, yet he was only just hearing it for the very first time. Everything blurred out of focus, the glass slipping out of his hand. Had someone poisoned his fucking drink? The sounds of the ball grew muted, tinnitus suddenly blasting his eardrums.

“P̵͕͔̻̱̦̠͖̭̉̄̑̃̍̕r̴͓̤̱͔̝̔̀ȯ̴̢̪̹̩̖̩̜̺̓d̴͙͌͆͑̚í̶͎̣́͋̏͜ẗ̵̨̘͙̙͚̎͘͜o̵̤͈̅̂͘͝r̵̨̃̌̿͝.̶̡̣͓̺̩̞̂̔̋̒̈́̿͒̚ͅ”

CRACK.

A flash of blue light momentarily lit the room.

“Who said that?” Luke gasped, taking in lungfuls of air as though he had just ran a marathon. His senses returned to full capacity in an instant. He felt completely normal again, other than a little tipsy. Both Fancy Pants and Hoity Toity were giving him looks of confusion.

Ræven, ever the performer, was still singing her tune as though a voice laced with the blackest fire from the deepest, darkest reaches of hell hadn’t just blasted through the room.

“Said what?” Fancy queried, perplexed.

“Are you okay, Luke? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Hoity added, his hoof back on Luke’s shoulder.

“I heard…” But Luke didn’t know what the hell he had just heard. It sounded like an ancient language of some sort, spoken by the voice of a demon. “You guys… You guys didn’t hear that?” None of the other ponies in the room were even remotely paying any attention to them. The idle chatter of conversation and laughter continued, perhaps a little bit rowdier than it had been at the start of the evening.

“Maybe you should retire for the evening, my friend. I think you may have mixed one too many drinks-” Fancy began, but Luke cut him off.

“I’m not drunk. Something… Something just happened. I need to find Fleur.”

Luke jumped to his feet, Fancy and Hoity’s protests falling on deaf ears as he carefully shimmied around the partygoers to the grand double doors leading off to the hallway. Fleur appeared to have teleported—she was no longer entertaining her guests, at least—but Luke had a feeling she hadn’t gone far.

He made his way down into the lower levels of the ship via the spiral staircases connecting the floors, becoming increasingly aware of a rhythmic throbbing beneath his feet. The ship appeared to be shuddering at regular intervals, almost like the predictable thumping of a heartbeat.

"The fuck…" he whispered, clutching the walls for support.

After wandering blindly for a few minutes, stooping low to avoid hitting his head on the ceilings, Luke reached the engineering level. The sound of hushed whispers emerged from behind a small door that was ajar a little ways along the narrow corridor. They were quickly followed by Fleur’s voice.

“‘As anypony been in the engine room recently?”

“Yeah. Vert went in there a little while ago,” replied a deep, baritone voice. “Said the ship was acting up.”

“He wasnae wrong, eh?” another deep voice chimed in. Luke frowned. This one had a ridiculously thick Scottish accent. “D’you see Steel Hoof twat the deck earlier on? Nae wonder he hasnae got many teeth left.”

“Nah, I reckon it was the rook. Did himrealgood.”

The booming tones of several minotaurs laughing filled the hallway, Fleur having to raise her voice to be heard.

“‘As anyone else been in zere, no?”

“Nah, boss. Y’know we’re not workaholics like him.”

“Yeah, he practically lives on this ol’ bucket o’ splinters, doesnae? Always fixin’ ‘er up, he is.”

More booming laughter filled the hallway. Luke stopped just short of the doorway, opting not to go inside. Call it prejudice, but minotaurs rubbed him up the wrong way. He hadn’t a clue why they were laughing and joking. Between the creepy voice and the continued rhythmic shuddering of the ship, he thought they might’ve been a little more concerned.

“Well, let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

Thankfully, Fleur did not teleport again, instead walking straight through the door. It swung closed behind her. Luke leaned against the corridor wall, levelling her with a look of concern.

Fleur gave a start, a few locks of her pretty mane falling in front of her eyes. She deftly swept them back with a forehoof. “What are you doing down ‘ere, mon amour?”

“Something… weird happened before. I… I heard a voice.”

Fleur’s face fell, ears flattening to her mane instantly. “What did it say?” she whispered.

Luke drew in a breath, the deathly voice playing over in his mind. “Proditor.”

Fleur’s mouth fell agape. She fell to her haunches, tiny half-extended fangs suddenly visible. Her eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them. “You… You ‘eard zat?”

“So… It’s not just me then? Fancy and Hoity heard nothing! Nor did anyone else, at least, I don’t think they did.”

Fleur's face appeared whiter than usual. She visibly swallowed. “You feel it, don’t you?” she whispered.

“I… What?”

“Ze beating rhythm of Le Tesson.”

The thumping beneath Luke’s feet had still not relented. “Yes.”

Fleur gave him an incredulous look. “Zis… does not make any sense. Only a siren can hear the call of a…” she trailed off, appearing to catch herself. “How… How is zis possible?”

“Of a what?” Luke prompted, dropping to his knees in front of her, his voice a mere whisper. He had to know. "What am I hearing, Fleur?"

Fleur just looked at him, her ears still flattened. “You are not a siren.”

“No, I'm not,” Luke said with an air of stating the obvious.

“It makes no sense.”

“This has been established,” Luke deadpanned.

Fleur considered him for a moment. She grimaced. “Ahh, Luc. I… I cannot tell you.” The tension was cut somewhat by the muffled booming tones of minotaur laughter from the other side of the door. “We should not be discussing zis here. Somepony may-”

Luke scowled, cutting her off. “Aren't both of you the same person?”

Fleur’s horn flared, the sound-lock spell isolating the corridor. A deathly silence deadened the air. “For ze most part, yes. In matters concerning zat voice, though, non. We are worlds apart,” she said, rather ominously.

“Oh, for fuck's sake Fleur! This sounds very much like something I should probably know about, considering we're the only ones that can hear it. I'm starting to get real sick of you keeping me out of the loop.”

Fleur’s eyes narrowed. “Luc, it is not ze case zat I don’t want you to know. It’s just…” she trailed off, beginning a slow trot down the corridor. “Zis is something zat has to come from 'er.”

“Why?” Luke retorted, following her toward the engine room. “Do you just not wanna tell me? That’s become somewhat of a running theme, as of late.”

Fleur let out a sigh of exasperation, her ears flicking against her mane. “Luc. Zat voice is an ancient remnant of my past I’d rather forget. She keeps it in check at my insistence.” Fleur turned to face Luke once more. “I ‘ave no idea ‘ow you can ‘ear it. There are certain ponies zat know I am a siren, but there is nopony—absolutely nopony—zat knows about zatvoice. Not Photo, not even Celestia.” She gave a shudder, looking up at Luke with wide eyes and flat ears. “Zis voice is no joke, Luc. I am terrified zat you are able to ‘ear it.”

A deeply ingrained feeling of unease swept through Luke at her words. She hadn’t even told Celestia about whatever the hell this was? “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he shot at her, dropping to his knees again. The low ceiling was becoming a literal pain in the neck.

“Zis goes far beyond the realm of my understanding. If what I suspect is true, you and I, we are pushing the boundaries of siren magic further zan any other 'as ever dared,” she whispered, gently placing a forehoof to his chest.

“Me? But, I don’t have magic!”

“Yes, Luc. Maybe you didn’t ‘ave magic before, but you do now. You ‘ear the voice. You feel its presence. You are very much a part of zis.”

Luke steeled himself, feigning a bravery he didn’t feel. He slid a hand up the side of Fleur’s neck, into her mane, closing the distance between them. “Fleur… Just. Tell. Me.”

Fleur drew in a breath, the contact catching her completely off guard, it seemed. Her mouth flew open, eyes widening. A pause. “Fine,” she growled, the dual-layered, demonic voice catapulting a shockwave through Luke’s spine. The sound-lock spell audibly failed with a POP.

Fleur’s irises slowly expanded, their colour morphing, shimmering depths of deepest cerulean engulfing lilac, and eventually white as well. Pristine fangs emerged into view from her open mouth. Luke blanched. He was certain—beyond all shadow of a doubt—that the beautiful killer before him was utterly incapable of harming him, but that didn’t stop his heart beating like a drum in his chest. It didn’t stop an ungodly shudder flowing through his frame that had nothing to do with the predictable vibrations of the ship. Gods… The true nature of the siren was utterly breathtaking.

Luke stared. He stared unapologetically into the endless void of her eyes. His beating heart did not relent. This beautiful sight—that he was so easily able to peruse at leisure—was probably the last thing many a creature had ever seen before they bit the dust. There was a chaotic serenity deep in those glowing blue orbs that seemed to draw him in. He couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. The voice… It was nothing but a distant memory. Who even gave a solitary fuck about some disembodied voice? Not him. Not Luke.

The siren, completely untethered by her counterpart’s usual restraint, tilted her head, apparently observing Luke with just as much enthusiasm. It was as though she was surprised she was being allowed to be completely untethered in his presence, and didn’t really know what to do with the opportunity.

Alas, it was only for a moment.

“Suis-moi, mon amour,” she hissed, forked tongue flicking over fangs.

She turned, but not before giving his palm a quick lick. Her tongue was hot. knife-like. It sent a jolt of electricity flowing down his arm. The door of the engine room swung open without prompt, and she disappeared through it.

Luke sat frozen, his arm still hanging in the air where her mane had been. “Fuck me…” His heart was still beating like a drum.

“Sortez.”

The demonesque growl was quickly followed by the sound of wings flapping very hard. “Sure thing, boss,” croaked a very panicky Vert.

“Fuck. Vert!” Luke cringed, launching himself towards the doorway. Vert beat him to it—the captain came barrelling out of the room like someone had lit his tail on fire, bouncing off the doorframe and slamming into Luke’s leg.

Eyes still spinning, Vert held up his forehooves. “Ah… Luke! Fleur’s having one of her episodes, colt. Don’t go in there,” he gasped.

“Luc. Viens ici.”

Vert shook his head, throwing panicked glances to the open doorway. “You work at J’adore long enough, Luke—you learn to avoid Fleur when she has the glowies-” Vert began, but stopped mid-sentence, his eyes suddenly glazed, ears flat as pancakes.

Fleur, siren still completely untethered, had appeared in the doorway, a positively murderous expression on her face.

“Vert. Go. Now.”

Luke sidestepped the stallion, stooping through the doorway of the engine room and kicking it shut, holding it closed with a palm for good measure. The receding sound of hooves on wood told him Vert had taken his advice.

Most of the engine room was occupied by two very large, long metal cylinders called Star Drives. Luke didn’t know how they worked, but they were standard for airships of Le Tesson’s tonnage. The device sitting in between them however, was the only one of its kind—a unicorn-adaptation unit, according to Vert, anyway. It was a little smaller, but perhaps couldn’t be more different to the Star Drives in terms of substance. It was constructed of a glossy jet black stone-like material, but had a lot more jagged edges and strange geometric contours and textures than anything else in the engine room. Like the Star Drives, it was cylindrical in nature, but it had a set of six elongated pyramid-shaped clamps made of the same jagged material at the end. The clamps, along with various other parts of the peculiar contraption, appeared to have characters from unfamiliar runic alphabets engraved into them.

Held in these clamps was a slightly dirty, clear transparent diamond-shaped crystal. It looked like it should have been pointing straight out towards the wooden wall of the engine room, but it was noticeably crooked.

“Tu entends la voix du tesson.”

The dual-tone rasp cut into Luke’s very soul. Don’t look in her eyes. Don’t look in her eyes. Fuck. He really wanted to, but he still needed answers. He also needed to care about finding these answers, something that wasn’t going to happen if he lost himself in the deep blue abyss of her gaze.

“I… I don’t understand,” Luke whispered, trying to keep his composure. His palm was still on the door, but his eyes were on the dirty crystal. “I can’t speak Prench.”

The siren turned her glowing orbs to the crystal. Deftly lifting a hoof, she paused, throwing Luke a curious look that made him want to hold her close. Luke subconsciously held his breath. How could something so deadly be so unbelievably pretty?

Her hoof made contact with the gem, and the strange contraption whirred into life. The familiar roar of the powerful machine tore through the ship, though this time it was orders of magnitude louder as Luke was standing right next to it. His hands flew to his ears. Fleur’s horn was not glowing. No, it was only her eyes, along with the big shiny rock in her collar that were glowing.

The clamps suddenly broke apart completely from the machine, half of their number beginning to spin methodical circles around the gem—which itself had begun to float—the other half spinning equally calculated circles in the opposite direction. Their motion seemed to mimic the rhythmic vibrations of the ship, ebbing and flowing with the unnatural beat, stopping dead in the air at every absence. Luke gasped, his eyes following the arcane revolutions as several creepy looking glyphs appeared out of thin air, their burning orange silhouettes flashing in and out of existence around the floating crystal at irregular intervals.

There was still not a lick of magic flowing through Fleur’s horn.

Deftly cradling the crystal with a forehoof, the siren gently scooped it away from its orbiting clamps and sent it spinning on a path toward Luke.

Time appeared to slow. The crystal drew nearer and nearer, and with it, a sense of terror the likes of which Luke had never felt before in his life. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this contraption, whatever the fuck it was, was steeped in a malice so unmistakably evil that it seemed to be infecting everything around it. The areas of the pristine metal Star Drives closest to it appeared blackened and tarnished, as though the thing sitting between them had corrupted their very structure.

The crystal spun ever closer, glinting in the deadly glow cast by the siren’s eyes. She clearly intended for him to catch it. What would become of him if he did?

His eyes found hers. He didn’t even have to think about it. The dirty rock hit his outstretched palm, his fingers closing around it. It burned hot in his grip.

For a second, one solitary beat perhaps, the vibrations of the ship halted.

Luke fell to his knees, steadying himself with his free hand. He gripped the rock so hard his forearm was beginning to go numb, the jagged edges leaving imprints on his flesh.

Nothing else happened.

The siren smiled.

She approached, the clamps and glyphs still spinning and flashing behind her. She sat on her haunches in front of him, fur mere inches from cloth-laden skin. One of her forehooves found his chest, the other hooked around his fist clenching the gem, pulling it to her chest. Her tail swished rhythmically from side to side in tandem with the beating of the ship. She spoke, and for the first time, it was not Prench that spilled from her lips.

“You… are… mine.”

“I… am… yours.”

“Ze shard… is ours.”

Luke couldn’t say anything. He sat, shellshocked, the inexplicable music still ringing through his mind. So much weird shit had happened all at once, he didn’t really have a clue where to begin. The siren… She seemed so… different. Luke felt like he was only truly meeting her for the very first time. “W-What… What do I call you?”

“Je suis Fleur de Lis,” she hissed, forked tongue flicking from fanged maw. Her eyes were upon him again. Luke was drawn into them like a moth to a flame, like he was standing in the path of a motherfucking freight train and it was bearing down on him with the speed of a bullet. His very soul was encapsulated by her fiery gaze. Her forehoof, soft as always, pressed against his heart, the other tight around his fist.

“Wait… I need… answers… What’s… What’s a shard?” Luke rasped, fighting furiously against her influence, the rock in his fist still uncomfortably hot. Still, he did not relinquish it.

Fleur, or the mysterious siren counterpart, at least, lowered her eyelids, the deathly blast of light streaming from her eyes dimming somewhat. “Artifact… of ze Old Kingdom… We must keep hidden… We must keep safe…”

Luke fought for control, gazing defiantly into her eyes. “W-Why can I hear it?” he whispered.

The siren drew closer still, pinning Luke to the wall, her devastatingly pretty face mere inches away. All he could see was the endless ocean in her eyes. “Because it chose me… and you are mine… so it chooses you also…”

As though someone had hit a play button, Celestia’s words rang like a bell through his mind. “You are the counterpart to Fleur de Lis. You are her consort, and now you must make a choice.” The true gravity of those words fell upon his shoulders.

Heat radiated from the siren’s forked tongue, his lips craving the contact, a stark contrast to the icy chill of the sapphire below. “What was it saying? What does p-proditor mean?”

“It means zere are traitors among us,” she purred, her hoof beginning to trace delicate circles over his heart, her lips a hair away from his. Luke’s heart thundered in his chest. He could practically taste her breath. It was sweet. Warm. Delectable. “We shall find zem, mon amour… We shall collect zeir fucking heads.”

Luke felt his blood go cold, his jaw quivering. She just told him she was going to kill, and he wholeheartedly believed her.

Fleur’s deathly gaze finally faltered. “Non!” she gasped, voice noticeably absent of demonic undertones. She backpedalled a fair few paces, her eyes tightly shut, mane suddenly obscuring half of her face. The gem in her collar deluminated.

A frown slowly crept onto Luke’s face, a joy he hadn’t realised was present disappearing from his heart in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t help feeling like a part of Fleur was suddenly muted—locked away in a cage, even—and it left one hell of a noticeable emptiness. If he was truly honest with himself, he mourned its absence.

Fleur gazed at him through lilac eyes, the dread contained within them all too apparent. “Luc… I am so sorry… I…” she choked, her eyes welling up with tears. “I let ‘er go too far. I promise you, I will do my utmost to keep ‘er in check from now on-”

“Don’t,” Luke interrupted.

Fleur levelled him with a peculiar look, as though she was trying to figure out his meaning. “I… Don’t what?”

“Don’t lock her away, like you always do.”

Fleur just looked at him, ears flat, stray tears causing her makeup to run. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. It was a long time before she spoke again.

“You can’t change ‘er, Luc.”

Luke closed his eyes, the relentless blast of the siren’s gaze burned into his memory resurfacing instantaneously. With the memory came a resolution: he would do just about anything for the joy that filled his heart when the beautiful creature that was Fleur de Lis stared into his soul. He needed her. All of her.

“I think… I have to try.”

Author's Note

Man, I fucking love that Architects interlude.

Fourteen | The Second Commandant

“Dinnae put it there, ya feckin’ eejit!”

Steel Hoof, a black-coated minotaur with a perpetual scowl etched on his face most of the time, flinched, stopping dead in his tracks. The heavy iron circular fire pit he was holding aloft made his biceps appear bigger than usual. “Bronco said next to the helm,” he countered, his scowl deepening further.

“I meant in line with the helm along the beam of the ship, not lengthways. Muppet,” said a third minotaur effortlessly hauling a huge heavy looking crate down the quarterdeck stairs. This one, like most of the minotaurs, had a two tone coat. Light grey above the waist, dark grey below.

Luke, thoughts still awash with all the bombshells of the previous evening, was barely paying attention. He hadn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep. Of course, it hadn’t helped that the ship was still vibrating at predictable intervals, a reality that everyone else still seemed blissfully unaware of. Even now, the distant intermittent rumblings made themselves known through the deck.

An early morning venture topside for some fresh air and contemplation had seemed like a good idea, but he’d emerged to find the ship packed with road crew and production staff hauling props on and off the ship, unloading cargo, and liaising with a small crowd of locals and news reporters that were gawking up in awe at Le Tesson from the dock.

All the activity might’ve been a dealbreaker, had it not been for one minotaur in particular. This dude really put into perspective how much of a hypocrite Luke had been being.

The aptly named ‘Tank’ was the managing director of Le Tesson’s entire staff. He was easily the biggest minotaur on the ship, with a two tone dark blue coat and horns that must have been about four feet long if straightened out. He looked, and sounded, like the gnarliest motherfucker one would ever have the misfortune to meet. Upon first spotting Luke emerging from the trapdoor, however, the minotaur had said just four words: “Fancy a brew, lad?”

Luke, one hand currently resting on a spoke of the golden helm—the other holding a particularly delicious cup of tea—raised a questioning eyebrow. “Guys, come on. People make mistakes. Give the guy a br-AHHHHHH, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Luke promptly dropped his tea.

Pain exploded through his big toe, which made sense, considering Steel Hoof had just dropped the fire pit on it. Luke grabbed his throbbing foot, falling to the deck and spewing forth several more swear words that made a passing set manager blush.

“Celestia’s flaming tits! Are you trynae get us all feckin’ murdered!” Tank roared, his booming tones bouncing off the mountains. Steel Hoof cowered like a little school filly, nearly tripping over the upturned fire pit. “It’s a good thing Fleur didnae see that! Ye’d have those fangs o’ hers sticking out ya feckin’ neck!”

Luke groaned. His toe felt like it had just been spaghettified. The trapdoor opened somewhere behind him. “How’d you know about those?” he managed to gasp, though no one appeared to be listening to him.

“What’s going on here?” said the voice of Photo Finish.

“This ass-backwards brisket dropped a fire pit on the rook’s hoof,” Bronco snorted, nodding toward Steel Hoof, who hastily retrieved it, his eyes sweeping the deck, features grim. The fucker didn’t bother himself to apologise.

Photo’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “Tank, getz him out of here! Jetzt!” Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “Fleur will be here any minute!”

Tank wasted no time. “Ah’ll deal we’ yae later!” he shot a still-scowling Steel Hoof.

Strong arms scooped Luke from the deck as though he weighed about as much as a paperclip. Tank leapt down the quarterdeck stairs, Luke bouncing between bulging biceps like a pinball, before yeeting them both over the side of the ship. “The faaaack!”

Thankfully, they only fell about ten feet before Tank’s hooves slammed into a scaffold platform that had been assembled onto the side of the ship. Squeezing through a narrow entryway between two gun ports, Tank carried Luke along a small service corridor filled with old war cannons until they reached a small doorway at the end. Stooping low, they went inside.

They entered what appeared to be a communal dormitory. Several beds large enough to accommodate even a Tank-sized minotaur lined the walls, each with a small cabinet next to it. Posters, nic-nacs and other personal effects occupied each neatly-kept space.

Tank carried Luke to one of two small work desks at the very end of the room, swiftly depositing him into a chair in front of it. “Oww.”

“Sorry, lad. Gimmie a sec,” Tank grunted, rummaging around in the desk drawer. “It’s in here somewhere.” He pulled out several items. A golden compass, a small dagger, an amber spyglass. “Ah, here it is,” he said, holding up what appeared to be a small tube of jelly.

Luke raised his eyebrows, his toe giving a particularly painful throb.

Tank barked out a laugh. “Dinnae look so worried, lad. I dinnae fancy being turned into lasagne.” He pulled a small stool in front of Luke’s leg, patting the top. “Now, take off that boot. We best see the damage.”

Luke grimaced. “I don’t want to.” The boot was probably the only thing holding his toe together. Too bad steel toe caps weren’t a thing in Equestria.

Tank gave a comforting smile—quite the bizarre look for a minotaur the size of a small bull elephant. “Trust me, yer gonnae wannae take it off. This stuff’s magic, but you gottae be quick.”

Luke scrunched up his face, undoing the lace of his boot. With an almighty wrench, he yanked it off his foot—“fuck!”—quickly peeling the sock off as well.

“How bad is it?” Luke didn’t look, instead keeping his eyes glued to a large poster of a strange looking sea horse-like creature above one of the beds.

“Eeh… Ya dinnae need to know, lad. Just hold still.”

A cool liquid was deposited onto Luke’s toe. It burned like a motherfucker for about three seconds, then, nothing. Luke blinked, his eyes snapping to his toe. It looked completely normal. “What… how?”

“S’good, isnae?” Tank chuckled, screwing the cap back on the tube. “Yer not the first workplace incident a’ve had to deal wae. Just do me a favour, Luke,” he added, his face becoming a bit more serious. “Dinnae tell Fleur what happened. She’ll feckin murder him.”

Luke frowned. “No, she wouldn’t.”

“Ah hate tae say it, but he probably did tha’ on purpose, Luke. A’ve half a mind to fire him, but I know his mother’ll kick his arse out on the street if ah do. He’s gottae feckin deathwish, if ya ask me. Feckin’ about in a siren’s business. What a moron.”

Luke's eyes grew wide. “Wait… You know-”

“Of cours' ah know what Fleur is, Luke. She's an immortal tha' doesnae feckin' age, fer cryin' out loud. The greenhorns don’t know, but all of the veterans figure it out eventually. She's no' as careful as she thinks she is at times."

An involuntary frown crept onto Luke’s face. “Since when am I her business? I'm just the pilot.”

Tank raised an eyebrow. “You really wannae play dumb? Come on, Luke. It doesnae take a genius to figure out the boss is intae ya. It’s been makin’ ma whole crew green with envy,” he muttered, throwing the tube of magical healing jelly back into the desk drawer. “Bronco does nothin’ but sit at that desk and wish he was in your shoes all day. He’s gottae thing for sirens, that one.”

“But… I thought Fleur being a siren was a secret?” Luke half whispered, pulling his slightly bloodstained sock back on.

“Worst kept secret at J’adore,” Tank snorted, taking out a quill and a bottle of ink from another drawer. “Here, a’ll giyae this to sign. Accident report, even though the fucker more’n likely did it on purpose. My gaffer’ll do her nut if a dinnae hand one in,” he said, filling out a bit of parchment with questions and answer boxes on it.

“Thanks,” Luke said, taking the quill and parchment. “For fixing my toe.”

“Dinnae mention it. Just, like ah say, dinnae tell Fleur,” he pleaded, waving a large hand. It would have been quite ridiculous for a minotaur the size of Tank to be so worried by a unicorn, if said unicorn hadn’t been Fleur, of course.

“She’s not some mindless killer, y’know,” Luke challenged, signing the parchment.

“Ah know that, lad. Ah’ve worked for her for thirty years. Where yur’ concerned though,” he pointed a patchy finger at Luke, “she doesnae fuck around.”

Luke still gave Tank a look of forced skepticism, very nearly rolling his eyes.

“Now,” Tank boomed, sliding the accident report into the ‘out’ tray on his desk, “I best get back up to setting up for the shoot.”

Le Tesson’s beating heart rumbled beneath Fleur’s hooves—one of the few true constants in her life. It had not relented, not for thousands of years. Or, at least, that had been the case, up until the previous evening.

On most occasions, Fleur was very much aware when the siren took possession. A passenger in her own body. She could choose to fight, wrest back the reins of control with the mental acuity she had built up over several millennia, or let things run their course. Let the siren out to play. Trust her.

Last night, she had chosen that trust, and it had led to a revelation of such proportions she had never witnessed in her endless existence. With a single skip of that macabre beat, Le Tesson’s dirty little secret had done something no other of its kind ever had before.

“Preuve, il est notre égal, mon amie.”

He is not ready. Such power. It could ruin him.

Fleur shuddered. It could even ruin Equador.

“Fraulein! Are you even listening?”

Fleur blinked, coming to her senses. Everyone was looking at her. “Sorry, mon amie.”

The ship was packed with ponies and minotaurs—production crew, road crew, service staff. Photo had no less than six cameras pointed at Fleur, showcasing a rather ridiculous creation of one of the lesser known Manehattanite designers who had insisted on booking her line to this shoot. Fleur couldn’t even remember the mare’s name. All she knew was that the dress she was currently wearing had way too many frills on it.

Never had she wanted more to just drop out of a shoot and whisk Luke away to a private spa or restaurant booth so they could just… talk. If this wasn’t a location shoot, she may have just done that very thing, but the unique scene of Le Tesson’s pristine deck with the Unicorn Range in the background was too beautiful a setting to waste. That, and Photo would probably throw a tantrum if Fleur tried to leave.

Fleur struck a practiced pose, her fake smile a convincing enough facade to most ponies. She managed to steal a glance at Luke under the guise of sweeping her mane from her face with a hoof.

He stood just a few hooves away, one hand on the helm, as was so common for him. It was almost like he had found a new companion in the ship. Fleur knew the truth. The shard was calling to him, as it called to her. The beating never stopped. Given time, it would become so familiar to him he’d barely even notice it.

She still remembered the day the vilified Old Kingdom artifact chose her as its commandant. Equestria did not yet exist. Celestia and Luna had not yet gained power over the sun and the moon, and just about every living creature on Equador lived in fear of the godless beings that wielded these instruments of terror to enforce their apartheid rule. Fleur had been so lost to the influence of her darker half that she had immediately accepted control of the artifact and commanded it to do unspeakable things.

The siren let out a low hiss, and it echoed through Fleur’s mind like the long dead whispering wind of an ancient past she could never forget.

“Je regrette.”

Likewise, mon amie.

Another pose. Click, click, click. “Ja, Fraulein. Das ist better.”

“Nous devons trouver le traître.”

Fleur’s composure faltered, and a sigh escaped her maw. They will show themselves. They always do in the end.

Proditor. It was a warning that Fleur had received many times before. Though, this time, she had Luke to think about. She could no longer afford to be reckless.

Photo Finish stopped taking photos, clipping her camera onto a tripod and trotting up close to Fleur. “Is zeir something wrong, Fraulein? Zis dress is trash, but you are not! What has gotten into you?”

Fleur’s eyes darkened. She quietly cleared her throat, her ears dropping a shade. “Again, I am sorry, mon amie. I… I am just not feeling it tonight.”

Photo threw a glance to Luke, her eyes quickly flicking back to Fleur. “Hmm… Maybe it is something zat has not gotten into you.”

Fleur blinked. “P-Pardon?”

“Luke, get over here,” Photo instructed, grabbing her camera from the tripod.

Luke visibly flinched at the mention of his name. A few ponies, along with one or two minotaurs, threw him a glance. “Me?” he muttered, absentmindedly adjusting his tie and avoiding their gazes.

“You see any pony around here called Luke? Yes, colt, you!”

“Ahmm… What are you doing, mon amie?” Fleur hissed from the corner of her mouth.

Photo remained blissfully ignorant, it seemed. Luke slowly approached the earth pony, trying his best to ignore the sizeable portion of J’adore’s other staff that were still gawking at him. His hands kept fumbling with his tie.

“No, zere,” she pointed to Fleur. “Kneel, next to her.”

Luke stopped, his eyes growing wide, gaze flicking between Fleur and all of the production cameras. Fleur levelled Photo Finish with a look that may well have caused any other one of her employees to wet themselves where they stood.

Not Photo, though. Photo merely smiled. “Kneel, Luke, next to ze pretty pony. Sort zat tie for him, won’t you?” she added, nodding to one of the make up mares. “He’s made a pig’s arsch of it.”

Citrus Blush quickly trotted in front Luke with a smile. “C’mere, Luke,” she chirped with a wide smile, motioning with a hoof for him to kneel.

Luke looked uncertain, but ultimately did so after a moment. Citrus wasted no time in straightening his tie, flattening and shaping his mane with a heatwave manestyling spell and applying a small amount of beard oil that she conjured out of thin air to the fur on his jaw. Lastly, she lightly pressed her horn to his chest. Fleur’s eyes widened. That… That was extremely forward for a unicorn.

The siren let out an ungodly roar. Enlève ta putain de corne loin de lui, maintenant!

Fleur had to use every last drop of her practiced restraint to stop those words from spewing forth from her maw along with every last bit of the demonic rage that was intended to accompany them.

It is just a lint remover spell. Calm down! she scolded, but the siren bounced around her mind, fire spewing from her tainted soul. Fleur fought just as fiercely. Citrus was one of the best makeup artists that had worked at J’adore in a very long time. She was not about to alienate one of her most talented employees.

The little bit of moult clinging to Luke’s uniform vanished, though he hardly appeared to notice, his eyes glued to the business end of Citrus’ horn as though it might violate him. The spell finished, Citrus looked back up at Luke with a grin, before catching a glimpse of Fleur’s gaze.

The smaller unicorn nearly leapt out of her own coat. “S-Sorry, boss!” she squeaked, hastily backpedalling behind one of the fire pits so fast she may well have teleported.

“Good. Now—give me something I can vork with,” Photo cried, already testing out several different angles with her camera, click, click. She bounced from blazing fire pit to fire pit, helm to mast. “And for the love of Celestia take off that travesty of a dress,” she called, hanging from the rigging thirty hooves above the deck. Click, click.

Fleur’s horn flashed. The dress disappeared, but she couldn’t quite get rid of the murderous expression on her face. “Just… humour her, Luc. You know how ridicule she is.”

“This ain’t in my contract, boss,” he muttered, one elbow on his knee, one hand cupping his chin.

Fleur raised an eyebrow, finally cracking a small smile.

“Yes… Yes…” Photo crooned, drawing the words out, her tone positively dripping with glee. Her eyes swept the crowd in encouragement. “Quite ze dashing pair, ahh?” She leapt, and her hooves touched back down to the polished deck with a quick succession of thuds.

Everyone looked at the mare like she had a pair of steel balls hanging beneath her tail, but her grin was quick to vanish. “I said—zey look good! Are you ponies telling me I am wrong?” she all but yelled at the crowd, suddenly levelling them with murder eyes.

Yells and cheers erupted, hooves stomped on wood, minotaurs clapped loudly, piercing whistles complimenting the sudden din. Fleur shook her head, mane falling in front of her face, a loud snort escaping her lips.

“Christ… She’s nuts,” Luke chuckled, his palm hiding his face.

“Quite, mon amour.”

“Yes. Zat is more like it. Now,” Photo said, turning to Fleur and Luke, camera at the ready. “Give me ze magics!”

“I don’t think I have ze magics in me,” Luke replied, throwing jazz hands into the mix. “Not really model material, after all.”

“Nonsense, junges Hengstfohlen. Put your arm around her, like zis,” Photo grabbed Luke’s free arm, pulling it around Fleur, pressing his hand to her tuft.

Fleur felt the blood rush to her cheeks, her ears involuntarily flattening. The siren finally stopped grumbling idle threats to Citrus Blush through her mind. This… This was nice. All of the ponies and minotaurs gawking at the scene like it was the biggest scandal any soul had ever witnessed, however, was not.

“Photo, stop putting Luke on the spot,” Fleur chastised, in as stern a tone as she dared, but Photo merely leaned in close to the two of them.

“Luke, you don’t mind, do you?” she shot at him, spinning the camera on her hoof.

Luke considered Photo for a moment, his hand still on Fleur’s chest. Fleur could feel her heart beating just a little faster than usual. The siren let out a barely audible mewl in her head. “Well, I guess not. But these shots are hardly going to be useful, are they?” he muttered. “Fleur’s not even wearing a dress anymore, and I doubt our target audience is gonna wanna see this ugly mug,” he pointed to his own face, “on a fifty foot billboard.”

Fleur was about to argue with him, but Photo beat her to the punch with a loud snort. “You pull ze international billionaire supermodel Fleur de Lis like it’s a walk in ze park and you are still telling ponies you are ugly?” She shook her head and turned, hopping back to the tripod, clipping the camera back into position. “Idiot colt.”

Click. Click.

“Look into her eyes. Serenade her soul with your gaze! And Fleur, wrap your tail around his leg. Come on, filly—don’t be shy!”

Fleur’s eyelids lowered. Had it just been the three of them, she’d have done as requested in a heartbeat. She opened her mouth to remind Photo that she had not been a filly in a very long time, but was rudely interrupted by magic flowing involuntarily through her horn.

You… You dare use my own magic against my will?

Fleur’s tail, encompassed in pink aura, practically slithered up Luke’s leg, coiling itself tightly around him.

Mien.

Luke raised a questioning eyebrow, but only for a second.

“Das ist gut.” Click. Click. “Now, Luke. Lay on your side—Fleur, lay on your front just in front of him. Luke, hold yourself up with your elbow, no—a little higher. Das ist gut. Fleur, give me the sphinx! Horn high—you are a Göttin! Luke, put your hand on her back.”

Luke did just that, and the contact made Fleur’s fur stand on end, as though it was trying to rise up to meet his touch.

Click. “Now, Luke—straddle her back.”

Oui s'il vous plaît.

Non, you harlot!

“Nope. I ain’t doin’ that,” Luke flatly stated, his cheeks reddening.

“Luke, ze photographer knows best-”

“Ze photographer is about to get a Nikeron jammed up her arse.”

Photo’s eyelids lowered, and she slowly approached him once more. “Zere is no shame in riding a mare, Hengstfohlen. Here, let me… show you.”

Both Fleur and her dark counterpart watched in horror as Photo Finish somehow managed to wriggle her way under Luke and stand up with him sitting on her back, his legs dangling over the deck. Before he could stand up, Photo leapt up to the ship’s traffrail, tip-hoofing along it, Luke clinging to her.

“Put me down, you fucking nutjob!”

The crowd of employees broke out into crazed chattering, laughter and gasps of disbelief. Photo Finish leapt effortlessly over a flaming fire pit, following the intricately carved golden rail along the entire length of the ship. “Mind your language, ze boss is watching,” she chastised, throwing a wild grin to Fleur.

Fleur merely sat, mouth agape, her eyes following pony—and unwilling human screaming curses at pony—as they hopped right up to the bow of the ship. Photo’s hooves clipped the wooden rear of the unicorn figurehead, and she galloped her way back across the main deck, launching herself back up to the quarterdeck in one fell swoop. She turned, skidding to a halt in front of the helm.

Luke tumbled off her back, rolling a good twenty hooves and hitting the momentum arrest lever. It shifted forward with a loud clunk.

“Photo! C’est assez!” Fleur cried, the siren howling with laughter in her mind.

Luke steadily righted himself, glaring at Photo Finish. He snatched his first officer cap up off the deck, replacing it atop his head. “Where’s that camera? I’mma shove it so far up your plot hole you’ll be shitting negatives for a mon-”

The rest of Luke’s words were lost to several deafeningly loud whip-like cracks piercing the air. They were swiftly followed by a few short screams and the dull thuds of bodies hitting wood. The tattered remains of a thick mooring line, its diameter similar to that of an earth pony’s leg, ricocheted up onto the deck, smashing a barrel of cider to splinters. Its contents spilled out over the polished wood, soaking into the coat of a nearby minotaur.

“Merde!” Fleur gasped, almost falling over herself. The ship had just lurched forward, and was slowly but surely heading for the side of a mountain around a thousand hooves or so in front of the bow. Fleur let magic flow through her horn, generating the usual signal to communicate with the auxiliary crystal. To her horror, the crystal didn’t respond. At all.

“Vhat is zis? Why is my set moving?” Photo barked. Somehow, the earth mare had managed to stay upright.

Stop her! Stop Le Tesson! Fleur called to her siren. Technically, there was a failsafe—another way to do it herself—but she needed siren magic to interact with the shard. To get that, she would have to take it by force, which would reveal her true nature in front of her staff. Inacceptable.

The siren promptly ignored her, still much too busy laughing her flank off.

“Merde! Merde!” Fleur gasped, feeling absolutely helpless for the first time in thousands of years. She turned to Luke. “Luc! Say prohibere!”

Luke, who had fallen over again, merely gave her a worried look. “W-What? Why… Why are we moving?” he panicked, pulling the momentum arrest lever back again.

Nothing happened.

The ship smashed into something, the impact barely registering a tremor. Whatever it was that had been in the way crumpled like a hayburger wrapper, the sound of splintering wood emanating from beneath the bow of the ship. “Prohibere!” Fleur repeated, scrambling over the deck toward him. She captured his shoulders with her forhooves, her accent thickening. “Say eet!”

“Proy-berry?”

“Non! Prohibere!”

“Proy-bay-ree?”

“Non, Luc! Prohibere! Prohibere! Prohibere! Say eet right now or very bad things are about to ‘appen!” Several ponies screamed at the mounting panic in Fleur’s voice.

“W-What? Fuck! Uhh… Proy-berry! Prohy-berry!”

“Luc! We are going to crash!” Fleur squeaked. A splintered bow and ruptured helium chamber would be the very least of their worries if Le Tesson collided with that mountainside.

Now would be a good time to help us! she hissed at her darker half.

The siren had stopped laughing, but did not willingly lend Fleur her voice, or her magic. Instead, she merely waited.

Luke stared at the looming mountainside, now a lot closer than it had been, his eyes the size of dustbin lids.

“PROHIBERE!”

Le Tesson lurched for the second time in less than thirty seconds, coming to a rather violent halt thirty feet from the mountainside. The stop was so sudden the few ponies and minotaurs that had pulled themselves to their hooves were sent flying once more. Luke would have revelled in the fact that Steel Hoof was among their number, but he was so confused by the ship suddenly breaking free of the mooring lines he couldn’t quite manage it.

“What’s going on?” he gasped, daring to get to his feet. The momentum arrest lever was all the way back. Was that what had caused the ship to move? It shouldn’t have. Fleur hadn’t been powering it.

“Ah’d quite like to know tha’ mesel,” Tank muttered, shooting a look of exasperation at Fleur.

“How’d it even move? You weren’ powerin’ it!” Vert chimed in.

“Vhat is ze meaning of zis, Fraulein?”

Fleur’s ears dropped, her gaze flicking between pony and minotaur in blind panic. “I… uhh… Luc and I… We ‘ave been trying out a voice command system.”

“We have?” Luke asked. Had he missed something? Maybe she had just forgotten to tell him?

“It… It eez a work in progress,” Fleur said, forcing an unconvincing laugh and ignoring Luke altogether.

CRACK.

Vert, Tank and Photo stared at the deck where Fleur had been, their gazes simultaneously flicking to Luke instead.

“What’s goin’ on, lad?”

“Aye. She jus’ made yae say summat and it went and stopped the ship. How’d you do tha’?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Luke lied, the realisation of what had just happened finally hitting him. Holy fucking shit. For the first time ever, Luke had actually piloted the ship. Properly. On his own.

“Ah think I know where she went,” Vert said, absent-mindedly adjusting his ruffled feathers. “Come on. Let’s go have a little chat with the boss.”

As Vert suspected, Fleur had teleported to the engine room. Human, pegasus, earth pony and minotaur filed in through the open doorway to find her staring at the crystal. It was even dirtier than the night before, just as crooked… and cracked.

Fleur turned, and Vert and Tank froze, just as the door slammed closed behind them. Her eyes were streaming forth cerulean light, a few small wisps of barely visible condensation flowing from the glowing sapphire in her collar. Four fully extended fangs were clearly visible in her open maw. Luke was strongly reminded of a lioness stalking her prey.

Both pegasus and minotaur backed away, but Photo Finish trotted up to the crystal. “It’s cracked,” she observed, pulling out a small magnifying glass from her dress and inspecting it. “Somepony has struck zis. Crystals of zis calibre do not break on zeir own.”

“Non… not somepony,” Fleur breathed, the dual-tone malice of the words causing even Photo to flinch.

Tank gulped, but to his credit, stood his ground. “Ah hope you d-don’ suspect me-”

The siren gazed up absent-mindedly at the slightly trembling minotaur, around four times her size. Her tongue flicked briefly from her maw. “Non.”

Tank breathed a sigh of relief, which he quickly tried to disguise as a cough. Vert’s wings twitched at the sound, eyes darting to the minotaur for a split second.

Luke kneeled in front of Fleur, bringing them eye to eye. Before he could stop himself, he locked his curious gaze to the shimmering, endless depths contained within hers. “Do you… suspect anyone?” he asked, the questions already losing significance. He could stare into her eyes all day and it would probably be the best day of his life. “Anyone… Anyone we should keep an eye out for?”

Fleur tilted her head, the familiar curious look blanketing her face. “Zis crystal… It is useless to all but my own kind.”

“Anozzer siren?” Photo whispered, her eyes flicking from Fleur to the dirty rock clamped into the arcane device.

The words did nothing but annoy Fleur, it seemed. “Laisse nous!” she growled, her demonic voice suddenly dripping with rage.

Luke nearly had a heart attack. The Prench was lost on him, but the meaning was not. He made to get to his feet, but Fleur latched her fangs into his tie, pulling him right back down.

Vert’s wings flapped, several feathers escaping them. He bolted to the door and wrenched it open, disappearing down the corridor with nary a backwards glance.

“Tank. Ve go,” Photo barked, her voice bearing an uncharacteristic quiver Luke had never heard before. She held the door open for him, swiftly following the lumbering minotaur into the corridor.

“Good luck, lad,” Luke heard him croak.

The door closed. The siren pounced.

Luke was pinned in an instant, flat on his back, beautiful glowing eyes inches from his own. Holy shit. Her lithe, immortal body pressed against him, a burning fire in her eyes that hadn’t been present before.

“Stay away… from Citrus,” she rasped, fighting a battle Luke couldn’t see. Soft forehooves slid through his hair. It was as though she was struggling to get the words out. “I don’t want… to 'ave to… kill 'er.”

Luke’s hands instinctively flew to her sides. “No, don't do that! I-I, uh… I don't like her, but you don't have to kill her!” Luke panicked.

Her intoxicating scent, the warmth of her core, the chill of her sapphire, the glow from her eyes, the softness of her mane that had fallen against his cheek, the gentle weight of her heavenly form pressing him into the beating floor—all of it quickly overwhelmed his senses, causing his heart to beat as though he had just run a marathon.

“She dares to touch you with her horn… Moi seul peux faire ça!”

Luke drew in vast lungfuls of air, bolting upright as though emerging from a lake. Fleur’s hooves fell to his shoulders, her hind legs straddling his waist, tail coiling itself around his leg. Luke held her close out of reflex, trying in vain to ignore the butterflies bouncing around his chest and the burning in his face. He needed to focus, especially if the siren was tempted to murder a pony over something as innocent as a jab from a horn.

A distraction was needed. “Y-Yours is way better, look,” he managed to say, and Fleur’s eyes widened, spilling out even more light as they followed his hand up to the idly glowing appendage on her head.

His fingers closed around it, and like someone flicking a light switch, the siren was fucking gone.

A small shudder flowed through Fleur, but she otherwise sat frozen. Lilac eyes pointed to the hand grasping her horn, fangless mouth hung open, cheeks slowly turning the colour of Viola Terracotta's coat.

Luke felt something twitch down below.

Fleur’s horn was warm, and it very quickly became apparent he probably shouldn't have grabbed it.

Her eyes found him.

Luke quickly let go of her horn. “Sorry boss,” he muttered, his gaze flicking everywhere and anywhere but her.

Fleur cringed, closing her eyes momentarily. “Luc, I think we are perhaps past you calling me zat.”

“Yeah… probably.”

A short silence murdered the conversation. Fleur did not make any attempt to move. One of Luke’s arms still encompassed her back, and he didn’t know if he should move it or not.

“Well, I think you won the game of chicken you ‘ad going with ‘er,” she murmured, awkwardly getting to her hooves. Her snoot accidentally booped his nose, her tail perhaps flagging a little higher than normal. She backpedalled a few paces. Luke’s cheeks burned even more. “As… fun as zat was, I think we need to 'ave a talk, you and I, before zis… goes any further,” she said, quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Luke couldn’t help himself. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean, Luc, but zat can wait. I owe you a proper explanation of what just transpired on the deck.”

Fleur’s horn began to glow, but after only a second, the magical aura surrounding it fizzled out with a pop. She tried again, only to be met with the same result. “Merde.” Quickly rubbing the crystal with a forehoof, she bit down on it instead and pulled.

The crystal broke free of the clamps, slipping out of Fleur’s mouth as well. It hit the floor with a clunk. Fleur quickly scooped it up with a hoof and handed it to Luke.

Luke took it, giving her a look of confusion. It was nowhere near as hot as it had been the previous night. “What do I need this for?”

“We need it, Luc, in order to control the ship without ‘aving to resort to yelling commands in the dead, archaic language of the Old Kingdom.”

“So… It’s true? That… That was me controlling the shard?”

“Yes, Luc.” Fleur blushed, looking away again. “For, um… whatever reason, you are the second commandant of Le Tesson. Normally, a shard will only ever choose one.”

Luke swallowed, his eyes wandering to the arcane device sitting between the Star Drives. “But wait, don't the helm and the levers control the ship? Hasn’t Vert been flying this ship for fifty years?”

“Zat is where ze crystal is needed,” Fleur whispered, pointing to the cracked rock in Luke’s hand. “Zis crystal is not part of the shard. It is a product of my own creation. Usually, the shard does not respond to anything ozzer zan siren magic. Zis crystal acts as a proxy—It can respond to unicorn magic, and magical signals from the helm of the ship. I ‘ave trained the shard to follow its influence over the course of many years.”

“But… I thought you powered the ship?”

Fleur shook her head. “Me, powering zis ship? Zis is a lie. I cannot power the ship, no amount of magical power could, in fact. I merely pretend, so ponies don’t become suspicious of Le Tesson’s true nature.”

Luke stared at the rock in his hand. The crack had spread all the way down one side of it. “Is this why the ship was being such a handful on the way here?”

Fleur nodded. “More zan likely, oui.”

“How did it move when I rolled into the lever? Can anyone just hop on the helm and take control?”

“Non. I usually have to prompt the crystal to respond whenever Vert is at the helm. The shard is not some mindless machine, it is a lot more zan zat. I believe it responded to you without consulting me first because… you are a commandant.”

Luke stared at the crystal. “Huh… I guess I’m gonna have to be careful when Vert insists I polish the levers. If I accidentally knock the wrong one…”

Fleur grinned. “I daresay you are a competent pilot Luke. But if you ever panic, just remember: prohibere.”

“What does that mean, then?”

“Stop, of course,” Fleur replied, magic building in her horn. The crystal began to warm in Luke’s hand, and with a flash of blue, the crack disappeared. “We shall ‘ave to keep watch over zis crystal, Luc.” It floated from his hand, sliding back into the grasp of the jagged, blackened clamps. “I fear someone may be trying to steal it. I shall put the necessary measures in place.”

Fleur paused for a moment, slipping one of her forehooves into the hand the crystal had left. “Will you come to Helix Gap with me? Zere is something I’d like to show you.”

Luke smiled, giving her hoof a squeeze. “Of course.”

Author's Note

Shard commands, not unlike linux commands, are tricky and difficult to get right. :moustache:

Fifteen | Memento Mori

Helix Gap, the settlement Vert had described as a ‘small mountain hamlet’ turned out to be a fair bit larger than advertised. The poor visibility of the storm had hidden what was actually quite a sizable town, considering it was nestled up in a mountain valley. Most of the buildings were white, constructed with timber frames and straw thatched roofs, and a lot of them had quaint little balconies attached to the upper floors.

The town would have resembled a much smaller and less modern version of Canterlot, if it wasn’t for the fact it was positively teeming with strange plantlife Luke had never seen before. This place certainly hammered home that Equador was a planet unmistakably alien in comparison to Earth.

Large violet and pink spotted mushrooms, their caps the size of small cars, littered the lush green lawns running along the sides of the cobbled walkways. Thick, dark green creeper vines that were way too animated not to have magic of their own hung from the balconies, playfully grabbing at anyone that happened to stray too close. Various other bizarre types of foliage of varying colours, including an ominous-looking red plant that looked suspiciously like a venus flytrap, lay dotted around the lush green lawns surrounding the buildings. There were very few fences—everything was quite open plan.

The locals consisted mainly of earth ponies, a lot of them loggers that worked in the forest in the next valley over, though there were a few stray pegasi flitting through the air. Predictably, the unfamiliar sight of a whole bunch of beautiful unicorn supermodels accompanied by a tall, otherworldly creature strolling through the middle of their town was one way too juicy to ignore. Luke could practically feel their stares.

Today was one the few free-days of the shoot, where all staff were relieved of their duties and could go and sightsee to their heart's content. Luke would have been perfectly content sitting and having a few beers with Vert and Tank, perhaps, but Fleur had fluttered those devastatingly pretty eyelashes of hers, nudged his hand with her pouting snoot a few times, and sweetly reminded him that he said he would accompany her.

Now, he was awkwardly shuffling through a backwoods mountain town with an exclusive clique of supermodels that had clearly been trying to out-do each other in the looks department. A sea of silky manes and tails, perfectly trimmed and shaped hooves, expertly brushed coats, magically lengthened eyelashes and dazzlingly pretty smiles surrounded Luke, making him feel as out of place as he had on his very first day at J’adore.

It wouldn't have been so bad, if they weren't all desperate to be his new best friend. Despite what the tabloids sometimes said, these ponies weren't stupid. They loved their jobs, and they wanted nothing more than to build close social ties with their boss. In other words, Luke had to suffer Fleur’s second-hoof stardom, and all the attention that came with it.

The narrow stream flowing lazily through the middle of the town had thick clouds of what looked like steam emanating from its surface, several small critters he didn’t recognise occasionally breaking the surface as they swam.

Luke squinted, carefully edging closer to the bank. They looked like axolotls, but they were covered in bright pink fur. Some of the cloud wafted over his hand, and he had to snatch it out of harm’s way to avoid being burned. "Is this… hot water?" he gasped, stepping back from the stream.

Fleur paused, as did the large entourage of supermodels accompanying her. "Oui, mon amour. Zis stream flows from the ‘ot springs up at Vanity Point."

"Vanity Point is a volcano?"

Fleur nodded, the stylish, navy blue silk scarf embroidered with white skulls she was wearing shifting in the breeze. The locals weren’t all that accustomed to seeing a mare wearing a platinum spiked choker collar with a dirty great siren-rock embedded into it, after all. They wouldn’t have known the true nature of the sapphire, of course, but she had still opted to cover up, so as not to upset them.

As usual, any fashion choices Fleur happened to make were mimicked far and wide by the models on her staff. Nearly all of them were wearing scarves as well.

"Most of the springs are too hot to bathe in, but the ones that aren’t are often booked solid for months," Viola Terracotta commented, the thick middle-eastern accent rolling off her tongue. She had gone for a black scarf that went well with her blood red coat and bleached white mane. "Of course, anypony working for J’adore gets priority booking."

"We’re partnered with Sparco? Ermagherd! How did I not know this?" nattered another model Luke didn’t know by name. This one was wearing a yellow scarf that complimented the warm orange of her coat. She practically stared at Fleur for confirmation.

Fleur gave the mare a bemused look. "Viola says so. If you don’t believe ‘er zen go ask Pony Resources. Zey will be able to tell you better zan I can."

"I had a Sparco wheel for my car back on Earth. Y’know, because race car," Luke chuckled. A few of the supermodels forced a laugh, glancing at each other for non-existent context, but most of them just stared at him with looks of confusion. Luke scowled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and idly kicking a pebble into the boiling stream. "Screw you guys. That was funny."

One of the weird furry axolotl-looking things popped up and spat the small rock back onto the grassy bank. "The fuck?" Luke muttered, amid several soft giggles and gentle ‘aww’s from the models. "What is that?"

Fleur smiled at the small creature, which leapt out of the water and began a lazy crawl along the bank of the stream. "It’s a Kepler. Zey’re native to the mountainous regions. Zey like the hot springs, can withstand very high temperatures, and are quite fond of stargazing on clear nights."

"Aww!" a charcoal-coated mare squeed, flicking her black and purple striped scarf over her back and leaning in for a closer look. "Just look at his little legs! So cute!"

The Kepler paused, tiny little tongue flicking from its mouth. A second later, it had scrambled back into the stream so fast Luke would have missed it if he’d blinked.

The orange mare tutted. "Ræves! You scared him off!"

"Pfft! Nah, he’s just a lil’ shy guy," the mare dismissed with an idly waved hoof. "Look at his lil’ legs go!" she chuckled, her bright, hazel eyes following the kepler leaping upstream like a salmon, a happy grin on her muzzle.

"Hey, was it you that sang the Peggy Lee song at the nobles ball?" Luke asked her, the familiar tune popping into his head. That’s where he’d last heard it. On YouTube. Wait…

"Who’s Peggy Lee?" the mare asked, her muzzle scrunching up adorably.

Luke considered her for a moment. What had Fancy said her name was? Oh, yeah… Ræven. "An old wartime singer from my home planet," he answered. "How… How do you know that song?"

"Ooooh! That’s strange, ain’t it?" Ræven giggled, her face lighting up. "Maybe-" she began, the orange mare beside her letting out an audible sigh and rolling her eyes, "-it's some weird parallel plane of music culture between Equador and your home planet? Like, there’s a connection between the two dimensions and songs released in one world—if they’re awesome enough—make a quantum leap through the dimensions so the ponies or the hyoo-mans get to hear the awesomeness-"

"Ræves, filly—stop. You’re letting the weird out. Look at him. He’s totally weirded out," the orange mare interjected, bumping a forehoof to Ræven’s shoulder.

"Nuh-uhh! Luke, you totally get where I’m coming from, right?"

Luke squinted at the pair of them. He opened his mouth to ask them if they were pulling his leg, but a stone-faced Fleur beat him to it.

"Eet is a spell, Luc. Oldest unicorn party trick in the book." She did not look amused.

"A spell? What are you-" he paused, a positively horrifying prospect suddenly rearing its ugly head. His gaze flicked back to Ræven. "Did you get that song from my memory? Are you trying to tell me unicorns can read minds?"

A wave of gasps and mutterings swept through the crowd. Every pony with a horn positively cringed at those words so much Luke immediately regretted blurting them out. Even the locals suddenly looked noticeably uncomfortable.

Fleur levelled Luke with an awkward look. "Luc, please do not say things like zat in the middle of an earth pony town. No, we cannot read minds. Zis spell merely hones in on and interprets the magical traces left behind by music. It doesn’t matter where the music comes from—all music is a form of magic. Zis is something non-users of more obvious forms of magic never consider. But with zat said-" she turned to Ræven, "I see what you are trying to do here—but don’t. Zere is no conventional magic where Luc comes from, so little Canterlot filly tricks like zat just come off as creepy."

Ræven’s resting happy face deflated somewhat, her ears flopping in unison. Luke almost felt bad for her. "Sorry, boss."

"Told you it was a stupid idea," the orange mare muttered.

Fleur, apparently done with admonishment, resumed her slow cantor, the locals parting to let her pass well before she reached them. Some of the stallions weren't even trying to hide their gawking. Luke followed, fighting to keep the scowl from face. The gaggle of supermodels, resuming their idle gossiping, practically clung to his every side.

"Wait, does that mean Fancy Pants did the same thing?" Luke asked, idly swatting away a creeper vine hanging from a balcony that tried to wrap itself around his arm. "The song he sang was by an artist called Nat King Cole."

Fleur raised her eyebrows at this. "I suspected it was not one of 'is usual pieces," she muttered in a low tone. The lack of elaboration was rather noticeable. Stopping in front of a bonsai tree planted in the centre of the town, she turned to address her models. "Okay fillies, Luc and I 'ave some business to attend to, but zere will be a luncheon later zis evening back on Le Tesson if anypony wishes to accompany-"

Fleur paused, a peculiar look on her face. Her ears swivelled independently for a second, eyes slowly widening. Luke glanced around for whatever it was that made her stop, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A few of the models had puzzled expressions as well.

After a few seconds, she appeared to regain her composure. "Remember, zis is one of only two free days of the unicorn range shoot, so if you wish to do any shopping, now is your chance." She beamed at them, but Luke knew her smile, and that wasn’t it. Something was… off.

Slowly but surely, some more reluctant than others, the gathering of supermodels dispersed into the small crowd of locals. One or two gave Fleur a questioning look, but omitted any actual questions they may have had.

Luke idly flattened the lapels of his suit jacket, waiting patiently for the last of them to get out of earshot. He was dressed as a bodyguard—an attempt to perhaps persuade the local paparazzi he wasn't as close to Fleur as the rumour suggested. It was a pointless facade, truth be told. Fleur was eligible for the full retinue of four Royal guards often assigned to VIPs by order of the princesses, as she had put it, but she had never utilised that eligibility.

Being a siren, she had no use for them.

"What's up?" Luke whispered.

Fleur turned to face him, and for the first time ever, something akin to fear was showing on her face.

It did not suit her.

Luke dropped to his knee, a palm finding her shoulder despite the multiple ponies with cameras still in fairly close proximity. "Tell me."

Pale violet eyes slowly drifted from Luke to the bonsai tree, its branches idly shifting in the breeze. Lips thin and eyebrows furrowed, Fleur snapped her teeth together. "I believe we are about to be rudely interrupted by an old acquaintance of mine."

As if waiting to be mentioned, a small pop came from the tree, which all of a sudden, had a face.

"You fish ponies always ruin my grand entrance. You know I like to make a good first impression," said the face, its yellow eyes rolling beneath long, wispy white eyebrows that matched the goatee hanging from its chin. "And acquaintance? Acquaintance, she says!Oh, you cut me deeper with that assessment than those little fangs of yours ever could!"

What the… Luke sprang to his feet. There were a lot of strange things in Equestria, but a talking tree took the cake a bit. It promptly uprooted itself, and with a single shake, all of its leaves fell off, fluttering into a plume of green that gradually fell away to reveal a bizarre creature that was around the same height as Tank, though quite a lot thinner.

It had the head of a goat, it's mouth bearing a solitary white fang around six inches long, but the rest of it appeared to have been haphazardly thrown together as an afterthought. All of its limbs, including its wings and its horns, were mismatched pairings taken from the various creatures of Equestria.

"Four thousand years I've known you, yet I'm still just the acquaintance! After everything I’ve done for you, you still treat me like an outsider," the creature huffed, flicking the last couple of leaves from his weird chicken-foot-like arm.

Did he just say four thousand years? Luke couldn’t even imagine living that long. Any trace of unrest had long since disappeared from Fleur’s face, which was now completely void of emotion. Luke was beginning to suspect that she, along with Celestia and Luna, were perhaps as old as time itself.

"I thought you’d at least have the common decency to introduce me to your consort," the creature added, idly waving a manticore paw in Luke’s direction.

In the blink of an eye, a wave of cold, calculated fury claimed Fleur’s features. Her maw parted slightly, her ears falling. That word. It was easy to see that hearing it spoken so casually hit her like a train.

It hit Luke like a fucking comet. How the fuck did this creature know? He dared not look at Fleur, his eyes glued instead to the mysterious entity standing before them with all of its mismatched limbs, sarcastic tones and unfathomable knowledge.

The creature paused. The grin on its face was revolting. It savoured the fact it had just smashed a metaphorical mallet into the fragile facade of casual relationship that both he and Fleur had been awkwardly pushing along for the past few months.

After a few moments of woefully uncomfortable silence, Fleur’s horn illuminated in its familiar pink aura, and the scarf she was wearing disappeared with a flash, revealing the sapphire in her collar. It glinted menacingly in the light streaming from the sun. When she spoke, her voice was nothing more than a defeated whisper. "If we are to ‘ave zis conversation… We will ‘ave it on my terms."

Luke was given no warning. An almighty BOOM rattled his consciousness, and his heart was suddenly at the pit of his stomach, then lodged in his throat, all in the span of less than a split second. Helix Gap violently imploded in a whirl of colour. A relentless upward motion and the rasping howl of air being blasted out the way filled every part of his existence for several seconds, until everything went black. By the time the rapidly approaching, cratered and pockmarked surface of white sand violently met his feet, his only thought was that he couldn’t breathe.

After what felt like minutes, but was probably only a few more seconds, air flowed once again into his lungs, but so did quite a bit of dust that had been displaced when he slammed into the ground. He rolled a fair few feet before coming to a stop, flat on his back.

Two other figures landed with him, the creature with grace, Fleur with fury.

"Discord. Meet Luc. As you so rightly said, ‘ee is my consort," she spat, growling the last four words with malice sharp enough to flay the cosmic skin from an ursa.

Luke damn near coughed up a lung, his chest burning. The air was present, but thin, and packed with dust. The sky was black. The sand was white. The sun still shone, but so did Equador, a pale blue dot on a vast canvas of nothing.

He was on the moon.

The fucking moon.

Thankfully, it had an atmosphere.

Fleur glared at the creature named Discord with all the intensity of a thousand superheated spears.

"It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Luke," Discord sneered. His face certainly suggested otherwise.

Before Luke even had a chance to say anything in response, Fleur spoke again. "Well, you 'ave met the human. You know what ‘ee is, and now, ‘ee knows also, which I’m guessing was the ‘ole point of zis little meeting. It is time for you to leave."

"Actually, my irritable little Prench murmaider, I sought an audience with none other than yourself. I must be going soft in my old age, because I come to you with a warning."

Fleur’s fangs shot from her mouth, her blue tinted gaze darkening. "Oui? And just what is zis warning?" she snarled, sounding more like a monster than she ever had had before. The tone sent shivers down Luke’s spine, but he ignored them.

The creature bent down, putting its face just inches from Fleur’s bared fangs, its large yellow eyes staring deep into the endless distant blue of hers. "Memento Mori."

Fleur let out a hiss that set Luke’s pulse on edge, forked tongue flicking from in between her fangs. Discord may as well have uttered the darkest curse known to sirenkind. The shock did not last long. "Don't fuck with me, Discord!" she screamed, her eyes and her sapphire burning the most menacing shade of deadly blue Luke had ever witnessed. She pressed her snout to his nose. Her horn ignited, and a number of strange runic symbols made of burning orange flames accompanied the aura.

Discord withdrew with a snarl of his own. The brown fur of his minotaur hoof and green scales of his dragon leg were cast in the deadly blue, but their colours gradually faded, turning a lifeless, slate grey. "Well, isn't this… familiar?" he chuckled, no longer able to move the lower half of his body. "Trust me, Fleur, you’ll want to hear me out. Being the connoisseur of chaos that I am, I sense a presence… in the near future. Something big. Something involving him," Discord seethed, pointing manticore claw once more.

"You leave ‘im ze fuck alone," the siren growled, though the demonic duality, not disguised in the slightest, did nothing to phase Discord.

He turned those large yellow eyes to survey Luke instead. "Do you know what you're getting yourself wrapped up in, hyoo-man? Do you really think you truly know this pony?" He turned back to Fleur, who was still trying her best to turn the rest of him grey as well. "You don't know this pony at all."

"‘Ee knows what I am!" Fleur screeched, the torrent of magic flowing from her horn was immeasurably powerful, but the spell looked vastly more complicated than any Luke had ever seen her cast before. Luke could practically feel the energy emanating from her horn. It sent tingles through his clothes, dancing over his skin.

"But does he know what you're capable of?" Discord probed, unperturbed by the fact half of him had been turned into stone. "Your ancient conquests put even my own to shame. I think he should be afforded the opportunity to find out, don't you?"

"Don’t listen to ‘im, Luc!" the siren called. Their eyes met, but there were fewer glyphs popping in and out of existence around her horn than before.

Luke's breath came raspy and shallow, the dust burning his throat. His gaze flicked from Discord to Fleur, then back again. Several questions came to mind, but there was a clear winner when it came down to which one made him the most curious. "What does Memento Mori mean?"

Discord smiled, and for once, it wasn't one quite so laced with vehement dislike.

"Memento Mori strikes fear into all those who are unfortunate enough to remember the days of the Old Kingdom," Discord proclaimed, an unreadable haze of emotion on his face. "It is the name of the shard you command, Luke."

"That’s enough Discord," Fleur growled, her horn glowing brighter than Luke had ever seen it. The few runes that remained continued to flash in and out of existence with increasing speed, the waves of power growing so much he was starting to feel nauseous.

Discord ignored her. "It means be mindful of death, for Memento Mori is, was, and always will be, death, for countless creatures of Equador and beyond. I may have been the ‘bad guy’ that the ponies pointed their hooves at in days gone by, but I could never hope to reach the despicable lows of the siren that stands before you now."

"I will kill you!" Fleur screamed, but even Luke could see the spell was beginning to fail. The sheer complexity of the incantation was readily apparent. The runes had disappeared altogether, but the sheer amount of energy blasting from her horn shone almost as bright as the sun.

Discord's mismatched legs erupted into vibrant blue flames, black smoke billowing from them in thick plumes, but he merely barked out a cruel, humourless laugh. "If anypony could find a way to end my life, I have no doubt in my mind that pony would be you."

The stench of burning fur, scales and flesh filled the air, prompting Luke to cough so much he very nearly threw up. Discord continued his tirade regardless.

"Her ship is not a ship at all. It’s as fake as the life she has sculpted for herself. Memento Mori has been living a lie for thousands of years. It will take its true form again, and when it does, I will not stand idly by when its relentless influence inevitably overwhelms your pathetic little mortal mind, and you command it to reduce Equador to a smouldering husk of death."

"I would never do that!" Luke roared between coughs, leaping to his feet and levelling Discord with a defiant glare. He had no magic, but he had words. "Fuck you! Even if I did lose my mind, do you really think Fleur would let that happen?"

Discord laughed, his cold, callous tone booming over the desolate wasteland of the moon’s surface. "She is a siren, and you are her consort. There are only two living souls in existence she truly cares about—herself, and you. Every other creature—every single one, is dead to her."

"That’s not true," Luke breathed, finally seeing the lies for what they really were. His chest rose and fell with the sheer effort of living, considering the hostile landscape.

Fleur had proved time and time again that she was capable of love not governed by her darker half. All of the ponies, minotaurs and various other creatures on her staff were testament to that fact.

Somnambula alone was proof enough.

Discord… Discord was just a cunt.

"I'm afraid it is, little hyoo-man," he laughed, completely unfazed by the fact he was burning alive. "If you need proof, I shall, of course, willingly provide."

With a snap of his claw, a portal encircled in blood red flames erupted a few feet behind Luke. "Let's see what she makes of Earth, shall we?"

Fleur screamed. A blood curdling scream, that almost caused Luke physical pain, and gave even Discord pause. The failed spell imploded around the base of her horn. It only slowed her for a split second, but that was all the time Discord needed to raise a flaming, blistered hoof and kick Luke in the chest, sending him barrelling backwards through space and time.

A loud boom, followed by the harrowing sight of an enormous trident made entirely of deadly blue light tearing Discord's burning flesh from his broken body was the last thing Luke experienced before the portal imploded.

His back hit something soft, and hauntingly familiar. A bed. His old bed. Which was in his old bedroom. Which was in his old flat.

Which was in London.

Author's Note

You can’t hang onto yourself.
You don’t have to try not to hang onto yourself.
It can’t be done, and that is salvation.

Memento Mori—be mindful of death.

Shit, this chapter turned out a little darker than expected. I should probably clarify that J'adore is not going to turn into a PoE (Pony on Earth). Things shall be explained in the next chapter.

Sixteen | Enter Sandbox

Keys. Phone. Wallet. Passport.

Luke gathered all four items, along with a hastily packed suitcase full of winter clothes. His flight was booked—six PM departure from Heathrow to Vienna.

The current task was a simple one—as long as he kept telling himself as much: repeat the fortunate blunder that led him to the Crystal Empire. If he got that far, the task would then change to dealing with the god-like immortal being that had managed not only to send him back to Earth, but back in fucking time as well.

Those first couple of weeks, in the royal castle? Luke would have thanked Discord for sending him home. He could’ve seen his family again, interacted with other people, not been a complete social outcast anymore. Now, though… Now, Luke just felt like he was dead. What the fuck was the point of living, when his true home felt like the one he had just left?

Every time he thought of Fleur… everything, all of it—just hurt. The notion that he might not see her smile again, might never hear her adorable accent, never again experience the strawberry scent of her mane—it made him want to crawl into a hole somewhere and just die. The thought of never again gazing into the endless depths of the siren's eyes, to witness the chaotic serenity within—it was just too much. The walls of his bedroom were full of holes. His fists were full of scabs and blood. The only thing that kept him from doing something really stupid, was the bastard’s words—let's see what she makes of Earth. She—the implication being that she was going to turn up.

It’s not like she hadn’t done it before. Fleur had a knack for finding him, even when he hadn’t told her where he was going to be. If she could teleport to the fucking moon, she could teleport to Earth.

In the event that didn’t pan out, though—Luke had a flight to catch.

Suitcase in one hand, car keys in the other, he took the elevator down to the ground floor of the apartment complex of his old life. That’s exactly what this was, ever since he met Fleur—his old life. There was no going back.

Yes, he could visit his family, his old drinking buddies, his old co-workers from the office, but did he want to do any of those things? How would such meetings even go? To them, a year had not passed. To them, Luke had not been anywhere. They knew nothing of the marvel that was Equador, or its ponies, its minotaurs, its literal fucking magic. They knew nothing of the mare he had fallen in love with. They’d call him a freak, a liar, or a mental case, or perhaps worse if they knew.

Fuck no.

Even if he wanted to stay here, doing so could potentially put the planet in danger. If Fleur could find him, so could the shard. What if it came looking for him first? If Memento Mori was to appear over London in all of the archaic and deadly glory of its true form… Luke gave a shudder. He hadn’t a clue what the artifact really looked like, but one thing was certain—Earth would be in serious trouble if it made an appearance. What if Discord was right? What if the shard caused Luke to become drunk on power, turning him into a crazed dictator the likes of which the world had never seen?

Fuck.

There was only one thing he could do now. He had to find Fleur.

Beep beep.

The boot lid of Luke’s car opened, and he was forcefully reminded of it turning Equity Rose into a stain on the carpet of one of the Crown Bank’s conference rooms. That shit hadn’t even happened at all, but Luna’s magic allowed him to remember the dream more vividly than any other he had ever had.

When he found his way back, he’d sit down with the Princess of the night and tell her all about the car, the internal combustion engine, all of its fancy electronics—literally anything she could possibly want to know.

Chucking the suitcase in the boot, Luke slammed the lid and hopped into the driver’s seat. With the push of a button, the engine roared to life.

To the airport.

Off we fuck.

The moon of Equador, after a brief vacancy of several years, once again played host to an immortal being.

Two of them, to be precise.

One, a draconequus, God of Chaos. The other, a siren, who may as well have been a Goddess of War, considering she had just hit the former with a colossal blast of magic so significant that several hundreds of acres of sand had been turned instantly into fiery shards of glass—glass that was stripped from the surface of a planetary body left ringing from the impact. The note was not at a frequency audible to pony or draconequus ears, but had that been the case, neither would have been able to hear it over the deafening, ethereal metallic whirring of a thousand glowing tridents born of deadly blue light, raining down mercilessly on the draconequus in a relentless barrage of heartbreak, hatred and spite.

Millions of metric tons of lunar rock and red hot glass were ejected miles and miles into space, much being liberated completely from the gravitational force attempting to draw it back down. Where Discord had previously stood, there was nothing but a dark crater several miles deep, and much larger in circumference than any other the moon of Equador had ever known.

Le faire souffrir!

Oh, we are just getting started, mon amie.

"Are you per’aps growing tired of existence, Discord?" Fleur’s magnified, crazed, demonic growl tore through the thin atmosphere. She self-levitated through the hail of deadly projectiles, mane and tail whipping wildly around her in a violent cloud of pink, eyes shining so bright they lit up a sizable portion of the scorched ground. "Is zat the real reason you sought an audience with me? You knew you could obtain the leverage to get me to make a serious attempt on your life?"

Discord emerged from the haze of flying debris, blackened and burned, but still grinning that overly smug grin of his. "Well, I suppose I could take another nap, but where would be the fun in that?"

The bastard clicked his claws, and a deafening roar that nearly ripped every strand of fur from Fleur’s form blasted from directly behind her. By the time she whirled around in the air, the Ursa Major’s jaws closed, and huge teeth as thick as tree trunks slammed together, narrowly missing her body. The disgusting stench of star-bear breath filled her world, a slick, hot bed of flesh encompassing her in a revolting massage. Fleur scrambled, but before she could even so much as charge her horn, Fleur found herself being swallowed by the beast.

Discord laughed through the transparent fleshy gullet she was sliding down. "Why, Fleur! I never knew you had a vore fetish! How salaciously scandalous for a Canterlot noblemare," came his muffled voice.

Like a ticking time bomb, the siren clawing at Fleur’s mind had had enough.

The tip of Fleur’s horn exploded. Violently.

So did the Ursa Major.

Most of its upper body was instantly vaporised. Tonnes upon tonnes of cosmic flesh scattered into the black, but a lot of the larger chunks rained down on the flaming glass covering the moon’s surface. The stench of burning meat filled the air, and Fleur wrinkled her muzzle in disgust. "Wherever you ‘ave sent ‘im—I shall find ‘im. You cannot keep ‘im from me!"

Discord conjured a carton of popcorn, flicking a few kernels into his mouth. He crunched and crunched and swallowed, smacking his lips with obnoxious volume. "Oh, I have no doubts about that, my moping little murdercorn. I merely want him to get to know the real you, before you inevitably snatch him back into your fishy fins and keep the poor man in the dark," he said, snapping his claw for a second time.

Fleur defiantly stared him down. "‘Ee does know the real me. ‘Ee knows me better zan anypony!"

Discord cackled, bits of half-chewed popcorn flying from his maw. The cruel, hateful sound made Fleur’s coat stand on end. "Anypony, you say? How about-" he pointed with his manticore paw "-that pony?"

Fleur scowled. She tried not to look, but she couldn’t help herself.

Non!

The still, lifeless form of her sweet Somnambula lay upon the jagged, flaming shards of the moon below. Both of her wings were broken, her feathers in disarray. Blood poured from her open eyes, like stale tears left for a thousand years.

Fleur's eyes went wide. It felt like somepony had just run a barbed spear through her chest, twisting and turning, cutting deeper and more painfully than anything had ever cut her before. The siren let out a wail, laboured by a grief so overwhelmingly heavy she felt like her heart was going to explode in her chest. Zis vision—it eez not real, mon amie! The grief quickly turned regardless, the pain in her heart fueling a white hot rage that far outstripped Fleur’s own.

Memento Mori! Occide! Occide! Occide!

Fleur drew a gasp so violently she ended up inhaling a cloud of the glass shards still present in the air. Thankfully, those words had not been spoken aloud.

Her darker half had not given up yet.

Discord’s grin widened, he opened his mouth, but Fleur screamed, her horn conjuring and launching a flaming trident straight through the back of his throat before he managed to utter another word.

The drive to Heathrow airport was odd, to say the least. For starters—the font on the road signs of the M25 had apparently been changed to comic sans in Luke’s absence. Which idiot at the Department for Transport had gone and approved that? Had they perhaps had a stroke? The road itself was unnaturally quiet for four PM on a Friday. Luke had spent half of his previous life stuck in traffic on London’s notoriously inadequate ring road, yet he was able to barrel along at one hundred and forty miles an hour for most of the way to the airport.

Speaking of which—the airport appeared to be riddled with inconsistencies and erroneous details as well. The parking meters were missing, the road layout was different. The people were smiling.

This was London. What the fuck did people have to smile about?

The old woman working the check desk, for instance, had given him a particularly creepy grin along with his boarding pass. Luke had almost dropped his phone at the sight of it. Now, he was sitting in the departure lounge, staring idly at the various aircraft through the wall of windows facing out onto the terminals.

Buzzt, buzzt.

Luke unlocked his phone with his thumbprint out of muscle memory. He blinked. It was weird to be doing that after so long. Well over a year, in fact. The best damn well over a year of his life. The notification was just some dumb promotion from the booking app. He swiped it away, but his eye caught a glimpse of the service bar. What the...

Where the service provider’s name—Vodafone—should have been, was a different word.

‘Vodapone.’

Luke stared at his phone, but no matter how many times he blinked, the word didn't change. "Huh…"

He selected apps. There were a few options. Facepone. Flutter. ClipClop. Fucking ClipClop? One—that just sounded filthy. Two—Luke was not gen-Z. An app such as ClipClop, shitty pun or not, had absolutely no business being on his phone.

There was one app, however, that appeared to lack any silly horse pun:

Discord.

It even had the bastard’s smiling face on it. Little fang sticking out of his mouth and everything.

"Bonjour, sexy monkey!" came a slightly muffled voice.

Luke idly glanced up from his phone, before involuntarily launching it halfway across the departure lounge when he yeeted himself out of his seat in a blind panic, falling over the back and landing in a crumpled heap.

There was a thirty foot tall, albino sea dragon with hooves grinning down at him from the other side of the glass. Fangs that must have been about four feet long protruded from its mouth. It had a white, scaly body, glowing cerulean eyes, a huge, gleaming, frosted sapphire embedded into its neck and a large pink fin running the length of its back, two smaller ones on either side of its face.

It was… pretty.

Pretty fucking terrifying.

A forked tongue, six feet long at the very least, shot out of its mouth and slapped against the departure lounge window with a loud clatter. "I could just eat you up," it purred through the glass.

Luke stared up at the creature, his mouth hanging open. "F-Fleur?"

The beast grinned a wide grin, wider in fact, than any grin Luke had ever seen before. "Wee, mon amore?"

Luke grimaced. The colour drained from his face, and his knuckles gripped the back of the seats so hard they were beginning to turn white as well. His heart beat like a drum in his chest. Why the fuck did he find this utterly terrifying creature attractive? Sure, it kinda looked like Fleur, but it was a fucking seahorse.

Wait… the fleeting memory of one particular poster hanging over the military style cot of one particular minotaur came back to him like a speeding bullet. “Holy shit…” Luke got to his feet, just about managing to force a grin.

"You’re a siren." He pointed at her. "You’re what a siren is supposed to look like."

The siren gave a wry smile. "Well, well, hyoo-man, colour me impressed. I must say—you caught on faster than I thought you would."

Luke kept up the act, feigning a feeling of content he didn't actually feel at all. "I know it's you, Discord. I hope you choke on a cock, you slithering cunt."

CRASH!

Without a lick of warning, the Discord-siren headbutted the glass, which promptly shattered, raining deadly shards down on the fake passengers waiting in the departure lounge. They finally seemed to notice the monster in their midst, as they all jumped up and ran screaming in a blind panic. Luke followed suit, at least with the running part. He wasn’t about to give Discord the satisfaction of knowing this little fucked up pseudo-Earth was getting to him.

The God of Chaos lay on a bed of flaming, blackened glass, his battered, flayed and burned draconequus form limp, covered from mismatched horns to cloven hoof in deep, trident-induced punctures. The seemingly endless well of regenerative magic usually at his disposal had run inself down to nought but a trickle, and his body, still defiantly clinging to life, was paying the price.

He groaned incohesively, much of the structure of his jaw having long since been smashed into pieces so utterly broken and disjointed that he no longer had the power of speech. It was quite the improvement, Fleur thought. Quite the improvement indeed.

"Eeewul end oossall..." the bastard managed to croak.

Fleur turned her muzzle away in disgust. Discord did not have the decency in him to just die. She knew it was a futile effort. It was impossible to rid existence of chaos, for without chaos, there could be no balancing of order. Though, she would be a liar if she claimed it was not satisfying to vent her ire at his expense. Her horn, so blisteringly hot it would have fried the brain of a lesser unicorn, tightened its telekinetic grip, the sobbing siren wailing in her mind.

She had no intentions of killing him, despite her darker half kicking and screaming at the inside of her mind for her to snuff out the life from his broken body. No. It was simply not possible. Chaos… Chaos was inevitable. It could not be destroyed.

The only way to beat Discord was to play him at his own game, but play it better.

Fleur’s hooves crunched through the burning glass until she towered over his broken form, staring down at him with eyes full of hatred. She thought very carefully about what she was going to say, for it could determine if her future was going to be one of blissful rapture, or endless despair. She needed to convince him. For Luke.

For Luc, her darker half echoed.

"If you dare interfere with my consort ever again, I promise you now, Discord—I will command Memento Mori to regress into the beacon of death it was in the days of the Old Kingdom," she lied.

That got his attention. Large yellow eyes regarded Fleur with just as much hatred. He gave a grunt, but half of his jaw was practically missing.

"If you dare to make an attempt on 'is life, or try and take 'im away from me, you will be guaranteeing zat history repeats itself, but I shall not stop zis time. I shall not stop until every last hoof of Equador 'as been burned to ash, and voided of life, and it will be your doing," she lied again, her eyes piercing into Discord’s soul.

The brows of Chaos furrowed. He made a sound, trying to speak, but it just emerged from his broken husk as unintelligible garbage.

Fleur pressed her fanged snout to his broken nose, blasting the siren’s gaze deep into his wavering yellow globes and praying to whatever higher power that may have been listening for him to take the bait. "I will leave only one pony alive. You know which one. Ask yourself, Discord—just what will she think of you when I explain to 'er why I burned the world and everything in it?"

Discord groaned, and for the first time in his endless life, the bastard’s eyes were wide, and he was all out of sarcasm.

Steeling herself, Fleur went in for the kill. "She will have 'er say to you, zen when she is done, I shall tear every last beautiful feather from 'er wings, and you will lie in your broken body… you will watch me snuff out her life, thus, making good on my promise to you."

Discord’s groans turned into wails of despair, and he shook his head despite his neck being broken in several places. Even the siren in Fleur’s mind backed away into the shadows, wanting no part in such a despicable act. Fleur fought to maintain her facade. She could not do what she claimed if she tried. That mare… that mare was just too precious.

"You 'ave the power to choose my conquest, Discord. If you take Luc from me, you know what will happen, and I shall spend the rest of eternity beguiling you with all of the gory details. But, if you choose to leave 'im be, zen I shall do everything in my power to keep Memento Mori from poisoning 'is mind. I shall train 'im to block out her influence, as I trained myself all zose years ago."

Stepping back, Fleur sat on her haunches, letting the siren magic fade away. Pink replaced blue, and with a wave of her horn, a shower of sparks rained upon Discord's broken body.

After several minutes, the god of Chaos slowly sat up. His fang was missing. Snapped off. His scales and skin were horrendously burned and scarred, but he could finally support his own weight, and his jaw was no longer hanging from his face.

"Make your choice, Chaos."

Discord closed his eyes, his grin long gone. "I choose her."

Fleur gave a solemn nod. "Zen leave. I don't ever want to see your face again."

POP.

Fleur let out a ragged breath, what felt like the weight of the world lifting from her shoulders. Her ears fell, eyes filling with tears almost instantly. In a single heartbeat, she and her siren both called upon l'eternal enchantment, and she teleported with an almighty boom that rattled Equador's moon for a second time in less than an hour.

Luke practically wrenched his car door open, flinging himself into the driver’s seat.

The pseudo-siren had become… unhinged, its eyes taking on a deep red glow that bore no resemblance to Fleur’s at all. That wasn’t just because of the colour, either. It had damn near smashed up half of the terminal building through the sheer effort of keeping pace with him, but its movements were sloppy, hindered, even. Twice, it had come close enough that its forked tongue had actually made contact with the back of Luke’s jacket, but it had withdrawn with a screech of pain on both occasions. Only when it had gotten itself stuck in a skybridge had Luke built up enough of a lead to make it back to his hastily abandoned Audi.

The engine growled to life, and Luke put pedal to the metal, his heart thundering in his chest. The beast was out of the building, having smashed straight through one of the revolving doors like it was made of toothpicks and aluminium foil, but it was no match in speed to the S5.

The car quickly left the flailing, screeching, disorientated faux-siren in the dust. Why the fuck Discord hadn’t just teleported, or even re-drew the world as he saw fit, was beyond Luke. He was practically a God, right? He had God-like powers, at least.

The road opened up a little, and Luke dropped a gear and put his foot down. There had to be a way out of this place, wherever the fuck it was. One thing was for certain—this was certainly not Earth.

A deafening screech blasted from directly behind the car, the rearview mirror suddenly filled with nothing but a ring of teeth surrounding a flicking, forked tongue. Fuck! The bastard had teleported.

The car accelerated, the engine screaming up to the redline with every shift. The Discord-siren dropped behind a little, but it was going a hell of a lot quicker than it had been in the airport.

Ninety. One-ten. One-thirty. One-fifty. Just as the car reached one hundred and sixty miles an hour, the trees, lampposts and other cars whizzing by in a haze of colour, a second sun lit up the sky. Luke was damn near blinded, but he just about glimpsed a streak of blue light descend and slam into the road ahead.

BOOM!

The shockwave finally caught up, so powerful it actually managed to slow the car considerably. “Fuck!” Luke yelled, stepping on the brake. The tires screeched, the car lurching violently.

“Oh shit.” Luke’s heart dropped. Fleur—unicorn Fleur, was standing in the road like a deer in the headlights. He had no time to swerve, and the car was still barrelling along at well over a hundred. Illusion or not, he did not want to have the experience of running down the love of his life. “GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

Fleur’s eyes grew to the size of dustbin lids, and she just barely managed to launch herself from the path of the speeding Audi, which screeched to a juddering halt a little ways down the road.

“Connard!” Fleur growled.

Luke craned his neck out of the window, his heart beating a mile a minute. He hadn’t a clue if this was just another one of Discord’s mind games or not. “I’m sorry, but you are standing in the middle of a motorway.”

“Not you, Luc. Discord!” Fleur hissed. She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were glued to something off in the distance.

“Discord?” Luke squinted, following her gaze. Oh…

The pseudo-siren was gaining on them. Fast. “What are you waiting for! Get in!”

Fleur galloped toward the car, skidding to a halt at the passenger side with a look of confusion. “What is zis machine? Can it buy us some time? I do not want to destabilise zis realm any further if I can avoid it.”

Luke leaned over, opening the door. “Yes, come on!” he said, hurriedly waving her in, glancing at the approaching beast in the rearview mirror. It gave another long, wailing screech as it snaked its way through the sky, this one a lot louder than the last.

Fleur scrambled awkwardly into the passenger seat. There was absolutely no place for her horn to go, so she ended up half-laying in Luke’s lap, the long, magical appendage sticking out of the driver’s side window. “I need to focus. Interdimensional teleportation was never a strong suit of mine,” she muttered, her cheeks reddening. One of her ears flicked against Luke’s chin.

Luke snaked an arm over her back to the gear stick, selecting first. The car lurched, screaming into motion with a growl almost as loud as the monstrous sea horse chasing it. Fleur’s face was all but pressed into his chest. He snaked his other arm around her front, holding her close. “Holy shit, I fucking missed you.”

Fleur blushed again, though this one was a lot more pronounced. “L-Luc, I ‘ave a lot of explaining to do-”

“You can explain all you want when you get us back to Equador. Please, just get us the fuck out of here—I am so done with this place,” Luke muttered, the car’s engine screaming through the gears.

Fleur nodded, closing her eyes. Her muzzle scrunched adorably. "Twilight Sparkle mentioned the spell to me at the Gala a few years ago. I am 'aving trouble remembering the details."

"You got here in one piece, didn't you? Just do the same thing in reverse? But for the love of God, take me with you," Luke said, yanking the wheel to swerve around an articulated lorry.

The truck blasted its horn, and Luke felt Fleur jump slightly in his lap. "I 'ad help getting 'ere. L'eternel enchantment guided me to you. Getting back is going to be a little trickier," she said, squinting through still-closed eyes at things Luke couldn’t see. "Zere!" She cried. "Take zat road, over zere, zen head North!" She pointed a hoof to an exit ramp that led to the M23.

Luke grimaced, recognising the exit. "Ehh, are you sure? Rolling through Croydon in an S5 is pretty much asking to be stabbed and carjacked."

Fleur didn't appear to be listening, however. "Wait. The height, it is all wrong. 'Ere, let me-" she scrunched her muzzle again, her horn lighting up in its pink aura.

CRACK.

The road disappeared. Everything else disappeared as well, bar the sky, which the car was now plummeting through. Luke felt his heart leap to the back of his throat. The ground was thousands of feet below them. "Fleur! This is a car, not a plane! It can't fucking fly!"

Fleur blinked. "It cannot?"

"No!"

She closed her eyes again. "No matter, I almost have it… Oui," she muttered, her forehooves fumbling over the steering wheel. She twisted, withdrawing her horn from the howling open window and pointing it through the windshield at the rapidly approaching field below. "I will just need to account for the height directly, and adjust the angle… hmm. Luc, straighten zis wheel," she added, her eyes still closed.

"What?"

"Just do eet, mon amour."

Luke flicked the wheel straight, just as Fleur shot a torrent of magic at the field below that melted a hole cleanly through the windshield.

A bright orange splodge spread over the field like a flaming pit of lava. It wasn't until around the last one hundred, thoroughly terrifying feet or so that Luke realised he could see blue sky through it, along with a hauntingly familiar skyline.

"No fucking way!"

The car crossed the threshold, its tyres slamming into the anti-slip enchanted marble street leading up to Fleur's estate. Luke's right foot fumbled for the brake pedal. There was no tyre screech at all, only rapid deceleration that would have made him headbutt the half-melted windshield if he hadn’t been wearing his seat belt.

Fleur looked as though she had been expecting such a scenario, as she steadied herself with the aid of her magic.

The audi lurched to a violent stop just shy of a small gathering of nobles standing outside the gate of one of Fleur’s neighbours. It's engine growled menacingly. Nearly all of them cried out in fright at the sight and sound of the car. One of them was wearing a top hat, which promptly fell off his rather pompous-looking mane do.

Fleur collapsed back onto Luke's lap, panting as though she'd just run several laps around the city. "Welcome 'ome, Luc," she beamed, rubbing her soft, warm cheek against his jaw.

“Fuck… It’s good to be back in Canterlot,” Luke gasped, both hands tightly gripping the wheel. Of his car. Which was sitting smack bang in the middle of the Equinox district.

“Wait… Why is the car still here?”

Fleur seemed to notice the very same thing, her eyebrows raising.

“What is the meaning of this?” cried an imperious voice.

Luke blinked. The stallion had now retrieved his fallen top hat. His name… was Top Hat. Top Hat Tootington the Third, to be precise. “You just nearly killed us with this… this machine! What in Celestia’s Equestria is this infernal alien contraption? You, alien wretch—I see you in there! You think you can just galavant around the Equinox district in an alien carriage?”

Fleur growled, death-eyes glowing. She scrambled out of the open window before Luke had a chance to tighten his hold on her. “Fleur, no!” Luke kicked the car door open, hauling himself out after her and catching her, dropping to his knees and hugging her to his chest. “Let me deal with him,” he whispered in her ear.

The blue slowly receded from her eyes, and she nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Luke got to his feet, smoothing the creases from his jacket. Top Hat continued his tirade.

“What even is this machine? Why is it so loud? Are you even listening to me, creature?”

Luke ignored the stallion, instead popping the car’s boot open and lifting the carpet. He grabbed a certain red cylinder, grinning widely and pulling the safety pin like he was priming a foamy grenade.

“Do you even have the intellect to understand just why you should keep your alien self and your alien machine out of the Equin-”

Luke pointed the hose, pulling the trigger.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!

Author's Note

You: A car? In Equestria? Are you for real?

Biker: I know, I know. Just chill, okay? Can't be any more ridiculous than the last chapter, right?

You: You need to give your head a wobble!

Biker: Okay, fine. I'll nerf the damn car. First thing next chapter. I promise. It'll be some bullshit where it disappears or something, like those fake galleons from the Quidditch World Cup.

You: You'd better. We want fluff, not convoluted bullshit.

Biker: Just calm your crotchtits, 'aight? I said I'll nerf it, so I'll nerf it. There's plenty of romance and fluff incoming. You got nothin' to worry about. Trust me... :ajsmug:

You: Why'd you even put it in, then?

Biker: Because I'm Bear, and Bear always puts it in.

You: That doesn't make any sense.

Discord: What fun is there in making sense?

You: You’re weird. You know that?

Biker: :eeyup:

Seventeen | Royal Appointment

"How dare you!"

Top Hat Tootington the Third threw his namesake headwear to the ground, probably because it was so caked in fire retardant foam it now much more resembled a large unwieldy marshmallow than a several-hundred-bit designer headpiece. His equally expensive designer vest jacket and dress shirt were also completely covered in the thick foam, along with much of his face and shoulders. He might've been about to have an angry shave.

"I'll have you sent to the guard house for this, you alien freak! What is this disgusting substance you have assaulted me with?" Top Hat cried, attempting to rub the foam from his face with a forehoof. "Sweet Celestia—my eyes! You have blinded me!"

A few of Top Hat's fellow noble ponies gave Luke scathing looks of disapproval, but they quickly adopted a more neutral expression when Fleur took several steps toward their party. Top Hat paled. Evidently, he hadn't quite forgotten his last encounter with the supermodel.

Several of them cried out in fright when her horn lit up, but all the spell did was rid Top Hat of most of the unsightly deposits covering his coat and clothing. "Walk away now Top 'At, and I'll have somepony grant you an unlimited dress token from the J’adore corporation. You know as well as anypony zat I 'ave the talents of the best designers on Equador at my disposal. Call the guards, 'owever, and nopony shall be replacing your attire.” She smiled, turning back to the Audi. "Your call, mon ami."

Top Hat scowled. "You can't buy me! No! The guards will very much be hearing about this!"

Luke flipped Top Hat the bird, chucking the expended fire extinguisher back in the boot and slamming the lid. The gesture was lost on the stallion, but he seemed to understand it's meaning. "Call them," Luke snorted, hopping back into his car. Fleur finally figured out how to open the passenger door, as she climbed gracefully into the other side, swinging it closed with her magic.

"I'll see you in Celestia’s Court, you vile, petulant, repulsive-"

VRROOOOOAAARRRTD-TDD-TDD-TDD-TDD!

All of Top Hat's comrades scattered, disappearing up a long gravel path leading up to one of the mansions hidden by the thick tree line. The stallion himself wagged his irate muzzle a bit more, but was ultimately drowned out by Luke’s foot resting on the accelerator.

Luke lifted a finger to his earlobe. "What's that buddy? I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up."

It wasn’t long before the stallion turned up his muzzle, trotting up the path after his fancy looking friends with an air of having been thoroughly offended. Luke lifted his foot, the engine dropping back down to idle. He turned to Fleur, who looked extremely out of place sat hunched over in the leather bucket seat, her horn tip awkwardly pressing against the roof lining.

“We should probably have that talk,” Luke muttered, finally remembering his car had a sunroof now that a forty-foot long, raging chaos-siren wasn’t trying to eat him. He pressed the button, and it opened with a slow, mechanical whirr.

It was easy to see that Fleur knew what he was to her. Even without the mildly omniscient look on her face, she had probably known for a while now. She glanced up at the opening roof, her eyebrows raising a shade. “Thank you, mon amour,” she said, finally able to move her head freely. “And, oui—we ‘ave a lot to talk about, but I would much prefer to ‘ave such a conversation in private, and maybe with a glass of whiskey.”

“Now that, mon chéri, sounds like a plan.”

With a low rumble, the car slowly pulled away, heading further into the estate. Fleur lowered her head a little, smiling. One of her ears flicked, and her cheeks were perhaps a shade rosier. “It eez so cute when you try, mon amour.” Her horn flashed, and the melted windscreen instantly repaired itself.

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?”

“Simple Controlzee reversal enchantment, mon cher.”

Luke gave her an incredulous look. “What?”

Fleur chuckled, opening her mouth to explain, but all that came out of it were the words: “Uh-oh…”

Luke’s eyes snapped to the cul de sac, which was positively crawling with a diverse plethora of royal guards. Earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi. Even bat ponies. He hit the brakes, slowing to a crawl. Many of them brandished spears and shields as the car approached, but quickly backed away as it drew nearer. Had that uppity fuckwit actually called them? “Fuck me. That was quick.”

Fleur had a sombre look on her face, her ears near enough flat to her mane. She closed her pretty eyes with a forced chuckle. “Zey are not ‘ere for you, Luc.”

Luke rubbed a palm down the side of his face, pulling up just shy of the cullis gate with a long, drawn out sigh. “What did you do?”

Fleur wasn’t looking at him. "I 'ave been a bad, bad siren, Luc."

Pressing a finger to the start-stop button, Luke killed the car’s engine. A burly pegasus mare wearing a full set of heavy bronze armour stepped up to the passenger side of the car, tapping her hoof to the window. Luke hit the switch to open it, giving her a questioning look, but she was utterly focused on Fleur and Fleur alone.

Another guard, this one a strikingly purple, lightly armoured soldier of the night, fluttered her leathery bat wings, damn near knocking the heavily armoured day guard aside. “Princess Luna, royal diarch of Equestria and sole matriarch of Equador’s moon, requests an audience with the fair noblemare, Lady Fleur de Lis, at her earliest convenience,” the bat mare proclaimed, rolling her R’s so much that they may as well have just pulled up outside a nightclub in Barcelona. “I present to you her calling card. Take him, if you will.”

Luke frowned at the mare, but like the pegasus, she didn’t bother to spare him a glance. Maybe Equestrian wasn’t her first language? Since when did a bit of cardboard have a gender?

“Thank you, mon amie,” Fleur replied, her ears flat. She smiled, accepting the card with both forehooves and reading it very carefully. “Of course, Princess Luna is welcome at my ‘ome anytime she likes.”

“I will inform her of your acceptance,” the batmare said with a nod, before launching herself into the air with all the speed and agility of a balverine.

Luke flinched so hard the car’s suspension rocked. He threw a glance through the open sunroof, but the dark mysterious mare was already long gone. Shit. Were all bat ponies that fast?

“Ahem,” the armoured day guard interjected, throwing a somewhat pointed look at Fleur. It was kinda hard to tell with that ridiculous helmet on her head. “Princess Celestia, royal diarch of Equestria and sole matriarch of Equador’s sun, requests an audience with her fair noble subject, Lady Fleur De Lis, at her earliest convenience,” she said, with a slight southern twang to her voice.

Again, Fleur accepted the offered calling card with both forehooves and a fake smile, her ears flat to her mane. “Princess Celestia also knows she is welcome to visit my ‘ome anytime she likes.”

The pegasus, like the batmare, gave a nod. “I will let the princess know.” With that, she leapt into the air, clearly trying to outdo the bat pony in speed and agility. It was a fair effort, but she didn’t quite have the edge on the night guard.

"What's with all the appointment making?” Luke asked, pulling the switch to roll the window back up and restarting the engine. Several of the remaining guards jumped, throwing their not-so-subtle glances through the tint. Fleur was staring at the two calling cards in her hooves with almost vacant eyes. “I thought you and the royal sisters just drop in on each other anytime you like?"

Fleur shook her head, her smile gone. “Celestia and I, oui. But, she does like to throw ‘er guards around when she is upset. Luna, on the ozzer hoof, always requests any appointment with me by sending ‘er strongest warriors. She is a very traditional pony. It is a mark of respect for ‘er to do zis. She does not give zis treatment to everypony.”

Fleur charged her horn, the calling cards disappearing with a pop. Her ears were still flat. “We best deal with zis.” She locked eyes with the wrought iron unicorn embedded into the cullis gate, which was glaring around at the many guards occupying the cul de sac with increasing levels of disdain. “When the princesses arrive, let zem in, okay? Ouvrir.”

The unicorn nodded, closing her glowing eyes. Her embedded sapphire gave one last menacing glint before evaporating along with the rest of the gate. Luke put the car into gear with a sigh, pulling away through the vacant archway, the tyres crunching along the gravel path leading up to Fleur’s castle.

“Seriously, Fleur—what the hell did you do?”

Fleur turned, her expression a mix of exasperation and regret. “‘Ee got to me, Luc, okay? I saw you disappear and I… I lost control. I ‘ad no idea where you were, or what ‘ee might ‘ave done to you. I was more scared in zat moment zan I ‘ave ever been in my entire life.”

Without even thinking, Luke reached over the center console and gave one of her forehooves a squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise-"

CRACK.

“Fuck!”

Luke stamped on the brake pedal. Hard. The Audi skidded to a halt around six feet shy of the two royal alicorns that had just materialised right in front of them. A fair bit of gravel was thrown into the air, some of it hitting Luna in the chest. To her credit, she flat out ignored it.

Neither of them were smiling.

Fleur grimaced. “Well, zat could ‘ave went better,” she cringed, opening the door with her magic and deftly stepping out.

“Yeah.” Luke gingerly hit the stop start button. The car's parking brake automatically engaged, the engine cutting out, and he too stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“Your Royal ‘Ighnesses,” Fleur greeted with a curt bow. “If you would like to follow me, I shall of course endeavour to answer any and all questions you may ‘ave.” She curtly stepped away toward the soul bridge, tail and ears low.

Princess Luna was perhaps even more imposing in reality than she was in the dream realm. There seemed to be a presence about her that Luke had never noticed before during their brief encounters outside of the realm of dreams. She eyed the car with the same curiosity she had in the dreamscape, though this time it was accompanied by noticeable puzzlement.

Princess Celestia merely appeared stoic. Unreadable, even. It was only when Luna stepped up to the Audi for a closer inspection and Fleur busied herself with opening the portcullis that the sun goddess flashed Luke a fleeting wink.

Luke smirked. Just what the hell are you up to, Sunbutt?

“What is this?” she asked.

“A car,” Luna answered, before Luke had even opened his mouth.

Luke leaned on the car’s bonnet. “Yeah. That.”

“How did you get it to Equestria?” Luna asked, her horn glowing, her piercing gaze surveying things not readily visible.

“Well, Discord thought it would be funny to kick me into another dimension. Fleur came to rescue me, and we brought this back with us. It’s my car from Earth,” Luke said with a grin.

Both Celestia’s and Luna’s demeanour changed in an instant, and they shared a look that wiped the smile from Luke’s face. “What?” he muttered.

Celestia brought a forehoof to the base of her horn, letting out a long sigh. “This machine came from one of Discord’s realms?”

“Well, I think he was trying to emulate my home planet. He got some bits right. The car is pretty much spot on.”

“Luke, stand up, please,” Celestia said, her horn glowing.

“Why?”

"Because this carriage may not be safe."

Luke got to his feet, even though he didn't particularly want to. "Look, it's exactly as I remember-"

CRACK.

Where there was previously two tonnes of Audi, nothing but empty space and faint tyre tracks remained. Luke scowled. "Dude!"

Celestia stepped closer, defiant. Even though Luke was taller than her, she had the presence of a being several hundred times her size. "Luke, you are the only one of your kind on this planet, and as an endangered species, you fall under the direct protection of the Crown."

Luke made to raise the first in a string of protests, but Celestia shook her head. "He may have changed his tune in recent years, but I don't like the idea of you riding around in something Discord created."

She was going to put her hoof down on this one. Fuck. Luke wasn't going to go down without a fight. "I finally have something that reminds me of home, and you take it away. What gives?"

"I'll have a team of unicorn engineers examine it. If they find any residual chaos magic, and they are unable to remove it, then my hooves are tied. You are way too important to risk," Celestia countered, her gaze landing on Fleur, who was practically glaring at them from the now fully open portcullis. "If they find nothing, then it shall be returned to you."

"Okay, fine," Luke muttered, lowering his voice so only Celestia could hear. He decided to push his luck. "But you owe me, and I wanna call it in right now."

Celestia, surprisingly, appeared completely unfazed. "Name your price."

Luke idly cracked his knuckles. Celestia must've felt pretty bad to grant him such a boon. Time to put it to good use. "I don't know what it was that Fleur did—she won't tell me—but Discord will have had a lot to do with it. I want you and Luna to take whatever punishment you were planning on throwing her way and replace it with a slap on the hoof."

Her hearing impeccable, Princess Luna stepped closer, her expression dark. "If you wish to know what your siren did, Luke, you need only look at the moon."

As though someone had just activated some sort of monstrous Van de Graff generator, a hum of power reverberated through the air that made the exposed hair on Luke's head and face stand on end.

Both Celestia and Luna radiated an otherworldly force so bizarre and alien that Luke took a couple of steps back out of reflex. It felt like he was back on the moon, with Fleur’s raging magical fury washing through his skin and bones, though this experience was a lot more controlled.

The sun, as though it were nothing more significant than a fucking ping-pong ball, began a carefully measured glide toward the horizon, eventually disappearing beyond it, the sky rapidly darkening in its wake. Luke had witnessed this very spectacle countless times over the past year or so, and it never failed to make him feel like an insignificant ant walking among magic-wielding gods. The feeling was even more so, now he was standing right next to them.

With a subtle nod between the ancient sisters, the mantle was passed.

It didn't take Luke long to spot it. The great natural satellite rose from the horizon to the east, and his jaw fell open. "Ohhh…"

The usually shining, pristine orb of the night sky appeared mutilated by a blackened crater that hadn't been there the night before. It was slightly elliptical in shape, and covered a large enough area that the light streaming from the moon's surface appeared a shade dimmer.

Luke blinked, his heart beating a little quicker in his chest. Fleur had managed to do this? To the fucking moon? Just how powerful was she? His wide eyes sought the mare out, but the still-open portcullis was now noticeably vacant.

The light of her horn fading, Princess Luna observed Luke with sharp eyes, the many stars of her flowing, ethereal mane glinting in the sudden semi-darkness. "Do you understand now what you are dealing with, Luke? We did not speak an untruth when we informed you that the siren Fleur de Lis is a force to be reckoned with."

Luke’s eyes found the crater again. So, this is what happens if Fleur gets angry enough… It made sense why she had teleported to the moon first. Luke paled at the thought of such magical fury being unleashed upon Helix Gap. The town wouldn't stand a chance. It would have been wiped from the face of the planet like a speck of dust. Fuck.

He should have been terrified. Even without Memento Mori, Fleur had the power to fuck up a planetary body. With it… she could probably cancel Equador's subscription to existence.

Yet, such a notion still wasn't enough to chase away the butterflies that gathered in his chest and awkwardly bumped into one another whenever he witnessed that gorgeous smile of hers. It still wasn't enough to quell the absolute thrill that claimed his heart whenever the untethered siren gazed into his soul, all barriers and defences dropped for her. Everytime he let her in, it was as though a tether was being developed further between the three of them. It was already there for Fleur and the siren, a bond with thousands of years worth of history, but new connections were beginning to form. New connections that had latched onto Luke.

This consort business. It was beginning to make sense.

He gave Luna a nod, "I understand," and turned to Celestia. "My price is still firm."

Princess Celestia looked to her younger sister, who was still observing Luke with a gaze laden with insight.

"We do not fool ourselves with the notion we can force the will of Fleur de Lis. Any punishment we or our sister have delivered in the past, in atonement for similar incidents, Fleur has only complied with out of respect," Princess Luna said, gazing up at her scarred charge. "We shall grant her indemnity for her actions on this occasion, but we require something in return. Something from you, Luke."

A chill swept through the night. The temperature had dropped a fair bit now that the sun was absent from the sky. Luke put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "What do you need?"

"Are we correct in assuming you have made your choice?"

Luke did not need to hesitate. "I'll stand by her side forever, if given half a chance."

Celestia beamed, and Luke half expected the sun to shoot back up into the sky. "You have the power to calm her, Luke. We only ask that you use it on the rare occasion it is needed, to keep Equador safe," she said, her wings shifting against her sides.

Luna nodded in agreement. "We see most immortals as our equals, Luke. Living forever is no easy feat, but if you are willing to try, we shall humbly welcome you to our fold."

Luke smiled. "I'd be honoured."

"Well, seeing as Fleur’s sentence has been reduced to a slap on the hoof, I hardly think we need to be here," Celestia said, her horn beginning to charge.

Luke frowned, throwing a glance between the royal sisters. Luna’s horn was also charged in readiness. “Wait, after all of that song and dance with the guards and the fancy calling cards, you’re just going to up and leave?”

Luna gave one of her rare smiles. “We have what we came for. We believe you could make much better use of Fleur’s company at this particular moment in time.”

Celestia raised a wing to Luke’s shoulder, one of the large, pristine-white primaries grazing his cheek. “Feel free to paint yourself the hero who got her off the hook. Goodnight.” With that, the two sisters disappeared in a flash of bright white light, leaving Luke standing alone on the moonlit gravel.

Author's Note

It's been a while. Life. Busy. Commitments. You know the drill.

Had to split this chapter, so that conversation I hinted at in the comments will more than likely happen in the next update.

Eighteen | The Last Draconequus

On a pebble-strewn mountain trail, rarely travelled by the residents of the small mountain hamlet known as Helix Gap, a lone minotaur hiked up the side of a narrow valley, his laboured breaths misting in the chill autumn air.

He had walked for the better part of an hour, tired hooves taking him far from the hustle and bustle of activity that always seemed to go hand in hand with J’adore’s grand airship, Le Tesson. The scene surrounding him now was one of nature. There was not a creature in sight, bar the few kestrels milling around the sky, hunting for small rodents on which to sustain themselves.

The vast mountains were bunched up quite close in this section of the Unicorn Range, and much too treacherous a hike for the average tourist. This suited the minotaur well—there was much less chance of anypony from the ship stumbling across him, and potentially discovering the secret appointment.

His thoughts briefly drifted to her.

She was nothing on the boss mare, of course, but the effortlessly beautiful and hauntingly desirable Fleur de Lis had made it quite clear to everyone that she was not interested in pursuing a relationship. That had been her stance for many years. The sustained abstinence was due to the small detail that she was immortal. This, while noteworthy, would’ve perhaps been of little consequence. It wasn’t until one fateful evening, when the minotaur had his heart plucked from his chest, stolen by the heavenly tones of her voice, that he truly came to realise that which he would never possess.

Fleur de Lis was a siren.

She had not intended to sing, that much had been clear from her expression, but those beautiful eyes had burst into life regardless, their endless depths borne of the distant blue of the afterlife. Her song had twined its relentless hooks into every soul in the room, taking a small part of them with it in its absence.

The minotaur mourned. He mourned the depressing reality that sirens were creatures born of hatred. He mourned further still, that Fleur de Lis had taken that hatred and somehow managed to lock it away, thus eliminating the only downside of an otherwise perfect race.

He, a lowly crewmate of her grand airship, one of seemingly countless employees of her business empire—a minotaur she barely even knew existed—would never know what it was like to be with her. He would never hear the song she might sing just for him. Never feel the beating of her heart against his chest, or the playful nipping of her fangs at his neck. The very thought of those fangs sent a wave of pleasure sweeping down his spine, but it was bittersweet.

No. The only being that was going to get to experience those things, to see the beautiful siren that was Fleur de Lis deep in the throes of passion, frosted gem and lidded eyes glowing, fins flared in carnal ecstasy, was the rook.

The peak finally crested. The minotaur continued downwards, the golden bullring in his septum flapping in the ragged breaths leaving his snout. There was little point in anger. Fleur de Lis was not his destiny, and that was that.

His eyes swept the small mountain top lake for any sign of the ancient beings he had come to meet, heart beating in anticipation. The locale was chosen for its secludedness, of course, being miles away from any kind of civilization. Here, they could be themselves.

The minotaur smiled, coming to a stop at the edge of the lake. He crouched, eyes piercing the crystal clear water. “Where are you, my sweet sea pony?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth, the glassy surface of the lake erupted, and three dark creatures one and a half times his height in length flew up into the air. Though their departure only slightly disturbed the water, the motion was still enough to send an unkindness of ravens shrieking into the air from a nearby tree, their cries echoing eerily through the valley.

The three sirens slowly levitated down to the minotaur, and a sudden tightness gripped the latter’s heart in an instant. He stood, gazing wistfully up at the object of his affections, the other two momentarily forgotten.

Small fins flared either side of her pretty face, mimicking the much larger variant that ran the length of her back. She had just two forehooves, the top half of her body resembling a pony. The lower half consisted of a long tail covered in black scales, a large spiked fin at the very end.

The beautiful siren slowly shook her head. "Why must you constantly disappoint me?"

The minotaur stood his ground. “Please, my sweet, I tried everything. No matter how hard I struck, the gem would not break. All I could manage was a small crack-"

"What did I tell you, sister?" another of the trio interrupted, her orange scales glistening in the fading light. "He lacks both the magic and the might to persuade Memento Mori to awaken. He is but an ant to a shard. Insignificant."

The minotaur scowled, drawing himself up to his fullest height. "I would have accomplished my task, but the old captain almost caught me-"

“Then you should have killed him!” she hissed, surging forward so quickly he was forced to take several steps back. His hoof hit a rock, and his back hit the ground. The siren loomed over him, forked tongue flicking mere inches from his snout. “Once we deal with that crystal, we won’t need our cover.”

"Now now, let's not get ourselves carried away," the dark-scaled siren interjected. Her sister drew back with another hiss, forked tongue furiously probing the air.

The minotaur’s ragged breaths lessened, though his heart still thumped against his ribcage. He focused on his dark maiden. "Fleur suspects someone is trying to take it, my love. She has assigned Tank the task of appointing guards to the engine room. Would it not be better for me to distract one of them while you… you" He trailed off, but the dark siren was already shaking her head.

“Too many ponies would question why a model was snooping around the engineering level. Fleur more than likely suspects another siren already. If she figures us out, we’re as good as dead."

The minotaur slowly got to his hooves, a sombre expression on his face.

"We need to stick to the plan,” the green-scaled third of the trio rasped, no longer content to watch her sisters bicker. “It has to be you who gets the crystal. Once you have it, bring it to the sea and dash it against the rocks until it is naught but dust,” she all but growled at the minotaur, but her eyes quickly sought out the other two sirens. “Whilst Fleur struggles to remember the language of the Old Kingdom, we take the human. If he really is her consort then we can use him to trigger Dimidium Vitae. After that, we perform the ritual of Ad Originem,” she paused, a wide, fang-laden grin splitting her muzzle, “and Fleur is as good as finished.”

The minotaur did not know what ‘consort’ or the strange Old Kingdom words meant, but the rest of her words gave him pause. "Are you suggesting… we should kill Fleur?"

"Nay, silly little bull,” the dark-scaled siren answered. “Our mother was as old as time itself, one of the true elders of our race, with a magical ember powerful enough to slay entire armies in the span of one glorious afternoon. But, she still fell to Fleur de Lis and Celestia,” she hissed, demonic voice laden with venom. “The only thing powerful enough to destroy Fleur de Lis is the shard she commands, and it would have to see her dead or gone before it would ever obey another.”

The minotaur huffed out a breath that made his nose ring flail. "I don't like this."

A smirk slowly spread across her face. "Do you perhaps hold her dear to your heart, little bull?" she asked, her voice morphing from mockingly sweet to malicious laughter. "She barely knows you exist, Bronco. Don't give her any of your sympathy. She certainly does not deserve it. She is an embarrassment to my race, Celestia’s puppet, living amongst the ponies like she's better than the rest of us."

The minotaur flexed his knuckles, several of the joints popping. "What are you suggesting we do?"

That gave the dark-scaled siren pause, but not for long. "Fleur de Lis the siren cannot be killed, but… she can be broken… and in being made broken, she can be made gone."

The trio of sirens broke out into a bout of maniacal laughter, though it was thankfully short.

"Smash that crystal, little bull," the dark siren purred, "and I’ll make it worth your while."

With that, the three sirens dived back into the depths of the lake, leaving the minotaur to his thoughts.

“Hey, have you seen Fleur?”

One of Fleur’s maid staff—a grey unicorn with her blonde mane tied up in a tight bun—gave a start. Her eyes, previously flicking around the entrance hall looking for anything that may have been out of place, snapped to Luke, and he instantly recognised her as the head maid. “Oh, it’s you. Nevermind-”

“No, Meester Luke—eet is fine. I never got a chance to apologise for our initial meeting, so for zat, I am sorry,” she quickly said, eyeing the heavy oakwood doors, which had still not closed after Luke had walked in. “Allow me to start over, my name is Eva. Mademoiselle Fleur instructed me to send you and the princesses to the communal lounge when you 'ad finished your conversation.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Luke replied with a wave. The poor mare looked like she was about to have an aneurysm, her eyes constantly flicking to the door. “Celestia and Luna left—you can relax.”

A visible weight appeared to lift from the mare’s shoulders, and she let out a poorly concealed sigh. “Ah, I see. I shall inform madmoiselle-.”

“I’ll handle that. You just tell the other staff they don’t have to stress out over a surprise royal visit.”

Eva smiled, her ears perking up a little. “Thank you, Meester Luke. I shall let zem know right away.” With that, she trotted from the entrance hall.

Luke watched her disappear through one of the doorways, before setting off for the communal lounge. He couldn’t get the image of the blackened moon out of his mind. It had been marred, not by a sizable meteorite impact, as one might assume when looking at the damage, but by a unicorn.

A unicorn that could do that much damage to a planetary body could probably destroy a creature capable of creating and manipulating dimensions for his own amusement. Just where was Discord now? Was he even alive? Fleur had killed before—openly admitted it, even—but some small part of Luke had always assumed that that particular version of Fleur—the deadly siren that killed other sapient beings—had died seventy years ago, and would never make an appearance again.

Discord was a reckless asshole, there was no doubt about that. But did he really deserve to die?

The communal lounge was probably the most underutilised room in the castle. Of the seven suites of this vast fortress, four remained empty. Fleur used one, as did her head of staff, Bow Tie, and she had insisted Luke take another for himself. The remaining four were vacant, so the communal lounge was mostly reserved as the main room for hosting visitors.

The large, golden-trimmed, red velvet panelled doors slowly swung open before Luke had even reached them, revealing a large room filled with expensive furniture and works of art similar to those of the grand lounge of Le Tesson.

No less than three sets of gold-mutin Prench doors lined the adjacent wall, leading out into the enclosed central garden, surrounded on all sides by the other sections of the castle. The seahorse wall fountain—the main centrepiece of the garden gently trickling over an otherwise deathly silence—now made a lot more sense to Luke. It wasn’t a seahorse at all.

It was a siren.

The siren waiting patiently on her haunches in front of the centre set of Prench doors however, thankfully took the appearance of a regular, albeit rather tall, unicorn.

The doors behind Luke swung closed, the soft click almost echoing through the lonely room. It was just an illusion, of course. The walls were lined with drapes, priceless canvas and a multitude of other decorations that effectively halted any potential reverb.

Fleur raised a questioning eyebrow, looking past Luke to the doors.

"They bailed," Luke grinned, settling himself on one of the chaise lounges and grabbing the waiting bottle of Marecallan Six Pillars from a side table. "Took my damn car with them though, so you owe me one," he added, brandishing the glass stopper at her. He poured out two glasses.

"Zey left?"

"I thought it was a bit rude, as well," Luke commented, taking a sip of his drink. Damn, this is some good whiskey. He offered the other glass to Fleur, who captured it with her telekinesis.

"What did zey say to you?"

Luke faltered. He had hoped this particular topic wouldn't have come up so suddenly. Fuck it. There was no use beating around the bush.

"Well, basically, they agreed to turn a blind eye if I agreed to… calm you down, if you ever get mad enough to do something like that again," Luke muttered, a little awkwardly.

"I see."

A period of silence followed. Fleur did not show any tells of what she may have been thinking, which was weird. Luke had become accustomed to getting a good read on her most of the time. He allowed a few more moments for her to say something. Anything. But, she didn’t.

"Is Discord alive?"

Fleur blinked, and after a brief moment, finally spoke again. "Yes. 'Ee is alive, though I will not deny that I initially intended to kill 'im."

The wall fountain trickled away from the garden. Luke thought of the blackened, gargantuan crater on the moon again. "Did you miss?"

Fleur’s lips thinned. "No. 'Ee is just incredibly difficult to kill. Are you upset with me?"

That threw Luke a bit, and he cleared his throat, eyes wandering to the garden. A shining eye of the siren head met his gaze. It had fangs. Luke had never noticed before. His eyes found Fleur’s. "No. You had my back up there. I appreciate it."

Another brief silence, before Fleur let out a sigh, and drained her glass in one shot.

"Luc… Do you remember, back in Helix Gap… Zat word, zat Discord claimed, and I affirmed, you are. Do you know what it means?" she asked, setting the empty glass back down on the side table.

Luke nodded.

Fleur tilted her head, frowning. "You do?"

"Luna came to me in a dream. She said I'd have a choice to make. A choice about… immortality."

Fleur gently hissed through her teeth, and the barest hint of blue flashed from her eyes. "I thought she was taking zis well," she muttered, more to herself than Luke.

Luke was quick to continue. "I was curious, so I went and asked Celestia about it. She told me… She told me that I'm your consort."

Fleur flinched at the word, her ears flattening of their own accord. Luke pretended not to notice.

"Did she elaborate?"

"A bit. I guess if I had to summarise, she said that a consort is a siren's only shot at love," Luke said, somewhat anticlimactically. Tell her, you idiot! He cleared his throat, but Fleur was shaking her head.

"Celestia and Luna are not sirens, all zey gave you was all zey know on the matter—the suicidal ramblings of a filly. If you are to truly make an informed decision, you need to know all of the facts."

"I know enough-"

Fleur held up a forehoof "Luc, let me say my piece on the matter."

"Okay. But… after everything that's happened, do I still have a choice?" It sounded as though this Everlasting Enchantment, whatever it was, had already been triggered.

"Of course you still have a choice, Luc. Do not ever think zat you cannot walk away from me if you should ever want to. I would never dare to hold you against your will. Neither of us would do zat."

"I know you wouldn't,” Luke countered, taking another sip of whiskey. "I was more questioning your suspiciously excellent interdimensional tracking skills, if anything."

"Ah… Oui. L'eternal Enchantmente. I shall fully explain what zis bit of magic entails, of course, but if you are to know absolutely everything, I guess I should start from the very beginning."

Fleur poured herself another glass of whiskey, levitating it along as she paced up to the Prench doors, throwing them wide with her magic. The moon was just visible beyond the castle parapet, its dark mark visible for all of Equestria to see.

"Zey say a siren knows when she has found ‘er consort, and the ‘ost ‘as no idea. I wanted to be the exception to zis rule. I always thought I would recognise you for what you are from the very first moment. Alas, zis was not the case. From the moment I saw you, zat very first time in the main shoot studio, I was certainly intrigued by you, but more perplexed by the strange be'aviour of my darker ‘alf. She pined for you like a little filly. She would not shut up."

Luke frowned. "Really?"

Fleur nodded "The more time we spent togezzer, the more I suspected you meant something to me. I did not want to believe it, for fear of being wrong. I even tried to tell myself otherwise, because I was afraid you may not feel the same…" Fleur’s eyes flicked from the blackened moon back to Luke, "but it makes sense to me now.”

"What does?"

Downing the second glass of whiskey, Fleur deftly climbed up onto the chaise lounge next to Luke, the slight breeze from the open prench doors causing her pink locks to shift a bit.

"A number of years ago, something changed in 'er. I remember the day well, despite it being only one in well over a million zat I have lived. I 'ad been swamped with meetings all morning, and well into the afternoon, one of which saw a fairly large acquisition fall through at the last minute. I 'ad several of my top models quit as a result, and an old friend of mine passed away. I only found out about zat particular detail later, but I digress."

"I wanted nothing more zan for zis day to just end, so I could go 'ome and drown myself in wine. Of course, Photo did not let me. She 'ad only been my manager for five weeks at zat point, but she was the same back zen as she is now, ordering her immortal boss around like a ruthless dictator. It's a tough job she does, so I grit my teeth and comply. When I was finally permitted to leave by our paragon authoritarian, I still had to endure the date I 'ad so foolishly agreed to."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "You went on a date?"

Fleur let out a peculiar laugh. "I may never be able to truly commit to anypony, but I 'ave been on many dates, mon amour, perhaps even more zan any ozzer immortal. If you think ozzerwise zen you truly underestimate the relentless persistence of the average Canterlot noblestallion. Zere are the odd, blessed occasions where I only 'ave to say the word 'non' once before zey get the message, but zose occasions are depressingly rare."

"But… wouldn't blue Fleur still not like that?"

Fleur gave a snort. "I beg your pardon?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "You’re both called Fleur, how else am I supposed to differentiate?"

Fleur shook her head, gorgeous wavy locks shifting again, framing her smile. "Well, I suppose she does swear more zan I do. She is docile enough to tolerate a little bit of casual courting, though as you guessed, anything more zan completely contactless conversation—she would certainly take offence to. Zis, in fact, is perhaps one of the reasons it 'ad been so foolish of me to agree to zis date. Zis particular stallion was known for being a little… grabby, but 'ee 'ad invited me to a different restaurant in Canterlot every day for three months straight. 'Ee had to start looping back around to previously suggested establishments because 'ee 'ad went through zem all! In the end, I just wanted 'im to stop. 'Ee was completely adamant 'ee was going to be seen hanging off my forehoof, a trophy stallionfriend, coming along to shoots, bragging to all of 'is noble friends zat 'ee managed to tie down the 'prettiest, most beautiful, successful and important supermodel gentlemare zat ever lived'—eugh, 'is words, not mine."

Luke grinned. "He sounds like a catch."

"Oh, quite, mon amour. The date was a disaster. I agreed to accompany ‘im to a small, modest restaurant just off Mane Street, but he had the carriage driver take us to Salt Bay on Restaurant Row."

Luke's Jaw dropped. "... Isn't that the place that charges like twelve hundred bits for a salad or something?"

"Fourteen hundred."

"And he was expecting you to pay for all of this? What?"

"No, zat was the thing—'ee paid the bill! 'Ee insisted on paying. I do not like stallions zat like to pay. It is insulting."

"Hey! I like to pay."

"You come from a world where it is the norm zat stallions pay. If anyone has the right to be the exception, zen it is you. Zis stallion though, he 'ad no such right. 'Ee kept ordering more courses, even though I made it clear on several occasions I 'ad 'ad enough. ‘Ee had the owner, Nusret ‘imself, come over to our table to perform zat blasted party trick with the salt—zat brought all of the cameras out. 'Ee kept calling me pet names like 'my sweet princess' and 'darling'. Sirens typically 'ate pet names not spoken by a consort. I am not very fond of zem, either, truth be told, but 'ee was absolutely full of zem. Think Prince Blueblood, but even more obnoxious."

"Ouch," Luke said, taking another sip of whiskey.

"Oh, you don't know the 'alf of it, mon amour. I was wishing for another work emergency after five courses of 'my pretty little flower,' 'my beautiful lily' and 'sugar teats'."

Luke nearly spit his drink everywhere.

"Non, it gets worse, because zat was when ‘ee stuck ‘is hoof between my legs.”

“He fucking what?”

“Oui! But it gets even more peculiar still! It was at zat very moment zat my darker 'alf suddenly 'opped up and started springing with joy like a spring foal in my 'ead. She was overjoyed! Ecstatic! So full of rapture and whimsy zat I thought she might burst out of my chest. I pushed ‘im away, of course, and accosted 'er immediately, thinking she may 'ave been reacting to what ‘ee just did, but she acted like I was not even zere! Normally, she would 'ave been inclined to tear the skull and spine from anypony so stupide enough to do such a thing, but it was like she never even noticed at all."

"What? But… Why? How would she not notice someone doing a Donald?"

"Well," Fleur said, pausing to pour herself another glass of whiskey, and topping up Luke’s glass as well. "Zat 'as more to do with the precise number of years ago zat zis date took place."

"Really? What's the number, then?"

Fleur grinned, slowly raising an eyebrow. "A little over twenty five."

Luke's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open. "No…"

Fleur raised her glass. Luke did the same. Clink.

"You saved zat ‘orrible stallion’s life, Luc, as well as my reputation, simply by being born."

A short silence, broken only by the trickle of the siren fountain. "But… I was on Earth. How is that even possible?"

"It does not matter, Luc. L'eternal Enchantmente is not bound by dimensions, or parallel universes, or whatever theory one may hold. In fact, I would even go so far as to say zat you ended up in zis world because… because of me."

Luke's eyes grew wider still. Mostly gone were the days when he dwelled on the why—those thoughts had plagued his mind for the first few months on Equador, but had slowly faded into nothing more than idle curiosity. To suddenly be presented with a plausible explanation, especially after Discord's little stunt, was a little jarring.

"How… How did you know it was me?"

"It did not take me long to figure it out. I knew what you were because myself and I are so close. Zis is a little known fact of my race. Sirens zat embrace zeir inner demons give zemselves the best possible chance of not turning into absolutely despicable creatures. It sounds counter-productive, but it is true. Sirens that truly know zemselves are able to convince zat part of zemselves zat zey need not spread strife, or push chaos upon the world. Zat is how myself and I have managed to integrate ourselves into society. Celestia saw the effort I had made in zis regard, and when she gained power over the newly formed Equestria, she gave me a chance... even after the terrible things I did with Memento Mori."

Luke held his tongue. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to know. Part of him wanted Fleur to just keep it to herself. Not that she was going to...

"You need not ask, Luc. I am tired of zere being secrets between us. You should know what happened, before you make your choice."

Luke took a decent swig of whiskey, the amber liquid burning his throat. "If you're ready to tell me, then I'm ready to hear it."

"In the days of the Old Kingdom, Equador was ruled exclusively by just one race. Zey were despicable beings zat forced creatures of all other races to remain separate. Zis was an effective method of control, for when creatures turn zeir backs on each other, zeir magic fades. Unicorns could cast no spell with zeir horns. Pegasi were completely flightless, and earth ponies lacked the strength and endurance zey are known for. Zis, of course, was a big problem. Without earth ponies working the fields, famine plagued the land. Without pegasi patrolling the skies, the weather was fierce and unpredictable. Without unicorn magic, ponies were left defenceless to these cretins."

"Did you lose your magic?"

"My unicorn magic, oui. My siren magic however, was unaffected."

"What was this 'one race' of creatures?"

Fleur's eyes darkened, and she threw a glance to the blackened moon. "You ‘ave already met one of zem."

"Discord?"

Fleur nodded. "’Ee has every right to ‘ate me, and ‘ee distrusts you because ‘ee fears you may end up doing what I did."

Luke pressed a palm to Fleur's cheek, but she gently pushed it away with a forehoof. She had fire in her eyes. "Listen to me before you comfort me Luc, for I do not deserve you. I 'ad only just been chosen by Memento Mori in the days of the Old Kingdom. I thought I knew what I was doing, but in reality I was like a filly who ‘ad stumbled upon the elements of ‘armony. I wanted to be the hero. I wanted the admiration of the world for single ‘oofedley defeating zese oppressors… I…" Fleur faltered. Her sapphire was glowing, but her eyes were still lilac, and slowly filling with tears.

"Fleur, it's okay-" Luke began, but Fleur shook her head.

"Luc… Discord… Discord is ze last draconequus. I killed his entire race, using a shard I barely knew 'ow to control. ‘Ee only survived because ‘ee is the God of Chaos."

A deathly silence filled the room. Even the water fountain had stopped.

"It… It can do that? G-Genocide?"

"Yes," Fleur sniffed, determinedly avoiding his gaze.

Luke paused, his thoughts running a mile a minute. This thing could wipe out an entire species? "I… I don't want anything to do with that shard."

Fleur’s eyes found Luke again, and there was a noticeable sadness in them. "You don't 'ave a choice, Luc."

"Didn't you say I could walk away if I wanted to?"

"From me? Always. From Memento Mori? Never. Once you ‘ave been chosen by a shard, you shall be its commandant until the day you die."

No. No… this was bullshit. "I'll find a way."

Fleur shook her head, her expression devoid of joy. Her eyes were lilac no more, and all four fangs had emerged. Luke couldn’t stop himself from gazing into the depths of her eyes if he'd wanted to.

"You think we 'ave not tried to rid ourselves of zis burden? Memento Mori binds us, and now you, to its core. Zere is no escaping destiny.”

Luke caved, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. In an instant, the siren retreated, leaving only a broken, sobbing unicorn, gently resting her head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Fleur.”

"We 'ave tried, many times, to rid ourselves of Memento Mori. She always finds 'er way back to us, and scares the living daylights out of every soul unfortunate enough to see 'er."

"But… she's a ship."

Fleur shook her head once more, pulling back to look Luke in the eyes. "She is only a ship because we shrunk and moulded ‘er into zis form. The unicorn adaptation unit… no such device exists. It is really Memento Mori, a different form, and an order of magnitude smaller zan she should be. It was the only way to ‘ide 'er in plain sight."

“What if we just leave her somewhere-”

“I tried zat many years ago. I fled. Back to Prance. It took ‘er only a few weeks to find me,” Fleur sniffled, tears lining her eyes. She gazed right into Luke’s. “Do you know what happens to the citizens of a small mountain town when a hulking Great Shard appears out of nowhere, so big it blocks out the sun?”

“What happened?”

Fleur’s eyes, whilst lilac, suddenly appeared as though they were staring right through Luke. It almost seemed like they were suddenly gazing upon scenes long lost to the aeons of time. “Chaos. Ponies got ‘urt. Some even died. ‘Eart attacks. Stress. Memento Mori in ‘er true form is not a sight I ever want you to see, Luc. She is not just an inanimate object, she is much more zan zat. She sought to punish me for abandoning ‘er. ‘Ad I been a lesser siren, she would ‘ave destroyed me.”

Luke felt the colour drain from his face. “She attacked you?”

“Not physically, psychologically. Weakness and betrayal are one and the same to a shard, and if a shard senses weakness in its commandant, it will try to take control through manipulation. The commandant would become the commanded, and who knows what would happen after zat? I certainly don't, and I'd rather not find out."

Luke shakily took a large gulp of whiskey, draining the rest of his glass. Shit. “Could she… would she-”

Fleur shook her head. “She will never do this to you, as long as you are never stupide enough to make the same mistakes zat I did.”

Silence followed her words. Luke found himself suddenly lacking the capacity to fill it. This mare had killed a whole race of creatures. Clearly unintentional or not, genocide was a deal breaker, right? He should have been packing his bags already, and disappearing into the night without another word.

But he didn’t do that.

Instead, his eyes found hers, and he had to stop for a double take. One of Fleur’s was the usual lilac, but the other was engulfed in glowing azure. Both were regarding him with the very same curiosity they had when she had first laid her gaze upon him in the main shoot studio. The trident glowed from her sapphire, the coolness of the gem emanating through the air. It took Luke a moment to realise she was probably wondering why he was still here.

He didn’t have to wonder anymore. A hand made its way to the side of her neck, gently brushing aside pink wavy locks as his lips made contact with hers.

Fleur’s mismatched eyes grew wide. What followed was an awkward moment that almost had Luke second guessing literally everything, but then as if something had just clicked into place, soft forehooves found his shoulders, and Fleur closed her eyes.

The slowly increasing buzz of alcohol was far surpassed by a surge of adrenaline the likes of which Luke had never experienced. It quickly became apparent that Fleur did not know how to kiss, but that didn’t stop her forked tongue slipping into his mouth regardless. Shit was fucking weird. She tasted like happiness, if such a taste existed. The experience invoked such a strong sense of rapture that all of his senses were amplified to the point that he thought he might pass out. The tingling sensation of her gorgeous wavy locks brushing against his forearms, the telltale tinkling wind-chime-like sounds of magic flowing through her horn, the warmth of her barrel pressed to his chest.

One of Luke's hands eventually found a soft white ear and the siren let out a low purr, sending a satisfying icy chill down the length of his spine. After a perceived age, their lips finally parted, and Luke felt her fangs gently scraping his neck, the chill of the frosted gem penetrating his shirt. He relished the sting, though his heart was beating like that of a deer caught in the jaws of a lioness.

"I 'ave wanted to do zat for so long…" Fleur breathed, muzzle buried in the crook of his neck.

Luke held her close, the fluctuations of the magical ember flowing through her horn causing him to blink. An aura somehow both pink and blue danced before his eyes, and it reminded him of the fiery glyphs spinning around the gem in the ship's engine room. The gem connected to an artifact that may one day try to warp his will…

"Fleur?"

Fleur turned half-lidded eyes up to Luke. "Oui, mon amour?"

“Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?”

“Teach me how to deal with Memento Mori.”

Fleur smiled, a couple of half extended fangs poking out. “Oui… But I cannot promise it will not take an eternity. Even I am still learning.”

Luke grinned right back at her. “Lucky we just happen to have an eternity then, isn’t it?”

Author's Note

Forever, not unlike the intervals between the posting of chapters of this story, is a long damn time.

One | Lament Of a Welfare Scrounger

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and was probably well into double digits without exaggeration, Luke had a door slammed in his face.

“A simple ‘no’ would have been fine!” he yelled through the polished wood, but the haughty head chef of Ristorante Canterlot wouldn’t hear another word. Like so many other business owners, she no doubt assumed the ‘alien’ from another world would scare off all of her customers. To employ the services of such a beast would be business suicide, no matter how harmless the Princesses claimed he was.

With a glare that could cut steel, Luke spun on his heels, stomping away from the restaurant along Canterlot’s Mane Street. The spacious lime-tinted cobble pathway was positively packed with the proudest of posh ponies going about their daily business, many of which made no small show of giving him the widest of berths. Honestly, you’d think he had leprosy from the way they turned their muzzles up at him.

The nobles were the worst. They often regarded him as if he were a cancerous tumour that had sprouted legs and started walking about, lording it over the poor ponies with his humongous lanky frame and flappy minotaur limbs. Of course, Luke did nothing of the sort, but prejudice was rife within the well-to-do districts of Canterlot.

The miffed human pushed the uppity aristocracy from his thoughts, stopping to hold the now slightly crumpled copy of his resume in front of his nose. There had to be something he was missing. Something he hadn’t thought of…

Luke Nona

A punctual, reliable individual, with an excellent work ethic, scrupulous attention to detail, and a passionate sense of pride over a job well done.

Doesn’t eat ponies! Princess Celestia can confirm this.

Will only distract you from your working day with the freshest, most dankest of memes.

Nah. As resumes go, this was Grade-A material. Who needs actual experience when you have the power of long and interesting adjectives on your side, right?

So, why the hell was he still claiming welfare?

He’d been religiously attending these blasted ‘appointments’ every two weeks for almost a whole year now, and he was still just as unemployed as the day he’d descended from the Crystal Mountains.

Yes, Luke was an anomaly to ponykind. It turned out that an ill-conceived solo hiking trip to the Austrian Alps in the dead of winter hadn’t been the brightest of ideas, especially considering his abysmal navigation skills. He’d gotten so lost, he’d wandered into a city made of crystal, and inhabited by sapient ponies, of all things.

With a dejected sigh, he resigned himself to plodding along the beaten track to the Canterlot Employment Reassignment Centre. It was a route that had long since been burned into muscle memory over the past few months. His legs could no doubt take him there without the aid of his eyes, at this point.

The government-ran building was situated on the outskirts of the west end of Canterlot. It was a wonder the nobles hadn’t started a petition to have the establishment moved, considering the “riff-raff” that flocked to the building on their assigned weekdays to collect welfare payments and prove their efforts to find a job.

Sure enough, Luke was only a couple of gleaming white marble, gold accented streets away when he spotted a few ponies that stood out like mules amongst racehorses. A young pegasus mare, her mane tatty and barely kept, a couple of laughing foals trailing behind her. A frail, old stallion with a limp, his impressive white beard becoming trapped under his forehooves every couple of paces.

“Sundance, Moonbeam, come on! We’re going to be late,” cried the mare. She sounded about as tired as she looked, whipping her head back to the frolicing foals. They fluttered up to her back, still giggling away.

Luke smiled, following the mare around the corner into a street that was home to a few smaller, but still pretty extravagant establishments. You had Van Cloven Hoof, a designer jewellry store, its inch-thick glass window panes showcasing the finest diamonds and gems in Canterlot. Bon Voyage, a travel agent, boasting airship cruises to various sun-drenched destinations all over Equador. Canterlot Carousel, a high end clothing outlet ran by one of the Elements of Harmony, no less. What really stood out though, was the huge cylindrical white tower looming over all of the other buildings— the Canterlot Employment Reassignment Centre.

Or, the pony dole-house, as Luke liked to call it.

Following the mare and her foals inside, Luke paused for a moment, holding the glass door open and waiting for the elderly stallion to make his way up the small flight of marble steps to the entrance. Dude looked about ready to keel over by the time he reached the top, poor thing.

“Thank you, big feller,” the stallion croaked, hobbling his way inside.

“Don’t mention it, Sir,” Luke chirped, surprised. He honestly hadn’t expected gratitude, and even more honestly, he knew that he really shouldn’t be making such assumptions. Maybe the nobles were just painting ponies in a bad light.

Meandering past several rows of wooden chairs that were hopelessly too low for him, Luke claimed his favourite position—a casual lean against one of five marble pillars that rose all the way up to the white domed ceiling of the lobby—to wait for his name to be called. And so, the biweekly ritual began. Sometimes, he’d pick a different pillar each visit, just to liven things up a bit. It never really worked. The interior of the lobby was just as white and uninteresting as the outside, no matter where one decided to stand.

Ponies came and went as their names were called, the majority of them of the earth and pegasi variant. The locals claimed equality, but it was easy to see that Canterlot was a unicorn’s city. Luke had only ever seen around one or two unicorns coming in to sign their names.

“Luke Nona,” called a beige bespectacled unicorn mare, the name rolling off her tongue not unlike a refrigerator would down a flight of stairs.

Luke made his way past several cubicles, eventually reaching one near the back row, where the bored looking unicorn sat with her muzzle buried in a piece of parchment. She looked up at him as he nudged the wooden chair aside with his foot, opting instead to kneel down in front of the low desk.

Gilded Scroll had been getting ponies back into full time employment for over twenty five years. Never in all her time as a Vocational Advisor had she come across a case as difficult as the creature that now knelt before her. She’d tried just about everything. He had neither wings, nor magic, so that alone wiped out a large chunk of the opportunities that could have suited him. This, coupled with the fact he wasn’t even remotely equine, made it damn near impossible to put him in a job.

“Gilda! What you got for me this week?” Luke asked hopefully. He had a good feeling about this week. This was the week things would finally start looking up for him. “Did you speak to the manager at the Canterlot Shipping Company?” He could already picture it: soaring through the skies on a large freight airship, getting to visit some of the famous Equestrian cities he’d heard about. And the job itself? Stock picking. How hard could that be?

Gilded sighed. “Yes.”

“Great!” Luke exclaimed, throwing his small stack of crumpled resumes into the air in triumph. “When do I start?”

Another, longer sigh. “You don’t.”

Luke’s face fell, just as one of the crumpled resumes landed pitifully on his shoulder. He felt rather silly. “Oh.”

“I tried my best for you, dear, I really did. But she said the position had already been filled,” Gilded explained, her voice as soft and comforting as she could make it.

Luke gave a sigh of his own as he gathered up his resumes. Every visit to this place yielded nothing but disappointment. He should have known not to get his hopes up. “Is there anything else?” he muttered.

“Well, I’ve been inquiring with a few of our agricultural clients, and some of them have shown an interest. Can you pull a plow?”

Wait. What? Was she talking about those huge wooden things dragged through fields by roided out earth stallions? “Can you pull a plow?”

“Well, no, but I’m not an earth pony,” Gilded retorted.

“Well, neither am I, fuzzy cheeks,” Luke countered. Pulling a plow, indeed. Those things probably weighed as much as a small car.

It seemed Gilded Scroll’s patience had ultimately ran out, judging by the way she huffily slid the signing clipboard over the desk. “Sign here. Your bits will be paid into your account, as usual. Keep handing out those resumes.”

Luke did as he was asked, his mind already wandering to the businesses in Canterlot he hadn’t yet approached. There was that little bakery up on fifth street. It wasn’t too far from his apartment, either. Only, the mare running it was a tiny little pegasus. Luke hadn’t the heart to approach her for fear of scaring the feathers off of her.

He had already tried near enough all of the other small businesses, with pretty much the same result: rejection. Maybe he should try the larger corporations? Admittedly, wandering in off the street to the huge fancy reception of some multi-million bit gleaming corporate tower was not a prospect he found all that appealing.

But then again, living like the lowliest of lowly peasants was even less appealing.

Hastily restacked resumes in hand, Luke strutted from the dole-house with his head held high. He was only a stone’s throw away from Mane Street, where some of the larger businesses had their corporate headquarters.

He’d never get a job at the Crown Bank, perhaps one of the larger buildings on the illustrious street. That place required all sorts of fancy qualifications, some of which could only be awarded by Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Since Luke was neither gifted, nor a unicorn, that was out.

There was Rosewood Entertainment, the famous theatre company. Luke paused in front of the gargantuan cuboid-shaped building, with its gleaming windows and shiny polished marble walls and pillars glinting in the sunlight. Maybe he could apply for a ticket handler position? Or a stage hand? All he had to do was go in and hand the receptionist a resume. It was simple. Right?

He made to go and do just that, but his feet chose that moment to ignore his commands, and he ended walking right on past the building. What if the pony on the desk just laughed at him? Told him he was mad to think he could ever get a job at Rosewood?

Luke trudged on, aimlessly kicking a pebble along the ground as ponies continued to trot around him. Another building caught his attention, perhaps the biggest and most impressive of the lot. There’s no way in hell I’m walking in there, he thought, gazing up at the skyscraper.

This gleaming marble structure made the dole house look like a small-town church bell tower in comparison. It was shaped almost like a designer vase, gracefully curving outwards around the middle, then narrowing again, before curving outwards to a lesser degree at the top. Floor after floor of polished windows ran all the way up to an airship dock at the very top.

Whoever owned this place was rich. Extremely rich.

A large sparkling logo consisting of magically glowing letters set below a set of purple and gold stylised lilies adorned the glass covering the huge open-plan lobby. In fact, to call it a mere lobby was an understatement. It must have ran all the way up to at least the fiftieth floor, its ring-like balconies tapering off to a point the higher you looked. The solid gold spiral snaking its way up the balconies in a helix kind of made the whole thing look like a huge unicorn horn.

Luke shook his head. This place looked like a noble’s wet dream. He’d never fit in.

As if on cue, a whole bunch of them spilled out from the building’s multiple magically revolving doors.

Quickly averting his gaze, he shuffled back towards the bank. The question of how attractive ponies appeared to him hadn’t really crossed his mind in the past year, but some of the mares accompanying this party were quite clearly supermodels. He certainly had no intentions of being caught ogling them.

Giving up the pointless endeavour as a lost cause, he headed home. Maybe he’d come back and try again another day. Probably… not.

The buildings quickly went from flashy glass and marble to faded white stone and old wooden doors as Luke made his way back to the dingy little apartment complex he called home. The only good thing about this place was that the ponies were a lot friendlier, but that was about as extensive as the ‘pros’ list got.

He wrestled with the lock for a good thirty seconds before the stupid thing yielded, allowing him access to his apartment.

It was the most humble of humble abodes, what with its cracked and peeling, thoroughly outdated wallpaper. He gave the place a gloomy once over. His couch was a sorry looking thing, sporting several holes, many of which exposed the springs. A dented old ice box sat just behind it, next to a small stove. You knew you were poor when your living room was also your kitchen.

Luke threw the pile of un-handed-out resumes onto a spindly old side table that was missing a leg. The only reason the thing stayed upright was because it was leaning against the wall, its ragged old tablecloth covering an ugly crack in the plaster.

Throwing himself down on the couch, he rested one leg on the coffee table, his eyes glazing over. His gaze eventually ended up settling on a life-sized alicorn lamp, complete with multi-hued flowing mane and tail, and a long spiralling white horn poking out from the top of the shade.

Wait… He didn’t have an alicorn lamp. Anything related to alicorns was often expensive.

Striding over to the corner, he plucked the dusty old lampshade from Celestia’s head. “For God’s sake, what are you doing here?”

The alicorn demi-god pursed her lips, as though she hadn’t just been caught in the act of pretending to be an inanimate object. “Luke, Canterlot is such a great city, yet you choose to live in the part of it that showcases my greatest failure. Why?” she inquired, her tone suggesting she was admonishing a small foal.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Oh, get over yourself. Every city has people living on the breadline. The fact that everypony in Canterlot has a home and no one is starving is an achievement in and of itself,” he muttered, throwing the lampshade aside and plonking himself back down on the couch.

Celestia raised herself to her fullest height, which was just a bit too tall for the small apartment.

SCRAPE.

Her horn left quite a sizeable hole in the ceiling, bits of plaster raining down on her mane. “Please. Reconsider my offer,” she implored regardless, throwing a perfunctory glance up to the mess she’d made. “My offer for the role of Administrative Assistant to the Crown still stands.” Her horn flashed, prompting the ceiling to instantly repair itself.

“I already told you—I don’t want handouts. Besides, that job sounds made up,” Luke challenged.

Celestia had taken it upon herself to make a fuss over Luke from the moment he’d turned up in the Crystal Empire, quickly whisking him off to a rather sheltered life at Canterlot Castle. He’d ended up staying there for a couple of weeks, but being in close proximity to the nobles had swiftly become very tiresome.

“Technically, welfare counts as a handout,” Celestia huffed, if only to prove a point.

“Yes, but it’s the same handout everypony gets. Plus, I’m expected to look for a job, just like everypony else.”

Celestia stomped a forehoof. “I just offered you a job!”

“A fake job.”

Celestia frowned. “Fine. I didn’t want to have to resort to this…” She paused, letting out a tiresome sigh. “An old friend of mine owes me a favour,” she began, her royal ears drooping. It really did look as though it pained her to say it. “I was hoping to hold it over her head for a few more decades, but it upsets me seeing you live like this,” she said, waving a hoof around with an ugly grimace on her muzzle. “It’s the same with all of my subjects. If an easy solution existed, I’d have found it years ago.”

“Hey! It’s not that bad,” Luke lied. His place was a shithole and he lived like a bum. He was well aware of that fact.

“Do you want the job, or not? And yes, a real job. You won’t be working for me, either.”

Luke gave her a deadpan stare. “Look at this place! Of course I do,” he muttered.

Celestia grinned. Her ears perked right up, and the sun streaming through the murky windows seemed to shine just that little bit brighter. “Good. Make sure you’re at the J’adore headquarters on Mane Street tomorrow morning. O’eight hundred hours sharp.”

Luke felt the colour instantly drain from his face. “Wait, that’s…” The huge magically glowing logo flashed through his mind, along with the gorgeous supermodels, and the fifty storey unicorn horn.

Celestia didn’t appear to have heard him. “I don’t know what you’ll be doing yet, but you’ll definitely be on the payroll. Don’t be late.”

With a loud CRACK that nearly caused Luke to fall off his tatty couch, Celestia disappeared in a flash of bright white light.

Author's Note

Let me know if you spot any typos/editing blunders. All feedback is appreciated. :-P

Seven | A Working Relationship

Author's Note

Writing tip:

Don't let comments drive your story.

I was kinda salty when I wrote this chapter, and it shows. :trixieshiftleft:

Seven | A Working Relationship

Fleur let slip a tepid yawn, the half drank espresso sitting on her desk still yet to have any effect on her immortal body. Be it caffeine, alcohol, or whatever else, she usually had to consume twice as much as the average pony to feel any benefit. It was either a blessing or a curse, depending which way one looked at it. Being able to drink a minotaur under the table was quite the perk, but the amount of coffee she had to drink just to get through the average morning was perhaps higher than she’d like to disclose.

Still, at least it was Friday. Like most mornings in Canterlot, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The nobles weren’t all that fond of rain, after all. The view from her office window focused on the ice-capped peaks of the Unicorn Range, and was just as breathtaking as the first time she had laid eyes on it.

Well, to call it a mere window was perhaps putting it lightly. It was more like a wall of glass, spanning all the way from floor to ceiling, and about a hundred hooves across. Thick curtains the colour of Princess Luna’s coat hung either side, but Fleur had never used them. The deep blue wilderness of the sky was much too beautiful to hide away, and with the room being situated on the one hundred and seventy-third floor, privacy wasn’t an issue, bar the odd pegasus or two.

The other three walls of the office were actually one—a vast plane of purple and gold that curved around to meet both of the window’s edges. Yes, the room was intended to resemble the shape of a horseshoe—Photo Finish had all but insisted at the most recent renovation.

Fleur let slip another yawn. It wasn’t like her to be this tired in the morning. It probably had something to do with the fact she had spent most of the previous night lying awake in bed, contemplating the best way to invite Luke to the Wonderbolts’ Derby she had agreed to host later that evening. As it was an out-of-hours event he had no knowledge of, he might’ve made other plans, something she was feeling perhaps more anxious about than she cared to admit. So what if he said no? He had no obligation to accompany her.

A soft mewling rang rather pathetically through her mind, and Fleur chuckled softly to herself. Her darker half really was quite smitten with the human.

After the working lunch she had shared with Luke, Fleur had tried in vain to allocate time out of her schedule for him. Not just so he could learn to fly Le Tesson, either. If she was honest with herself, she enjoyed spending time with him. The quiet in her mind every time he was around was becoming more of a perk than the main reason for pursuing his company. Of course, such times had been difficult to come by, mainly because of one persistent pony.

Knock knock.

Speak of the devil. Two knocks. That’s all the warning Fleur ever got these days before her office door was thrown wide.

“Good morning, fraulein,” Photo Finish barked, cantering into the office fresher than a pillow with a mint on it. Fleur was only a little bit jealous her manager could find it in herself to be quite so woke in the morning.

“Bonjour, mon amie,” Fleur replied, stifling yet another yawn. It was probably best to get the most pertinent order of business out of the way first. “What is on the agenda today?”

Photo didn’t miss a beat. “You have the second quarter board meeting to attend in ten minutes, Sapphire Shores’ consultancy appointment after zat-don’t give me zat look,” Photo interrupted herself, already hoofing through the overflowing ‘in’ tray on Fleur’s desk. “You know she vill take it as a personal insult if ve give her anypony but you.” Sapphire Shores was quite possibly the sassiest diva Fleur had ever met. Even the latest efforts from the top clothing designers from all over Equador often failed to satisfy her tastes. “Some of the new recruits have booked a three hour shoot with you zis afternoon, and you vill be expected to arrive at least an hour before the Vonderbolts Derby opens later zis evening for the audio check,” Photo continued, before suddenly remembering something. “Oh, and Prince Blueblood invited you to his suite at the castle for a private dinner after the derby.”

Fleur almost choked on her espresso. Non! Snarled the siren, and for once, Fleur had no trouble agreeing. She would rather dine with a rabid diamond dog than give Prince Blueblood the chance to brag to his ostentatious little ‘holier-than-thou’ friends that he had… she shivered. According to Blueblood, they had been out on three dates already. Celestia only knew what rubbish he would dream up if she was to take him up on his offer.

She still quite clearly remembered the time he developed the unfortunate habit of playing with the contents of his diaper. Granted, he was two years old at the time, but the sight alone was enough that she wasn’t going to be forgetting it any time soon.

Either way, never in the millions of years she could potentially live would she ever go on a date with him.

Photo Finish cracked a rare smile. “I thought you might not be a fan of the idea. I took the liberty of declining on your behalf.”

“Merci, mon amie,” Fleur sighed, taking another sip of her coffee.

She had a feeling this day was going to be a long one, and it didn’t take long for her to realise that laying eyes on a certain someone could perhaps make it a little more bearable.

Almost inaudibly, the ancient water demon prowling around her mind crooned in agreement.

The summer heat had stubbornly refused to relent over the next few weeks, Luke having to take shelter in the vast shadow of the helium chamber as it slowly but surely crept across the scorched deck each day.

Due to Fleur’s schedule becoming busier than a Chinese fish market ever since their lunch at the Tasty Treat, there hadn’t been much for him to do other than listen to Vert waffle on about wind patterns, the many ways to tie a docking rope, and the easiest way to navigate by night. Apparently Luna always put certain stars in the exact same place, so that ponies could find their way in the darkness.

“Fleur said she might have a spare hour before lunch today, so we best use it wisely,” Vert said, bundling the spare ‘demonstration’ rope back into a wooden barrel near the stern of the ship.

“Photo already cancelled that. Some big board meeting, or something,” Luke muttered gloomily. Not only was he not going to be doing any flying today, he wouldn’t have a chance to steal glances at his smoking-hot boss. The fact she was a unicorn was of little concern, at this point.

Vert squinted through the sunlight, his whole face practically scrunching. “Did she? Never tells me nothin’, that mare. Well, we might as well scrub the deck, instead.”

“We did that yesterday!” Luke protested. He’d spent more time on his hands and knees than a hooker with pink-eye as of late.

Thankfully, a pink pegasus pony Luke didn’t recognise alighted on deck before Vert could complain that his reflection in the wood wasn’t quite sharp enough. “Ahem… umm, Loook? Um… Miss Fleur would like to see you in her office,” the mare squeaked, gazing up at him as though he were the living embodiment of the Warsaw radio mast.

“Thank you,” Luke said, with perhaps more than a little smugness. “I’ll head there right away.” He made sure to crack an equally smug grin at the Captain as he marched off the ship and down onto the dock. Even the butterflies that had flared to life in his stomach upon hearing Fleur’s name failed to ruin the moment.

Strolling into the sky lobby and past the express elevator, Luke hit the call button for one of the four main communal elevators. He’d never been to Fleur’s office, but he knew it was on floor one-seven-three, only two down from the dock. Not a minute later, he was stood outside of a deep purple door bearing gold lettering: Fleur de Lis, CEO, J’adore Inc.

Steeling himself, he knocked thrice, or, he would have… The door swung open rather ominously after the second knock, revealing… Oh dear.

Fleur was stood in the middle of the room. Her eyes, bereft of irises or pupils, shone like two piercing blue beacons along with the sapphire in her collar. Her mouth was slightly open, and Luke had no trouble at all spotting the two sharp fangs descending from behind her upper lip.

A closer look at her sapphire revealed the blurry image of a trident shining within it, something Luke had never noticed before. She took a step toward him, and an icy blade swept down the full length of his spine, yet he couldn’t move. She wont hurt me, she wont hurt me, she said it herself, he chanted, over and over inside his head, but the words weren’t really doing all that much to convince him.

Another step, and Luke’s heart was hammering against his ribcage like the abused bass drum of a thrash-metal band. Another step. And another. Those eyes… he couldn’t tear his gaze away from them. A potent concoction of beauty lurked in their depths… Beauty, and death.

Then, she stopped.

At some point, Luke forgot to breathe, judging by the fact he let out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. Fleur blinked, and as often was the case with her little ‘episodes’, all traces of the water demon harbouring within her suddenly disappeared in less than a split second.

“Forgive me, I… I just needed to see you,” she whispered, her face emotionless in the wake of the siren’s possession.

“Holy crap, Fleur,” Luke croaked, the use of his voice finally coming back to him. “You’ll end up being the death of me, one day,” he chuckled, but the words came out with a lot less humour behind them than he’d intended.

Fleur’s ears dropped a shade, her eyes seeming to swell. “What do you mean, mon cher?”

Luke faltered, unsure how she might take it if he dared voice his fears of her deadly little secret he’d been hiding from her the past few weeks. “It’s kinda hard to explain.”

“‘Ave a seat, and tell me, zen,” Fleur said, giving a small nod to a modernesque swivel chair sitting in front of her long marble desk.

Luke did as she asked, perching conservatively on the edge as he watched her canter around the desk and claim her own seat on the other side. She motioned with a forehoof for him to continue.

Luke let out a sigh, doing his best to ignore the sense of foreboding clouding his thoughts. “It’s like… there’s been this little voice inside my head these past few weeks telling me that I should be very worried there’s a siren interested in me. I mean, she scares the crap out of me every time I see her. What if she wants to eat me, or something?”

Fleur gave him a look that suggested he had temporarily grown a second head. “Eat you?” she repeated, incredulous. “Luc, did you per’aps ‘it your ‘ead on the way to my office? Because zat is quite possibly the dumbest thing I ‘ave ever ‘eard in my entire life.”

“W-Well… Uh,” Luke stuttered, feeling immensely stupid all of a sudden. If Fleur wanted to fucking eat him, she probably would have done it weeks ago. “The thing is, sirens are known to humans as merciless killers back on Earth,” he added, conveniently leaving out the ‘Greek mythology,’ and ‘portrayed in works of fiction’ parts. Somehow, he didn’t think they’d help his argument.

“And why should zat be the case here? Do you ‘onestly think Celestia of all ponies would send you to me if she thought I was just going to gobble you up?” she snapped, her logic slamming into his apprehension not unlike a bowling ball would through a mirror.

He was beginning to wholly regret opening his stupid mouth, and it wasn’t like he could blame her anger on the siren either. No, all of Fleur’s ire was her own. That much was certain. “Well, I…” he muttered, but he didn’t really have an end to the pathetic sentence. Fleur wasted no time in jumping on the offensive.

“Do you even know ‘ow much zat pony cares for you? She cancelled a state visit to Yakyakistan to go and collect you from the Crystal Mountains, something zat zey are still in an uproar about even today!” Fleur cried, her violet gaze almost deadly. “The yaks are notorious for being offended at the tiniest things when it comes to international politics, yet Celestia still dropped zem in favour of you. She ‘adn’t even met you at the time, but she gave you the benefit of the doubt.”

Luke swallowed, guilt already clawing at his insides. He hadn’t really expected her to yell at him, and thus, was wholly unprepared for it. His stupid mouth had got him into this mess, so he quietly elected to keep it closed and just let her get on with it.

Fleur didn’t really show any sign of slowing down, unfortunately. “She all but begged me—the ruler of Equestria and deity of the sun—begged me to take you on,” she cried, slamming a hoof down to the marble desk. A small crack split the surface. “You know what I did? I turned her down, until she called in zat blasted favour.”

Luke blinked, doing his best to ignore the emotional kick in the gut that accompanied her words. Truth be told, he just wanted to go back to his shitty apartment and forget this day had ever happened.

Fleur got to her hooves and slowly walked around her desk, getting an closer and closer to him with each step, her gaze piercing. Only when she was inches away did she stop. “Is that what is worrying you, mon cher? The fact I killed a warlock seventy years ago?”

She waited. Five seconds passed Ten. Luke cleared his throat. “Yes,” he admitted. She would probably see right through a lie, anyway.

Fleur tilted her head, and Luke could almost hear the cogs turning inside. Even angry, she was still devastatingly pretty. “Luc… you are so naive. I am a siren. I ‘ave killed thousands in my lifetime, not just one grabby warlock.” He blinked, his eyes finding hers. She was telling the truth, there was no doubt about it. “Of course, the vast majority of zat number was tallied during the many wars I ‘ave fought in. I do not kill indiscriminately.”

“Just… forget I said anything,” he murmured, wanting nothing more than to get out of her office as fast as possible. Hell, he’d take scrubbing the ship’s deck with nothing but a toothbrush and an old bar of soap over this shit.

“‘Ow can I forget?” Fleur suddenly snapped, and Luke nearly fell off the edge of his seat. “In all of my years on Equador, I ‘ave never witnessed my darker ‘alf weep over anything—the conquering of peaceful nations by the ancient dragon order, the despicable apartheid rule of the old kingdom, young fillies and colts lying dead in the streets of Babylon during the great plague—anything,” she added, her voice lowering. “Yet ‘ere she is, crying silently in my ‘ead over a man that thinks she wants to kill ‘im.”

A long silence followed her words, a silence that morphed into a deafening crescendo, but it still wasn’t enough to drown out Luke’s thoughts. His mind should have been awash with sympathy for the horrors she had witnessed throughout her lifetime, but all he could think about was the fact she had turned Celestia down, had only accepted when Celestia had reminded her of the cover up. “Do you…” he began, but paused, wondering if it was worth adding fuel to the fire. Fuck it. He had to know. “Do you wish Celestia hadn’t called in that favour?” he quietly asked, cursing his selfishness.

Fleur paused, but only for a second. “At first, yes. From a business standpoint, ‘iring you was a terrible idea,” she said, deftly sitting on her haunches, her eyes wandering to the view of the mountains through the window. “Four different advisers told me to ignore Celestia’s request, and of course, zey were right. You remember the article? J’adore stock took a small ‘it the day after it was published.”

“Oh…” Luke muttered. What the hell was he even supposed to say to that? “Well… If the company is losing money, maybe it’d be best if I left?” he added, perhaps feeling a bit more sorry for himself than he had any right to. Even as the suggestion left his mouth, he felt stupid for saying it. J’adore wasn’t losing money. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

Fleur lowered her brow, and it was clear she wasn’t going to dignify such petty nonsense with a response. “I gladly ‘old up my ‘oof and confess that I am a killer, but it ‘urts me greatly zat you think I would ever ‘arm you,” she shot at him, but her voice had definitely lost some of its edge. “I… I care about you more than you realise, Luc,” she whispered. The sapphire in her collar pulsed with each passing heartbeat, and Luke was once again met with a strong urge to touch it, but he refrained, for the moment.

His elbows found his knees, and he held his face in his palms. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I doubted you, Fleur,” he began, lifting his head to gaze at her. She had every right to be angry, especially after everything she had done for him. But, there was still one pressing issue he couldn’t quite make heads or tails of. “But, I have to know… Why do you care about me so much?”

Luke was the first to admit he wasn’t special. He had no experience of flying an airship, so it sure as hell wasn’t talent at his job that was causing her to keep him around. The only other explanation he might’ve had thus far was the fact he was human, but seeing as that wasn’t exactly seen as a positive by the business world of Canterlot, he was coming up empty.

Fleur gazed up at him, those pale violet eyes large and inviting once again. In fact, all of her ire seemed to have faded away as though it had never been, and she was looking a little lost. “I… I do not know, Luc,” she whispered, a few stray locks of her mane partly obscuring her gaze.

Luke knew she was lying. She had to be. Celestia’s favour was to give him a job, but it didn’t extend to keeping a job. Any other employer would’ve got rid of him by now to save themselves the hassle, equal opportunities be damned.

“I care about you, too,” he said, giving her a warm smile. Maybe she would tell him, one day, maybe not. Either way, it was of little concern to him at the moment.

Fleur studied him for a long time, and Luke could only speculate what she was thinking. After a few moments, she spoke. “Luc… Zis is per’aps a little unprofessional of me, and it is a little short notice, but… would you mind accompanying me to the Wonderbolts Derby at the amphitheater tonight? I am ‘osting the race, but I would very much like it if you were there with me.”

“You want me to go and see the Wonderbolts with you?” Luke repeated, incase he had somehow misheard. “Hell yeah!”

Shit, he probably owed her a night in an opera house full of snobby nobles that hated his guts for all the pain he’d caused her. Getting to see a Wonderbolts Derby was more than he deserved.

Fleur’s face lit up like a candle, something that never failed to make Luke smile when he witnessed it. “Merci, mon cher,” she practically squeed, getting to her hooves and catching him off guard with a surprise nuzzle. The heavenly strawberries and cream scent hit him again, and his hands flew to the back of her neck of their own accord, it seemed, his fingers slipping into her mane. Before he could even remind himself that he was probably crossing some pretty major boundaries, Fleur took it one step further, throwing her forelegs over his shoulders.

Luke snorted out a chuckle at her enthusiasm, the mare practically pressing him back into the chair. Unfortunately, the base, whilst stylish, was perhaps designed with a more ‘form over function’ approach. It promptly toppled over, and both Luke and Fleur were sent rolling over the carpet.

“Woah, haha,” Luke gasped, coming to a stop on his back. A soft warm lump lay on his chest, her long pink curls splayed out everywhere and her legs wrapped around him.

“Pardon, mon amour. I did not think zat one through,” she laughed, and Luke felt the sweet vibrations through his chest. That wasn’t the only thing, though—the ice-cold sapphire in her collar made short work of his shirt. The frigid coolness could be felt seeping into the skin beneath, but it was a lot less unpleasant than he thought it would have been. Likewise, the spikes in her collar appeared sharp when he looked at them, but they were also digging into his shirt without too much discomfort.

Luke sighed. As if he needed more proof that the siren had no interest in hurting him. Fleur still hadn’t bothered getting to her hooves, despite the chair falling a good thirty seconds ago, so he wrapped her in his arms, cradling the mare to his chest with little thought.

Fleur answered his move by adjusting her hind legs, shifting one of them over to partially straddle his waist. A glance down at her face revealed her ears were lying flat, and she was looking at him with devious, blue-tinted eyes and a peculiar little smile… She also had fangs again.

A wave of shock rolled over Luke, but it was decidedly more muted than the last time the water demon had made an appearance. He couldn’t even tell if she had fully taken control. It was more a case of both Fleur and her deadly little friend snuggling into his chest. All things considered, it was kinda nice.

Not that he was given much time to savour the moment.

BANG.

CRACK.

Fleur’s office door flew open with all the apparent force of a small bomb, just as a flash of pink light damn near blinded Luke. “Shit!” he hissed, rubbing his eyes. His chest was now noticably siren-free.

A light-gold coated earth mare with a cobalt blue mane and tail had just waltzed into the room like she owned the place. The short, flashy white and gold dress she was wearing probably would have looked a little slutty on another pony, but this mare managed to make it look the epitome of sheer class. Luke found himself peering up at her as he clumsily struggled to get to his feet. She was almost as tall as Fleur.

“Well, hello, honey! I do hope Rarity sent over her latest line. I’ve been diggin’ that pony’s style lately-” the newcomer began, but then she spotted Luke tripping over his own feet next to the toppled over chair. “Oh, am I interrupting something?” the mare asked, her light-amber eyes seemingly swelling to the size of grapefruits and her smile suggesting she had just discovered a rather juicy little secret to gossip about later.

“Oh, not at all, mon cherie, I was just ‘aving an ‘end of probationary period’ meeting with my newest pilot when his chair broke. It must only be designed for ponies,” Fleur wildly bullshitted. For a story she had just come up with on the fly, it was pretty damn convincing. “I must make a note to get the building fitted with human compatible chairs,” she added as an afterthought.

The extravagant mare observed Fleur for a good few seconds, and Luke got the feeling she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Ah, but of course. I read about your recruiting exploits a few weeks back.” She eyed Luke sympathetically. “The press don’t very much care for you, do they?”

Luke slowly shook his head, still trying to figure out if she was going to start telling anypony that would listen that Fleur had been dry-humping an alien in her office, or something.

“Take their opinions with a pinch of salt, honey. They write that old rag to sell, and it really shows,” Sapphire said, turning to Fleur. “Now, have my dresses arrived?”

“I believe Rarity sent zem over yesterday afternoon,” Fleur replied, conjuring a gem-encrusted chaise lounge out of thin air and motioning to it with a forehoof. The earth mare hopped onto it in an instant. “Luc, I will see you tonight, yes?”

Luke smiled, his mind already wandering to the memory of how good it had felt with Fleur snuggled against his chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”