The World Turned Upside Down

There was no dinner that evening. I didn’t have much of an appetite, and I guess she didn’t either.

I do now, though.

I’m not sure what it’s like for other people, but my stomach doesn’t rumble when it’s empty; it hurts, it aches, and it makes sure I know it. I swear, sometimes it feels like it’s eating itself, sinking fangs into my sides and reaching a claw into my chest. At its worst, it burns, like I’ve swallowed fire, or a jalapeno smoothie, and then it starts to rumble. Maybe it’s reflux, and maybe I should have brought it up with my GP, but I’ve grown used to it over the years, and it hasn’t proven to be that much of a hinderance, so long as I keep myself fed. Or distracted.

As I lie against the tree, however, having woken half an hour prior from a painful flash of white — less piercing than before, but no less annoying — it’s pretty obvious that I’ll have to wait for the dawn until this burning sensation goes away. There’s nothing I can do to occupy my time, and pinching a snack from Amber’s bag would be too risky.

And wrong. I can’t allow myself to forget that. Taking someone’s things without permission is wrong.

But waking her up to ask whether I can have anything to eat would just get me yelled at. And I shouldn’t have to ask, should I? These are our provisions, which means they’re also mine. She can’t claim sole ownership when we’re suffering together, can she?

Then again, everything we have to eat came from her garden, so I suppose she can.

That doesn’t make it right, though.

…Neither does a second wrong…

Another rush of pain, searing and intense, and I’m snapped out of my musings.

This is torture. Skipping lunch was a mistake. I should have known this would happen, but I’d pressed on without comment, too worried to cross a new, more arbitrary line, especially when Amber hadn’t eaten anything herself. I don’t know why I hadn’t asked. I guess I didn’t want to seem weaker than her, for some reason, even though asking for something as basic as food is probably the most innocent question in all of existence. More innocent than what I ended up asking, at any rate.

I turn to the tent and try to picture her through the canvas. She’ll be lying with her back to me, no doubt, curled into a ball with her forelegs folded, or at least a more withdrawn version of however she normally sleeps. Not that I’d know or frankly care what she looks like while sleeping, or want to, now that I think about it — that might be creepy if taken out of context. Not that she can read my mind or anything.

Actually, I should just stop thinking about it altogether. But, of course, now that I’ve told myself that, it’s all I can think about.

The sound of a magical flash comes from some way behind — a noise I can only describe as a short puff of air, tinged with a breathy, raspy, yet almost musical whisper — and footsteps on pine needles soon follow. They stop for a moment on the edge of the camp, then continue at a slower pace, and after a few seconds’ wait, a familiar face emerges on my right.

There is, however, something distinctly different about her this night. I can’t put my finger on it at first, but when she turns her head, meets my gaze and slightly raises an eyebrow at me, I see it: a lack of cheer. And now that I pay closer attention, I notice that she also lacks her crown and slippers, and her tunic is white and plain, and the crimson sash replaced with a lavender one.

Despite having met her only twice, this is not the Selene I had come to expect.

“Rough night?” she pries, in a tone somewhere between blasé and empathetic.

I choose to go with the latter and gently nod. “Rough day?”

“Rough week,” she agrees, nodding in turn and sitting down beside me. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit. My court’s been rather busy lately, preparing for another Grand Galloping Gala.”

“What’s that?”

“A dance. For the Canterlot elite. High society and whatnot. I’ve been doing my best to make it a little more inclusive, but… change doesn’t exactly happen overnight, does it? And I can only push the other organisers so far before they start taking offence.”

“…So, you’re a noble who doesn’t like nobility?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Quite the contrary, actually — I too can appreciate the chic and stylish. But I also know that nobility is much more than a name, and although they can be very fickle when it comes to trends in fashion and gossip, they can also be very stubborn when it comes to the status quo. They’re not all like that, mind you, but it’s a general rule, so I’m trying to… nudge them in the right direction, so to speak.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters, making the Gala a public event, rather than invitation only.”

“Ah. Yeah, I can see why that’d rub a few people the wrong way.”

“Indeed. The privileged hardly ever enjoy having their privilege checked. But it’s for that very reason that I aim to adjust their mindset; so they can relate to others, and so others can see them as relatable. And so I’m not surrounded by people who think they’re better than everyone else, just because they live closer to me.”

“…So, you don’t not like them, but you’re not a huge fan of them either?”

She smirks at me, then lifts her head and stares out to the lake. “Let’s put it this way,” she says with a hint of mirth. “A luxurious life is rarely an exciting one. Consequently, the stories these nobles share tend to be a little… shall we say… trite.”

“Boring?”

“Now-now, Adam, there’s no need for that sort of language.”

I grin, then groan and grimace as another burning sensation enters my chest.

“Hungry?” she wonders.

“Famished,” I moan.

“I thought as much.” The aura builds around her horn and three flashes appear in the air in front of her; two dishes and a fork. “Care for some curry?” she offers with a smile.

“Ooh, that sounds lovely.”

“Believe me, it is.”

I reach out for the meal placed on the ground beside me and set it on my lap. Sweet potato, rice, peas, chickpeas, lentils, sauce, herbs for decoration. Rather basic, if I do say so myself, but if the quality is anything like the last two meals — and I don’t doubt that it is — I can’t wait to dig in. And when I take the first bite, I nearly swoon. I’ve always had a thing for spice.

Selene giggles. “A look of bliss if ever I saw one.”

“You have no idea,” I reply as best I can with a full mouth.

“Oh, I think I do. Sugar Swirl has been my head chef for a long time now, and yet, somehow, he always surprises me. For example, did you know that strawberries and cheese actually go quite nicely together?”

I raise an eyebrow and swallow. “They do?”

“They do. To me, at least. I can show you what I mean next time, if you’d like.”

I pause for a moment to think, and then shrug. “Sure. If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“No, no, no trouble at all. Although my staff were a little surprised when I ordered two servings of dinner so late at night.”

“At night?” I repeat, taken somewhat aback. “What’s the time now?”

“Approaching one in the morning.”

“…It’s one in the morning and you haven’t had dinner yet?”

“Oh, no, of course I have,” she nods to the dish floating before her, “but this isn’t for me.”

“…Ah.” I look to the tent. “Right…”

“Yes.” She follows my gaze. “Indeed.”

A long silence descends on the camp. My stomach aches and burns for more food, but now doesn’t feel like the time for eating. So, I set down the fork, shimmy back into the tree, sit more upright, and try to make the best of a bad situation. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” Selene turns to me again, this time with a neutral expression. “And you aren’t the only one to blame.”

“But—”

“No. If you have anything to say for yourself, she deserves to hear it. For now, eat.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes. You know as well as I do that her standards only apply to others. If you eat while she’s talking, that’s insulting. If she eats while you’re talking, that’s passable. Frustrating, maybe… but this is a delicate situation we’ve found ourselves in. I will help you build a bridge, but the duty of crossing it falls to you.” She leans closer and lowers her head, looking at me sympathetically at eyelevel. The glow around her horn bathes her face in a warm, assuring light, and adds a twinkle to her eyes. “Is that fair, Adam?”

I nod. Her perfume smells like vanilla and coconut.

She nods back, then pulls away and glances down at my dish. “Eat up. We’ll start when you’re ready.”

I retrieve my meal and start munching away again, but less eagerly. Maybe the buzz of trying something new is wearing off, or the impending chat has put a dampener on it, but for whatever reason, the curry doesn’t taste as nice. It’s still delicious, to be sure, but I’ve lost my appetite, and it takes a lot for me to lose my appetite. But I won’t let good food go to waste. And, as understanding as Selene may be, I feel I’d be snubbing her if I don’t make an effort.

In the meantime, she sits on her haunches with her eyes closed and the second dish on the ground in front of her. Her aura has faded, leaving the world around us in the pale light of yet another full moon. I think she’s meditating. Steeling her nerves and patience. Preparing for a coming storm. I’ve caught myself doing the same thing several times before, at the starting line of the interstate cross-country tryouts, or the university entrance exam… or when I made the mistake of asking Tamara on a date.

As much as I want to respect her privacy, I can’t stand the silence. “Stressed?”

Her ear twitches, and after a brief moment, she smiles. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I think I’d have some idea.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” she quips, turning to me with half-open eyes and a haughty smirk.

“Well then, what’s it like? Being a princess, I mean.”

“Hard work. Exhausting work. In mind and body. Certainly nothing like the storybooks.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Don’t. Trust me, you’d be doing yourself a favour.”

“Is it really that bad?”

She lingers on me, then looks out to the lake again. “Not always. There are some rewarding moments. Just recently, before you arrived, I hosted the graduation for the Canterlot Institute — a college, of sorts, and pet project of mine. Formerly a school for magically gifted unicorns, now a major learning and research centre, accepting applicants of all tribes, at home and abroad.”

“And you helped it grow, I take it?”

“Not to toot my own horn, but yes.”

“…Huh.”

“Learning is a passion of mine,” she continues, turning to me again. “A trait I gained from another of my aunts. I may not be as… invested as she was… but I like to think she’d be proud of what I’ve done, and the direction Equestria is heading because of it.”

“And what direction is that?”

“Onwards. And one day, perhaps … in the not too distant future…” she drifts off, looking to the stars.

The statement takes a moment to process, and then I baulk and stifle a laugh. “You’re building spaceships?”

Her smile widens. “No comment.”

“Oh, you…” I grin and waggle a finger at her. “I’m starting to like you.”

“Is that so?” She raises an eyebrow and faces me. “And here I was thinking we’d already hit it off.”

I laugh again, this time without restraint.

Selene waits until the merriment pads out. “While we’re on the topic of progress… I believe you once brought up the subject of phones, and that you have one on your person.

“I do,” I say, suppressing the leftover giggles. “It’s broken, though.”

“All the same. May I?”

I hesitate, but after considering why, I can’t come up with a good enough reason. She hasn’t lied about anything, as far as I’m aware, and she’s proven to be good, if occasionally daunting company. Where’s the harm in handing over a defunct piece of hardware for a minute? So, I shrug, reach to my bag, pull the phone out and offer it to her.

Her horn briefly glows and quickly fizzles out, and she instead reaches out and accepts my offer. The phone slides from my grasp, implausibly caught on the edge of her hoof — again, like a magnet — and when it clears my hand, she brings it closer, adds the other hoof, and begins inspecting it carefully.

I take the opportunity to continue eating.

“It’s a very… flat device, if you don’t mind me saying,” she remarks without looking away. “How does it work?”

“Magic.”

She looks at me and raises another eyebrow.

I pause, realising what I’d just said, then finish my mouthful of curry and clear my throat. “Battery-operated. Transmits a signal to a tower that goes to the other phone you want to call.”

“Wirelessly?”

“For the most part. I mean, we still have landlines, so there’s that.”

“And how far can these signals go?”

“Precisely? No idea. From one end of the country to the other is my best guess, but it could be up to half the world, or more.”

Her eyes widen and she draws her head back slightly.

“You don’t have anything like that, do you?”

She waits a moment, then blinks and shakes her head with an impressed smile. “Nothing so advanced, no. I was told a network of that scale couldn't be done — something about magical interference over long distance.”

“Well then, don’t expect me to explain anything.” I chuckle. “I only know what it does, not the finer points of wi-fi. Like you and your hooves.”

“My hooves?”

“Yeah, your… Wait…” I straighten up. “Wait, you know how they work, don’t you?”

“…Yes, I suppose I do.”

“So?” I ask eagerly. “How?”

“Magic.”

I blink.

“The tangible kind,” she explains. “Not what you were describing. All ponies — earth, crystal, pegasus, unicorn and alicorn — have an innate form of magic we use through our hooves. Telekinesis, in essence, or ‘TK’, as the younger generations call it. But it’s more than that. We can manipulate this field to make a hoof feel soft, or discern the texture of something, or switch it off entirely so we don’t ‘hurt’ ourselves if we step on anything.”

“Neat.” I nod. “But… wait, Amber doesn’t already know this?”

“It’s a reflex — a subconscious process. It’s very hard to notice something if it’s been staring you in the face all your life, and there’s been no one to point it out.”

“…No one? As in, no one around her noticed it either, or…?”

Selene’s smile wanes, and after a short pause, she hands my phone back. “Her past is not mine to tell,” she coolly warns. “If you wish to know something, ask her yourself.”

“You know she won’t.” I sigh. "She won’t even say how old she is.”

“And so, I’ve come to help you.” She puts a hoof on my shoulder, glances at it curiously, but give a light, dismissive shake of the head and looks at me again. “I’m not perfect, Adam. I’ve done things you’d no doubt disagree with, and I’ll ask a lot from you. Too much, perhaps. But at the very least… I can make this journey easier for you. Just as you’re trying to with her.”

I hesitate again. If those ‘things’ were to do with her non-answer from our last meeting…

“Shall we begin?” she queries calmingly.

I linger on her, caught in my own thoughts.

It’s been on the news before. I’ve seen the faces. Heard the names. Both culprit and victim. Who, what, when, where, why and how. And to think that I was sitting… talking… enjoying my time with someone who’d basically admitted their involvement in something so… heinous… while at the same time comforting me and soothing me and promising me that everything will be fine…

I must have taken too long to respond, because she gives me a gentle shake. “Adam.”

Almost jumping, and feeling unusually disturbed, I focus again on her large, cyan eyes.

“I won’t ask you to be something you aren’t,” she sternly affirms, “and I won’t ask you to forgive me either. But what I will ask you to do… is trust me.”

“…How can I?”

“Because I was raised by a family who taught me what it means to be a good person. To be honest, kind, generous, loyal, positive, wise, and above all, know the limits of each aspect and of myself.

“And to love. More than anything… to love. To care for others, and always put their wellbeing before mine… but know when they, too, should stand on their own. Which is why I’m here.”

“…To confess your love?”

She pauses, then closes her eyes and grins amusedly, giving a light shove as she withdraws her hoof and looks at the ground. “Oh, Adam,” she purrs, shaking her head, “the things you say…”

I smile too. Briefly. “But still, Selene… I’m sure you mean well, but… you’re asking me to overlook something that’s… you know… a pretty big deal. And I don’t know if I can do that.”

Her grin fades and she slowly nods.

“Maybe… if you told me who… and why…”

“And would knowing this ease your conscience?”

“…Probably not…”

“Then those are questions for another time.”

“…They’ll eat away at me, though.”

“And nothing I can do or say will change that.” She looks at me again, this time with sympathy. “There are no easy answers, Adam, and believe me… there are nights when I, too, can’t sleep well. But for now… let’s focus on what we can address, and that’s this dilemma between you and Amber.”

She’s… right. I hate to admit it, but… she’s right. I won’t simply scrap the idea of getting a clear, concise answer from her, but for the time being… I think I still need a little more time — both to come to terms with what she’s done, and how genial we’d been despite the fact.

“Are you finished?” she asks, gesturing to my dish.

I look down at it. More than half of the curry remains, but I don’t feel like eating anymore. “Sure,” I mumble, shrugging.

She reaches over and pick it up from my lap, then banishes it from our immediate existence with another brilliant flash. “And are you ready?”

“…Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Selene nods, “Very well,” then stands up, turns, and strolls for Amber’s tent.

I watch her with vague interest, focussing more on her mane and tail, and how they sway and flow and cut through the trees to the night sky beyond. Even when I’m down and crestfallen, I can’t help but stare at something so marvellous, and wonder absentmindedly.

She wanders over to the entrance and, after undoing the wooden toggles with a wisp of magic, pokes her head through the flaps. I can’t tell what exactly happens from a side-on perspective and from so far away, but gentle words float my way; too faint to make out, but distinct enough to recognise Selene’s voice. And shortly after, she backs up, lifts her head, and returns to her spot with a calm if regal air about her.

Another pause later, a flap is pushed out of the way, and Amber peeks out from beneath the canvas. She blinks hard a few times, clearing her eyes of the stinging sleep, then focusses on and glances between us with a dazed look on her face. Not surprised, or confused, or angry. Just dazed. Tired and dazed.

Selene waves her closer.

Amber, slowly, obliges.

“So,” the princess begins once Amber has settled in, “how are things?”

I look at Amber.

She looks back.

The silence that follows isn’t so much tense as it is… a silence. A simple, mutual silence as we — or rather I — reflect on what had brought us to this point, and where and why it had gone so wrong. Who was at fault, too, if anyone… and how we could best describe the situation without making it worse.

Eventually, though, I come up with a label that might not be completely accurate, but, at this point, better than nothing. I glance at Selene and murmur, “Could be better.”

The princess nods, then turns to Amber.

She says nothing, meeting and staring into Selene’s eyes at first, and then into mine. And, little by little, bit by bit, a familiar expression of bitterness returns. Not as strong as it had once been, but bitter all the same. At the same time, and at the same pace, she rocks back to sit more squarely on her rump, lifts her forelegs from the ground, and folds them standoffishly.

“I see,” Selene hums, lightly nodding to herself. “Well, I must confess, although I’d expected a few hiccups along the way… I never thought it would break down quite as quickly as it did.” She turns to me. “Or as hurtfully.”

I feel the urge to shy away from her gaze, but try my best not to, and somehow succeed.

“But as the ringleader of this operation… the fault is mine. I lacked the foresight, or was unwilling to see, what a toll this would take on you. Both of you. And what your limits are.” She takes a moment to breathe deeply, eyes on the curry in front of her, then levitates and floats it over to Amber.

She hesitates, keeping her face taut and sour, but reaches out and accepts the dish.

“I won’t blame you for blaming me, if that’s how you feel,” Selene continues, “because, in truth, I’m the one you should hold responsible. Yes, Amber, Adam could have refused me, and he can at any time… but I offered him a way home — something many a pony would be all too happy to accept in his situation, whatever the risk. Including yourself.”

Amber blinks and opens her mouth to protest.

So do I.

“No,” the princess commands, raising a hoof to silence us. “Let me finish.”

Reluctantly, we both settle back down, and Amber shoots me a dubious glance.

“Although there was some truth to his words, I agree: hypotheticals aren’t the most valid points to make, and he needn’t have been so… heavy-hoofed.” Selene flashes me a cautionary look. “You are still a good pony, Amber. Both of you are, at heart, whether Adam believes what he said or not.”

“I don’t.”

“And when I’m not here?” She frowns at me. “What will you say then?”

I shut my mouth.

“You may hate hypocrisy, Adam, but I loathe deception, and I consider lying to oneself to be the absolute lowest form of it. So, no, perhaps you don’t believe what you said in hindsight, but the fact remains, and anger never lies.”

I look away.

“Apologise.”

I snap back to her.

“Say you’re sorry, Adam,” the princess insists, “and promise you won’t ever put her or yourself down ever again. You are both good people. You may not be perfect, but you are good, and I was raised well enough to know when I see it.”

I stare at her, stunned, and wonder how I’d found myself here. Since her arrival, we’d gone from friendly, to sombre, to supportive, to humorous, to intellectual — or as close as I could come to it — to melancholy, to diplomatic, to scolding, and now, in a shock twist, back to supportive, all in the space of less than half an hour. Granted, her last two visits had a similar dynamic, but still… it’s… rare — to find someone so adaptable, who can remain in control of herself and others, and with reason over coercion.

Nevertheless, I manage to tear my eyes away from hers and look to Amber.

She meets my gaze with the same displeased expression. Yet, surprisingly, there’s the faint trace of cautious interest. Or maybe that’s just me seeing what I hope to see.

…Yeah, probably that.

I pull myself away from the tree and turn to face her, folding my good leg and keeping the other straight, slouching instead of lounging. If I’m going to do this, I need to show as much respect as I can, and every little bit helps.

“I’m… sorry, Amber,” I stiffly say, wary of the princess not an arm’s length away from me. “I lost my temper and… said things I shouldn’t have. Hurtful things. And I realise that I’m the one in the wrong here. You have every right to be angry with me, because… well, you know why… and I got angry at you because you were rightly angry at me. You deserve better than that. I’m better than that. So, you don’t have to forgive me, Amber, but… just know that I’m sorry. And that I won’t do it again.

“And… you’re not a bad person. I know what I said… but you’re not. You saved me… and you took care of me… and… that’s what good people do. Even if they can be a bit—”

“Adam.”

“…Sensitive,” I finish, glancing at the princess. “But that’s who you are. I can’t change that, and I shouldn’t want to. Besides, it’s… not like I’ve done anything to deserve any better, is it?”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, Amber. I’m really, truly sorry.”

Still, she doesn’t respond, and merely scowls and blinks at me without a word. But before too long, she turns her frown on the dish cupped in her hooves, and then begins to eat.

“I believe you,” Selene assures. “I’m sure Amber does too, but she’ll talk when she’s ready.”

She shoots the princess an irritated look behind her back.

I don’t comment.

“That being said… never forget that you too have redeeming qualities. Remember that you saved her life, at risk to your own. And that despite certain episodes, you can be very polite and courteous. And, in some instances… rather amusing. Witty, even. Not as rambunctious or as… straight-faced as two of my other aunts, but… amusing all the same.”

“…You have a lot of aunts.”

Selene pauses, and then looks up in thought. “Yes, I suppose I do. Not all of them were related, though — most were honorary, in fact — but they were family all the same. And a very good family at that. Close-knit. Loving… Oh so loving…”

“…You miss them, don’t you?”

She closes her eyes and lets out a long, quiet sigh as she droops her head. “Of course I do,” she murmurs, watching the ground. “Who wouldn’t? Change may be a fact of life… and time may heal all wounds, but… scars remain. And for all my power and abilities… I am helpless to stop it.

“That… more than anything else… is my greatest shame — that I could not stop the inevitable, and that I still can’t. It makes me feel weak. As if everything I’ve ever learned…”

“What?” I lean forward and look up at her. “Selene, what’s wrong?”

She blinks and shakes her head. “Nothing, nothing. I just caught myself rambling, is all.”

“Hey, if you need someone to talk to—”

“No, Adam.” She lifts a hoof half-heartedly. “Thank you, but no. I came here to mediate, not to vent — this is your night, not mine. And if I’m to play my part, I really shouldn’t bother you with my own… insecurities.”

“It’s no bother, Selene, really.” I shrug. “If anything, it makes you more human.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Relatable, I mean. Like us… you know… non-nobles.”

She stares at me, still with her eyebrow raised, but her gaze slowly drifts into a thoughtful trance. And then she gently smiles. “That’s… very kind of you, Adam,” she says, looking at me again. “There aren’t many people at home who’d want… or be comfortable with a princess blathering on like that. Not without some ulterior motive.”

“Why’s that?”

She pauses. “Some other time, perhaps.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Tempting as the offer may be.”

“…Okay. But if you ever want to talk…”

“I’ll be sure to keep you in mind,” she soothes. “But that’s enough about me. On the other hoof, I don’t believe I’ve heard much about your background. Where you live, or used to live, and what your childhood was like, and… whether you have any family waiting for you. Would you care to talk about that?”

“No.”

We turn to Amber.

She glares at us from behind a vicious scowl, forelegs folded and the curry half-eaten by her side. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“And why is that?” Selene calmly inquires.

“Rule One.”

“Ah. I see.” The princess nods, then returns to me. “Continue, Adam.”

“I said no.”

“And I said continue,” Selene retorts, snapping back to her. “He isn’t ‘getting personal’ with you, Amber, is he?”

“I can still hear him.”

“So be it.”

Amber holds her gaze a little longer, defiant, then rocks onto her haunches, stands up, and begins walking away.

Before she can take her fourth step, however, golden auras lock her hooves in place. “You weren’t given permission to leave, Amber.”

She tries to yank herself out of her magical restraints for a few seconds, but doesn’t even come close. Instead, she glowers at the ground and grumbles, “Why should I need it?”

“Because there are others here besides you. There’s also the fact that I’m the Princess of Equestria, but that’s beside the point — storming off is not something you do in polite company.”

“There’s nothing ‘polite’ about it.”

“The only one being rude here is you, Amber. Sit down.”

Grudgingly, she obeys, and the auras drag her closer and spin her round to face us. She appears unnerved by the action at first, but quickly recovers and resumes her bitter stare.

“You are right about one thing, though,” Selene continues, “you don’t have to be friends.”

Amber looks at her sceptically.

“However, as I said before, I expect both of you to look out for one another, and you can’t do that when you are, quote-unquote, tearing each other apart. Which is why I think it would be helpful if Adam told us what going home means to him.”

“I don’t care what it means to him.”

“No.” The princess leers at her. “You’re afraid that you will.”

“…I’m not afraid—”

“Don’t lie to me, Trail Blazer. Don’t lie to yourself. I’ve made my stance on that very clear and you’ve been doing it for far too long.”

Amber says nothing, trying to maintain an air of strength. But the longer she keeps her eyes locked with Selene’s, the more obvious the ruse becomes, until she finds it too much and looks away, ears lowering slightly. Still miffed, but less resolute.

“Lying about what?”

“Nothing,” she growls, glancing at me dangerously.

The princess watches her with a warning expression, then turns back to me with a calm and collected one. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

“I won’t.”

Selene waits for the words to fade, then mouths, with the softest nod and the faintest smirk imaginable, “She will.”

I nod in turn.

“So, Adam,” she says, dispelling the glow from her horn and Amber’s hooves, “tell me about yourself. What does home mean to you?”

I hesitate, thinking.

“Or is it a sensitive topic?”

“…No. No, not really…”

“Then why the long face?”

“…I guess… I guess I just…”

“Take your time.”

“…I guess I just haven’t given it as much thought as I probably should have.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean… I have friends, and… and Mum too… but I haven’t really thought about what they’re going through, or what I’ll tell them. If I can tell them anything.”

“Baby steps, Adam. Where do you live?”

“…A town called Marbleham.”

“And what is Marbleham like?”

“…Alright, I guess. I mean, it’s seen better days.”

“Rundown?”

“Not really. It’s more out of the way, if that makes sense.”

“Off the beaten track.”

“Pretty much. It’s up in the hills, where the roads wind all over the place, and it takes a whole hour by bus to get to and from university.”

“You’re a student?”

I nod. “Studying to be a cameraman, or something. I don’t know. Maybe I could be a director, if I tried hard enough, but I definitely want to be a part of the film industry.”

“Film? As in, motion pictures?”

“Yeah.”

“…And this medium is popular enough that it warrants its own field of study?”

“Has been for the last hundred years.”

Selene stares at me, then looks up in thought.

“It’s not that intellectual — we’re not developing the world’s most powerful camera or anything — it’s more to do with using the gear safely, and how to frame a scene, which I think I’m already pretty good at.”

“Would you say it’s your special talent?”

“…Uh… Sure, I guess. But it wasn’t always.”

“No?”

“No. When I started out, I was pretty terrible, to be honest. I kept getting the colour balance wrong, and my script writing was atrocious — and still is, sometimes — and I couldn’t stand all the essays and reports my other units were stacking on me.”

She nods thoughtfully. “But then something changed, I take it?”

“…Yeah. Not to sound too sappy, but I… somehow… made a friend.”

“Just one?”

“Don’t get me wrong; I’m not antisocial… but I was very… picky.”

“Distrustful?”

“…A little harsh, but yeah, I suppose.”

She nods again. “And you live with your family?”

“My mum.”

“Just your mother?”

“Yeah. Dad… left not long after high school.”

“Oh.” She recoils slightly. “I’m sorry, Adam, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be.”

“…No?”

“No. I’ve heard it a bunch of times, but it doesn’t change anything. And I’m over it.”

“…And your mother?”

“…Not so much…”

“…I see…”

“…There’s not much more to tell. Life was… fine, I guess. And there definitely weren’t any talking ponies making me question my place in the universe. No offence.”

“None taken.”

“…So, yeah. To me, going home means going back to the way things were. The way I’m used to. The way everything’s supposed to be. By my world’s standards, at least. But when I say that… I’m not sure I could allow myself to… or in some strange, twisted way, want to forget that there’s a whole new world out there. Or here. Or wherever we are.”

“And why would you want to? Bad experiences notwithstanding.”

“Because, how could I live with a secret like this? I’d never get over it. And coming from a place without magic… if I started jabbering on about a world with mythical creatures, and a sun and moon that don’t move on their own, and pastel pegasi and pretty pink pony princesses… I’d be thrown into a psych ward somewhere if I didn’t shut up.”

Selene gives me a small, sly smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

I blink. “In a cursory sense,” I quickly reply, nipping that weed before it took root. “I don’t mean to sound callous, but… you’re not really my type.”

“Because I’m a princess?”

“Because you’re…” I stop, realising how easily the rest of that sentence could be misunderstood. Instead, I wave dismissively and gently shake my head. “Never mind. It was just a passing compliment.”

“I know,” she says cordially, though her smile wanes somewhat. More out of curiosity than disappointment. “I was merely having fun — an unfortunate habit I picked up from the most… charismatic of my aunts. With mixed reactions from my parents, of course.”

“You don’t flirt with all your friends, do you?”

“Only the ones I like.”

At that, I give a subdued smirk.

“But going back to what you said before… if you do come from another world — which, I must admit, seems more and more likely — and you don’t want to pretend that this one doesn’t exist… why not let me speak on your behalf?”

I blink again. “Excuse me?”

“Well, as princess and chief diplomat of Equestria, it is my duty and honour to represent the kingdom in all affairs, foreign, domestic, and now, apparently, interdimensional. If it means a smoother transition for you, I see no reason why I shouldn’t say hello.”

“…I’m not sure you’d want that.”

She cocks her head slightly. “Why not?”

“Because you wouldn’t be dealing with just one country; you’d be dealing with, literally, hundreds. They all believe different things and… they don’t all like each other very much. And if history is anything to go by, we don’t really have a good track record when it comes to ‘the other’. So, I can’t speak for humanity very well, but… I don’t know how well they’d react to something as… if you don’t mind me saying… bizarre as you… waltzing into the scene.”

“You fear backlash?”

“…In short, yes.”

“I see.” She nods and, strangely, glances knowingly at Amber. “But I feel it would be… defeatist of me, if I gave up at the mere prospect of something going wrong. There is no reward without risk, after all. And, sometimes… if we try hard enough… we find friends in even the darkest of places.”

It takes a moment, but the hint finally sinks in and I look to Amber too.

She continues to sit in the doglike manner I have become so used to now, and she stares down at her forehooves with… a familiar frown. A troubled frown. And at the same time, I notice her sagging neck, her slouching shoulders, and her drooping ears — all very subtle and slight, but there nevertheless.

I turn back to Selene, who meets my eyes with a kind, calming and sagely gaze.

“Never lose hope, Adam. Those who do are doomed to fail.”

I stare at her with an open mouth, lost for words. I feel… affected… but I don’t know how, or in what way. It’s like a soft and shaggy blanket draped around my shoulders, and something lukewarm and fuzzy entering me through a thin line down my chest.

I haven’t… felt like this since…

“But that’s all I’ll say for now,” Selene concludes, drawing Amber and I out of our reveries. “The hour grows late, and I too need my rest.”

“…Rest?” I ask distantly, then shake my head to force myself to concentrate. “But, wait, aren’t you the… Princess of the Night?”

“Silly, isn’t it?” She grins. “But yes, believe it or not, I too need sleep. And on that note, as much as I’d love to, I may be unable to visit for the next few nights. The Gala starts this morning, unofficially, and there are still some things to sort out, as well as my daily duties.”

“…Alright then. I… guess we’ll see you around.”

She bows to me graciously, and then looks at Amber. “And some advice, if you’d hear it.”

She doesn’t respond, staring at the princess testily, but with a bare fraction of the zeal.

Selene nods once, then turns and points at something tall and to the west. “Beware that pass,” she warns, answering my question immediately. “I don’t know why, but it’s been growing treacherous over the last few years. People have been lost through there before, and even I have been unable to find them. But if you keep your wits about you, stick to the trails and keep each other safe, both of you should be fine.” She faces us again. “Do I make myself clear?”

Amber looks at me.

I look back.

She holds my gaze, perfectly unreadable, then gives Selene a small, curt nod and turns away.

“Good.” The princess returns her hoof to the ground and straightens herself up somewhat. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

Amber shrugs and shakes her head, still looking away.

“Actually,” I say, raising a hand, “if you could… maybe… spare a bar of soap?”

Selene grins again. “I could pull a few strings.”

“And a razor too?” I scratch the hairs on my chin and neck to demonstrate. “If this grows any longer, it’ll start to itch.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She bows once more and stands, takes a deep breath in and out, then gives us both an amiable smile. “Goodbye and good night. And good luck.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

“Ditto,” mutters Amber.

Selene winces disapprovingly at the remark, but it’s a fleeting look that quickly fades, and she bows her head for a third time. “Until we meet again,” she farewells, then disappears in a flash, taking Amber’s curry with her.

I stare at the spot where she’d been, watching the dust fizzle away before they reach the ground, and then turn to Amber.

She turns to me too.

“So, do you want to talk, or—”

“No,” she answers decisively, though it lacks the sharpness I’m so used to hearing.

I close my mouth and wait for her to continue.

She doesn’t.

If the silence is supposed to make me feel uncomfortable, it’s not working. Instead, I shimmy back to my tree and rest my head against its trunk, readjusting the blanket and closing my eyes. “Good night, Amber,” I call out coolly, making myself as snug as I can in a bed of earth and wood.

The silence stretches on.

And then, faintly, I hear a short, quiet, grumbled response, before hooves pad the ground and shuffle away to the tent. It was too soft to make out, but I think I have a hunch.

And so, I smile.