Odyssey of a Thief

by ZOMG

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Romance, Adventure, Twilight Sparkle, Main 6
Length: 76394

Every action has consequences, no matter the intent. To clear her slate, Twilight Sparkle will go to any lengths to settle the score with Celestia, even if it means a fool's errand to a land ravaged by chaos.

Every action has consequences, no matter the intent. To clear her slate, Twilight Sparkle will go to any lengths to settle the score with Celestia, even if it means a fool's errand to a land ravaged by chaos.

The Lost Continent of Panthalassa beckons. Monsters, immortals, and creatures whose names are whispered with reverence and fear stand between Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Thieves, and the path home.

Based on the worldbuilding and expansion of the original oneshot, In the Hall of the Mountain Queen. Serving as a continuation.

Artwork by lilfunkman.

Special thanks to Alto, Timaeus, Cynewulf, Vdrake77, CouchCrusader, Beltorn, and all my friends for their ongoing support in writing this.

Published 2019-03-01 02:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2020-06-04 13:47:51 UTC

In the Hall of the Mountain Queen 2. She Wakes

Let it not be said that Twilight hadn’t realized the gravity of her mission, even with all her bantering and troublemaking along the way.

Who in the name of sanity would, after all? But sometimes, these things have a way of slipping to the back of one’s mind while running around, stealing, conning, and abusing their silver tongue to get out of trouble. Or engaging in the odd fight because some creatures simply refused to do anything without violence, distasteful as it was.

But as she walked through those ancient halls, peering through cobwebs and dust and breathing that stale air, her entire being began to tremble. Her body longed for the warmth of Celestia’s sun, the warmth of both her teachers’ and family’s embraces, and, in general, a chance to be anywhere but here.

Yet here she was.

And she was here by the consequence of her own actions.

Consequences she realized all the more with each passing second, each sign of giant claws having scarred the stone, melted metal, or heaps of twisted armor and bone.

Princess of Thieves?

Right now, Twilight Sparkle felt herself the Princess of Fools.

“I have one last job for you, Twilight,” she hissed shakily, as she glanced over the edge of the parapet to see a near endless chasm below, a nice, ominous mist obscuring the bottom so she couldn’t see what awaited. “One more, and then all accounts are squared, my dear wayward student. It will be long and arduous, but I have faith in you.” Snorting, she turned away and began slinking down the crumbling bridge toward an open archway. “My deliciously toned flanks you do!”

Her heart hammered in her chest like it was trying to escape—and if it was, she couldn’t blame it! Though, if it could be so kind as to stop stifling her lungs and strangling her windpipe, Twilight would be much appreciative. She’d even help it find the way out of this old Diamond Dog fortress.

Out of the legendary Erebark, deep within the Solitary Mountain, where the Diamond Dog kings once sat upon their thrones of gold and gems and iron. But the days of the Kings Under the Mountain in Erebark had long passed. All thanks to her.

Hadkhûna. The beautiful she-dragon who razed nations and terrorized the western lands in her pursuit of gold, gems, and trinkets before finding the grand trove in Erebark and claiming it as her own.

Twilight peered around the corner, her eyes flitting this way and that to check and see if the beast might be lurking nearby.

Of course not. The legendary dragon who took Erebark and unseated the King Under the Mountain would be far too grand to stand within them. The corridors were long empty, save for the dust which she could only hope wasn’t what was left of some unfortunate soul who couldn’t escape dragon fire. But, no dragon, at least. No sign of hide, head, scale, or tail since she slipped through that secret entrance and checked the famed grand hallway and forges.

Which left the Great Hall, where Rex and the others in his pack told her in song and rhyme that their forefathers kept their gold. Right before she and Rex stole the scripts and found the secrets to open the path when the sun shone down on Rover’s Day.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing her heart to return to its original place in her chest. It hadn’t managed to hammer its way free, so it would just have to come along for the ride. Along with her deliciously toned flanks.

It wasn’t like Hadkhûna would discriminate about which parts of her she roasted or ate anyway.

With that delightfully morbid thought fresh in mind, Twilight trotted into the corridor and centered herself, channeling a bit of magic into her horn. A small spell was fine, anything bigger would no doubt rouse the great terror of the skies. The young Princess of Thieves took a deep breath and whispered, “Find me, Platinum’s Crown.”

A tiny bolt of raspberry floated forth from her horn and lazily drifted down the corridor to her left. Licking her lips, dried by the stale, cold air, Twilight followed along, nearly walking on the tips of her hooves. Her tail flicked as though to tuck between her legs, but she managed to beat back the urge. Up ahead, passed the glowing little magic sprite she’d conjured, through the wide, gaping archway—what was left of it, anyway, most had been either knocked down by the legendary dragon or time’s decay—and mist, was a large stone pillar.

And the faintest glitter of gold.

Twilight’s breath caught in her throat, her ears slowly stood straight and tail swished merrily. The thrill of the proverbial hunt flooded her breast. This was it! This was what kept her hooves moving despite the danger in every job, her heart beating through those dull, dreary court sessions! That shimmering glint off some trinket, the feel of history’s weight in her very hooves as she slipped it into her bags! All she had to do was make it in and out without awaking Hadkhûna, then run like the dickens back to Equestria.

Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.

As she neared the end of the corridor, Twilight cancelled her spell. There was little sense in wasting energy, especially if she might need it to escape an angry dragon—Celestia forbid. Carefully, she peered around the edge of the wall, her eyes scanning through the mist to check for any sign of opulent white scales or regal purple fins.

Her jaw promptly dropped and wings unfurled. A bright, unabashed grin spread across her features.

The legends of Erebark were wrong. There was no mere treasure here.

This was a veritable sea of riches. Gold, silver, glittering gemstones, tapestries, statues, ironworks the likes of which the world hadn’t seen since the halcyon days of Erebark’s fallen empire, all worth more than could be counted even during its day! Why, with this, she could fund her own kingdom if she wanted! Better, she could slowly trickle it into education back home, or fund her own school to rival Celestia’s! Or more expansive libraries everywhere!

Twilight clenched her eyes shut and slapped herself across the face. “No! No! Focus!” she scolded herself quietly. “Going straight after this job! Get the stupidly valuable crown, get out without becoming mare flambé, get home, and get everything squared away with Celestia and Luna!”

She repeated this mantra a few times under her breath, adding in a smack or two when a “yes, but” slipped in to work its insidious spell. Once she was certain she’d beaten the urge back, she gave a little nod, then hopped down the steps, flapping her wings twice to lighten her landing on the stone floor below.

A few stray gold coins littered the ground here, there, and yon. Twilight looked out over the vast sea of treasure, restraining a low whistle as she took in the sheer volume. Why, there were mountains of it! Dips and valleys, like the raging sea in the midst of a hurricane! All the property of the mighty she-dragon slumbering somewhere in the shadows.

Hopefully, Hadkhûna was in the midst of one of those hundred-year hibernations. Still, she would have to take the time to actually search for Platinum’s Crown. The “Find Me Lost Item” spell was simple and small enough to go unnoticed by most creatures with a sense for magic, but anything more would cause problems. Even this might if she came too close.

“I’ll just use it to guide me to the general area,” she murmured, summoning her magic. “Once I get to the deeper parts, I’ll cut it and wade in myself. Simple enough.”

Again, the little sprite construct floated forth and lazily guided her toward the center of the vast sea of riches, deep into the chamber. Twilight ruffled her wings, climbing the stairs and stepping over a few stray plates and sacks of gems.

Farther and farther she climbed, that little sprite guiding her toward the deepest, tallest mound of glittering gold and jewels. As her hooves came to the edge of what must have been the hundredth stair, where stone floor seemed to end and the sea or riches began, Twilight cut her spell. With a deep breath, and a quick look around, she waded in and began her search. Celestia willing, she’d find the crown quickly and be out before it could be missed.

Her hoof sunk deep into a mound of gold, drawing a wince and a stifled curse. Twilight had to withhold the urge to just jerk it out for what seemed like the millionth time, lest she somehow disturb the treasure and send it all clattering about and alert Hadkhûna to her presence. Holding her breath, she let her eyes flit about like a squirrel scanning for predators while venturing into the opening.

Nothing but the silent, glittering treasure met her gaze.

Perfect. She quite hoped to keep it that way.

Releasing her breath in a quiet sigh, Twilight caught her tongue between her teeth and began to work her leg free. Her ears pinning as she felt the coins and gemstones around her shift and begin to slide and roll back toward the ground floor. She sent every prayer, every plea, every promise that this was most definitely her last job to the spirits of the Founders Six, hoping against hope that they would listen and grant her some small measure of mercy. The crown was one of theirs, after all.

Her hoof came free. Within seconds, the bits of treasure came to a rest.

Perhaps the Founders were listening and looking after her after all.

That happy, fanciful thought brought a smile to her face and chased away some small measure of her nerves. Everything is just fine, she told herself, looking up ahead at a large stone pillar. A good marking point for where her search could begin and return.

Fixing her eyes on it, she tracked left a bit, then began to wade deeper, ever deeper. Her gaze swept over every coin, every glittering gem in search of a hint of that crown. But it was nowhere to be seen.

However, there was one thing that did catch her eye and trap them in its siren call.

A splendorous necklace with what looked to be eagle’s wings and a roaring lion’s head pendant, a trinket of the ancient Neigh Valley from sometime in the age of the Sumareian Empire, if she were to hazard a guess. Quite a pretty little thing …

And it would look quite fetching around her neck at some fancy to-do. Oh, ponies far and wide would see her and just gape! Sunset—ha!—that uptight little nag would stop that self-satisfied crowing about her moonlighting just long enough to stare, jaw hanging as the Princess of Friendship and self-proclaimed Princess of Thieves passed her by, head high, and wings fluffing.

In the back of her mind, Princess Celestia’s voice could be heard scolding her. She wasn’t here to pick up trinkets for herself. Her job was to find Platinum’s Crown, get out, and return it so it could be displayed proudly with the rest of the Founders’ belongings that remained, nothing more. The voices of Cadence, Luna, and even Shining Armor joined the fray.

But there was that little voice, the one that always tempted her to go hunting for the next big score. And, oh, how it whispered such sweet things in her ears. All those other trinkets had been sold off anonymously, returned to Equestria to fill its museums and educate future generations—and, yes, to fund her own library. Why not snag one for herself? Just this once.

Twilight licked her lips. It couldn’t hurt. Would taking this one extra piece of treasure make Hadkhûna that much angrier? She was already stealing from her, why not go for broke?

She crept closer, her eyes widening with every step. A cheshire cat smile spread across her face. As soon as she was near enough, Twilight reached out and took hold of the necklace, and picked it up.

The instant she did, the motion set off another hissing slide of cascading gold and gems. She winced, pinning her ears and ducking low. The mound of gold off to her left side began to tumble down with it, down the very steps she’d ascended just a few moments prior.

Through the glittering cascade, something smooth and white as eggshell caught her eye. Twilight blinked, tilting her head in wonder as she stayed still and watched. Slowly, more and more of this smooth, white surface was revealed, along with a few rather lovely flecks of sky blue joined in threes here and there. But that surface had an interesting pattern, a crisscross like thing that reminded her vaguely of snake scales.

Wonder died a cold death in the pit of her stomach. Her jaw fell open as purple fins and the crown of the legendary, mighty she-dragon were revealed. One of her eyes, easily the size of Twilight’s own face, as well. Closed in sleep.

But for how long?

Twilight didn’t even dare to breathe. By Celestia’s teats that was a big dragon’s head! Only a third of it! She could have Sunset duplicate her little dragon assistant ten times over and he still wouldn’t cover it!

A sudden gust of wind and shower of coin made her jump and nearly drop her prize. Slowly, Twilight turned, the very tips of her feathers quivering as she took stock of where it had come from—three meters away were two large holes in the mound of treasure, along with the white rounded tip of the she-dragon’s snout. Her estimate was quite off.

Hadkhûna wouldn’t need to chew in order to devour her. Just tilt her head back ever-so slightly and swallow. It was this realization, more than the actual sight, which galvanized Twilight into action.

Throwing discretion out the window, Twilight bounded back toward the stone pillar, slipping the necklace over her head as she turned and fled, and hid behind it, pressing her back against the wall. Her chest heaved, she gasped desperately for breath. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest again, trying to escape and leave her behind as if to say “See! I knew this would happen!” The young princess bit her lip, glancing to her right as if expecting the great beast to come lumbering around the corner behind her, all the while keeping her ears erect to listen despite the urge to splay them flat.

For several seconds—agonizingly long—there was silence. Long enough that Twilight dared to close her eyes and release a heavy sigh.

Then came a rumbling cascade like none before. The mound of gold seemed to lurch as the great beast slid forward like a pony pushing against their pillow. Another snorting breath blew coins and gems and trinkets through the air like a whirlwind. The mound began to shift and churn, she was moving. She was rousing.

She was awakening.

Twilight took several big steps to her left, her eyes trained on the waking she-dragon’s form. If she could get far enough before those eyes opened—

Something shifted just to her left. Twilight felt her heart fall into her hind hooves, like it had been thrown from that parapet into the swirling mists. She turned slowly, her blood as cold as ice as she noticed the mound a dozen or so steps off her left shoulder idly moving from side to side, like somepony swishing their tail. Dumbstruck, she glanced between the mounds—first at the one she knew where the head to be, then the sinuously swishing tail.

Oh. Oh by the stars, she never imagined, even in her deepest nightmares after hearing those tales and songs …

That great eyelid fluttered. And with it, Twilight saw her life flash before her eyes.

Quick as a cat, she scampered toward the lower landing, vaulted over it, and landed hard on the stone floor. Then, she ducked low and pressed herself against the ledge. Her entire body shook, her wings unfurled and wrapped around herself, like a pegasus filly trying to hide.

A low, feminine hum echoed through the air like thunder, filling her ears. The sound so much like a mare rising to begin her day rather than a mad beast ready to devour a thief. Then, a deep sniff, and another. A low, rolling growl from deep within the she-dragon’s belly filled the chamber.

I can’t stay here! Thinking quickly, Twilight hid her head beneath her wings and cast a spell. A cold feeling tickled down her head and over her body like a bucket of egg yolks had been poured over her. Slowly, her very hooves and wings before her began to fade away until she could look through them and see the stone floor and glittering coins scattered all around her. Even her ill-gotten prize was hidden from view.

Careful not to make a sound, Twilight rose and turned her head to watch Hadkhûna to see if the great she-dragon would be fooled by her spell work, silently praying once more.

“Well, now, thief,” Hadkhûna purred in a smooth, elegant voice, with just a hint of what could almost pass as a Canterlot accent had Twilight not known better. She took a step toward Twilight’s position, crushing a portion of the mound beneath one of her mighty claws. “I smell you! I hear your every breath! I feel your air around your pathetic little form!”

Twilight dared not take a step. She ducked low and clenched her eyes shut, hoping against hope those keen senses didn’t tell her the exact spot she stood.

The great she-dragon continued forward, each step a steady cadence counting down to her doom. She felt hot breath wash over her body, she bit her lip and pressed herself against the floor as she sensed Hadkhûna’s massive head pass right over her … and continue!

It worked!

Daring to open her eyes, Twilight looked up to find Hadkhûna looking about with piercing, slitted sapphire eyes, peering through the swirling mists. With another sniff, the she-dragon turned back, craning her long, serpentine neck about and leaning toward her again.

“Where are you?” Hadkhûna crooned. “Won’t you come out and play, little one?” Her snout loomed closer, dangerously closer to Twilight’s face. Those sapphire eyes blazed with murderous intent. “Where are you, thief in the shadows?”

Too close! Twilight bolted toward ground level, galloping as fast as her hooves could carry her, kicking up coins and gems without care. Discretion and stealth be damned, there was a gigantic she-dragon on her tail!

And right on her tail Hadkhûna was. The tinkling cascade of treasure came like a roar of constant thunder. A glance over her shoulder found the opulent, white scaled beast cutting through the sea of treasure like a shark through water on a path straight for her, and closing fast. Far faster than Twilight could ever run. Up ahead, just off her right side, was another one of those stone pillars.

It would have to do.

She threw herself to the side just in the nick of time. The great she-dragon went speeding by her, turning about already. There wasn’t a second to waste, and Twilight needed no prompting to dash over to her only haven, skirt around it, and press herself up against the side, gasping for breath.

“Oh, come now, darling,” Hadkhûna rumbled. “Don’t be shy.” A thundering step made Twilight’s heart skip a beat. “Step into the light, let me look at the bold little thing who would dare intrude upon my mountain!” The tip of her snout came around the side of the pillar, with it the rest of her evil head, those eyes still alight. “Oh, and how bold this one is! I smell gold on you, dear little one—my gold! I wonder what it was this brave little thief, scurrying about in my mountain, stole from me. Something pretty, yes? Did it sparkle and call to you as it did me?”

Twilight backpedalled away from the oncoming she-dragon’s head, trying to lose her around the opposite edge of the pillar and slip around behind. But to no avail. Hadkhûna had her scent, she could hear her every breath. The only advantage she had was remaining unseen.

“There’s something else about you,” the she-dragon continued. “A familiar scent I haven’t smelled in quite some time. Pony, if I’m not mistaken. Unicorn? No, not quite. Pegasus, perhaps? Earth pony as well, my! Either you keep diverse company, or you’re a rarity in your own right, dear! If only you and I could dispense with these silly games so we could—”

A loud crash sounded behind her, Twilight felt her rump hit something scaly and made of pure muscle. With a yelp, she lost her focus, her spell sputtered dead and failed.

Hadkhûna let out a low, deadly purr that shook her to her very bone. “—See one another face to face,” she finished with a satisfied smile full of razor sharp teeth. “Hello, darling. Oh, and aren’t you a pretty little thief. Correction! Beautiful, I should say! Forgive me! And with that necklace—oh, fancy that! One of mine!—I would say you look fit to be a queen all your own, no?”

Her belly churned, Twilight tasted bile and the remnants of the sunflowers and eggs she’d dined on that morn. Licking her lips nervously and trying to hide the way her tail tucked between her legs, the young mare decided her best course of action was the one which served her best for half her years.

Lying her flank off.

“I—I did not come to steal from you, O Hadkhûna” she stammered.

“And yet, you wear my necklace, fetching though it is around your neck, dear,” the she-dragon countered almost coyly.

Her forehooves shaking, she held them out in a gesture one part placating, two parts pleading. “It called to me, yes,” Twilight said in a rush. “I just wanted to try it on and see, not take it from your chambers. I merely came here to—to—to—” From the back of her mind, those songs and stories leapt forth. Her salvation, she hoped. “—To gaze upon your splendor,” she settled upon. Seeing a hint of an intrigued glint in Hadkhûna’s eyes, she seized on her lifeline. “I heard all the old songs and stories and I just—well I had to see for myself if you were as great as they spoke! I didn’t believe them!”

A rumble of amusement rolled about within Hadkhûna’s breast. Her lips curved in a wicked grin, she withdrew her head and stepped around the stone pillar, each one made the very chamber shake. Twilight couldn’t help but turn slowly, watching in muted amazement and still-mounting horror as her full form came into view.

Oh, she was magnificent indeed. Eggshell white scales with crystal blue diamonds in triple decorating her enormous body, the glint of gold and gemstones encrusting her underbelly from generations of sleep on her hoard, fins and horned crown of regal purple, and matching mane of immaculate curls which bounced with each step, each turn of her great head and serpentine neck.

“And do you now, little one?” Hadkhûna called, her voice like the crash of thunder. “Do your songs and tales measure up to the might, the majesty of Hadkhûna, Queen Under the Mountain?”

For a moment, Twilight could do little but shake her head dumbly. “Truly,” she muttered once she found her voice again, “the songs and tales fall utterly short of your enormity, might, and wonder, O Hadkhûna the Magnificent.”

That pleased rumble sounded within Hadkhûna’s breast once more. Her eyes seemed to dazzle with delight. “Well, you do have fine manners for a thief, little one. And a healthy appreciation for true beauty, power, and grace. Though, I must confess, I find this conversation …” She settled down on her belly, looming large over Twilight as she rolled a claw through the air as if to snatch the appropriate phrasing from thin air. “Woefully one-sided.”

“O-Oh?” Twilight felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of her neck. “Why ever would you say that?”

“Come now, darling, don’t play coy. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Hadkhûna leaned in closer, transfixing her with a half-lidded gaze so much like the mares in Canterlot. “Here we are, alone, in my mountain, and I’ve awaken to find myself host to quite a beauty of an intruder. An alicorn, no less! Why, I’ve not seen an alicorn since the days my brood and I reigned over the Western Plains—now, they were warriors! Not at all like the pretenders who once dwelled in my mountain!” The she-dragon heaved a wistful sigh. “Oh, those two could battle like no other. And here, I awaken to find another in my midst. An alicorn, the Crown Jewel of the pony races, a rarity worth more than gold, wanders into my mountain to visit me—be still, my beating heart!”

Twilight took a step back. “Uh, well, I’m not that special.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that. Don’t sell yourself short, dear, it’s unbecoming. Now, who are you and where do you come from, might I ask?”

“Um …” She blinked twice. Her mind raced, rallying everything to focus on this new goal of prolonging her life as much as possible. But as she thought, she caught sight of something glinting in the light just out of the corner of her left eye.

There it was. Perfect, unblemished as if it had been carefully polished every day since it went missing a thousand years ago. Its silver body reflecting both Twilight and Hadkhûna, the purple gemstones set into each flare drew her in like a moth to open flame and stole the very breath from her lungs.

It was there, ripe for the taking. All she had to do was keep Hadkhûna talking long enough to sneak her way over.

Twilight turned to aim an innocent smile at the waiting she-dragon. “I came through the forest,” she replied, taking a casual step to her left.

“Through the forest?” Hadkhûna repeated, intrigued.

“The forest’s winding roads and darkness proved an arduous task to navigate, yes.” Another step. “And through forests, across plains, and over mountains, too. My journey to see you has taken me a great distance.”

“Quite so, it seems.” The she-dragon propped her chin on her talons, idly tapping her jaw with a claw. “Go on, then.”

Another step, drifting ever-closer. “Across rivers and lakes, through rapids and over falls, a distance greater than pegasi fly.”

Hadkhûna leaned back, her eyes wide in surprise. “My, my! Quite a journey indeed!” she praised. “And all by your lonesome?”

“Yes. I couldn’t find any companions who shared my curiosity, much to my disappointment.”

“And mine as well.” Humming a low note, Hadkhûna drew in a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes, affording Twilight an instant to scurry a few steps closer to her goal. When she opened them again, an odd smile seemed to play on her lips. She rose, sauntering—as much a dragon could—around one of the stone pillars, her sapphire eyes flitting around and peering through the mist. “Unfortunate, that I am robbed of the chance to meet more of your kind after so long, but you do cut quite a figure all your own, my dear.”

Twilight pretended she didn’t feel just a bit of heat coloring her cheeks. “Er, thank you.” A couple more steps while Hadkhûna’s eyes flitted away again. So close!

“You’re quite welcome. Now, do go on. Introduce yourself.” She paused her walk to fix Twilight with a sidelong look, her smile growing. “You’ve held me in quiet suspense long enough, don’t you think?”

“Of course.” Her hoof brushed against the cool silver. All she needed was an instant to pick it up and cast a quick spell. “I … am She Who Speaks With Wyverns.”

That earned a raised brow. “Temperamental creatures, my cousins.”

“A bit yes. I am Friend of the Forest Dwellers.”

“Ah! And how is my old friend, Olorin? Such an elegant race, mighty warriors as well. And powerful mages in their own right.”

Twilight offered a sheepish grin. “He tried to dissuade me from my journey. I think he was fearful for my safety.”

“Oh? Well, that’s a mite upsetting.” The she-dragon sighed and shook her head. “I guess he hasn’t forgiven me for that little incident in Jannah centuries ago. A pity.” Hadkhûna resumed her walk, glancing down toward the ground level. “He’s quite a lovely buck when the right mood hits him, you know.”

The perfect chance. “Is he?” Quick as a cat, Twilight snatched up the crown and set it atop her head, casting an invisibility spell in the same motion. Success! “Admittedly, I found him a bit too stern for my taste.”

“In fairness, I did say when the right mood hits him, darling.” Hadkhûna turned to look at Twilight once more, still continuing her idle walk. To Twilight’s immense relief, she gave no sign of noticing her trick. “But that’s neither here nor there. Do continue.”

Swallowing, Twilight began working on her next problem. Escape. “I am She Who Walks Unseen.”

Hadkhûna stopped her pacing. “Now, that was quite impressive, I must say. How did you do it?”

“I can’t go telling you all my secrets, now can I?” She forced a laugh.

“Fair, I suppose.” The she-dragon feigned a pout. “But you can’t blame a girl for trying.” With a little shrug, she approached slowly, idly brushing her claws over her treasure, sending a new cascade of glittering gold and gems. “Is there anything else you’d like to claim? Any others you might call friend?”

Twilight took several steps back, her brows furrowing. “Uh, not that I can think of,” she replied. There was something about her tone. A dangerous edge. “I’ve told you all I am and where I’ve come, O Hadkhûna.”

Those sapphire eyes dazzled like stars. “Have you?” Hadkhûna purred, drawing closer to fix her with that half-lidded look again. “And what of your delightful Diamond Dog friends? What of them, darling?”

Her blood ran cold. “I’m … sorry? Diamond Dogs?” Twilight sent a thousand curses to Fido, Rex, their pack and most especially Clifford and his stupid red fur. Damn it all, she’d bathed each night and barely touched Rex when she’d bucked him off the ledge and their scent still lingered!

“Yes, my dear, Diamond Dogs. What of them?” She drew closer, her smile turning vulpine, her lips peeling back to reveal those teeth again. “Did you really think I didn’t smell their filthy, mangy stench on you? Did you really think that I, Hadkhûna, would not know the stench and taste of Diamond Dog? That I would be distracted by a pretty face and flowery words?” In a blur of motion, one of her talons shot forward to snatch Twilight.

“I’m not with—eep!” The princess threw herself to the side, bounding forward and leaping into the air to take flight.

“Did you think I didn’t know this day would come?” Hadkhûna snarled.

A rush of wind met her ears. Twilight glanced back over her shoulder to find the great she-dragon gliding after her. She pumped her wings, faster and faster she flew until she saw a stone structure up ahead. Something to hide under for the moment. A welcome haven she threw herself under, pressing against one of the stone supports further inside.

The stone roof shook, drawing her attention upward. Another shake made her heart drop into her stomach. Hadkhûna was atop the structure.

“Did you really think I didn’t know they would return to take their mountain after I devoured their kin and unseated their precious King Under the Mountain?” she bellowed. “That I would be caught unaware and beaten by such dreadful rabble? I am Hadkhûna, Harbringer of Destruction! The Last of the Great Serpents! I go where I wish and kill as I please! I have done battle with your Eternal Sisters, the greatest warriors of an age long forgotten! My teeth are swords! My claws, spears! My armor, iron! And my breath! Death!”

The sound of a deep inhaling, more akin to a hurricane’s fury than a breath, made Twilight’s ears twitch. She threw herself off the wall with a frantic cry, galloping out the other side of the structure just as she heard the great she-dragon exhale, then the shriek and searing heat of oncoming dragon fire.

Her hind hoof struck a stray stone. Twilight let out a squeak as she tumbled head over tail across the floor, the crown toppled from her head and shimmered back into view, skipping thrice across the stone floor before spinning to a rest between the fallen princess and furious she-dragon.

Hakhhûna’s eyes narrowed, alight with fury. “Well, well, well, what have we here?” she drawled. “What an eye you have, stealing Platinum’s Crown from my trove. It was that which drew the Diamond Dogs to raid the old pony settlements and steal it from that prissy little mare’s head, and that which drew me here. A fetching thing, the crown jewel of my hoard—but I’m afraid it doesn’t quite suit you, my dear.” The scales along her belly, all the way up her neck began to glow a bright orange, like molten lava. “It doesn’t go with that necklace at all, and I think it a bit too gaudy for a beauty like yourself.”

Twilight summoned the crown to her hoof, clutching it tight as she scrambled to a standing position. “This is ours,” she replied. “This crown belongs to Equestria. It was never theirs to take, or yours to keep.”

“That crown has been mine for centuries, little one. The prize of my gallery.” The temperature in the room raised. Steam began to pour from her nostrils. “But I think the bones of an alicorn will soon supplant that. Now tell me, dear, how do you choose to die?” Without waiting for an answer, Hadkhûna lunged, her jaws wide and ready to gobble Twilight whole.

With a shriek, Twilight cast the invisibility spell once more and flung herself to the side, into a forward roll, and straight back to her hooves, scampering toward the corridor she’d entered through.

She missed the chance to savor the stunned confusion that crossed the she-dragon’s face for a second. But she didn’t miss the furious shriek or concussive shockwave rippling through the air as that deadly breath sent dragon fire over the ground she once stood, then a second and third stream arcing through the chamber, the latter right across the path she’d taken.

“Thief! Thief! I will destroy you, filthy thief!” Twilight could hear her drawing in another breath, then the rushing shriek of dragon fire echoed through the corridor, bathing the path before her in an angry orange-red glow.

A look back over her shoulder confirmed her suspicions. A wall of fire raced forward to catch her in its apocalyptic embrace. With a cry, she turned sharp and flung herself through the archway leading out to that old stone bridge she’d crossed before. Stumbling a step, she caught herself on the ledge looking out over the swirling mists below, pausing just a moment to try and catch her breath. This was insane! This entire job was certifiably insane, and she was going to have words with Celestia when she returned to Canterlot!

If she made it out of this mess alive.

A loud crash made her start. Swiveling her ears about, Twilight turned to look at the near wall. Namely, at a crack down the side she was almost certain hadn’t been there before. Another crash made her wince, and the sent the crack gouging farther down the side of the wall, with several others spider webbing outward.

Her jaw dropped. No …

Hadkhûna’s enraged roar shook the cavern. The ancient she-dragon threw herself against the wall again, and the stone exploded outward under the sheer force. She came through like a wrecking ball, hurtling into the chamber and landing hard on the ground below, her head still able to tower over the bridge upon which Twilight stood.

Those sapphire eyes found her again. The white hot fury held behind them made Twilight feel as though the she-dragon meant to kill her by gaze alone.

Twilight glanced from her to the far side of the bridge. It was a long shot, but she had to try! It was either that or the balcony high overhead and behind the enraged she-dragon. Not at all a prospect she wanted to try and test. It would have to be the corridor or a teleport spell.

The latter wouldn’t exactly work well unless she took Hadkhûna by surprise.

Pushing off the wall, she made a mad dash for the far side of the bridge, her hooves thundering against the stones. Six meters away! Five! She dared to think she might just manage to duck through the archway and make a getaway through that secret passage.

Then a blur of white came crashing down on the bridge, breaking it clean off, then whipping about to slam into the archway and send it down in a shower of rubble. Twilight came skidding to a stop, her wings flared out wide and flapping twice to stop her from falling off. Before she could even think to turn about, that mighty tail came down again, this time but half a meter to her right. In an instant, Hadkhûna had destroyed the bridge, save for the little square section upon which she stood.

Trapped on a proverbial island, with a mighty, ancient she-dragon approaching leisurely, with a sway in her wide hips and tail and a terrible, wicked grin splitting her snout.

“Oh, how very unfortunate. You were so close to escape, weren’t you? And now, that much closer to residence in my belly, my pretty, flattering mare.” Hadkhûna stopped, looming large over Twilight. Those sapphire eyes shone with glee. “Any last words, my dear, sweet, little darling?” she asked, opening her jaws wide to reveal a mouth full of dripping fangs. With a snarl, she lurched forward, ready to gobble the young princess whole.

Twilight wasn’t quite certain what made her say the words aloud. The teleportation spell leapt to the forefront of her mind, along with something that had been lingering somewhat each time she noticed that piercing gaze upon herself. But how they came together and forced their way through her lips, in hindsight, seemed ridiculous and quite nonsensical.

“You have lovely eyes!” Twilight blurted just before she blinked out of existence, her world shifting from that precarious spot on the destroyed bridge to the balcony high overhead even the great she-dragon’s head. Her heart racing, she patted her body, checking to make certain she was still whole, and let out a relieved sigh.

Below, she could see Hadkhûna, still looming over the spot she’d been a mere few seconds prior. Those mighty jaws snapped shut on empty air, her body tense and still. Almost as though she’d been frozen in place.

Curious, Twilight tilted her head and leaned over the balcony’s edge, squinting. There was something off about her posture. Her entire demeanor. Hadkhûna’s eyes were wide once more, and her talons slowly came up to cup her eggshell white cheeks, almost trembling as they did. Only then did she notice the faintest hint of rosy pink beginning to fill the she-dragon’s face. Deepening until a streak of red stood in proud bloom.

She blinked. Was Hadkhûna actually … blushing?

“Oh,” Hadkhûna whispered. “Oh my!”

The young mare let her jaw hang open, a choked gasp sounded in the back of her throat before she could stop herself. She clapped her hooves over her mouth as if to snatch the sound from the air, but too late!

Hadkhûna jolted out of her stupor and turned to face her fully, the blush in her cheeks spreading to reach her neck even as those entrancing sapphire eyes met Twilight’s again. “Oh my,” she repeated in a throaty purr.

Twilight squeaked and bolted through the open door as fast as her hooves could carry her. She had no intention of finding out just what games might await after stunning her so.

Faster and faster she ran, her chest aching and lungs burning, but body more than willing to keep moving. She couldn’t stop, not now, not when she got outside, not until she was across the sea. And even than, maybe not quite.

Through those old hallways, ruined corridors, over tangled messes of armor and bone and ash, through the secret doorway still hanging wide open, and out into the cool night air she ran and didn’t stop. Not even as she noticed—unbelievable though it seemed—a familiar paw reaching up to grasp the ledge before Rex’s head came into view.

Twilight leapt over him in one bound and took off. “Time to get out of the pool, Rexy-poochie!” she called over her shoulder. “Pissed off dragon coming through and she’s got a nose and taste for your kind’s hide!”

A thunderous roar shook the very foundations of the Solitary Mountain, followed by a sudden yelp and another thud of diamond dog hitting the rocks. Twilight pumped her wings and faced forward as she flew off into the night, arching high through the inky black sky in hopes that her coat might just help her blend in.

An explosion of rock, earth, and ancient muscle split the air like a bomb.

A glance back out of the corner of her eye afforded Twilight a brief look as the western side of the Solitary Mountain exploded outward and collapsed, and a mighty she dragon stretched her wings, her scales shimmering in the silvery moonlight, and took flight in free air for the first time in four hundred years.

Whether or not Rex survived Hadkhûna’s emergence or the landslide which followed, Twilight couldn’t say for certain. All she knew was that she didn’t have any wish to find out if the she dragon’s rosy cheeks meant she was coming for her heart or a whole damned meal.

The chase had begun again.

There was no mortal creature so bold or brash, none with the wit or mettle. With her every action, her tale would spread, and so too, her legend.

Ponies and deer would balk and whisper their gossip, the gryphons and wyverns did crow and toast her daring while the diamond dogs growled and cursed her name. There truly could be no other like she, one so brilliant and talented, yes.

And incomparably stupid as well.

Who else would venture to the depths of the chaos which ravaged the Lost Continent, into old chambers and domains of monsters and gods, and make enemies of befallen Kings, fey Queens, and the rabble? Who else would dare think to swagger on through, her head held high, and pouches filled with their greatest treasures?

Who else would dare wander off the edge of the map and find her way back through the old path ‘twixt the Pillars?

This is the tale of Twilight Sparkle.

This is the legend of the Princess of Thieves.

Author's Note

A few edits, a few additions here and there to flesh out the verse, but the same beginning for our little thief. Hopefully, this one reads a little better with the added chapter and background, and serves as a good jumping off point into this messed up continent Twilight finds herself on.

Web of Shadows: 1. Brickenbrack and Back

The wind came in a cold, shrill whistle in her ears. Her lungs burning with her every breath, she could feel her tired muscles aching, begging her to land and take a rest before her wings failed and sent her into a free fall. A free fall which would leave her easy prey to her pursuer.

A draconic roar cut through the air and shook her to the very bone. As if hearing her thoughts, Hadkhûna chose then, when her resolve was at her weakest, to remind her that she wasn’t far behind. And closing fast.

Faster than she could manage.

Twilight Sparkle sent every prayer to the heavens, made every bargain with her tired wings to press onward. Just a bit farther! she told herself. We can lose her once we get to the Forest of Mists and detour through the Nightmare Swamp! Even she wouldn’t dare enter that place! None would!

None save a desperate alicorn, of course. If she made it.

The thought alone was a lie, but a sweet one. Sweet enough to fill her chest with renewed vigor, even as beads of cold sweat rolled down her cheeks and stained her coat, beading over the glittering gold necklace she’d stolen. Reflexively, her hooves clutched at Princess Platinum’s crown, and she sent a thousand curses to Celestia for sending her on this job.

And then a thousand more at herself for taking the stupid necklace. Vanity, as Celestia and Luna both had warned her, was a terrible curse. As was avarice. And both had led to many a pony’s folly.

“If I make it out of this alive, I’ll never steal again!” Twilight vowed to any higher powers listening. The forest loomed ahead—so close, yet so far away! But she could make it! If she just pushed herself a little harder, a little farther, she could make it to safety!

A sound like a hurricane’s gale stole her very breath away, then came a massive claw wrapping around her entire body and snatching her out of the air like a foal plucking a cookie from the jar. She made to yelp, but Hadkhûna’s mighty grip squeezed the very breath from her lungs. With a roar of victory, the great she-dragon dove for the ground like a bolt from a Royal Guard’s crossbow. Her opulent white scales and purple fins glistening in the sunlight, her long curly mane whipping in the wind.

They landed with a loud crash and cloud of dust, the she-dragon’s claws digging a trench in the soil as she came skidding to a halt, and pinned Twilight Sparkle, the self-proclaimed Princess of Thieves, to the ground beneath her massive fore claws.

Though the young mare knew in her head her fate was sealed, instinct overrode natural thought. She squirmed, giving one last effort with tired, aching muscles and empty lungs to wriggle free and escape Hadkhûna’s grasp, but to no avail. Her legs kicked and wings flapped, but all the she-dragon had to do, all she did, was dig her claws deep into the soil and press her palm down upon Twilight’s chest.

With a defeated moan, Twilight let her hooves fall limp against the ground. Her amethyst eyes stared up, gazing deep into those blazing sapphire eyes of the great she-dragon who razed civilizations throughout the centuries and stood head and shoulders above all her kin.

Hadkhûna drew in close, her cheek scales flushing a deep, rosy pink and nostrils flaring. Her lips were set in a thin line, like a mare unsure whether to be furious or flattered.

Twilight turned broke her gaze, turning away so she wouldn’t have to watch those massive jaws open to reveal the cavernous maw, the path to her final resting place in the belly of a mighty beast she’d so foolishly robbed. She could feel Hadkhûna’s hot, humid breath bathing her coat with its scent as she brought her mouth so close her lips brushed over Twilight’s very cheek as she whispered as softly as a she-dragon her size could manage, “Tell me more about my eyes.”

Silence fell over them, over the entire land as if even the creatures of the distant forest paused in their birdsongs and scampering through the trees to turn and say what as they regarded the scene. A pony, a princess of Equestria, and admitted thief, laying pinned beneath the claws of the Last of the Great Serpents, completely helpless to defend herself or make any such move to escape a terrible demise …

“Huh?” Twilight goggled.

Hadkhûna’s nose trailed up her cheek, until her massive lips brushed across her ear tip. “Tell me more about my eyes,” she repeated, her voice rising just enough so Twilight could detect just a hint of something familiar—nerves, like in a crushing mare’s voice. “Tell me, little darling, gem among ponykind, what drew those words from your lips.”

All the trapped mare could do was turn and gape, a choked sputter sounded from within her throat as she tried to will herself to vocalize some disbelief, some question as to what in the name of sanity had possessed the legendary she-dragon.

A low purr rumbled within Hadkhûna’s chest. “Tell me, please, darling Twilight,” she murmured. Her massive jaws opened, a warm, wet tongue ran up Twilight’s chest to the very tip of her nose, leaving her coat matted and unkempt. “Twilight. Twilight Sparkle, you’d best wake up.”

Huh? Twilight blinked. Something wasn’t right here. When had she told Hadkhûna her name?

“My little gem,” Hadkhûna purred in her ears, her voice stirring something deep within her chest. “If you don’t wake up, I’ll have to tease you again.” Once more, that warm tongue lapped at her face, followed by a surprisingly soft kiss upon her cheek. “Up you get, little darling.”

She blinked again. The scene disappeared and blended into a blur of colors. She could see golden sunlight bathing the land, verdant grass stretching as far as the eye could see and trees off some twenty miles in the distance. But most importantly of all, she noticed her bed wasn’t a bed or sleeping bag—but a belly of white scales adorned with sparkling gems and gold embedded in the spaces between a repeating pattern of three sky blue diamonds.

Her gaze was drawn up to her bed’s long neck and face, those regal purple curls still as perfect and pristine as they’d been in Erebark, those horns and fins as impressive, and pearly white fangs just as deadly. The smile gracing Hadkhûna’s lips was wicked indeed, but bore that of a lover enjoying the chance to tease and dote upon their special somepony. And those eyes …

Those sapphire eyes shone with utmost adoration as she trailed a mighty claw beneath Twilight’s chin and tilted the little mare’s head back. “Good morning, little gem,” she rumbled, giving her a slow, affectionate lick. “I thought we agreed you’d wake when I did without issue.”

Twilight’s brain finally kicked into gear. That day hadn’t been the end of her, but the start of them. The start of a strange, strange thing between thief and she-dragon.

One they were still trying to figure out.

Almost on instinct, she let out a keening whine and beat her hooves against Hadkhûna’s belly. “It’s too early!” she grumped, shifting so she could escape the claw’s grasp and bury her face in those warm scales.

“We agreed,” Hadkhûna said with a rumbling chuckle, “that you would rise when I did, darling.” Again, an affectionate lick ran over her form, from the small of her back to the base of her neck, lingering long enough between her wings to draw a breathy gasp and shiver, and earn a throaty purr from her tormenting lover. “You will rise with me, or I will lavish you until your face shares color with dragon fire. Either way, I do believe I come out on top, as it were.”

A heady heat rose in Twilight’s cheeks, coloring her coat a deep reddish brown. She covered her head with her mulberry feathers to hide her face and the smile which threatened to betray her feeling on the matter. An act which drew another chuckle, and a teasing trailing of that massive claw down her spine to her rump.

With a squeak, she sat upright, her wings spread and feathers on full display, and her blush spread to the base of her neck. “Ex-Excuse you!” she stammered.

“Excuse you, darling gem,” the she-dragon retorted. She planted a surprisingly soft kiss on her mare’s face, fluttering her lashes. “But I do believe I’ve found a little crack in the armor of my Princess of Thieves, and I shall exploit it most happily. As is my right, seeing as you are my lover.”

Her lover?

Twilight puffed her cheeks. “You left Erebark for me,” she countered, a hint of playfulness to her tone. “Who’s to say you’re not mine?”

Another throaty purr came in reply. “Me, little gem. After all, I have you here.” The claw trailed down her spine again, her resolve broke beneath a pleasant tingle. “And can garner such delicious responses at will. I would weigh that against the gold and gems in my mountain.”

Through the heated blush and wobbly smile which spread against her will, Twilight affixed her strange lover and tormentor with a glare. She couldn’t deny that Hadkhûna had a point. The she-dragon knew just how to make her heart flutter.

Perhaps if she’d done so in Erebark, Twilight would’ve found herself swayed to remain and be that crown jewel of her hoard as she so claimed.

Well. Twilight herself rather than her bones. And damned if she couldn’t say it was a right sight more enticing than a return to Canterlot and a life spent sitting on a gilded throne to govern a nation.

That thought alone drew her to a screeching halt. They’d been on the road to Canterlot for some time, passing over the river and through the Forest of Mists, bound to scale the distant Rolling Thunder Mountains. Which meant a trip through Brickenbrack Village.

Twilight cringed. The village ponies had been … well, as any would be when discussing what lurked deep in the halls of the ancient Kings Under the Mountain. Utterly terrified, recoiling from her as if the mere mention of Hadkhûna’s name would rouse her from sleep and bring her to rain fire and death upon their heads as she had in centuries prior.

And very well could again.

If they saw Hadkhûna waltz into the village there would be mass panic, even if Twilight assured them she wouldn’t do anything untoward. This time.

Not to mention, she wasn’t entirely certain she could stop her rather significantly larger and powerful lover if she wanted to.

Hadkhûna tapped a claw against her flank in silent prodding to hop off her belly and allow her to rise, one granted with all the ease of a simple flap of her wings and landing on the warm grass. With a moan, she rolled over and stretched, her muscles moving in that sensuous, graceful motion with underlying might. Like watching a tidal wave--beautiful, but a force of nature all the same.

“Mmm, well, no sense in dallying further I suppose,” the she-dragon mused. “We have plenty of ground to cover, if you’re still insistent on returning home with my crown.”

“Platinum’s crown,” Twilight corrected with a cheeky smirk.

A quip which earned an arching of one of her opulent white brow scales. “Ownership is nine-tenths of the law, my little gem. I held ownership of that silly thing far longer than that uppity brat’s family ever did.”

“And now, it’s in mine.” Her smirk grew into a sunny smile. “So really, we’re returning my crown.”

A look like a foal sucking on a lemon flitted across Hadkhûna’s face. Then, she gave a little tilt of her head to one side. “Fair enough. Semantics aside, however, it’s quite a journey.” Almost on cue, her belly began to rumble. Her frown deepened. “And I do believe it’s time for both of us to break our fasts. I take it you’d rather avoid seeing me, er, in mid meal.”

Twilight cringed. The image of this, her great she-dragon lover, hunched over some poor buffalo, rending their leg from their body and the blood dripping from her fangs …

She didn’t mean to judge, but it was quite difficult to avoid. And, on a more selfish note, it mad things between them complicated. Very much so.

How were they supposed to be together if they couldn’t even share a meal without one of them needing to run and stick her head in the bushes?

Still. Watching Hadkhûna rip some poor creature with such vigor wasn’t quite her idea of a date night. They’d have to figure something out.

Or something to work as a substitute.

Twilight’s ears twitched. That was it! Her brilliant mind began to kick into gear. If they couldn’t eat together and had to part during mealtimes, why couldn’t they do something else? Something for one another whenever they came together again?

Yes, she mused, a slow smirk began to spread across her face. And I’ve got just the perfect idea. Twilight turned her gaze upon Hadkhûna and aimed her most winning smile at the she-dragon. “I would, but I think I have a suggestion for something,” she said. “Something that can take the place of shared meals, at least until we get to Canterlot.”

Hadkhûna’s brow arched once more, an amused smirk spread across her muzzle. “You tempt well, my darling. I’m listening.”

That winning smile grew into a full, toothy grin as Twilight flew closer to her lover’s snout and hovered so she could explain her proposal and convey her want for them to have that moment together as a couple if they were to try and see if they were meant to work out, strange though their union and circumstances were.

The instant she finished, Twilight found herself swept into those mighty limbs and pressed against Hadkhûna’s broad, muscular chest, and lavished with a flurry of kisses and licks to her face and head. “Oh, my darling gem! That’s a wonderful idea!” she crooned. Drawing back a moment, she gave an uneasy smile and asked, “But, really, is telling me no razing or threatening or killing necessary? That rather limits what I can find.”

“Yes,” Twilight replied with a flat look.

Perhaps for the first time since she was but a welp, Hadkhûna was seen pouting and huffing a smokey breath through her nose. “You’re just no fun at all. You’re lucky you’re adorable.”

Twilight Sparkle felt her smile straining with each greeting, each playful tease about her quest as she walked through Brickenbrack Village.

The ponies were relieved to see her, of course. Each had tried some manner of convincing and cajoling to get her to rethink her plan. Princess Platinum’s crown wasn’t nearly as valuable as a life so young, the older folks said. It’s a fool’s errand! Surely she didn’t think it wise to test her mettle and wit against such a beast, said those closer to her age.

The little ones, on the other hoof …

“Miss Sparkle! Miss Sparkle!” one of the little colts said as he dashed about her ankles. His big blue eyes were wide and full of wonder. “Did you really do it? Did you slay that nasty dragon?”

“How’d you do it?” a little filly asked. A few nervous sparks drizzling from her horn, she shuffled her hooves in the dirt. “My daddy was all worried and mommy thought you were crazy going after Hadkhû—yeeowch! Cobalt! What the hay!”

Another colt flared his wings, glaring through yellow eyes. “Don’t say her name, dummy! You know the adults told us what happens if she knows we talk about her!”

And so on and so forth.

Oh, how their little heads would pop if she told them she didn’t so much slay Hadkhûna as she did, er … well. Lay with her. Atop her. Every night when they went to bed.

It was truly for their benefit, and that of their parents’ sanity, that she kept such comments to herself. Not at all a selfish attempt to keep her blush hidden. Any accusations hinting at such were simply slander and would be prosecuted with the full authority of the Crown.

Because that was totally how things worked.

She deftly stepped around the foals with a forced smile and muttered pardon, hurrying herself along to the old wooden building ahead. The woodwork told of decades of torment by the elements, the faded lettering on the sign had long-since been rendered unreadable, but the admittedly cartoonish visage of a member of each of pony races throwing back a mug of beer was, quite miraculously, still visible.

That familiarity served some measure of comfort while she searched out something to eat and wracked her brain for something to get for Hadkhûna. What exactly could she find that matched the worth of just one of the trinkets in Erebark? It was this which dominated her thoughts as she pushed open the wooden door and stepped through the threshold.

“Ah! Miss Sparkle,” the aged stallion behind the old wooden bar, an older earth pony named Brass Tap, greeted as she entered. A smile creased his worn, wrinkled face. “So you decided to return after all. Came to your senses about that crown, eh?”

Twilight’s smile was decidedly wooden. “Something like that,” she replied. Visions of her entering the fallen kingdom to rob and flee from one of the mightiest dragons in history flashed through her mind, but she pushed them aside. “You wouldn’t happen to have some of that potato soup you gave me last time, would you?”

His smile grew. “Do I? Got plenty of it! I’ll tell the wife to go put some on for ya!” He turned to hurry back to the kitchen, hobbling o n those bad old knees of his with every step he took.

In the meantime, Twilight searched out a nice, lonely spot in the corner of the dining room and trotted over, weaving her way through a crowd of village ponies, a few gryphons, and a cat along her path. Each made sure to stop their conversation and aim teasing grins or relieved smiles her way, a question of her sanity or muttered thanks that she came to her senses before daring to test that hated she-dragon’s temper. Oh! And that was a pretty necklace! Where had she found it?

To each, she offered that wooden smile and a forced laugh. Of course she hadn’t. Of course she hadn’t found the secret passage into Erebark’s keep, stolen the necklace and crown she’d tucked into the pack she’d hidden under her overcoat, and run like the dickens with a furious Hadkhûna hot on her tail. Then a wooed Hadkhûna. The necklace? Oh, she found it half buried in the valley. One of the diamond dogs must’ve left it lying in the dirt; fortune had smiled upon her and given her something sparkly for her troubles.

And they believed it. They just smiled, patted her shoulder, offered assurances it was providence granting her a gift for not testing her luck, and let her pass on to her table.

Twilight didn’t so much slide into the booth as she allowed herself to fall and flop into it, all but laying across the seat for a moment before righting herself. Folding her hooves upon the table, she let her head rest upon them and closed her eyes. Again, she began to think on that little idea of hers.

What in Celestia’s name could she find for Hadkhûna? What would even hold her interest? Certainly not something like a box of chocolates—as if that would even last longer than the blink of an eye before the entire box was casually tossed down her throat.

That cheeky she-dragon would probably smirk and ask for the rest of whatever she’d brought, then make some excuse to sweep Twilight into her embrace for “punitive lavishing” or whatever her flavor-of-the-day reason for such antics was.

Worse still, the mare couldn’t help but allow herself a fond smile. What mare didn’t want affection from her lover, dragon or not?

The slow beat of Brass Tap’s unsteady hooves drew a flick of her left ear. “Here’s your soup, Miss Sparkle,” he announced in his wheezy voice. “And some juice.”

She lifted her head and unfolded her hooves so he could slide the cup and a bowl of warm, steaming soup into place. Twilight sniffed, the scent of slightly overcooked potatoes, leek, and broth wafted to her nose. “Perfect,” she muttered, accepting a spoon from the old stallion. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Twilight spooned a generous bite of potato and leek into her mouth. Bland, uninteresting, and, frankly, only redeemed by its warmth. Just like her last visit.

Perfect.

Now anything could seem interesting by comparison. Maybe then she’d figure something out.

With a sigh, she turned to the old barkeeper and said softly, “I don’t suppose you’d know where I could find something precious, rare, and possibly shiny to give to another, would you?”

He wrinkled his snout. “Lookin’ for something to take the crown’s place? Thought you said that was a job the Princesses asked you to do, Miss Sparkle.”

“It was, yes. But that’s not why I’m looking for something else. Unrelated.” Well. Tangent to the job, anyway. Sighing, she took another bite of potato soup. “I’m looking for a gift, I suppose. For someone—somepony, rather. Somepony special.”

“Aha!” Brass Tap’s smile returned in full. “Now, that, I do know, miss. That I know quite well.” He brought a hoof to his chin in thought, humming a low note. “I can’t say we really have something like that around these parts, though. Not in the village, anyway.” His smile faltered a touch, he aimed a frown at the mare. “You weren’t planning to steal from us, were you—”

“Of course not.” Twilight shook her head firmly. “I’m the Princess of Thieves, but I don’t steal from just anypony. All I’ve stolen, I’ve returned to those the items belonged to.” Admittedly, with the exception of the necklace. That one was hers. “Besides, your village has suffered more than enough over the years. I couldn’t.”

“Much obliged, miss. You’re a much kinder thief than any I’ve ever known.”

“Thank you. Though, if you know of anything I might get for a certain …” She rolled a hoof through the air. “A certain mare close to me. I’d much appreciate that.”

He hummed again. “Well, there’s a couple stories of shiny trinkets ‘round these parts,” Brass Tap admitted, stroking his chin. “A couple right next door, on the peak of Mount Thunderhoof itself.”

The tallest peak of the Rolling Thunder Mountains? Well, a difficult journey, but one on her path anyway. She could make that easily enough. “Would you mind telling me about it?”

“It’s an old one, really. So old, we’re not all that sure about the details.”

“Whatever you have, sir. I’ll gladly hear it.” Deftly, Twilight floated five bits from her hidden purse. Four more than the price of the meal. “Consider this payment for entertaining a curious mare.”

His brows raising, Brass Tap shook his head. “By Celestia’s crown, miss, you must be smitten with this mare.” He sighed and scooped up the bits, then said, “The story goes that there was this group of travelers about fifty years ago or so. They came to the village, smiling and laughing, charming and pretty as you please, and made the village elders think they were friendly. I was just a little foal at the time, you see, so I don’t remember a whole lot. Other than this real beauty of a mare who seemed their leader—kinda like yourself. Though nowhere near as pretty or as polite, if you’ll pardon my saying.”

Twilight fluffed her feathers. She’d always had a bit of a weakness for such flattery. “No pardon needed, I appreciate the compliment.” Taking her cup in hoof, she reclined as best she could in the booth and nodded to him. “What happened?”

“Well, as you’d expect with a group of thieves—present company excepted—they waited ‘till the dead of night, after we’d all been so happy and gracious and thrown them a nice big welcoming party, and slipped into everypony’s house and stole all their treasures! Every piece of gold and silver, anything that ever looked like it shined! My mother’s pearls! Everything, Miss Sparkle. They took it all and made sure they didn’t leave any drawer unchecked. By Celestia, this is the best this town’s looked since, and, well … you see the state of things.”

A low note of discontent built in her chest. Twilight breathed a sigh through her nose. “So they took everything and fled into the mountains? Don’t tell me you mean to say they buried it there.”

“Not at all. They fully intended on leaving. The adults chased after them, you see. Torches, pitchforks, swords, the lot of it. My father used to tell me how they were so close to catching them before they reached the cave.” A visible shudder ran through his body. “I swear to you, Miss Sparkle, as sure as Princess Celestia’s sun shines, I could hear them screaming even as I waited for my father to come home. I could hear those dang thieves screaming for their lives, and it wasn’t the mob what got them. My father told me that himself, and all the adults came home looking like they’d seen some horrors none could imagine.”

Horrors, eh?

Twilight had more than her share of experience with those. “What did they see?” she pressed.

He shook his head. “They never really could describe it. All they said was they saw darkness, total darkness save for the torches bobbing and those thieves jerking about like they’d been caught in wires. Then, some hissing, clicking noise, and some sorta crooning as something blocked them out. And when it moved …” Again, he shuddered. “They’d never say beyond that. Just … darkness. Then they heard that clicking noise come nearer, so they dropped their swords and torches and ran home. Left it all on that mountain-top.” Heaving yet another sigh, he offered her a sad, small smile. “We were all too afraid to even go near the forest on the slopes after that. Shame, too. Played there for years—a game of hide and seek with a mystery mare who’d always sing for us foals, then laugh and wish us luck catching her next time when we’d be called home for dinner.”

A faceless monster, clicking, and darkness. What an interesting tale. Perhaps an old nest of some sort. Spiders, perhaps. Though if nothing had chased, perhaps it was something that made its home there and moved on.

As for the singing? Well, that was probably just coincidence. Didn’t track with what she knew of spiders at all.

Otherwise, why wouldn’t it follow the free meal back down to where a full buffet awaited?

Still, that didn’t solve her need. Oh, their treasures were nice, but that was theirs. She’d return it just as she always did. Free of charge this time.

“This may sound odd,” she began, “but did the thieves have anything else with them, by chance? Did that leader, that mare, have anything?”

Brass Tap furrowed his brows. His gray, wispy tail flicked in thought. “Now that you mention it, she did have a lot of pretty things. Necklaces with topaz stones, earrings, and some nice bracelets around her hooves. Other than that, they kept all their belongings in bags. Never let anypony else touch them for anything.”

A regular gang, then. And with plenty of valuables stolen, if they were guarding them so jealously and so desperate that they’d try to take a shortcut through some random cave.

Caves. Not something one ventured into without proper scouting and ample caution. Whichever idiot pointed it out and went sprinting in, making all the noise of a stampeding buffalo, had no doubt sealed their fate.

If it hadn’t been sealed the second they’d entered regardless.

It would be stupid, common sense told her. If a group of thieves went in and never came out, if it horrified the villagers so much they preferred to drop their weapons and flee home to hide in their destitute little village and let everything fall to ruin, what hope did she have?

Of course, she wasn’t supposed to survive her lover either.

With a smile, Twilight raised her bowl and downed the broth in one gulp, then did the same with her juice. She rose from her table, offering Brass Tap a warm nuzzle to his cheek. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “I think you’ve given me exactly what I need.”

“I … have?” He blinked. Then, his mouth dropped open. He took several steps back as if to escape whatever disease robbed her of all rationale. “Miss, no! Please! You had the sense to leave Erebark well alone, you can’t mean to go into the cave!”

All the bar patrons turned in unison, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

Twilight smiled her most brilliant smile as she made for the door, weaving her way through the dumbstruck crowd. She pushed it open and began to step outside, though not without turning to look back over her shoulder. In a low voice which carried through the bar, she uttered eight words. Eight words which made Brass Tap fall back on his haunches with a dull thud:

“I didn’t find this necklace in the dirt.”

She was long gone before any regained their wits.

Web of Shadows: 2. The Cave

Though Twilight would never be heard saying so aloud—at least, nowhere near within earshot of Celestia or Luna—there were definitely a lot of perks that came with becoming an alicorn, enough to balance out the downer of being seen as some sort of authority figure or role model. Enough to make a self-proclaimed Princess of Thieves into an actual princess.

How her habitual stealing stolen artifacts to return to pony kind made her a suitable candidate for Princess of Friendship, Twilight would love to know. Then again, she’d somehow made the villagers and diamond dogs trust her (the latter, before she robbed them blind) and charmed Hadkhûna, so maybe there was something to that.

There was certainly the extra power which came with it; her magic had billowed like a rising wave. There was a bit of a stamina bonus and some durability—something she might need, given her relationship. More importantly, in her experience, were the use of wings.

Oh, did she ever know now why the pegasi crowed about flying so much. There were so many ways to sneak into places, so many arduous climbs cut short with a short flight and a nice, cool breeze through her mane.

The trip to the summit of Mount Thunderhoof took her no time at all. A climb by hoof would’ve taken her most of the day; the flight had taken her a third that time, if only because she had to actually find the mouth of the cave amid the rocks, foliage, and pine trees lining the slopes.

A ledge leading to that black, cavernous maw granted her a nice spot to glide in and land. Much nicer than some caves which didn’t have near the manners to situate themselves near what was essentially a nice, big walkway. With the nice, moderate incline leading to the ledge, one might almost think it was nature’s way of rolling out the proverbial red carpet.

No wonder that gang had thought it a suitable place to cut through—it looked almost like it’d been dug out by pony hooves!

Or, at least, it would have at the dead of night—had she been foolish and desperate enough to go running for the first sign of a hiding place.

Twilight eyed the cave mouth with a hint of a frown playing upon her lips. The inside was complete and total blackness, as if something had stolen away the very light granted by the sun, moon, and all the stars. Whatever Brass Tap had spoken of was indeed a strange creature. If it were still present …

Well, it was a good thing Twilight wouldn’t be making a lot of noise.

She lit her horn with a bright raspberry glow which bathed the pathway ahead in its light, spilled into the very entrance of the cave, and was promptly devoured by whatever lurked within.

And just as Brass Tap said, she did indeed spot a dull glint of steel—swords and pitchforks long rusted over by the elements’ endless assault—and torch handles. With them, she found coins and smaller trinkets littering the ground.

That gang of robbers had been in quite the hurry to make their escape through the cave, and the villagers so horrified they didn’t notice the chance to recoup at least a small fraction of what they’d stolen.

Twilight took a moment to levitate the coins into one of her pouches, separate from both the crown and her own bits so not to run the risk of tempting herself with a fee.

This is for Hadkhûna and the villagers, she reminded herself. No side gigs, no deviating, and, for the love of Celestia, don’t take anything that isn’t on the menu this time!

Setting her jaw, she took a deep breath and strode forward, marching into the unyielding depths of darkness before her.

If there was one thing Twilight would say about that story Brass Tap told her, it was that justice most certainly wasn’t done to the sheer depths of the cave. Or whatever it was inside.

Her light spell, the same which lit her way through some of those dark caverns in Erebark and through countless ancient ruins and foreign strongholds before, barely illuminated a space half a pony’s length in any direction before it was swallowed by wisps of the strange sticky substance which hung from the ceiling.

Hung from the ceiling?

No, not quite.

The entire cavern was covered in the stuff. The walls, the floors, the stalagmites, every bit of stone had been covered as if a nation’s worth of spiders had woven a giant web together. Enough so that the sticky silk hung and played teasing games with her coat and mane as it tried to find purchase, tangling with her horn and feathers.

A couple times, Twilight nearly let out a yelp as she walked into a thicker patch. A hanging tangle of webbing as thick as tree branches, no doubt woven for the sole purpose of causing some poor creature to panic and thrash about, tying themselves up and alerting the great spiders who dwelt in these far-off lands.

Thankfully, she’d seen neither hide, nor hair, nor fanged, pony like face of the creatures. She hadn’t even heard the usual shrieks and hissing as her magic’s light stung their faces.

But these webs were so strange. They seemed to capture the very light itself from her spell and swallow it, choking it from the very air. It was as if they would glow, and yet not. Some strange quality, a power which she was certain she’d known before from some text, some legends.

What was it, though?

These thoughts plagued her as she crept deeper and deeper into the cave, all the while searching out for any signs of treasure. Here and there, she would find those coins and a few gems, tangled and buried beneath that strange webbing. And when she did, Twilight made sure to reunite them with their brethren in her pouch.

It was then that she noticed the lumps.

They were large and small. Some tiny enough to be rats, bats, or even the occasional squirrel, others the size of dogs and housecats. Others still, those caught within those thick, tree branch like tangles and hanging from the ceiling, the size of buffalo, diamond dogs, bipedal cats, and …

Ponies.

The latter she only realized when she collided face first with one of those cocoons and saw the mummified remains of some poor stallion, his mouth hanging open in a macabre, almost vacant smile and eyes glazed over and staring up at something long gone, a pair of discolored puncture wounds in his neck on one side betrayed the presence of venom, and the wrinkling in his skin … well, he had no doubt been … quite a meal for one lucky spider. The poor, poor stallion. Or at least, she thought until she noticed the scars, the weapon in his hoof, and the torch handle laying nearby.

Twilight’s jaw dropped. Fifty years. Fifty years after he’d helped rob Brickenbrack, and he was still there. Caught, bound, drained, and long since dead, but in pristine condition, mummified by the strange webbing. She held her breath a moment, as though she were afraid she might startle him from some long sleep if she were too loud, and took a step back, then began to sidle around his cocoon.

Her eyes flitted about, scanning both for more cocooned ponies tangled in webbing and any sign of bags or treasure scattered about. She managed to find a few more coins, but no sign of bags.

Cocoons, on the other hoof …

Before, they had been scattered about, littered here and there to tell the tale of unfortunate creatures who had made the mistake of wandering into the wrong cave to get trapped in varying parts of the massive web. Here, Twilight came into contact with several grouped together in a small cluster, some with weapons and torch handles still hanging entangled near their cocooned forms, others without, but all sharing that same look as she drew closer to inspect—a vacant smile, glazed eyes, a pair of discolored puncture marks, and wrinkling of the skin, twisting their faces like raisins.

There were eight in total, counting her first friend she’d nearly run straight into just a moment prior. Each of them stallions, each drained dry of everything a spider might find tasty and left hanging in their web like some sort of trophy display.

Twilight tasted bile stinging her tongue, but swallowed it down and willed her churning stomach to buck up and quit being squeamish. They’d been through worse—it wasn’t like this was the first time she’d stumbled into a spider’s nest, after all. And the last time, there had been several of them. All present, all hungry.

Not a pleasant experience.

But their webs still didn’t have this light-swallowing quality. Twilight was forgetting something—she hated that feeling so! What in the name of Celestia’s pinions was it? Something about a spider whose webs robbed the world of light as she tried to devour the very ponies who raised the sun and moon in those days. She had children; all spiders were her heirs. But there was one among them left from her direct line, the most powerful, yet most reclusive of them all. Before her little jaunt into Erebark, Twilight might be forgiven for scoffing and calling the tale little more than a story meant to frighten foals. A legend.

Hadkhûna certainly hadn’t been a legend, though. Why couldn’t such a creature be real as well?

It was in the midst of this idle musing that she collided hard with one of the cocoons. Another one, actually, situated just a bit further along into the cave.

She shook her head to clear the proverbial cobwebs, rubbing her forehead with a hoof. Her head ached and rang as though she’d just head butted another pony. Wasn’t that just a lovely notion? Head butting some poor thing after it had been trapped and devoured by a spider.

Blinking, she examined this new cocoon. It was about the same size as the other eight, perhaps just a little smaller. Another pony, no doubt. The poor th—wait.

Twilight dared to pour more magic into her spell, brightening the light at the tip of her horn. Through the woven strands of sticky spider silk, she could see the body, discolored by the slow decay of time and the loss of … well, everything inside. That dopey smile and glazed-eyed gaze up at something unseen were present once more, the wrinkling of the skin and body as well, and, of course, those twin discolored puncture wounds.

Puncture wounds which were nearly hidden beneath a thin, black cord. A necklace.

Her ears perked up. Could it be? Morbid though it was, Twilight licked her lips. Carefully, gently, she molded her spell to snake a tendril of glimmering raspberry light between the spider silk and wrapped it around the pony’s head. Her spell began to fizzle and sputter out, as if some disruption meant to dissipate it. But before the soft glow of her magic faded away, it revealed a set of topaz earrings that matched the necklace that had first caught her eye.

Bingo. Twilight grinned. Thieves found, leader identified, and now all she had to do was find the stolen treasures from Brickenbrack. As for Hadkhûna’s gift …

Well, she did have quite the morbid sense of humor. Perhaps this necklace and earrings?

She was more than welcome to some thief’s ill-gotten trinkets. It wasn’t like this was the first time Twilight had pried something precious off a body, anyway. And, normally, whoever or whatever put them there wasn’t kind enough to leave them out in the open, ripe to be picked clean.

But that begged the question: how was she to get them off the body? Was it the light spell dissipating, or magic itself?

Curious, she reached out with her magic as if to take hold of a few strands of spider silk. A few tendrils of varying size and strength, just to test how quickly they might break, if at all.

One by one, each tendril fizzled and sputtered out before they could come in contact with a single strand. Twilight furrowed her brows. She knew spider silk could be a bit resistant to magic, it was harder to get a good grip or get spells to stick than most substances, but never like this!

Would other spells work? Maybe with more strength behind them?

An interesting question to be sure, one she would love to test if she didn’t need the cave and web intact so she could find the blasted goods they’d stolen. Speaking of which, where was it all? Surely they hadn’t had the chance to find a hiding spot in this place. Certainly not if that story of them sprinting into the cave mouth at full gallop was true.

Who could be so focused while sprinting through the wispier bits of webbing before getting caught and entangled in these larger, thicker sections and then, presumably, cocooned and bitten as the stunned villagers watched?

No. They couldn’t have. Not unless one of them brought up the rear and stashed everything, perhaps the first stallion she’d found. Still, though, why would they want to leave their spoils in such a place with the villagers on their tails?

She could ponder these questions after she relieved the late gang leader of her decorations and found the rest of the goods. Better yet, she could ponder all she wanted after she got the hay out of this creepy cave.

Twilight reared up on her hind hooves and began the arduous job of trying to tug those stubborn webs apart. They held fast, sticking to her hooves and coat like a stubborn piece of gum, drawing a curse. Why couldn’t silly things like these ever cooperate? With a grunt and flap of her wings, she pulled hard, jerking the entire cocoon out of place. It swung up like a swing, the tangly, sticky tendrils of spider silk pulling against her, desperate to hold onto their prize.

“Oh, come on!” she snarled. “Come on, you stupid, sticky, gross, Celestia-forsaken little—ack!”

A few strands of sticky spider silk snapped off the cocoon with a sharp crack! The sudden loss of purchase sent Twilight tumbling backward tail over head in a flailing mess of wings and limbs. The back of her head hit hard against a stone, sending stars bursting before her very eyes.

Blinking owlishly, Twilight let out a soft groan and clutched at her head. Another flurry of muttered curses spilled forth from her lips, a few so vulgar, she dared imagine even Luna’s jaw would drop.

She glared up at the cocoon, eying the newly bared spot on the mare’s neck as she began to rise. Hopefully, it would be enough for her to slip a tendril of magic in and just cut the silly thing free.

Twilight trotted over and cast her spell again, slipping a thin tendril of magic into the little patch she’d just created. To her delight, the spell didn’t falter before she was able to snip the cord and slide the beautiful topaz necklace out of the cocoon, and retie it so the beautiful stones didn’t slip off into her bottomless pouch. The same one she kept the crown. One part down. Next up, the earrings.

That’d sure be fun.

The mare reared up once more and began to try to pry the silk apart. The curses spilled from her mouth in an unintelligible mumble, fast and furious as the raging Falls of Ancients’ Tears. She would have to take a bit more care this time. Just tug it apart a little and remove the earrings.

It was a slow, arduous task for what little gap she could create—what little gap she needed to slip that tendril of magic in and snag that first earring to be rescued into the safety of her pouch. Then it was time to shimmy her way around so she could reunite it with its sister, still trapped and suffering in its place on the dead mare’s ear.

Twilight blinked. “I’m personifying trinkets now,” she muttered as she slipped the second earring into her pouch. “Hadkhûna would laugh hard enough to shake the earth if she ever heard.” With her macabre jewelry shopping complete, she turned away and began to focus her magic back into that lighting spell, scanning the sticky, web-covered floor and walls around her for any sign of those bags.

As she moved to begin her search anew, something small and hard struck her high on her left cheek, just below her eye. Twilight let out a startled yelp, bringing a hoof to her face purely by reflex. “What in the name of—ow!” Another tiny missile struck her, this time bouncing off her chin. Her keen eyes flitted about, she squinted to try to spot out anything moving about in the darkness.

She brought her hoof away from her cheek. Nothing had been embedded in her skin, nor was there any blood. If anything, it was a small blessing. No cuts or blood meant there was little chance of poison.

Was something just flinging little things at her?

Another sharp pain bit her shoulder. Twilight turned about and swung her hoof in a wide arc, cursing as it entangled with a few strands of webbing. She jerked herself free and stomped forward, toward the direction she best guessed the missiles were coming from. A guess confirmed when one bounced off the tip of her nose, hitting harder and more centered than before.

With a quick burst of magic, she made her light spell flare up brighter, both to try to pierce through that strange webbing and blind whoever or whatever was launching this assault.

A tiny squeak of shock to her immediate left drew a flick of her ear. Her hoof came in contact with something warm and furry, Twilight gave a little growl and swiped her hoof at it, fully thinking she’d at least clip her adversary’s shin so she could get a look and subdue it.

Instead, her hoof struck something furry, warm, and tiny, perhaps the height of a soccer ball at most. But the instant her hoof struck her attacker, there was another squeak, and her hoof continued on an arc. The squeak turned into a tiny shriek that faded off as if she’d just picked up some small rodent in her magic and given it a toss across her mother’s garden.

Then, from deep within that darkness, came a second gasp—this, one of concern, like a mother finding her foal laying injured and bloody on the playground. “Angel? Angel!” a feminine voice cried.

There was another pony—a mare—here? Here, of all places?

Twilight blinked twice. “What in Equestria?” she muttered under her breath. “Hello?” she called into the darkness. “Is somepony there?”

“Oh, Angel!” that voice warbled. Twilight could almost picture the mare sweeping whoever this “Angel” was into her hooves, hugging it tight against her chest. “Oh, my poor, poor Angel! Who did this to you?”

A new sound floated through the cave. Like a tiny, chattering voice, similar to a squirrel’s call, replying in kind. As it finished, there was an angry hiss.

A scuttling and clicking sound filled the cavern, tickling Twilight’s ears with the strange, almost alien sound. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Almost. Not nearly enough for her taste.

Oh, if only it were.

This cave wasn’t an abandoned spider’s nest at all.

“How dare you?” the spider hissed. The scuttling drew closer, that clicking sound grew louder and louder with each passing second. Twilight could just feel the venom dripping from those sharp fangs. “How dare you, you vile, nasty little mare!”

The spider stepped into the light and Twilight’s jaw promptly dropped. She was tall, enough so that Twilight’s snout was maybe level with her thorax if she was being completely generous. Her chest was covered in sunny yellow fur, and her eight legs were longer than Royal Guard spears and just as thick.

She didn’t stay long enough to look into her eyes or see her face. The instant Twilight saw a pair of pony-like hooves reaching for her and heard a hiss telling of the spider’s lunge, she let out a squeak and cast a quick teleport spell, her intended destination about halfway down the mountain, well out of reach.

Instead, Twilight blinked back into existence maybe four or five strides away, right beside the long-dead mare.

Horror filled her chest as the realization kicked in. The webbing could interfere with teleportation spells too!

Another hiss made her ears splay. “No! You’re not going anywhere!” the scuttling sound returned, heading toward with such quickness she could almost feel the spider’s breath upon her coat, the pointed tips of those venomous fangs upon her neck.

Twilight teleported again, just out of reach. She couldn’t escape the cave, but she could at least stay a few steps ahead. Thinking quickly, she killed her lighting spell and glanced around for the cave mouth, searching out a hint of sunlight. Her ears would serve as her warning.

And when that scuttling, hissing spider drew near again, she blinked right back out of existence and appeared a few yards away. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath.

“You get back here, you nasty thing!” the spider demanded.

Something wispy and sticky latched onto her shoulder. Twilight let out a yelp and shot off a bolt of magic to slice straight through the spider silk, her eyes wide in horror. She ducked low, just in time to avoid a follow up, and turned to flee as fast as her hooves could take her.

She felt another strand latch onto her hoof and tug back, dragging her a few steps before she could afford to turn and fire off another bolt and stumble forward. That angry hiss spurred her to gallop faster as Twilight swerved around one of those cocooned stallions, quickly skirting the lumpy mass of webbing to use it as a shield. Her relief was only temporary; the spider simply climbed over the remnants of those past conquests with as much effort as one might climb the steps of their mother’s porch.

Ahead, she could see sunlight filtering through the cave mouth. Twilight nearly allowed herself a smile. But her goal was quite a ways off, and there was a furious spider right on her tail—she felt the sudden sensation of spider silk catching on her flank and tugging her backward, her hooves skidding across the web-covered floor before she sliced the tendrils and hurried onward.

Again and again, she had to fight and retread her steps each time that furious spider was able to get a web on her. And each time, she knew her hunter was getting closer. A panicked look over her shoulder shone light on the yellow-furred chest and gave a glimpse of fangs glinting in the sunlight. Just in time to see her turn to aim her spinnerets for another try.

Another teleportation spell just barely saved her from a strand of webbing as thick as her leg. That could’ve spelled her doom. If those thin tendrils could disrupt her spells, those that caught and entangled the spider’s past victims would almost certainly rendered her escape impossible.

It was time to take some drastic action.

Turning, Twilight walked backward toward the cave mouth, angling herself so she could see everything as she prepared her next spell. She’d only get one shot, so she’d have to make it count. Timing would be critical.

Her ears twitched at the sound of the spider mare scuttling off to her left, then again as she heard a sound like a fishing line whipping through the air. Only her quick thinking saved her—Twilight just barely managed to get her left hoof up in time to block a thick strand of spider silk aimed at her face, just beneath her horn.

Twilight dug in her hooves and began to try to pull against her would-be captor, jerking and grunting, adding in a frightened little whimper to her breathing to sell it.

The scuttling hastened, a victorious croon filled the cavern. What predator wouldn’t delight in such delicious display of fear? A fact Twilight learned quite well as she found herself tugged so hard her hind hooves nearly came off the ground. She stumbled forward, her shin struck hard upon a stone.

A hoof caught her around her extended hoof and tugged her forward, her face colliding with the spider’s furry chest as the other gripped her shoulder. She was lifted up and angled, ready to be cocooned.

“Now,” the spider mare crooned, a hint of underlying venom to her tone, “let’s get you tucked in for your nap, you mean little—”

It was at that moment Twilight set her plan into motion. She lashed out with her injured hoof, planting a stiff elbow into the spider’s midsection as she let out a cry and cast an overcharged light spell mere inches from her startled captor’s face.

The effect was instantaneous. The spider mare shrieked and recoiled, her hooves releasing Twilight in favor of trying to cover her pony-like face; all eight of her sky blue eyes went wide for a split second before they squeezed shut and her powder pink mane fell over them like a veil. She staggered backward in a clumsy, zigzagging pattern, one hoof flailing about in a wide arc—either to search out something to lean against or to keep herself from bumping into a stalagmite or one of the cocoons.

All the chance Twilight needed. Gripping the webbing in her teeth, she tugged hard and snapped it with the help of another spell. Then, she turned and sprinted for the exit as fast as she could, not daring to turn and look back for fear of finding that spider mare right on her tail once more, angrier than ever and hungry for an order of the Princess of Thieves special.

Twilight kept her eyes trained on the cave mouth, her lone hope. She was maybe twenty steps away! Fifteen! She could make it! No matter how fast that spider mare scuttled along or whatever “Angel” tried, there was nothing to stop her!

Ten steps! Five! Oh, Twilight could practically taste the sweet taste of fresh air! She could feel the sun’s warmth as the glow filtered in from outside!

Then, suddenly, a thick strand of spider web seemed to jump off the ground and entangle her hooves. Twilight tumbled forward head over tail, her flailing limbs tangled in that offending strand before she could even realize.

Her heart skipped a beat. No! No, no, no, no, no! The mare wriggled and writhed, kicking as hard as she could to try to free herself.

A hiss sounded just above her. Twilight had only enough time to look up and see the spider mare glaring down at her through those eight eyes, her face silhouetted by the shadows cast by the sun’s light. Her fangs glinting, she let out a hiss and descended on the fallen mare, her hooves and spinnerets making quick work to pin Twilight’s wings against her sides and bind them in place. Within seconds, she was fully cocooned, leaving only her head and neck uncovered.

Uncovered, exposed, and easily reached by those lethal fangs.

The spider mare hauled her up roughly, holding her level with all eight of her eyes. Twilight could see her face—an admittedly pretty face, she wagered, when it wasn’t contorted in righteous fury. She could see a certain look in her eyes which, honestly, didn’t quite belong on a spider’s face—a look of fury the likes of which only a mother could know.

“You come into my cave,” the spider mare whispered, “you tread all around my web, you poke at the cocoons of those nasty, nasty thieves, and then you hurt a poor, innocent bunny! How dare you!”

Twilight tried to keep her thoughts in order, a flurry of questions all battling for supremacy. Above all others, one prevailed. “Wait, what bunny?”

“What bunny? What bunny?” came the furious reply. “The sweet little bunny you kicked across my cave, you nasty, mean mare! My sweet Angel Bunny! Just because you’re bigger and stronger and you can hurt someone doesn’t give you the right to be a bully! And now—” she bared her fangs in a wicked grin, opening her jaws wide “—you’re going to take a nap just like all the others!”

As her captor loomed over her, Twilight’s mind worked fast, piecing together all the details even as she saw a bead of venom roll down onto of those fangs. Nasty thieves, entering her home—well, her web, but semantics—treading all over her web, and then something with a bunny?

The first three made sense, she was certainly guilty of each. That last one she didn’t quite get. When had she done anything of the sort? All she’d done other than entering the spider mare’s home and poking around those cocoons was react after getting hit in the face. Sure, there was the little thing she’d hit, but—wait a minute.

It finally clicked.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Twilight cried wriggling in vain to try to throw her hooves up over her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and did her best to turn her face away, but the webbing held her fast. “Iknowwhathappenedit’samisunderstandingpleasewaitIdidn’tmeantohurtyourbunnyIcamefromthevillage!”

She never expected it to work. In all honesty, Twilight fully expected that she would feel the sharp sting of fangs piercing her flesh, the burn of venom entering her bloodstream before it worked whatever wicked games it played on its victim’s minds. By Celestia, she half expected that Hadkhûna would come looking for her in a few hours, worried that she’d either been hurt or anxious at being abandoned, and find her dead and fly into an unrivaled, unyielding rage.

It didn’t come.

Seconds passed by slowly, each a small eternity to the captive mare. Hesitantly, Twilight dared to crack open an eye and look up at her captor’s face, ready to see that grin widening, maybe even to hear her give a wicked laugh at the tiny glimmer of hope in her eyes before she followed through on that threat.

Instead, she saw all eight of those baby blue eyes blinking in confusion, and the spider mare’s wicked grin slowly fading and lips folded over her teeth. Those lethal fangs remained, however, poking down from behind her upper lip as she slowly tilted her head. “I’m sorry, what do you mean you came from the village?” she asked, narrowing each of her eyes. “The villagers are sweet ponies who used to laugh and play in my forest before those nasty thieves came! The villagers don’t send rude mares to poke around my web or kick my darling Angel! The villager mares aren’t rude little mares like you trying to pick at the spoils of the ugly witch who came here and hurt my old bunny friends and wouldn’t leave and give back what she stole when I begged her to think of who she was hurting! The villagers aren’t thieves like you … you … who even are you?”

A lot of accusations, some not too far off the mark. But others?

Well, she was a thief. Knowledge she’d happily part with if it saved her life.

In this case, it just might.

“Y-You’re not wrong,” Twilight stammered. “I’m a thief—some even call me the Princess of Thieves. But I don’t steal things from those who own them properly, I avail others of things they’ve taken and return them to where they belong. For a bit of a price.”

“How generous,” the spider mare deadpanned. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve came to the village to offer them their belongings back for you own welfare? How much did you demand? A third? Half?”

Twilight shook her head as best she could in the confines of her cocoon. “None! They were kind to me when I was passing through on my way to the other side of the river!” she explained. “I was looking for something to get my … um … well, lover, I guess would be the word.”

“And they told you about their lost belongings? Were you thinking to liberate them of—”

“The mare’s necklace and earrings were meant to be a gift!” Twilight cut her off before she could work herself into another tizzy. “When they told me everything else was still here, I offered to get it back for them—the story about the necklace was their payment.”

The spider mare thought for a moment, a flurry of emotions flashing across her face. “I see,” she muttered after a moment. “That doesn’t answer who you are, little Princess of Thieves.”

“Twilight Sparkle. And you are?”

“My name is Skittershy,” the spider mare replied slowly. “I don’t believe I’ve heard yours before.” Her lips curved into a frown. “And you’ve not explained how you could possibly miss my darling bunny, or excuse yourself for laying hoof upon him.”

Splaying her ears, Twilight glanced off into the shadows. Skittershy. Oh, she knew that name.

There was only one of Gloomweaver’s insidious line who survived Celestia’s wrath in the time before the first age.

More to the point, though, was her current question. Where the hay even was that blasted rabbit?

“It might sound silly,” she admitted. “But I didn’t even know he was there. Something small and hard kept hitting me in the face, like somepony was shooting barbs out of a blowgun or pebbles at me out of a slingshot. I turned to look for them and meant to kick them in the shin. Instead, I kicked something—your bunny, evidently—across the cave and woke you up.”

Skittershy’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropped open and hung for a moment. Slowly, her brows—all four of them—began to furrow. She drew Twilight in close, leaning in to inspect her face. With a low hum, she let her eyes flit about, her frown deepening each time she found a mark, and her eyes each narrowing more and more.

Her nostrils flaring, she gritted her teeth and stomped three of her left legs. “I told him!” she snapped. “I told him not to start trouble—oooooooooooh! He’s just like his father!” Skittershy held Twilight under one of her forehooves and stalked back into the cave with an angry hiss. “Angel! Angel! Angel Bunny, you come out this instant!”

A tiny yelp off to their right made Skittershy jolt. She lashed out with her free hoof, plucking the furry little miscreant from his hiding spot behind a deer-sized cocoon by the nape of his neck.

Angel Bunny wore a nervous smile, so much like a foal trying to feign innocence in the midst of misbehaving, his little paws hidden behind his back.

Growling, Skittershy turned him around in her hoof to reveal his weapon—a slingshot made of what looked to be a small stick and a rubber band.

“You naughty little bunny! You told me she kicked you for no good reason at all! Oh, you’re just like your father—and his before him!” The furious spider mare turned to aim a sheepish half-smile at Twilight. “I’m so sorry about this, he’s really a sweetheart. Most of the time. Sometimes.” Her smile strained. “Please don’t hold it against him. He’s young, in that troublemaking phase all bunnies have.”

Did bunnies actually? Twilight certainly wasn’t fool enough to argue while still cocooned and tucked under her foreleg like a doll. “I’ll … take your word for it?”

Skittershy gave a relieved sigh, her smile warmed. “Thank you.” As quickly as it came though, her smile turned into a stern frown as she aimed her gaze at Angel once more. Just as he thought to try and wriggle his way free. The uneasy grin he sent her way did little to appease her ire. “As for you, mister! You’re going straight to bed without dinner! And if I catch you trying to sneak snacks, I’ll cocoon you for the night! Just see if I don’t!”

Twilight could do little but watch in muted fascination as they bantered back and forth, Skittershy playing the part of scolding mother and Angel the naughty foal caught with a ball in hoof near a shattered vase.

As fun as that was, she did rather want to get out of that cocoon. Preferably, before claustrophobia started to kick in.

The young mare coughed. “Um, I don’t mean to interject,” she cut across them. “But would you mind letting me out of this cocoon, Skittershy?”

With a yelp, Skittershy set Angel down on a little clump of webbing and set about undoing her bonds. “I’m so sorry! I just got so caught up in—oh, heavens, you’ll know when you have one of your own, I’m sure.” An uneasy laugh escaped her lips. “I’ve cared for his family for so long it’s like they’re mine, and they’re always such troublemakers, much as I love them. You’ll understand someday.”

“Again, I’ll have to take your word for that.” Twilight squirmed her way free, breathing a sigh of relief when she was finally able to stand on her own power again, albeit with a jolt of pain in her hoof from where she’d been jerked across the cave. Still, she offered a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate you listening.”

“Of course.” Skittershy rubbed her shoulder, her eyes flitting away. “I’m sorry I threatened to eat you.”

A wry grin made its way across Twilight’s face. “You’d be surprised how often I get that threat. You’re the second one to listen to me, and the first to actually stop without me having to flirt and trip into wooing you.”

Four brows arched. “That sounds like quite the tale. Dare I ask?”

“I did tell you I was getting the necklace and earrings for my lover. She adores shiny things.”

Skittershy nodded. “That would explain it.” She bit her lip, scuffing a leg across the ground. “I suppose you’ll want to take the villagers’ belongings back, then. I … well, I won’t lie, I’m rather happy to see it returned to them. Though I would’ve hoped they’d come up themselves.”

Come up themselves? Twilight tried to think how best to word her statement. “They were startled,” she settled on.

“Terrified,” Skittershy corrected. “I saw them running. Ponies I once sang to in the forest and let them try to find me as foals, running and screaming because they saw what I did to those thieves. Because I was so angry they’d hurt my bunnies and my villagers that I lost my temper and acted just like my mother. Just like I promised I never would.”

“You sang to them?” Gaping, Twilight stepped toward her. “You’re the one Brass Tap told me about?”

Yellow ears perked up. “Little Brass Tap remembers me?” she breathed.

“He told me they used to play in the forest and try to find a mare with a beautiful voice, and she’d always tease them for coming so close, but never catching her.”

“Oh! Oh, my!” Tears welled in each of her eight eyes. Skittershy covered her mouth with her hooves. “Oh, my little Brass Tap! That sweet little colt! He still remembers, after all this time! I thought he and the others had forgotten.”

Twilight took another step, wincing through the pain. “They were scared. I don’t think they ever forgot you, Skittershy.” She threw caution to the wind and dared to lay a hoof on the spider mare’s trembling elbow. “They’re afraid because of what their parents saw, but they don’t know why you did it. They never knew you attacked those thieves because you were angry on their behalf and wanted to protect your bunnies. I doubt they even thought you might want them to come back and get their things all this time.”

Skittershy let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a choked sob. From his spot on the webbing, Angel hopped onto her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek, earning a little pat on his head. “Thank you, honey,” she murmured. To Twilight, she said, “I waited so long I started to think about just taking it all down there myself. But each time I did, I thought back to that night and just …” her voice trailed off and broke, her body wracked with a fresh bout of sobbing.

Everything fell into place before Twilight’s eyes. This wasn’t some monstrous terror from the deep. No, that had been Skittershy’s mother in an age long-forgotten by most of pony kind.

This was a poor spider mare who had her own little slice of paradise—a perfect web for capturing unwary prey, a nice cave in the mountains, a forest where she could venture out and sing while she watched the ponies play and grow up before her eyes, and a bevy of bunny friends to care for.

All of it gone thanks to a few ponies’ actions and her own temper.

She licked her lips. “What if I told you there was a way to make things right?” Twilight offered. “It might not fix everything and put it all back to how things were, but it would at least make them see you for the spider you’ve always been, not the one they saw that night.”

Sniffling, Skittershy uncovered her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, her coat stained with tears, but she met Twilight’s gaze all the same and perked up her ears.

Twilight had to kick the sardonic part of her that wondered which pair of eyes she was supposed to meet as she launched into her salesmare pitch. Of all the silly things to distract herself, that was the last one that needed to be at the forefront.

Maybe after things had settled down and she was absolutely certain her place was as far off the menu as possible.

Web of Shadows: 3. The Mare Who Sang

Finding the long-dead thieves’ bags had taken considerably less effort and recollection than Twilight would have thought. If anything, she presumed Skittershy would’ve hidden them deep within the darkness of her cave, kept close by while she slept to ensure they wouldn’t be disturbed by any curious intruders or taken by an opportunistic thief, such as, admittedly, herself.

Instead, Skittershy fished them out from a little crevice in the wall a mere three steps to the left of the cave mouth, a sheepish grin spread across her face as she took note of Twilight’s deadpan look.

“I didn’t want to forget where they were,” the spider mare admitted, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. “And I didn’t want to make them think I was trying to lure them into my web if I invited them in, so I was just going to give it straight to them and let them be on their way.”

Twilight couldn’t fault the logic. Hay, if she’d been greeted by the spider mare and welcomed to walk into the cave like some sort of guest, she would’ve had to consider just which spell she might like to use to splatter her across the wall just in the event of treachery.

How very fortunate it hadn’t been.

As further penance, Skittershy had offered to help carry the bags in her hooves, a further testament to her strength. She’d also taken a few moments to fix up her mane—which Twilight noticed was a bit thin and wispy, not quite as full as a pony’s. Honestly, she dared wonder if it would feel like spider web if she ran a hoof through it—and try to hide her fangs. The former went considerably better than the latter.

Then came Skittershy’s executive decision to pick Twilight up by the scruff of her neck and place her upon her fuzzy back, right over a rather cutie mark-looking image of a pink butterfly.

“Excuse me!” Twilight had sputtered. “I can walk on my own!”

Skittershy then fixed her with a knowing look. “I know my strength well and I’ve seen you limping and wincing, Twilight. At very least, you pulled a muscle trying to act the part before your light trick.” She leaned back to nuzzle her mane softly. “You’ve been kind to my villagers and understanding toward my troublemaking bunny and me. Let me offer this as apology.” A playful twinkle shown in her eyes. “Of course, I could always just wrap you up like a certain misbehaving bunny and carry you anyway.”

Twilight would argue later that it was entirely her decision to take the spider mare’s gracious offer and not at all a lingering shivery feeling toward being stuck in that sticky prison again. Not at all. It certainly didn’t nag her enough to put the notion of testing what might happen if she simply flew in defiance to rest.

The fact that Skittershy wouldn’t stop giggling at the face she pulled hadn’t helped her self-esteem.

They made the journey down the mountain in rather good time, all things considered. That half a day trip Twilight had estimated was actually halved now that she had a guide who knew the lay of the land, not to mention the shortcuts through a few caverns which had gone unnoticed on the way up. Idly, Twilight noted the ease with which her guide and apparent caretaker navigated the terrain. No wonder she’d gone all those years playing hide and seek without ever being seen, even as she sang.

Though that did beg a certain question. One she couldn’t resist asking as they came to the path leading out of the forest and began to follow it toward Brickenbrack. “How long have you lived here, Skittershy?”

“Longer than I can put numbers to,” Skittershy replied. Sighing, she looked up, peering into the trees to smile at a family of blue jays. “Since after your princesses slew my family, I believe.”

“Ah.” Open mouth, insert hoof. “I’m sorry.”

Skittershy turned to nose her cheek. “Don’t be. My mother was cruel and evil, and so was my family. What they did to the ponies they came across as they tried to weave webs of darkness across the land sickens me to this day, and it sickened me enough then that I told your Sun Princess where to find them so it would end and I would be free.” She turned to face forward and bowed her head, her wispy pink main veiling her face. “I came here and found peace for centuries until the village was built. Then I fell in love with watching them and just decided I’d keep them safe. You see how that’s ended up falling apart.”

“Hey.” Twilight bumped her head against the back of the spider mare’s neck. “Don’t talk like that. You’re trying to set things right now. Let it play out and see what happens.”

“You didn’t see them that night.”

“You haven’t seen them since. Other than watching from afar, perhaps. I know how afraid they still are and I’m telling you not to lose hope.”

“Maybe.” Biting her lip, Skittershy glanced over her shoulder again. Her steps slowed. “But what if they don’t listen?”

Twilight offered a small smile. “Shouldn’t you give them a chance to decide?” she countered.

A low noise from the back of her throat betrayed her uncertainty. “But what if they see me and run away? Or hide in their houses?” Skittershy mumbled.

Blinking, Twilight thought a moment. Truth be told, she hadn’t really accounted for that. It was, admittedly, more a possibility than she might care to admit aloud. Worse still, there was little assurance to be offered.

The villagers just might run the instant they saw the pair step out of the forest.

Her smile faltered slightly. “I won’t pretend I know for certain it won’t happen,” she said softly. “But if it does, we’ll set their belongings down on the edge of town where they can all see. Then we let them see us leaving voluntarily. For their peace of mind and so they can maybe understand someday that you truly meant no harm.”

Skittershy came to a halt, her gaze straight ahead, peering through the trees. Following her gaze, Twilight could see why.

They were at the forest edge, and just ahead, Brickenbrack stood, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, awaiting their arrival. She could even see the ponies, gryphons, and cats milling about, some heading to that old bar.

The spider mare’s entire body began to shake, her ears splayed to lay flat against her mane. A keening whine built in her chest, sounding in the back of her throat. “I can’t!” she whispered. “I can’t face them!”

Twilight laid a hoof upon her shoulder. “Yes, you can, Skittershy.”

“How?” Again, she cast a look at Twilight. Her fear, her anxieties naked for the mare to see.

With a smile, Twilight nodded toward the village. “By taking a deep breath and walking a little further to drop off their things. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want, we can just turn and leave after you set their bags down.”

Skittershy bit her lip, nodding slowly. “Okay,” she murmured. “I … I can do that. I think.” With a deep breath, she resumed her walk to Brickenbrack. The very hairs on the back of her neck stood on end with every step, and her shoulders shook as they made that final approach and came into view of the villagers.

Then the staring began.

Oh, heavens, did Twilight feel terrible watching. They all came out, some poking their heads out of windows or hiding behind barrels and stalls as they stared, jaws agape and eyes full of silent horror as the spider mare, one of the last of the great spiders of Gloomweaver’s line, walked into their impoverished village wearing a nervous grimace, all eight of her eyes wide with fright and with a tiny bunny on her shoulder, a familiar thief seated upon her back, and eight heavy bags clutched in her mighty hooves. One of the bags shifted open to reveal the slightest glimmer of gold coins and precious metal.

The villagers’ gasping nearly sucked the very air away.

Ahead, Twilight saw Brass Tap standing outside of his bar, gaping with his patrons and the foals huddled around them. So too had Skittershy, and the spider mare hesitated a step, a wanting whine escaping her lips before she started toward him.

He and the others took a step back as if to retreat into the bar, Skittershy stopped in her tracks and stood completely still save for her trembling shoulders.

Fortunately, Twilight was there to prod her along. “Skittershy, the bags,” she whispered in her ear. “Put the bags down, let them see what’s inside, then back away slowly.”

“Mmhmm!” The spider mare gave a jerky nod. Her hooves shaking terribly, she held them out, displaying the thieves’ bags full of stolen wares for all to see, so any who remembered that terrible night would know what she held. Then, slowly, she set them down on the ground and began to back away. She paused a few steps away, though, glancing up at Brass Tap and a few of the ponies she must have known so long ago. Skittershy brought her hooves together, rubbing them against her shins. “I-I-I’m sorry it t-took me so long,” she stammered, wringing her hooves. “Th-Those thieves c-came and I’ve had them, waiting for you to get them or trying to find it in me to bring them back, and I … I, um …”

The villagers made no move toward the bags, nor did any attempt to reply. They looked to one another, each searching for any with the courage to step forth and face her, or offer something in kind to convey a semblance of gratitude despite their fear.

Yet, they didn’t. They just stared, even Brass Tap—especially, he!—looked as though he’d rather fall faint and embrace unconsciousness than see the fidgeting spider mare who’d entered their village. The very same who’d watched over them for centuries without their knowing.

Twilight couldn’t just let it stand without saying something.

She hopped down from her place on Skittershy’s back, earning a gasp from the villagers and a whimpered complaint about further injuring herself as she nimbly bounced away before the spider mare could catch her and return her to her seat, safe and sound. Twilight gestured to the bags, then to the quivering spider mare. “Her name is Skittershy,” she announced for all to hear. “She’s lived here longer than this village has stood and watched over you longer than you’ve ever known. Fifty years ago, those thieves took from a village she loved despite never living in it and tried to hide in her cave. What your parents saw and you heard that night was indeed her attacking them, but not out of cruelty. Out of temper and wrath because they hurt those she held dear.” Her eyes found Brass Tap’s. “Even those who never knew the mare singing in the forest was really a spider who loved watching little ones laugh and play while they tried so dearly to find her.”

Silenced reigned. Twilight bit the inside of her cheeks, looking about in hope that she might find somepony, anypony who heard her words and took heed.

Each pony, cat, or gryphon she locked eyes with looked down at the ground, some even turned away or began to edge behind one of their fellow villagers. The foals, those same foals who so readily ran up to greet her after she returned from Erebark, whimpered and pressed up against the adults’ legs.

Terrified. Distrusting.

Beside her, Skittershy sniffled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice carrying through the silence as she lowered her head. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I came here and scared you again, but I couldn’t … I had to give it back somehow. D-Don’t worry. After this, you’ll—you’ll never see me again, I promise.” The poor spider brushed a hoof across her eyes to chase away the tears. With her other, she reached out to touch Twilight’s shoulder, gripping it for support. “L-Let’s go. We’ll leave, just like you said.”

“Yeah.” Twilight turned to walk away with the weeping spider mare, only to let out a squeak as she found herself picked up in one hoof and set upon her back once again. This time, however, she made no attempt to argue. Instead, she simply laid a hoof upon Fluttershy’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. The only thing she could think to do.

With one last bow of her head, Skittershy backed away from the bags, then turned to hurry along, eager to escape the fearful, distrusting gazes of the ponies she’d watched grow and play for so long.

Twilight chanced a look around her shoulder, pain piercing her chest as she saw tears rolling freely down her cheeks. She leaned in, touching her nose against the back of Skittershy’s neck. “I think you did the right thing.”

“Y-Yes.” Skittershy sniffled, wringing her hooves again. “Yes, I … I know. I know I did, even if it took me so long and I needed you to push me.”

The pain bit deeper. Nuzzling a slow circle, Twilight hugged her from behind. “I’m sorry, Skittershy. I’m so sorry.”

Skittershy stopped halfway between the forest and Brickenbrack. She turned, looking at Twilight through tear-filled eyes, and offered a weak smile. “Oh. Oh, Twilight.” The spider snaked her hooves under Twilight’s armpits and lifted her off her back, turning to face forward. She wrapped the smaller mare in a tight embrace, nuzzling her nose. “Don’t apologize,” she said, her voice straining. “You pushed me to face my fears and do the right thing, even after I tried to hurt you. Don’t ever apologize for that or let me hear you’ve thought of it, you sweet, wonderful mare.”

From his spot on his caretaker’s shoulder, Angel Bunny hopped up to land on the end of her nose. He leaned in, regarding Twilight sternly for a moment. Then, he let out a tiny sigh and patted the end of her snout, smiling at her before he bounced back to his spot and leaned against Skittershy’s cheek.

The spider giggled despite her tears. “He likes you,” she said. “I think he’s rather glad he shot those pebbles at you after all this.”

“You know what?” Twilight smiled back at him. “I think I’m glad he did too. I’d never have made friends with you—or imagined I could befriend a spider. But I guess that’s the least crazy thing I’ve done.”

Humming, Skittershy gave her a little squeeze. “Friends,” she murmured as if testing the word. “I like the sound of that, I think. I’ve only had one.” She drew back to nuzzle and fix Twilight with an amused look. “Though, now you’ve made me curious. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done, little Princess of Thieves?”

“Well, you won’t believe it, but that lover I mentioned is a—”

A giant shadow passed over them, like a great bird flying overhead. Screams and shrieks of utmost terror, the likes of which could only come from the mouths of ponies in the very face of death itself.

Somewhere in the back of Twilight’s mind, she knew, even before she heard the sudden crash of those massive talons hitting the ground or the very world around her shaking as her lover sauntered up, her tail lashing gaily.

“Dar~liiiiiiing!” Hadkhûna sang as she walked up to the pair, her sapphire eyes closed and a confident, fanged grin splitting her great muzzle. “Apologies for the delay, my dear gem, but I had quite a time making my selection! However, I’ve found something quite lovely and fitting for you, little thief of my heart!” She stopped just before them, opening her eyes at last to fix Twilight with a smoldering look that made her heart flutter and cheeks burn. Then she noticed Skittershy.

Her jaw dropped.

For a moment, Twilight felt her blood freeze in her veins. How must it look to Hadkhûna, to see her in another’s embrace? She tried to think of something, anything to excuse herself. A thousand and one explanations vied for supremacy.

“Hadkhûna?” Skittershy breathed. “You’ve come out of your mountain!”

“And you’ve come out of yours!” Hadkhûna beamed. She hurried forward, sweeping both mare and spider into her embrace, she nuzzled Skittershy’s head. “Oh, darling! You look positively radiant! I haven’t seen you in centuries!”

Giggling, Skittershy leaned into her touch. “Not since you visited before you burned down the last village at least!” She drew back, tilting her head. “How do you know Twilight?”

“I could ask the same of you, dear! Here I come, expecting to find my little gem and lavish her with affection as I bestow my gift upon her, and I find her embracing an old friend of mine!” A deep rumble of approval sounded within her chest. “My love and my old friend here with me! I could sing like the day I watched that Night Princess put my detestable father to rest!”

“Wait.” This time, it was Skittershy’s turn to gape. She looked between Twilight and Hadkhûna, a shaking hoof gesturing to each in turn. “You two? This is your lover?”

Twilight ducked her head. “Uh, I was getting to that.” Grinning sheepishly, she added, “Surprise?”

All eight of the spider mare’s eyes blinked. “You’ll have to tell me how this happened,” Skittershy muttered. “A thief and Hadkhûna. What is this world coming to?”

“A thief, Hadkhûna, and Skittershy out of her cave,” the she-dragon corrected. “Speaking of, what are you doing out and about, dear? Visiting your ponies? How bold! I’m quite proud!”

“Oh, um. Not quite.” The spider gave a nervous grin. “I, um, was just leaving. We had a bit of a disagreement a while ago, so … I said I’d leave.”

Hadkhûna blinked once. That pleased rumble turned into a low growl full of wrath. “Oh, really?” she hissed, casting a glance at the village. Tendrils of smoke began to pour from her nostrils. “Let’s just see about that after I have a word with them!”

Those screams returned, and with them a clamor of wooden doors shutting as the villagers tried to hide.

A vain attempt, of course. Nothing would save them if Hadkhûna got started.

“Hadkhûna, no!” Skittershy shrieked, beating her hooves against the she-dragon’s massive chest. “Leave them alone! You burned the last one to the ground because that stallion threw a spear at me! All they’ve done is be afraid because of a misunderstanding! I’m leaving so they can be happy!”

The she-dragon looked down at her, arching her brow. “Truly?” she asked, breathing smokey breath. Her blazing sapphire eyes flitted to Twilight. “Darling?”

Twilight was quick to nod her head and take up the call. “She’s telling the truth,” she said hurriedly. “I convinced her to bring their belongings down and return them. When they were still afraid, she promised to leave so they could have peace.”

“Y-Yes!” Skittershy bobbed her head. “S-So, Angel and I will be leaving this place. And we’ll find a new home. Somewhere. I don’t know where, but we will!”

Hadkhûna’s brow arched higher. “I see.” She shot one last look at the village, blowing a snort through her nose. “Well, it’s their loss,” she muttered more to herself. To Skittershy, she said, “Come with us, then.”

“What? Oh, I appreciate that, but I couldn’t—”

“My gem and I are on the road to Canterlot anyway. We’ll find you someplace, I’m sure.”

“But I couldn’t impose!”

“I insist. You wouldn’t be.”

Her cheeks burning pink, Skittershy ducked her head and tried to hide in Twilight’s mane. “I-I suppose if you’re both okay with it, I could.”

Twilight could feel her turn to look down at her. She squirmed beneath both creatures’ gazes and said, “W-well, I’m always happy to have another friend along.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Hadkhûna smirked. “And it’ll give both of you time to tell me just how you two met and got so—ahem—comfortable.”

Both Skittershy and Twilight froze. They shared a look, nervous smiles splitting their faces.

Hadkhûna’s smirk turned almost vulpine. “She tried to steal and you chased her?” she supplied. “And caught her?”

“Er, I may have also threatened to eat her.”

“Oh, dear. My dear, little gem, what ever will I do with you?”

“H-Hey!” Twilight wiggled about in the embrace, unable to escape their inequinely strong grips. “How is this my fault? I was getting your gift!”

“I’m sure. Speaking of—” Hadkhûna reached back and plucked something wrapped in cloth out from beneath her spines, bringing it into view to present to Twilight. “For you, darling. I hope you like it.”

Curious, Twilight lit her horn to undo the wrapping. As the cloth fell away, she found herself met with the a sizable gem in the shape of a starburst, a shade somewhere between purple and vibrant red. Amethyst.

“Oh my!” Skittershy brought a hoof to her mouth. “It’s beautiful!

It most certainly was! And, oh, did it sparkle enough to steal her very breath away! “Where did—”

“Erebark, of course,” Hadkhûna replied. “As soon as we parted, I began to think of what to give the little gemstone who warms my black heart, and I thought on your eyes—and why not? Though you say mine are lovely, like sapphires, yours are just as stunning and brilliant as that very amethyst. It was well worth the time it took to search my mountain.” Grinning, she let out a contented rumble and leaned in to lick Twilight’s cheek. “And, I must say, it pales in comparison to the one you’ve given me.”

Blinking, Twilight thought to the topaz necklace and earrings in her pouch. “Er … I haven’t given you yours yet.”

“You silly mare, yes you have.” Again, Hadkhûna licked her cheek. Then, she turned to give one to Skittershy as well, drawing a squeal and fit of giggles. “You’ve given me the chance to see a dear old friend and have her along with us on the road to Canterlot. What more could I want of you?”

Her cheeks burned anew, her heart fluttered within her chest and drew her lips to spread into a wobbly smile as she buried her face between warm scales and fuzzy chest to hide herself. Damn that dragon knowing her every weakness! Worse, now she had a new problem:

What the hay was she going to do with that stupid necklace and earrings?

Den of Thieves: 1. Off the Map

In all honesty, it was hardly the first time Twilight had awaken in bonds atop the mare with whom she’s just spent a while night.

There was little typical about those nights, though. Oh, certainly, there were those with fancy, candle lit dinners, dancing beneath the moonlight, kisses—chaste, fleeting, sensuous, and everything in between—and sweet nothings whispered in delicate mulberry ears as they slipped away from the crowd to the privacy of her chambers with an eager lover. But for each of those, Twilight had about three more involving mares she didn’t recognize when she awoke. Usually, alcohol, a seedy pub, some raunchy commentary and dance were involved.

And one involving a changeling, but she preferred not to dwell on that little misadventure.

Still, even that had been somewhat enthralling. Those moments shared together at least spurred some note of want to be together and share a bit of cuddling, maybe a little more of what had been the night before or just some affection before they rose to eat or go their separate ways.

This, however, brought anything but tender feelings or a want for repeat performance. On any level.

She had fallen asleep atop Hadkhûna’s belly, warmed by the dragonfire that burned within her monstrous lover. Twilight was quite certain she’d lain herself down, her forehooves wide to embrace the she-dragon, her wings laying lazily to trail along those opulent white scales, and left leg slightly bowed and tail canted just a tad as she was lulled to sleep by Hadkhûna’s loving purr and great claw trailing down her spine in that delightful way she knew.

So when she found her legs and wings pressed tight against her sides, unable to do any more than wriggle them an inch in any direction within the confines of that sticky, spider silk cocoon she was wrapped in up to her shoulders, Twilight was sure none could fault her for letting out a startled shriek.

The great she-dragon beneath—well, “beneath” in the most strictly technical sense of the word—shifted and snorted, jarred from her sleep. Her long tail thudded off the walls of the tiny cave they’d hurried into to escape the storm the previous night.

Twilight wriggled herself about so she could cast a glare off to her left, toward one of the cave walls. Or, at least, she tried. All she could see was Hadkhûna’s wrist. “Damn it, Skittershy! You know I hate it when you cocoon me while I’m sleeping!”

From somewhere above her and to the right, she heard the spider mare squeak, then a rustling and nervous clicking as she shifted back.

Narrowing her eyes, Twilight thrashed about, bouncing her head off her lover’s scaled belly with her every effort to escape. All in vain. She grumbled, channeling a quick burst of magic through her horn, she tried a quick cutting spell, powerful enough to slice through those thick ropes used on bigger sea craft. But, as was the case when Skittershy wrapped her in such a thick cocoon, the spell sputtered, flickered, and died before she could even snake a tendril toward the sticky webbing.

She felt Hadkhûna shifting. Her head lifting and neck pinching as her lover rose just enough to look down upon her and smile. A low, rumbling chuckle sent a ripple through her chest and belly which made Twilight’s head bounce again.

“My, my, darling,” Hadkhûna crooned. “She got you again, I see.”

Twilight blew her bangs out of her eyes and aimed her best glare up at her lover. It didn’t work. It was quite a bit more difficult to put any heat behind it while cocooned and stuck laying her cheek against the she-dragon’s belly. “Yes,” she replied stiffly. “She did. Could you please stop thinking about teasing me and cut me out now?”

“I suppose I could. But I’m curious.” Those brilliant sapphire eyes flitted upward, no doubt finding the hidden spider mare. Hadkhûna’s features were split by a grin full of dangerous, sharp teeth. “Skittershy, dear? Why did you cocoon my little gemstone last night?”

A warbling whimper filtered down from above. A smattering of words, too fast and quick and high in pitch to discern.

Even for Hadkhûna’s senses.

The she-dragon gave an amused rumble. “Darling, you know I can’t understand you when you whimper-whisper like that. Won’t you come down? Here.” Hadkhûna patted a spot on her belly, just to the left of Twilight’s cocooned form. “Come, come, dear. Don’t hide up there all day!”

Another whimper filtered down from above. This time, the tail end was just audible enough to make Twilight’s ears perk and swivel in time to catch Skittershy mumbling, “—‘m sorry! I was just trying to help! Please don’t be mad!”

Please don’t be mad? After she’d woken up cocooned again? Twilight’s nostrils flared. Were she not bound, she’d have unfurled her wings in challenge or stomped a hoof. Skittershy was a good friend, a dear friend—even if she was one found in a strange place and set of circumstances.

Then again, Hadkhûna’s presence and status as Twilight’s lover all but shot that point into the ocean.

But even still. Dear friend or not, strange places and circumstances or not, there were limits.

Twilight certainly felt waking up bound in such a state hit one. She made to vocalize this objection, her face marred by a deep frown, but a small cough stopped her short.

A small cough, that is, for a she-dragon Hadkhûna’s size.

“Patience, darling,” her lover chided. Then, turning her gaze upward again, Hadkhûna patted that spot on her belly once more. “Come down and speak a little louder, dear. At least hang low enough that we can both see you, for heaven’s sake!”

“O-Okay. Um, just … watch your claws, if you don’t mind.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight watched as Skittershy’s shadowed figure descended from above, held up by a single strand of silk she wound from her spinnerets. To most, seeing a spider mare, with her multiple sets of eyes, long legs and powerful forehooves, and those fangs glinting in the light, coming down to land beside their trapped form, it would be something out of their darkest horrors. And to Twilight just a few short days prior, that horror had been all too real. Then, of course, she got to know the real spider mare and found the poor girl just as startled and loving as anypony who awoke to find their foal—or bunny, as circumstances would have it—crying and some strange mare in their home.

Threats to be eaten aside, there wasn’t much difference between the two.

Skittershy touched down just a hoof’s length from where Twilight still lay bound in her cocoon. The mare poked her hooves together, her bottom lip held between her gleaming fangs. She shifted her weight from side to side. A third keening whimper sounded from the back of her throat.

“Well, dear?” Hadkhûna prompted.

“I, well, um, you see.” Whining, Skittershy let her gaze fall to Hadkhûna’s belly. “I couldn’t help but notice during the night that Twilight was huddling up to you throughout the night. Like she was constantly cold, or something. So, I just, um.” She began to fiddle with her hooves. “I just thought if I cocooned her it’d help keep her warm.”

“I was literally sleeping on the belly of a dragon,” Twilight grumbled. “The only way I could’ve been cold would’ve been if you shoveled snow on me!”

Skittershy flinched and seemed to shrink in size. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I was only trying to help.”

Before Twilight could reply, she felt one of Hadkhûna’s great claws touch her head and soothingly run through her mane. Her eyes flitted up to meet her lover’s, those brilliant sapphires bored deep and seemed to chase her very temper away.

“Patience, my dear. She’s trying,” she murmured, before turning to Skittershy once more. “I’m sure you meant well, dear, but we have had this conversation before, have we not?” Hadkhûna chuckled again. “Perhaps in the winter months Twilight might be a bit more open to such help, but I should think perhaps it might be better that she be able to move her limbs so she can get out when she wakes, no?”

“I … suppose that makes sense.” The tiniest of frowns marred her face, Skitteshy raised her head and looked upon Twilight with each of her eight sky blue eyes at last. Contemplating something. After several seconds, she added, “I’ve never bound somepony in webbing loose enough for them to escape on purpose, though.”

It took all of Twilight’s willpower not to retort with some bit of snark. Agitating though it was to wake up three out of four nights bound in spider silk, her new friend was trying to do something nice.

Even if it was utterly creepy waking up in such a state.

Twilight blew her bangs out of her eyes and forced a smile. “It’s fine, Skittershy. Just please don’t do this again. Unless I ask,” she amended. Like that’ll ever happen.

The spider mare’s face lit up. “You mean it?” she asked, a hopeful smile bloomed across her features.

“Yes, I do.” Pausing a moment, Twilight arched a brow and gave a meaningful wiggle. “Now could one of you please cut me out of this thing? I’d like to stretch my legs.”

Hadkhûna’s booming laughter echoed throughout the cave and sent her belly (and Twilight) bouncing like jello. It would be another several moments of imprisonment and heckling by her lover before the great she dragon saw fit to slice her free with but a single claw.

Twilight felt it a testament to her will that she only let out a small flurry of expletives in reply to such prolonged teasing.

After she’d finally heard the last of her lover’s playful quips and endured a long helping of that teasing claw and affectionate licks, Twilight managed to coax Hadkhûna to rise and emerge from their cave to grace the outside world once again with her splendorous form. It was hardly her fault. Hadkhûna, beautiful and affectionate though she was, happened to be a she dragon of high class, one keen to hear her praises sang—especially by Twilight. If anypony else could find a better way to get her moving than such honeyed flattery, Twilight would gladly let them try.

Just as soon as they signed about fifty waivers removing any liability from her when the inevitable holocaust happened.

Hadkhûna didn’t come easily, even still. She would pause every so often and turn her head, fluttering her eyes as she waited for the next flowery compliment or showing off her natural beauty and grace with an almost mesmerizing turn of her hips or lashing of her tail. Even Skittershy squeaked and turned away with heated cheeks, covering Angel’s eyes lest he be given some ideas.

But Twilight had a trump card hidden beneath her cloak—Hadkhûna’s other weakness.

Her utter inability to resist when Twilight stood before her, fluffing those mulberry wings, and turned to bare her cheek for a kiss, just out of reach.

“Oooooooh!” Hadkhûna blew a smokey breath through her nose, heated more by the blush coloring her cheeks than the fire in her belly. “You terrible little tease!”

“Says the one who trails a claw along my spine,” Twilight replied with a breathy sigh. She closed her eyes, a knowing smile playing upon her lips.

Checkmate.

A rumbling purr, one part danger and three smoldering approval, heralded a loud thud. Hadkhûna emerged from their cave and swooped down upon her, plucking the little mare up in her massive claws to be held against her chest and licked and kissed until she laughed and squealed and wriggled to try and dot just one upon her snout.

The pair nosed against one another, their shared smiles and flushed faces only growing as Twilight took the opportunity to plant a soft kiss upon the tip of Hadkhûna’s scaled nose. When the self-proclaimed Princess of Thieves drew away, she noticed a flurry of motion just out of the corner of her eye.

Skittershy turned away, though not quite. Her back faced the pair and her head was low, allowing her mane to fall and veil the side of her face even as she turned to cast a glance over her shoulder, her cheeks colored a dusty pink.

Their eyes met. With a squeak and a deepening blush, the spider mare quickly turned away and hid her face. Upon her shoulder, a tiny bunny named Angel glanced between his caretaker and Twilight, and grinned. Then, his beady eyes glinting, the little punk hopped atop Skittershy’s head and chattered something in her ear.

By her reaction, Twilight could imagine it was either quite unpleasant or mortifying. Or both. For whatever he said, Skittershy let out a sound halfway between a squeak and a gasp, and swiftly snatched the little miscreant off her head and covered his mouth with a hoof.

“You hush!” Skittershy cried, casting another glance back over her shoulder. As if she thought Twilight or Hadkhûna might translate whatever he said. Then she leveled him with a stern, matronly glare. “One more word out of you, buster, and I’ll web your mouth shut!”

Angel did as asked, but fixed her with a smirk far too smug for a little bunny.

Then again, Twilight’s last week or so had been a complete aversion of everything she knew, so what even was real anymore?

“So,” Hadkhûna cut in, nosing against her cheek. “Where are we bound next, dear? And, er, preferably something that doesn’t end with you evading someone eating you, if you please.”

Twilight cocked a brow. “Oh, like you don’t think the last two times I’ve nearly gotten eaten haven’t worked out immensely in your favor.”

“Ah! But I never said that! I simply said it because I’d rather not lose my darling gemstone so soon after collecting her.” After a beat, she asked, “Wait a moment, how many times have you nearly been eaten by monsters?”

“Er …” A flurry of images flashed before her eyes. A nervous grin tugged at her lips.

Hadkhûna arched a scaled brow and fixed her with a stern look. “Why do I get the feeling this is habitual?”

“And why do I get the feeling you’re better off wrapped in a cocoon?” Skittershy put in as she moved to join the she dragon. Each of her eight eyes regarded Twilight critically. “At very least, you’d be safer there.”

“It’s not! Just a couple other times—timberwolves are, well, timberwolves, after all!” If Twilight had her way, neither her lover nor her new friend would ever hear the rest of her tales.

Especially not that changeling incident. That one would be taken to the grave.

Clearing her throat, Twilight levitated a neatly folded map from one of her pouches and unfolded it. She raised it up to cover her face, hiding her burning cheeks from their eyes even as she found their location.

In mere seconds, she found it, her ears twitching. “Ah! Here!” Twilight held out the map and placed a hoof over the edge of a vast stretch of green surrounding the Rolling Thunder Mountains. “We’re right at the edge of the Sprawling Forest of Verdane, so we should be just a half a day’s walk from Nomad’s Vale, then another day or so to Port Sommerset.”

“You want to go to Nomad’s Vale?” Hadkhûna wrinkled her snout. Disdain was written plain upon her face.

“You have something against it?”

“Forgive me if it offends, darling. But if that place is anything like what I’ve heard, it’s little more than a collective of thieves, con artists, and backstabbers.”

“In a nutshell,” Skittershy said. A shiver ran down her spine. “Those nasty thieves I ate fifty years ago were headed there. And so many of the creatures who come poking around with their spears and swords looking for hideouts, too. And they’re always so rude!”

Twilight turned to fix her with an amused smirk. “Well, to be fair, I fit right into two out of those three categories. So, I’m right at home there.” She paused, then turned to aim a sheepish smile at Skittershy. “Minus the rude part, I hope.”

Skittershy’s cheeks flushed red again. She hurried to close the distance and swept the smaller mare into a hug. “Oh, no! Not at all! I just mean most of the ones I’ve met.” She blinked twice. “Well, and then eaten. But you’re not like them at all! Thievery aside, I mean.”

Of course. With a chuckle, Twilight leaned up to nuzzle beneath her chin. “I thought so.” She folded the map up and slipped it back into her pouch, then said, “All that aside, I do need to make a trip to the market so I can sell off a few things. So I can pay the fare for the trip to Equestria.” Not to mention, collect my winnings from a certain mouthy minotaur …

The she dragon and spider mare shared bemused looks, the latter tilting her head in silent askance.

Whatever question passed between them, Hadkhûna answered it with a nod before turning to Twilight once more. “Far be it from me to question your, er, plans, Twilight, but … well, you do realize you could just ask me to fly rather than sit on a boat for however long for some trip along the coast, right?”

Along the coast?

Blinking, Twilight aimed a quizzical look at her lover. “Hadkhûna … when was the last time you visited Canterlot?”

“Me? Never.”

“Wait what?” That couldn’t be right. She turned to Skittershy with an expectant look. “Certainly, you’ve been there, right? You mentioned you showed Celestia how to get into your mother’s nest without getting caught so she could burn it all.”

To her surprise, Skittershy shook her head. “I’ve heard stories about its splendor,” she admitted. “But I’ve never seen it myself. I’ve always been too afraid to try, in case some poor pony sees me and gets scared enough the Sisters decide my pact with them is void.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. She glanced between the pair, gaping at each in turn. “Then how did you end up fighting Celestia and Luna all those centuries ago? Or make deals to get them to let you live in peace?”

Hadkhûna aimed a patient smile in her direction—the very sort her mother or the Sisters used to give, which never failed to drive her spare. “Twilight, what have the Sisters told you of their younger days?”

“Er.” She furrowed her brows. Truth be told, not a lot was known about Celestia and Luna’s younger years. Nothing too specific, though, a lot of it only what they were willing to share.

The rest, however, was just a bunch of guesswork and piecing together by scholars throughout the ages.

She shrugged. “Honestly? Hearing you talk about fighting them was a complete surprise. I never knew they’d come out here until you said something.”

“Ah, pity.” Her lover’s smile turned wistful, she turned her gaze off toward the horizon. A far-off look entered those ancient sapphire eyes. “They came here during an age where chaos and disharmony reigned over the land, and tried their damndest to tame it for all—not just their ponies. They did admirably to even get it to this state, but his work was a bit too strong here compared to the tales I heard of Equestria.”

Skittershy shivered. “It was Celestia who burned away my mother’s webs, and Luna who did away with Hadkhûna’s father before he could scorch the lands.” Frowning, she glanced up at Hadkhûna and added, “No offense, but I’m rather glad she did.”

“Oh, none taken. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again—my father was a monster, even by my standards! His short-sighted immolation nonsense would’ve deprived this land of its beauty.” She returned her gaze to Twilight and spoke in a low, rumbling purr, “And me of my gemstone’s.”

Again, Twilight felt that heat rise to color her cheeks. At this rate, she’d go home more purple than mulberry or lavender. With a tiny cough, she decided to steer the conversation back to its proper course. “Well, either way, neither of you two have ever actually been to Canterlot?” They shook their heads. For a second, Twilight felt just the slightest bit smug at knowing something they didn’t.

Then she realized she had to get two powerful creatures who’d nearly eaten her onto a boat.

In fairness, how was she supposed to account for these variables on the way in? And it wasn’t like she had better options even with the knowledge she had to find some way to get two monster mares across the sea!

“I know it’s somewhere east,” Skittershy said, bringing her back to present, “so I figured it would be along the coast, too. That’s where a lot of the older capitol cities are. That or a river port.”

Well, she wasn’t necessarily wrong in that regard. Just in this case.

Twilight licked her lips and retrieved the map from her pouch again. As she did, her magic flickered and washed over the face of the map.

Neither her lover nor her friend noticed the little ripple at the southernmost point. Perfect.

“So, we’re here,” she said, pointing at the spot at the edge of the forest. Slowly, she traced her hoof toward Port Sommerset and Riptide Bay, out into the vast Sea of Arbol until it reached another, larger landmass. “This is Equestria, way over here—or, rather, this is the outermost border of the Badlands. And then …” Her hoof stopped in the very center of that landmass, right beneath Mount Canterhorn and a little depiction of a splendorous marble city clearly labeled “Canterlot.”

Their jaws dropped. “You’re joking,” Skittershy breathed. “You can’t have come all that way by yourself.”

“No joke. And yes, by myself, except for a brief meet up with some diamond dogs and deer.”

“I thought you were lying when you described your journey,” Hadkhûna mumbled. “Playful banter or misdirection so I wouldn’t know what to burn, I figured.”

Twilight had to wince. She wasn’t wrong, not by a long-shot. But there was more than a little truth to her little tale.

Slowly, she shook her head. Time to spin another little tale.“I came across the Sea of Arbol by myself—well, as by myself as buying a ticket on a passenger ship can be.” It was here that the proverbial thunderhead kicked off and hit her in the head with a bolt of lightning. Twilight’s eyes went wide.

How exactly was she to afford a ticket across the sea, not to mention one for Hadkhûna and Skittershy each? Something told her they’d take great offense if she tried to finagle the shipmaster to let her put them down as livestock.

Actually, she was quite certain Hadkhûna would.

The she dragon might just burn half the port to prove a point.

“My word,” Hadkhûna whispered, falling back onto her haunches with a loud crash that sent the nearby trees rustling and birds into a frenzy of indignant squawks. She paid them no mind, bringing a claw up to cup her brow. “I never imagined. I figured maybe southeast of here but that far … and they came this way to fight him and his influence.”

Skittershy shivered and hugged Angel close. “Thankfully so. He was awful! And the things he did to enable our parents!” The spider mare squeezed her eyes shut. A shrill, keening whimper sounded from within her throat. “If not for them, this land would be a disaster!”

Her ears twitching, Twilight glanced between the pair. Again, details being omitted, information hidden she’d never heard of before. Who in the hay was this he or him character?

By their reactions, he was a monster—more so than even they had been cast as—or were, admittedly so in Hadkhûna’s case. A monster the likes of which would drive Celestia and Luna, the most peaceful and benevolent leaders in the known world, to war.

Perhaps something to pry from her lover and friend when they weren’t in such a state.

Twilight cleared her throat. “Well, the two of you will get to enjoy an experience in a land you’ve never seen before then,” she said as she folded her map and put it away once more. Hopefully for the last time. “But for now, we’re bound for Nomad’s Vale so I can sell off a few things and hopefully get the money we need to make the trip. Without threatening immolation,” she added with a stern look up at her lover.

To her credit, Hadkhûna shrugged and smiled at Skittershy. “My gemstone knows me well, doesn’t she?” She gave a rumbling chuckle, then nuzzled Twilight’s cheek. “As you say, to Nomad’s Vale. Until then—” the she dragon plucked Twilight off the ground, earning a squeak and a flail of limbs as she dangled by the back of her cloak before being deposited upon her lover’s back “—you’ll sit right up there where I can keep an eye on you, little troublemaking lover of mine. Skittershy? Would you like a lift?”

“Oh, if you don’t mind!” Skittershy climbed onto a pair of Hadkhûna’s claws and was lifted up and onto a place just beside Twilight. With a smile and nod of thanks, she settled down, one of her surprisingly knobby knees brushed against Twilight’s back. “Oops! Sorry! You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?”

As Twilight made to answer, Angel Bunny hopped from Skittershy’s hooves to land nimbly atop her head. He gave a happy little chatter and sat down, swinging his legs to and fro like a foal in a school chair.

Skittershy beamed. “He says you’re nice so he’s decided he’s going to spend time on your head for a while. If that’s okay with you, I mean. I can get him to come back over to me.”

Twilight glanced up, eying his little paws. “I suppose he can stay there,” she replied with a crooked smile. “As long as he behaves himself.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that!” Laughing, Skittershy leaned in close and pulled her into a hug. “He likes you quite a lot. I’d say you’re a close second to me!”

Something about that statement sent a cold shiver down Twilight’s spine.

It was probably nothing important.

In another life, in another universe, Twilight liked to imagine that she was the leader of her own little group of friends.

Somewhere out in the vast multiverse as the legendary Star Swirl the Bearded once hypothesized about, noting the endless possibilities and differences, she liked to pretend there was just the slightest possibilities that she was a real princess rather than one who so needed to steal. Perhaps that Twilight would be a pony others admired and looked up to, a true Princess of Friendship, surrounded by a few smiling friends in a nice little community she helped better. Over the course of the last few days, however, her little flights of fancy had added a new factor she liked to imagine:

That her lover and friend didn’t tease her both with their size and her little penchant for trouble.

It took every fiber of her self-control not to growl. Well, not again. She’d tried that once, all it earned her was a little croon and pinch of her cheeks with massive dragon claws, and a smattering of giggles from a certain spider mare.

“Oh, dear! Look at her little cheeks!” Hadkhûna purred. Her lips tugged into a wicked grin. “Such an adorable shade of red, no? Oh! If I had the patience for artistry, I’d paint the sunset that same color!”

“Hey!” Twilight grumbled.

Skittershy hid a smile behind one of her hooves. “I’d like to see that,” she said. Each of her eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and just a hint of mischief. Casting a look up at Hadkhûna, she asked, “Couldn’t you, though? I mean, you’ve always been better at that little trick than I.”

“True, but I think I’ll hold off on that for now. We can keep it a nice surprise for our little one, no?”

Twilight’s blush spread to cover her face. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’m taller than the average pony by at least seven centimeters!” she cried. “And I’m just about as tall as Celestia when she was my age!”

Hadkhûna gave her a pat on the head with one of her massive claws. “Oh, I’m sure you are! But to Skittershy and I, darling, I’m afraid you’re well and truly quite small.”

Another growl rolled about in the back of her throat. Twilight batted her lover’s claw away and fixed her with a glare. “I may be smaller than you but who isn’t? And for the record, I’m still a grown mare!”

“Yes, dear, you are. But that’s not the question on the table, so to speak.” Her eyes glinting, Hadkhûna brought her head nearer to Twilight, gazing into her very soul. “Can you go be trusted to go into town and conduct your business without getting into trouble? Or do Skittershy and I need to accompany you to be certain?”

“I’m quite certain, thank you very much!” What was she? Twelve? It was hardly the first time she’d walked into a den of thieves and con artists. By Celestia’s crown, this wasn’t even the roughest such place!

An arched brow in reply only served to make that burn beneath her skin hotter. With a flick of her tail and stomp of her hoof, Twilight said, “I’m just going in to sell a few things and getting out. Otherwise, I might—might—grab something for the two of you if it catches my eye, but I’ll be doing it legally this time!”

That drew a pair of sidelong looks. Skittershy folded her hooves. “You promise?” she asked.

Her ears twitched. They were seriously treating her like a filly! “I promise,” Twilight replied with a saccharine smile. She raised her hoof in mock imitation of the Filly Scout Corps’ old salute. “On my honor as a Filly Scout Corpsmare, I won’t get into any trouble.”

Even as she said it, Twilight knew there was utterly no way they’d buy it.

“I’m not sure if I’m more surprised by your being in the Filly Scout Corps or confused at what that’s even supposed to mean.” The spider mare tilted her head to one side. “It means something extra on top of the promise, I’m guessing?”

“Similar to the Sisters’ old vow, if I recall their little gesture,” Hadkhûna added thoughtfully.

Twilight had to force herself not to goggle at the pair. That actually worked? Seriously?

By Celestia, there really was a first time for everything.

“Yes. That’s exactly it.” Twilight forced a wooden smile. “So, you’ve got my promise with Filly Scouts’ Honor applied.” Slowly, she backed away from them, edging her way down the path leading into Nomad’s Vale. “I’ll just be on my way then, if you don’t—”

“Actually, there is one thing,” Skittershy interrupted. Before Twilight could think to question, she turned to Angel with a smile. Nuzzling him softly, she said, “Angel, would you mind going with Twilight?”

The little bunny beamed and chattered a quick reply, then, in one great bound, leapt from her shoulder to Twilight’s head. His little paws landed soft and nimbly, he bounced into a seated position and tussled her bangs.

Curious, Twilight arched a brow at Skittershy in silent prompting.

Her friend simply smiled back. “I’ll take your word and honor for it, but you won’t mind spending a little time with Angel, would you? Plus, he’ll be able to vouch for you if you do actually stay out of trouble.”

“But that’s the exact opposite of taking my word for it!”

“Then you’ll be happy to prove me wrong!” Skittershy’s smile turned deceptively sweet. “Think of it as a test to see if you can avoid getting into more trouble than you did with Hadkhûna and me.” She cast a wink. “And you can do me a little favor and show Angel how to behave around other ponies so he doesn’t shoot pebbles at one who isn’t as understanding as you while you’re at it.”

Atop her head, Twilight heard Angel give an excited bout of chattering, like a foal on a trip to the candy store. She sighed and nodded once, defeated.

Still, internally, she fumed. Act like she couldn’t make a quick trip into and out of town without some big dust up, would they?

With all the decorum and maturity of a princess, she blew a raspberry at the pair, then turned on her hoof and trotted down the path. “Come on, Angel,” she grumbled, her ears burning at the sound of their laughter. “Let’s get this taken care of fast so we can get back here and rub it in their smug faces!”

Hopefully, they’d be able to get it done without any creature recognizing her.

Twilight tried to pretend to be optimistic about her prospects.

Author's Note

What's this? I actually posted the chapter I meant to?

Stunning.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the next portion of Twilight's misadventures. If you're feeling magnanimous, please consider donating to my Patreon.

Den of Thieves: 2. The Sons of Erebark

Anonymity was a luxury Twilight Sparkle hadn’t been afforded in several years.

It was her own fault, really. One could hardly go around boasting that she was the Princess of Thieves without attacking a bevy of attention—hay, that alone would be enough to get some raised brows among the nicer populations of the criminal community, and perhaps a few paws, hooves, or claws drifting to touch the handle of a favored knife or sword.

In the not-so-nice populations, it would most certainly have meant those blades free of their scabbards and a quick flight for the exit. At least, it had before she got a bit more experience in actual fighting under her belt.

But, oh, how lovely, sweet anonymity had been that first little while.

The onset of her career was such a happy, simple time. One without Celestia sending her off on jobs to atone, those annoying lectures from that little nag, Sunset, an unfortunate incident with a changeling, another with a gryphon that didn’t even have the grace to be enjoyable at first, a pack of diamond dogs no doubt itching to chew on her bones, and, the latest development, a teasing lover and giggling friend. All her fault, if she had to be honest.

Admittedly, that last point was just a small piece of a rather big positive, so she couldn’t quite complain too much.

She could, however, feel a rather cold chill running down her spine almost the instant she stepped hoof into the market square of Nomad’s Vale. Not to mention a few stares on the back of her head. Worse, no matter how she rubber-necked about, how she stole a quick glance out of the corner of her eye or “checked” to make sure Angel was still in place, Twilight couldn’t find the source. But she knew that feeling. Instinct didn’t lie.

Every thief had that innate sense of being watched. The good ones, anyway.

One didn’t exactly become a reputable thief—an oxymoron if she’d ever heard one—by not having that sort of awareness of their surroundings. Without that, well, kinder places simply stuck them in a prison cell. Places like Griffonstone? Their practices made Twilight shudder so much Angel leaned over to look upside down into her eyes with a tiny frown upon his furry little face.

He chattered something low and fast, indiscernible, yet clear in meaning.

Twilight smiled and reached up to pat between his ears. “I’m fine, Angel. Just a few bad memories.”

His ears drooping, Angel hopped down to land on her shoulder. With another unintelligible chatter, he reached over to gently pat her cheek.

“I appreciate you thinking of me.” She leaned into his touch, careful not to knock him off his perch. Skittershy’s words echoed in her ears. Like me, does he?I wonder if I rate high enough for slingshots and pebbles. With a little nudge, she coaxed him to move to stand between her shoulder blades. “Why don’t you ride back there? It’s a bit safer.”

Another smattering of chatters came in reply, a questioning tone to his little voice. Enough that she could actually understand him asking, “Safer from what?”

At that moment, she could feel another set of eyes join the rest in tracking them as they walked into the market square. Definitely watched.

And not by somepony or some creature looking to barter.

“From karma,” Twilight deadpanned in reply. “And whatever jerk writes the mess that goes on in my life. Come on.”

The young princess weaved her way through the crowd with her head held high and the smallest of frowns upon her face, her eyes fixed dead ahead and locked upon her goal. With this, she was the very picture of a mare who knew where she was bound, full of confidence and purpose. Any lesser mugger or pickpocket would certainly think twice before trifling with her.

The latter group would find a rather unfortunate surprise awaiting if they tested the enchantments on her pouches.

She came to a stop before a rather large table decked out with jewels and gemstones, and littered with sacks of gold which covered a pair of tables behind the burly minotaur who stood behind the counter. Twilight took a step nearer, pausing to spare a nod to a rather haughty pair of cats dressed in matching black cloaks, then waited as he turned to set a modestly sized sack of gold atop the rest.

The minotaur took a moment to eye his stacks, and said in a deep, rumbling basso, “Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Thieves. Didn’t think I’d hear from you again in this lifetime.”

Twilight most certainly didn’t preen hearing him say it. “You remembered our wager,” she replied with a winning smirk. “I believe you said you figured the only thing heard from me if I found my way into that mountain would be shrieks of pain, no?”

He turned slowly, eying her with a critical look. “I did,” he said after a moment.

“Then you’ll also remember the small matter of gold I’m owed in return.”

“And just how do I know you didn’t just wander west, skulk about and turn over a few rocks, and come back once it was convenient?”

“You really think I’d want to go wandering around that place as long as I did?” The mare’s smirk turned pitying. “Hard Tack, I know you’re not a minotaur to go back on your word. What ever happened to honor among thieves?”

Hard Tack loomed over her and placed his massive paws on the table. “You tell me. Word on the street is the so-called Princess of Thieves doesn’t have a shred of it to her name.”

With that, Twilight allowed herself a frown. Those stares she felt made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, the words made every muffled conversation around them, unintelligible though they were, seem about her.

Her ears swiveled about. “And dare I ask who would accuse me of such?” she mused casually.

“You know how stories spread in our world. Some creature talks, word gets passed around.” Arching a brow, Hard Tack stood up straight. “Seems you’ve slighted the wrong folk somewhere along the line since coming from the East.”

Twilight bit back a curse. That didn’t exactly narrow things down. Why did she have to be so acutely aware of every look, every word right now?

It was time to skip to business and get out. “What would it take to prove it?” she murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

Hard Tack folded his muscular arms and grunted, “The crown.”

Her blood ran cold in her veins. A thousand questions raced through her mind in a blur, none more prevalent than how had he known. Who would’ve told him? Had that diamond dog pack circled back and spread word? Or were they still searching for her further north, near the Silent Moor where she’d lost them previously?

All questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to. And yet, she did. “Who said anything about a crown?” she asked, arching a brow.

“Like I said before, word gets around.” Hard Tack leaned in close. The stench of tobacco on his breath was thick enough to make her wrinkle her snout. “Unless you’re gonna walk me through Erebark’s halls yourself, it’s the crown or you can forget our deal and get lost. Won’t get a single coin out of me.”

Were they anywhere else but Nomad’s Vale, Twilight just might have let him try his luck. Why, she was half a mind to dangle him upside down and shake him until every coin fell out of his pockets, just to prove a point before she took her rightly won winnings! But, she took a deep breath and calmed her smoldering temper, and reminded herself that, in fairness, Hard Tack did deserve some proof.

He wasn’t exactly losing a small sum of money.

All the same, she couldn’t just whip out Platinum’s Crown in the middle of the market in freaking Nomad’s Vale, of all places. She might as well shoot off fireworks that formed her name in lights. Maybe one could form her face, too.

Either way, not an option. With a frown and a heavy sigh, she shook her head. “Half hour, inside,” she said. “You’ll promise not to say a word about this?”

Hard Tack didn’t reply verbally. He turned and spat a discolored glob of tobacco spit off to the side, notably away from his bags of gold, then stuck out one of his massive paws for her to shake. “Half hour. Not a soul.”

Twilight accepted the gesture with a nod. Not what she wanted out of this, but it was something. “See you then. Also got a couple other things I’m looking to sell off.”

“Course you do,” he sighed. “I’ll take a look. Half hour.”

She turned and trotted off to find something to busy herself with in the meantime. Something that would keep her out of trouble and give her the chance to rub it in Hadkhûna and Skittershy’s smug faces!

Maybe something for them. Just to add to it a little bit.

And, well, they couldn’t actually visit towns and go shopping for themselves. Not without horrifying the populace and, in a certain she dragon’s case, immolate every living thing, at least.

Well, we are in a place with plenty of rare jewelry and such. Twilight grinned. How else would the Princess of Thieves entertain herself in a town full of thieves, con artists, and merchants?

Again, she began to weave her way through the crowd, this time searching out each stand and shopkeeper’s stall to see what might be worth a look. Food? Skittershy would probably prefer more than a live chicken or two, and Twilight had a feeling Hadkhûna would take it as a shot at her hunting prowess. Oh, there were some nice blankets! Maybe Skittershy could have one for the trip, it did get colder on the water. And, just maybe, she could buy a second and try to convince the spider mare to cocoon her in that instead of webbing.

Then again, Hadkhûna was too big for any blanket to cover. If she were lucky, one might cover the tip of her snout. It would take a hundred to cover her body, which, admittedly, wouldn’t work with how she shifted while drifting off to sleep.

So, clearly that was right out. Gold? Well, Hadkhûna might like that, but Skittershy wouldn’t care. And it wasn’t as though she could just buy any old necklace or jewelry for them to wear. She would have to actually bring them into town and have them custom fitted.

Which would then beget that whole immolation, possible spider mare draining of a few ponies who might threaten her ordeal.

But that notion of giving them something to wear was rather appealing. If Twilight could find a suitable gemstone, one that could be set upon a fasten with a cord thread through it, she could make it work. She could have something nice and sparkly for her lover, and perhaps something to gift Skittershy just as a token of their friendship.

It was during this that her awareness and focus on her surroundings lapsed for a bare second. Just long enough for her to collide with some passer-by who couldn’t have come up to her nose at most, but stood sturdy enough to send Twilight falling back onto her haunches with a startled yelp and flare of her wings.

“Oh, my! I’m terribly sorry, darling!” a mare’s melodious voice kissed her ears with its song. “I was just lost in conversation—here, let me help you up. The dirt is no place for a lovely mare like yourself.”

Her ears burned at the compliment. Twilight ran a hoof through her mane and checked to make sure Angel hadn’t fallen off her back, then looked up. Before her, she saw a pair of mares who looked … well, gorgeous, certainly, but terribly out of place.

They wore no pouches or satchels, there wasn’t a sign of makeup or a hint of perfume the seductresses and pickpockets favored to help draw their prey in and entice them to drop their guard. The first was a rather small, shy pegasus. Her coat was a pale yellow, the type that seemed to just warm Twilight’s heart just by the sight, and a trio of butterflies fluttering emblazoned upon her flank. She wore her dusty pink mane long so it seemed to frame her face and drew attention to her sky blue eyes.

Her friend nearly stole Twilight’s breath away. The mare’s coat was white, with just a touch of gray. Her mane and tail, a purple which flowed into immaculate curls that bounced and curled in on themselves with her every move, and a rather slender build with curves in all the right places, so sunlight washed down her form and drew them to a trio of sky blue diamonds on proud display. But most striking of all were her eyes.

Twilight had only seen such beautiful, sparkling sapphire eyes once before. “Hadkhûna?” she murmured.

The mare tilted her head. “Sorry? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that.” She stepped closer, cocking an ear as she offered a delicate hoof. “You’re not in pain, are you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” Twilight shook herself. Honestly, how silly of her. The very idea! Granted, if her lover were a mare, she would have to be this one. Stunning, impossibly beautiful, enough to make a town full of thieves, the world around them, just fall away. And her friend? Why, Twilight could almost imagine her to be Skittershy.

Utter ridiculousness. Just her mind playing tricks on her.

With a sheepish smile, Twilight accepted the offered hoof and rose to stand. “I wasn’t paying much attention myself. We’ll call it even.”

The mare’s smile was pure perfection. “I’m relieved to hear that.” She gave a little hum, then lit her horn a brilliant, shimmering sapphire and began to dust off Twilight’s cloak. “I suppose we should both be more mindful around these parts, shouldn’t we? Not that I frequent this place much, mind, but word does get around.”

“That, I believe. I heard of this place long before I ever set hoof here.” Twilight’s eyes flitted toward the other mare, who let out a little squeak and unfurled her wings as if she might hide herself. Oh, a shy one. Anywhere else, precious.

Here, a mark.

Her smile faltering, Twilight spoke in a low murmur, just loud enough for both to hear, “You might find it more prudent to take care of whatever business you have here, then leave before they notice.” She cast a meaningful look to a few supposed loiterers. “New ponies, especially skittish ones, are their favorite.”

The little pegasus shook her head. “We can’t.” Though her face told the tale of anxiety and discomfort, there was just a hint of resolution flashing in those eyes. “We’re here looking out for a dear friend of ours.” She paused a beat, then ducked her head and mumbled, “If we can find her, that is.”

Twilight’s ears twitched. Several of Celestia and Luna’s lessons on unity flitted through her mind at blinding speed. She should help them, their voices whispered in either ear. It would only be right that a princess help a pony in need, after all.

It would. Except, she needed to get her business taken care of quickly, lest she test fate and run into whoever had that axe to grind enough they would spread word of the crown.

Who the hay had she even told?

At this rate, she couldn’t take any chances. Following her teachers’ example would just have to go on hold. Again.

“I’d advise staying out of the alleyways and more heavy crowds, then,” Twilight said. “Less chance of getting robbed that way.”

“Oh? Well, you do sound like you know your way around.” The unicorn bowed her head in thanks. “Thank you for the advice, friend. If we can repay it in any way, do let us know.” Her piece said, she turned to her friend with a smile. “Come along, dear! Moonlit probably wandered off to find the tavern, knowing her.”

Her pegasus friend offered Twilight a shy little smile and mutter of thanks before she allowed herself to be guided along the way they’d been headed, back toward those stands selling stolen wares.

The slightest nagging to follow and make sure they were safe entered her mind, but Twilight had to silence it. She’d offered advice, that was all she was obligated to do. Besides, there was a nonzero chance her presence would’ve made them greater marks.

That feeling of being watched hadn’t left her once during the exchange. Those piercing stares bored into the back of her head.

Twilight turned and trotted over to the blanket stand. Skittershy would love one, she could get this taken care of quickly, collect her winnings, then get out. And, as fortune would have it, one of the attendant’s works caught her eye—thick, fluffy, and as soft as cloud. The little patterns of dogs and cats sewn in would almost certainly be a hit.

She parted with seven bits and found herself plus one fluffy blanket, which she happily slipped into her enchanted bottomless pouch for safekeeping. One down, one to go.

The young princess turned to survey the lay of the land. She had about twenty minutes, by her count, to meet up with Hard Tack. Plenty of time to check out a few of those stands laden with gems and avail the owners of something sparkly.

Legitimately, for once.

But as she made to step away from that stand, the hairs on the back of her neck bristled and stood on end as though she’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. On her back, Angel let out a nervous little chitter, drawing her to start and turn.

She heard a low, canine growl before she took a step. “None of your nasty pony tricks this time, Twilight Sparkle,” the diamond dog spat. “Today, you pay for what you did to the True King’s pack!”

Her ears flicked. Twilight felt a cold claw grip her chest and twist her lungs. She knew that voice well, and there was only one pack who would dare call their alpha the True King.

Swallowing a lump, she turned slowly, affixing an uneasy smile upon her face as she met the muscular doberman with a little nod of her head. “Clifford, it’s been a while!” Twilight greeted with false cheer. “I haven’t seen you since … oh, my, I can hardly recall!”

His glare only grew more heated. The only thing that hid the blood coloring his face was a thick coat of red-brown fur. He wore a long, gray cloak and faded green coat with a patch bearing the peak of the Solitary Mountain and the Great Gate of Erebark set upon a golden background. Around his neck, he wore a black collar with jeweled studs—typical of his pack. “Since the nasty pony princess left the True King and his loyal servants lost in the Silent Moor, wandering the Endless Fog!”

“Riiiiiight.” The young mare took a step back. Her eyes darted about, both searching out an escape route and trying to spy out which direction the pack might flank from. Diamond dogs never traveled alone. “I’d wondered where you’d gotten to. I just turned around and you were all gone,” she lied. “How did you lot find your way out of that mist, anyway?”

“No prey escapes our noses.” Clifford bore his fangs in a wicked grin. “If you think the True King’s loyal servants will fall for your tricks again, you’re a fool! Your trickery is known to all who wear Erebark’s colors!”

Well, that was a lovely thought. All the diamond dogs and “respected” allies who swore fealty to Erebark over the centuries? Twilight wouldn’t miss this continent in the slightest. But first, she had to escape.

Her instincts screamed at her, a tingle down her spine alerted her to the presence of Clifford’s packmates, each creeping up on either side in classic flanking tactics. Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight could see the dull glint of well-worn steel. Sharp enough to bite into her side, but dull enough to make it hurt like no other.

That certainly complicated matters.

And by the way Clifford was waggling his digits, his paw drifting near his belt, he fully intended on being the one to lead any such fray.

Twilight flicked her tail. “Trickery? Me? Clifford, I’m wounded by such accusations!” She brought a hoof to her chest to milk the act. She just needed a window. “What ever happened to the wise Kings Under the Mountain who broke bread with enemies to strengthen their kingdom? Or has your King let their legacy falter since?”

The slight should’ve sent them howling. It should’ve set off a trio of snarled denials and a frenzied leap to pounce her, easy prey for a quick burst of shielding magic to the face.

Instead, Clifford’s smile grew sharper, dangerously so. A low, rumbling laugh, like a persistent cough mixed with a bark through a mouthful of gravel, sounded from within his chest. A laugh shared by his fellows.

Oh, Tartarus, what did I just step into?

One of the diamond dogs flanking her snickered and said, “Nasty little pony princess can ask King Fido IV himself.” The way his beady eyes glinted like his curved dagger sent shivers down her spine. “The True King has been howling to meet you again, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Invited to dinner, he said,” the other chimed, a wicked looking cutlass clasped in his paw. “Eager to meet the guest of honor again, he is.” His eyes flitted to her passenger, a rivet of drool ran down his chin. “And she even brings an appetizer to go with her.”

She barely heard Angel squeak as she registered the words. Guest of honor.

Oh, hay, no.

So much for no trouble. Then again, that ship had sailed as soon as they’d walked up.

Twilight took a low, challenging stance, her wings unfurled and ready to go. “If you think you’ve got the gumption to try it, pup!” she spat. Her mind raced, a plan to turn their advantage into hers already forming. Time to put that insolence to use. “You won’t be the first I’ve thrown around by their stupid collars.”

They snarled and spat curses, drawing a dangerous smirk. Insulting a diamond’s dog collar was tantamount to insulting the mother who bore their litter—just a step or two away, in fact. It was the one constant in each pack, even on the Equestrian continent in the East. One simply didn’t comment on them unless they had a death wish that took the form of frothing, raging dogs.

So perhaps one could forgive them for losing the three for how their tempers flared, all sense of awareness and strategy left them, and they whipped their blades at her head, eager to liberate it from her neck and shoulders despite their King’s want to entertain her himself.

Twilight, however, would not. It was just what she wanted.

Her horn flashed a bubbling raspberry, tendrils of magic lashed out and wrapped around their wrists as they each made to swing at her head. Experience trained her not to simply try to stop them in their tracks at such range, they had momentum and weight carrying them forward.

Instead, she adopted the teachings of an old mare she’d met in the Far East. Twilight ducked low, gritting her teeth as she deftly twisted their arms and flung them over her crouched body. The trio of diamond dogs yelped and cried out in surprise, then in pain a half second later when they all banged heads and necks. Before they could fall upon her back, she cast a quick shield spell and thrust it upward like a springboard, striking them with a rather odd sproing! and catapulting the would-be assailants through the air, bound for a meeting with one of the stands across the street.

“Angel! In one of my pouches, now!” Twilight barked as she spun on her hoof, her horn already lit to catch the two she hadn’t seen, but knew to be lingering nearby in mid leap, their claws and fangs bared to tear her apart. With a snort and grunt, she jerked her head left and threw them like a pair of javelins at their pack mates as they tried to untangle and rise from the debris. She could feel the little bunny scramble across her back and fumble his way into one of her pouches, safe and sound.

Time to move.

Twilight galloped through the crowded market square, bound for Hard Tack’s and sanctuary. No one dared steal or spill blood within one of the homes, no matter how seedy Nomad’s Vale could be. All she had to do was make it.

He’d just have to deal with her company a bit sooner than expected.

A whistling through the air made her ears twitch. Twilight threw herself into a forward roll just in time to see one of the diamond dogs’ daggers go spinning overhead. The muffled sound of padded paws drove her to action. She snapped off a bolt of magic that caught Clifford the Big Red Idiot in the chest and sent him head over heels, and landed in a heap on the hard dirt road.

Suddenly, something big, furry, and made of ripping muscles hit Twilight in the side and drove her against the edge of a stand.

A pained cry escaped her lips. She shifted, lashing out with a forehoof to catch the sixth diamond dog in the side of his head, just enough that he let go so she could put her back to the stand and kick out at him again. Around her, pots, pans, and kitchen ware clanged and clattered together. A shrill ring entered her ears.

The newcomer whipped out a cutlass and held it above his head. Twilight snarled and snatched up the kitchenware—her makeshift weaponry—in each hoof, and swung it at his left elbow.

A metallic clang as cast-iron met bone and a sickening crack made her ears splay, but neither could top the agonized shriek that tore its way from the diamond dog’s throat. His arm hung limp, he turned away, dropping his cutlass to clutch at the injured limb.

Twilight gave him no chance. She leapt up and smashed his nose in with a frying pan, then fetched him a blow to the jaw with a heavy pot.

The dog fell to the ground in a heap.

His pack mates took up a howl for their fallen comrade and launched themselves upon Twilight.

The Princess of Thieves fell beneath one’s weight, but quickly looped a foreleg around his arm to keep him from stabbing her with his knife, and turned him to bare the back of his neck for a quick strike with her frying pan. Another approached, she blocked a swipe of his cutlass with the pan, then bashed his knee with a side-swipe from the pot, and greeted his fall with a frying pan to the face.

Two down, she thought, rising to her hooves. Her amethyst eyes glinted, alight with fire even as her other four attackers closed in. She stepped back until she felt her rear bump against the edge of the stand—her own little armory.

Twilight reared up, tossing the pot and pan into the air, and cast a quick banishing spell to send them flying at blinding speed, bound for Clifford and the dog at his side. Clifford managed to duck under his, while his pack mate took the blunt side of the pan straight to his solar plexus.

The other two leaped upon her without weapons, trying their best to pin her.

Tartarus broke loose. Twilight summoned every bit of kitchenware she could and bounced it off their heads and shoulders. Her vision went red.

They were ruining her plan, damn it! How was she going to explain bumps and bruises to Hadkhûna and Skittershy? Especially if Angel told on her! By Celestia, she was supposed to stay out of trouble this time! And she’d actually tried! She’d been good! She was legitimately buying gifts and collecting on a bet!

She snatched a pair of small pans out of the air and lashed out wildly, howling a battle cry that cut through the air. Her pans clanged off bone as she struck their arms, their shoulders, their thick, stupid heads.

“The one time I try to be straight, and you idiot pups screw it up!”she yelled as she forced a big stew pot over Clifford’s head and drove him onto the counter. Twilight snatched a mallet and beat it as hard as she could, trying to deafen the mighty hunter. “The one! Stupid! Time!”

They stumbled back, one by one. Each clutched their faces in pain, but their resolve was unbroken. Their eyes still shone with savage fury, even as all four tried to leap upon her again.

That was when Angel sprang forth from his pouch, his slingshot drawn and ready. The little bunny let out a shrill war cry and fired four shots in rapid succession and struck each diamond dog in the eye.

If not for the situation, Twilight might just have scolded him for coming out of the pouch. Or complimented his aim.

Instead, she took him in the bubbling glow of her magic and carried him through the air as she pushed off the stand and leapt over the fallen hunters. She hit the ground in full gallop, her eyes fixated upon her goal.

Something tangled around her hooves. Twilight tripped and fell forward in a flail of limbs, tumbling across the dirt road in a rather painful heap. A quick look at her hind hooves saw the reason—a bola.

Terrific.

Slowly, Clifford the Big Red Nuisance rose, his eyes burning bright. He picked up one of the pans she’d bashed him with and began to stalk toward her, flanked by his pack mates. “No more tricks!” he barked. “No more nasty little—”

The pot slipped from his paw and floated through the air, held aloft by a bubbling sapphire aura.

Then it swung low and hit him in a most unpleasant place for any male of any species. Even Twilight had to wince in sympathy as he shrieked and fell to the floor in a fetal position, whimpering like a newborn pup.

Really, though, who could blame him after taking a hit there with the blunt edge of a frying pan?

“Oh, clumsy me~!” that beautiful unicorn’s melodious voice floated through the air.

Every creature turned to stare dumbly at the beauty as she sauntered forth. That mare with no business in such a dodgy took strode to the center of the crowd as though she were taking centerstage, her hips swaying in an enchantingly liquid motion and a smile that told of utmost confidence. Like she hadn’t just nutted a diamond dog hunter in the middle of a fight in which she had no stake.

“You!” Clifford spat, his face redder than any name Twilight could ever hope to invent could possibly match. He struggled to stand, his knees still shaking with the pain as he spoke, his voice pitched an octave or two higher. “You will suffer for this!”

The mare’s smile didn’t falter. She simply turned her nose up at him like a noble in Canterlot. “Darling, believe me, looking at you and your rabble is suffering.” Those eyes glinted with some familiar note, a hint of malice hidden behind their beauty. “Though, I must side with the lovely mare—those collars are simply atrocious.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. She’s insane. More so than me.

A tugging at her hooves drew her attention. The little pegasus snapped the bola with a sharp tug and twist, then offered a little smile. “Hurry to wherever you’re going,” she whispered. “We’ll keep them away.”

“Are you out of your minds?” Twilight hissed. “You two have no idea what you’re getting into!”

“You seemed to be doing just fine. I don’t imagine they’ll be difficult.”

“I fight for my life all the time!”

The pegasus frowned in thought. “Do you now?” she muttered pensively. With a little shrug, she stepped around Twilight and gave her a little nudge with her hind hoof. “Something to keep in mind, then. Get going. We have this.”

“But—”

With a roll of her eyes, the pegasus turned and looped her hooves under Twilight’s arms. Then, in a rather surprising show of strength for one her size, she lifted Twilight bodily off the ground and carried her through the air—with all the speed and natural grace of a Wonderbolt flyer!—and deposited her in the doorway of, of all places, Hard Tack’s house.

“Get inside and stay there until we get rid of them,” she commanded. Quite the change from that shy little thing she’d been, and the light in her sky blue eyes left little room for argument. “We’ll be fine.” Her piece said, she gave Twilight a little shove inside, then pulled the door shut.

Twilight could only watch through a little window, her jaw agape, as the little pegasus turned and stalked over to stand at her friend’s side, casually picking up one of the bola balls while they weren’t looking.

Then she spat something, an insult, at the diamond dogs and threw the ball in Clifford the Big Red Whipping Pup’s face, and both mares turned tails and scampered like Cerberus himself was nipping at their hooves. A good thing, too. For not a half second later, a howling, cursing Clifford led his pack mates on a blind charge after them.

“Those … idiots.” Twilight thumped her head against the door. Why in the world had they done such a foolhardy thing? She could’ve taken those stupid pups herself!

And now, two mares with no business being in Nomad’s Vale, let alone in her fight, were running. Running from King Fido’s hunters.

Again, she thumped her head against the doorway. She’d promised. She’d promised she wouldn’t get into trouble again, and yet, despite her best efforts, she had. And worse.

Two mares without business in her mess had just involved themselves.

“Uh, you’re early.” Hard Tack’s voice made her ears twitch. Twilight could almost picture his frown, how he glanced over her to peer through the tiny little window, then down at her again. “You have anything to do with whatever that ruckus was?”

Slowly, Twilight turned to level him with a blank stare. “Clifford the Big Red Twit told you, didn’t he?” At his wince, she pushed off the door, her tail flicking in agitation. “And you didn’t see fit to warn me, why?”

He didn’t answer verbally, but the way he looked away and sheepishly scratched his cheek told the tale.

“You took a bribe? Seriously?”

Hard Tack snorted. “Money’s money. And there was no guarantee you’d come back from that mountain anyway.” He returned his gaze to her once more. With a sigh, he waved her to follow him into his display and appraisal room. “C’mon. Let’s have a look at this crown.”

Blowing a breath through her nose, Twilight followed after him. A heated glare boring into his back. He’d better have her winnings paid in full and if he didn’t give her a good price on that necklace and earrings, there would be problems.

And if that minotaur thought after this she wasn’t going to make him count out each and every bit she was owed, he had another thing coming!

If there was one thing no diamond dog could stand, it was betrayal. If there was another, it was that nigh sacrilegious insult to their collar. But if one had to add a third to that unhappy list, it would have to be the notion of some creature interrupting one of their sacred hunts against an enemy of the pack. And of all the packs in all the lands, those who bore the seal of Erebark upon their chest were the most notorious for their short temper.

So perhaps one could forgive Clifford, snarling and frothing at the mouth as he was, for breaking off his hunt for Twilight Sparkle in favor of chasing the mares who dared interlope.

After all, they had done two of the three things guaranteed to piss off a diamond dog.

Clifford cursed as a thin, whiplike branch struck him across the face. Those mares hadn’t slowed, hadn’t faltered even as they entered the forest. Through the underbrush, over tree roots, and even navigating those sudden dips and mounds in the earth that gave even his pack trouble. A fact made clear as he twisted his ankle and growled a fresh string of curses.

Oh, when he got a hold of those mares, he would be sure to take his time to savor their screams.

Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of a curl of that unicorns purple tail. Clifford sped up, barking a call for his pack mates to hurry along with them before they lost her as they did the pegasus. His efforts won him a chance to see the triple diamond cutie mark emblazoned on her flanks as she took a sudden right turn, quick enough that he nearly skidded past as he tried to follow, and darted into a maze of rocks.

Clifford howled. The rocks were unfavorable to pony hooves. He had her this time. Leading the charge, he slipped in, his paws reaching for one of the daggers still held in its sheath, ready to bury it between her shoulder blades. A little glimmer of light playing along a thin thread out of the corner of his eye made him wince, but he was not to be deterred. No more pony tricks would make a fool him this day!

And he was correct—it was most certainly not a pony trick that ended the hunt.

What pony could possibly stop he and his pack mates in place as if they’d run face first into a net of sticky, tangly thread?

Yelping and whimpering, the dogs began to try to fight their way free. They clawed and bit, trying to reach for their blades to cut themselves from the strange thread that clung to their very body like glue, yet to no avail. It held fast, tangling around their limbs and pulling back, latched onto the rocks around them by those thin strands of thread he’d ignored.

“Marvelous work, as usual,” that damnable unicorn’s voice made his ears burn. Ahead, she stepped out from behind a rock, her smile still splitting her muzzle as she looked to the mare at her side. Neither looked out of breath. If anything, they looked as though they’d just taken a casual walk through the woods! “I daresay, top notch on such short notice.”

The little pegasus didn’t smile back. “Thank you, but it didn’t take much effort. My web back home was far bigger, after all.” Her sky blue eyes were as cold as ice. “So, what do we do to teach these nasty beasts for threatening our little one?”

Clifford blinked. Their little one? “You’re with that nasty princess?” he growled.

The unicorn’s smile sharpened. “In multiple senses of the word, yes. We are.” She approached slowly, her hips swaying and tail swishing in time. Her sapphire eyes gleamed, shining to the brim with some sort of sadistic glee as she reached up to pat his cheek, then let her hoof trail down to race the patch on his chest.

“Well, well, what have we here?” she crooned. “If it isn’t the Solitary Mountain! And the Gate of Erebark! Oh, how delicious—you’re from the rabble of that flea-ridden mutt, Fido!”

Flea-ridden? Clifford thrashed about, spittle spraying forth from his lips. “Slander! Nasty mare will die for such talk! The True King of Erebark will punish you for siding with Twilight Sparkle!”

Fear was a typical response to the threat of meeting King Fido IV around these parts.

A toothy grin was not. Yet, that was the response the mare gave to his comment. “Oh, I was just hoping we’d get to that, poppet. Because, you see, we’d like you six to take a little message to Fido’s little heir for me—a little word from the Queen Under the Mountain.”

He scoffed. “There is no Queen Under the—” his brain finally caught the meaning. There was only one who would dare make such a claim. Only one who would look upon scores of diamond dogs armed to the teeth and laugh.

Smoke burned his nose and made his vision blur with tears. Twin tendrils wafted from her nostrils as she took a couple steps back. Behind her teeth, a bright, deadly orange glow shone through the cracks.

It couldn’t be!

From within her belly, he heard a low, rolling growl the likes of which could never come from a pony.

His pack mates whimpers seemed to come from afar, through a fog as thick as stew. If Clifford were free, he might have curled into a ball and tucked his tail between his legs.

No. Not a pony.

Never a pony.

A dragon.

Their screams were inaudible beneath the shrieking rush of flames.

Author's Note

Hey, look, I can post a middle chapter in the right order after all when I'm not operating on minimal sleep...

Anyway, hope you like it. Be sure to comment, hit me up if you want to join the discord, if you're feeling generous, I have a Patreon if you would like to support and join the hive.

Den of Thieves: 3. Diamond In the Rough

Twilight didn’t bother trying to pretend she wasn’t smug as she tugged Platinum’s Crown from the confines of her pouch, held it aloft for a moment, and casually dropped it on the cushion Hard Tack so graciously set out on his table.

Why should she? Who wouldn’t, after having Hard Tack grumble and claim he doubted her, or made her wait while he brought out every single appraisal tool he had.

“Just being sure,” he rumbled as he took it carefully and held it up in the light, inspecting each gemstone embedded in the flares.

Though his words were strictly business, Twilight could hear just a hint of awe in his tone. He knew just as well as she that this was the genuine article. The real deal. The score of scores.

More importantly, the key to seeing her record wiped clean in Celestia and Luna’s eyes.

“Take all the time you need,” she said, turning away to meander about his home. “It’ll make watching you count out my winnings that much more worth the while.”

The dark muttering that reached her ears only served to bring a smile to her face. Maybe she couldn’t blame him for wanting to check, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t needle him a little. It helped stem the urge to bounce his head off the walls a few times for taking that bribe. Plus, it gave her the chance to take a look around and see what he’d added to his collection since her last visit.

Hard Tack, while rich for a resident in Nomad’s Vale, kept his storage space in a rather simple place—stone walls, a wooden floor, paned glass windows, and a thatched roof held up by a single wooden support beam and a series of smaller ones that came together to form a sort of skeleton to aid its cause.

The walls were lined by wooden shelves packed to the brim with various items collected or sold to him over the years. There were ornate daggers, a few books written in strange languages, a rather gaudy looking tea tray that looked like it’d been fashioned from melted down gold, and a little chest full of coins and gemstones.

Nothing that really caught her eye.

Nothing, that was, until she noticed a spark, a flash of deep purple out of the corner of her eye. Twilight looked up, her ears perking and tail swishing as gaily as only a thief in the presence of a major score, and searched the shelves for the source of that wondrous, alluring light. Her eyes drawn to the top shelf like a moth to open flame.

It was laid upon a fine plush burgundy cushion like the Crown Jewel of some long-fallen empire, its beauty so great, Twilight would almost wager wars would—and probably had—been fought over which ruler would lay claim to it all the way back to the Western Lands’ feudal days. A gorgeous purple gemstone, utterly flawless in every way, stood proud. Its shape that of a diamond, cut by one who must have been beyond even a mastery of the art. Even in the dim light of Hard Tack’s sitting room-turned-store, it shone with light.

No. It didn’t. That was quite wrong.

It radiated its own glow—a light which seemed to fill her vision and flood her heart with warmth and coaxed those lessons of bygone years to the forefront of her mind. All those lessons of offering others what was needed without expectation of gratitude or repayment she’d set aside for her own goals.

All Celestia’s lessons on the generous heart a proper princess needed to properly guide their ponies through the ages.

A tiny squeak and sharp prodding against her ribs jolted Twilight from the sapphire’s siren call. She turned to look over her left shoulder, shifting her hip as if to gaze at her cutie mark. In fact, she was making it easier to see the little bunny who’d poked his head out from her pouch again and was alternating between poking her sides and doing a little jig, and frantically pointing into the raspberry glow emanating from within depths of her pouch.

She blinked. Since when had her pouch glow?

Angel Bunny put a paw to his lips, flitting his eyes toward the grumbling minotaur as if to say “don’t let him notice!” Then, he beckoned her closer and ducked into her pouch again, the flap fell over to obscure him from view. Or, more importantly, whatever he’d found. She could feel him shifting about and retrieving something, an edge pressed through the fabric to prod her side.

One of his tiny paws poked from beneath the flap and tugged it aside for her to see—within the confines of her pouch, Twilight could see Angel, his snow-white fur bathed the same raspberry as that strange glow, looking up at her with a face showing a mix of confusion and apprehension as he held up what looked to be a spike of some sort.

Then Twilight remembered Hadkhûna’s gift. That gorgeous amethyst, fashioned in the shape of a starburst. The very same she’d tucked into her bottomless pouch until she could find a cord or chain to make it a pendant necklace to commemorate their relationship. Her amethyst was more beautiful and enchanting than ever before.

And it was glowing, pulsing with ethereal light from within itself. Curious, Twilight raised a brow, turning to follow a hunch.

Atop Hard Tack’s shelf, the purple diamond seemed to dazzle in reply, as if it were trying to call out to Twilight’s amethyst like long-lost sisters celebrating their reunion. Or perhaps an old friend.

Yes. Friend seemed more fitting.

Somehow.

“It’s real,” Hard Tack muttered in disbelief.

Again, Twilight jolted. “Huh?” She turned to fix him with a perplexed look.

He didn’t meet her gaze. He simply stood, the crown held almost reverently in his paws. Hard Tack’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide as he lost himself in the gems embedded in the flares as he turned it this way and that. “It’s the real thing,” he said, louder this time. Only then did he look up to gape at Twilight. “How … forget finding the damnable thing in that place, how in Tartarus did you survive her?”

The smug, snarky part of Twilight begged to retort with something along the lines of “I’ll let you know after I kiss her once we’re done here.”

Fortunately, rational, coy, thief Twilight was there to backhoof that side of herself across the mouth and aim a smile at the minotaur. “Trade secret, I’m afraid. And our bet had nothing to do with me recounting tales.” Her smile turned dangerously sweet. “My money. Now.” Thinking on it a moment, she pointed up at the diamond on the shelf. “And I’ll take that, too, thanks.”

Hard Tack’s eyes followed her hoof, then hardened. “Are you out of your little pony—”

“Compensation for taking a bribe from Clifford the Big Red Moron,” she cut him off. Then, thinking better on it, she reached into her pouch—the normal one, where she kept the things she didn’t care about losing—and fished out the necklace and earrings she’d taken off another thief’s corpse in Skittershy’s web. “I’ll offer this and let you take one sack of gold off my winnings. But that beauty comes with me, or I can promise I’ll take extreme issue with what you did.”

Twilight fought to keep her expression neutral as she spoke, the slightest tugging of a smile against her lips nearly betrayed her satisfaction at watching the minotaur clench his teeth and weigh his options.

Making an enemy of a thief such as her wasn’t a good option, and that was ignoring the power she held as an alicorn. Of course, he knew that. Every creature in Nomad’s Vale did.

Which was why they’d never try something direct, only something subversive or in ambush.

Still, that was no reason to make enemies. Twilight needed to get out of here anyway, there’d been more than enough excitement for one day. She’d just have to sweeten the deal a bit for him.

“Take three bags off,” she amended, still dangling the necklace and earrings for him to see. “Three bags and the jewelry for the sparkling diamond doing nothing but gathering dust. And I’ll throw in twelve pieces of gold if you give me the supplies to make a pair of pendant necklaces.”

Hard Tack’s ears perked up, a glimmer of hope flashed across his face before he managed to hide it again. “Four bags,” he countered.

“Three,” Twilight replied. “That thing probably hasn’t gotten a single offer, let alone one this high. I’m doing you a favor.”

The minotaur grumbled. He passed the crown over to her and moved to retrieve her winnings. Twilight tucked it back into her pouch, watching closely as he counted out seventeen bags of gold, each of them nearly as big as her head. And with each he placed upon the tabletop, she carefully floated them over and slipped them into her bottomless pouch, mindful not to hit Angel. As she reached the fourteenth bag, Twilight paused and fished out twelve bits, and laid them on the table.

Nodding, Hard Tack pulled a pair of cords and fastens from some box on the counter, which were then quickly slipped into the very same pouch.

Then he folded his arms. “There. Satisfied?”

“Almost.” Twilight arched a brow and tilted her head toward the diamond. “Aren’t we forgetting something?”

“I hope to forget the uppity little Princess of Thieves once she leaves my home and never comes back. Get lost.”

The young mare drew in a sharp breath through her nose. Flicking her tail, she stood to her full height and said, “I paid for that diamond, Hard Tack. And I’m being rather generous not holding a grudge for you taking a bribe to let me get jumped by those diamond dogs.”

“And much like the rest of this town, I’m being generous not just putting a knife through that little pony chest of yours with how you come skipping on through, pretty as you please, and shame every thief and con artist on the continent!” Hard Tack hammered his fist upon the table, the sacks of gold jumped. “I’ve spent enough time humoring you, foreign mare! Take those bits and get out before I cash in on the little bounty Fido’s put on that pretty little head of yours!”

A bounty on her head? Any other time, Twilight might feign flattery.

This just meant she didn’t have time for a prolonged affair. But she wasn’t going to let Hard Tack walk all over her either. Especially not on this continent.

Equestria? Different story. She could just call the guard, ironic though that was. Here? They did things a different way.

If one felt wrong, some creature got dropped. Hard.

Twilight leveled him with a heated glare and rolled her shoulders. “We can do this the easy way, where you keep that money and I get my diamond, or the hard way. Your call.”

The minotaur sneered. “And what’s the hard way, Princess?”

“I take the money, the diamond, and I drop your house on your thick head.”

That set Hard Tack right off. With a roar full of rage and wrath, he flipped the table and flung it sideways at her, both so it would block her vision and flatten her beneath its weight. But Twilight was ready.

Her horn flashed. A bolt of magic shot forth from the tip and blasted the table down the middle, the split sides fell apart and landed on either side of the angry princess. Just in time so Twilight could see Hard Tack looming over her, a wicked looking dagger in one of his massive paws, descending toward her neck.

He didn’t see her snake a tendril of magic around each sack of gold, so lost was he to his rage and lust for profit that he didn’t even hear the telltale clinking rattle as she swung the first up and caught him beneath the chin.

A hit with a sack of gold was … well, a lot like being hit with a brick. But if one were to factor in the power a young alicorn might put behind a hit, it gets a lot worse for the poor creature on the receiving end. Even one with a head and jaw as strong as Hard Tack’s couldn’t prepare for the blow.

The minotaur staggered back, his eyes wide. His paw cupped his bruised chin. Slowly, the rage returned to his eyes and he let out another roar.

Twilight took the chance to slam the second sack into his belly. While he was doubled over, she looped a tendril of magic around the diamond and snatched it from its resting place. She drew it into her bottomless pouch and pressed it into Angel’s grasp with a command, “Hold onto that, and stay in the pouch this time!” Her eyes quickly flitted around the room, a plan formulating in her mind even as she tugged the flap over is fuzzy little head. For a split second, they lingered on the a single spot. A confident smirk spread across her features. “I’ve got this!”

Again, Hard Tack rose. From behind his back, he drew another knife, this one made of a strange, glinting black metal. He flung it at Twilight’s face, forcing her to leap and roll to the side, and catch him straight on the nose with another blow from one of her bags before she summoned them all to rest within her pouch with their brethren. Then, she blew a raspberry at the furious minotaur and sprinted for the door, though not before she snuck a few tendrils of magic around her target and commanded them to bite into the top and bottom …

A sharp pain bit into her thigh, just below her cutie mark. Twilight cried out, tumbling forward in a heap. She gritted her teeth, hot tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she rose slowly, favoring her right hind leg.

Hard Tack loomed over her, his eyes flashing with rage. “All this time hearing you run your mouth, seeing you show us up,” he growled. The minotaur gripped the knife so tight his knuckles popped. “So much for bringing the house down on my—“

“Hold that thought, precious!” Twilight jerked her head. There was a loud splintering of wood, then a heavy rush of wind.

Confused, Hard Tack turned. Just in time to take the broad side of a wooden beam between his eyes. He let out a pained cry and stumbled back a step, the knife fell from his paw with a thud against the wooden floor.

But he didn’t fall. Twilight cursed and floated the beam to a halt, then sent it shooting back at him as he turned, catching him full in the chest and driving him back against the far wall. His heavy boots scraped divots in the woodwork, his muscles straining as he struggled to push against the magic and pry the beam off.

“Think this’ll hold me?” he snarled. “This … is nothing! I’ve lifted boulders, you prissy little pony! I’ll pop your head like a balloon!”

Twilight let out a tired laugh as she backed toward the door. “Y’know, I think I’ve finally figured out why you’re a merchant and a con artist, rather than a thief—you’re not observant at all. You barely thought to wonder what I’d kept hitting you with, even though I warned you. Haven’t you noticed there’s something missing from your home? Or wondered what I just hit you with?”

His eyes narrowed. For just a second, he stopped pushing. “What?”

Her smile was a deadly and venomous as that changeling’s from all those moons ago. “That,” she, casually stepping out of the house and into the warm sunlight, her horn flashing as she pressed her magic against the walls, “is the support beam to your little hovel.”

It was almost comical. Hard Tack furrowed his brows, then looked down at the beam pressed against his chest. As the slightest push of magic against the walls began to shake his house, the minotaur’s face lost its color. Were it not for the beam, he might have held out a paw as he cried, “Wait! Wait!”

Too late.

He’d come for her head and tried to cheat her after selling her out.

Twilight simply gave him a mock salute and shut the door before blowing the walls inward, and dropping the entire weight of his own house on Hard Tack’s head.

Not enough to kill a minotaur. But one could hardly discount the weight of stone, wood, and shelves across every bit of his body.

He’d be down for quite a while.

Silence reigned heavy. Twilight let her shoulders slump, a tired sigh escaped her lips. With a little flick of her magic, she tugged out the knife, gritting her teeth through the stinging pain.

She was going to hear it from Hadkhûna and Skittershy. Bumps, bruises? Oh, those she could explain away. A knife wound, however …

Twilight tugged out a cloth bandage and wrapped it around her leg with practiced ease, then turned to face a town full of gaping thieves, con artists, and pick pockets. Some stood with knives drawn, as though they’d been ready to sneak up, expecting an easy score until she brought Hard Tack’s house down.

Definitely time to leave.

“I’m going to walk out of here,” she said. “You can either try to fight me and find out how just how little patience I have left, or, you can be smart, drop the weapons—” Twilight jerked her head toward Hard Tack’s stand “—and avail the idiot of his wealth before he wakes up. Your call.”

They stood stock still, each glancing at one another as if holding some silent conversation—should they take whatever riches King Fido had promised for Twilight’s head? Or were they all better off taking a smaller, but guaranteed, payday?

One by one, they dropped their weapons. Each gave her a nod, then turned away to see that Hard Tack’s finances were well in order.

In the meantime, Twilight let out a relieved sigh and began to limp down the path leading out of town, toward Port Sommerset, with her head hung low and ears splayed. “Angel,” she muttered,” you can come out now.”

The little bunny poked his head out from his hiding spot, then cautiously hopped up to sit on her back once more. She heard him give a tiny gasp and a flurry of worried chatters.

Her leg, no doubt. Twilight turned to offer a tired smile. “Yeah, I know. It stings, but I’ll live.” She leaned in to nuzzle his ears. “So, how many carrots is it going to take to convince you to go along with me saying that was a random stabbing and it could’ve happened to anypony?”

The flat look he shot her drew another heavy sigh. This wasn’t going to be fun at all.

“A knife wound,” Hadkhûna deadpanned. Her sapphire eyes narrowed as she loomed over Twilight, gazing down at the little mare with a frown marring her beautiful features. “You meet us along the way, out of that den of thieves and con artists, with a knife wound.”

Twilight shifted about in her place seated upon a fallen tree, her right hind leg stretched out to allow a fretting spider mare to inspect and tend to its binding.

Resisting an insistent Skittershy was as difficult a task as escaping her lover’s piercing gaze. The spider mare knew just how to level her with a stare with each of those eight eyes, sternness radiating off her like a tidal wave billowing behind her, even as the sounds of Angel munching on his fifth carrot disturbed the quiet peace.

The self-proclaimed Princess of Thieves let her gaze fall to the ground. “In my defense,” she replied, “I did stay out of trouble. For the most part.”

“Oh, for the most part! Well, then!” Hadkhûna snorted a smokey breath. “That certainly changes things, doesn’t it, Skittershy? She stayed out of trouble for the most part.”

Skittershy gave a low hum. “And yet, she has this knife wound in her flank. A deep one, at that.” As she finished wrapping her silk around Twilight’s thigh, she leveled her with another stern look and added, “Which leaves me to wonder where you collected the bruise forming on your back and ribs.”

Twilight had to bite back a curse. She’d forgotten how observant Skittershy could be—enough so to pick out the slightest marks left by tiny pebbles shot at her face.

Before either could launch into a renewed tirade, Twilight held up a hoof. “It was an attempted mugging, yes,” she said. Not entirely true, of course, but she was hardly going to tell them about Clifford the Big Red Doofus and his merry mutt brigade. “It could’ve happened to any creature, honest. I got the bruise trying to fight them off and hold onto Angel and my bags.”

“Really, now?” The pair arched their brows at her. Skittershy turned to glance at the bunny happily sitting on her thorax and munching on his bribe. She glanced back at Twilight. “A random mugging by some random thief? Not at all something you incited with stealing?”

Well, technically, yes. But not this time. She’d been good! Or at least, tried to be.

“Not at all.” Twilight held up her hoof in that mock oath, the same as before. “I did not steal anything, nor make attempt to. All I did was sell off a couple things I’d stolen before, and bought you both a couple gifts.” The bet, they could both do without knowing. With a pained smile, she gestured toward the pouches resting against the fallen tree. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to show you both.”

To her dismay, Skittershy didn’t so much as bat an eye. Nor did she pay the pouches or promise of gifts any mind.

Instead, the spider mare hummed another note, much like a mother certain her foal was lying. She turned her attention upon Angel and asked, “Angel? Would you be a dear and tell mama what happened in town today?”

The little bunny froze in mid bite. Slowly, he glanced between Hadkhûna, Skittershy, and Twilgiht in turn. Twilight could almost see the gears in his little head turning while he considered whether to tell the truth or cover for her and risk angering both she dragon and spider mare.

He offered a nervous little smile and chattered something Twilight could only hope matched her tale.

“Did Twilight behave and keep from stealing or starting fights?” Skittershy prompted.

Twilight felt her breath hitch. This was the big one. She tried to aim a desperate, pleading look without actually doing so—Hadkhûna still loomed over her, watching with those keen eyes for any tell of falsehood in her tale.

It was to her relief Angel nodded solemnly. Her heart promptly resumed beating at a more manageable pace.

“Well, well,” Hadkhûna drawled. “Our little thief, behaving, only getting into trouble by happenstance.” She shared a knowing look with Skittershy, amusement shown naked upon her face. “Almost too good to be true, no?”

The smirk Skittershy gave in reply almost seemed like it didn’t belong on the face of such a kindly spider mare. A smirk which only seemed to sharpen as she picked Angel up and held him in her hooves, softly petting his tiny head. “Almost, yes. But if my dear, sweet, honest little bunny says she’s telling the truth …”

The look Angel shot Twilight told of something she hadn’t expected. Betrayal. Did they know, somehow? “Y-Yeah, well. We did it!” She forced a grin. “So! How about those gifts?”

At last, Hadkhûna showed interest. With a rumbling purr, she sat back on her haunches and waved a claw. “Of course. Let’s see what you’ve brought us.” Her eyes danced with mirth. “I shan’t pretend I don’t hope mine is something sparkly, my gemstone.”

Of that, Twilight could find the confidence to give a genuine smile. The warm, fuzzy feeling filling her chest made her very feathers flutter.

By Celestia … actually, imagine Celestia’s face if she saw Twilight so stricken by the mighty Hadkhûna!

Twilight, opting for a little bit of subtle teasing, started with Skittershy’s gift. With a bit of a flourish—and a moment to savor the surprised gasps both gave at her wonderful bottomless pouch—she retrieved that plush blanket and unfurled it, baring its fluffy embrace for the spider mare to see. “For you,” she said as she floated it over with a wink. “Or for your use in the event you decide I’m not warm enough and feel the need to cocoon me in something.”

“Oh! Oh, you wicked mare!” Skittershy laughed, accepting the gift graciously. She pressed it up against her face, snuggling into its embrace with a bright smile and happy clicking. “Oh, this will be lovely during the winter! Or out on the open water—I was worried if my fur would be thick enough!”

“I’m glad. I—eek!” The little mare was pulled into a tight embrace, laughing as she felt Skittershy’s snout and the tips of her fangs play against her mane as she was nuzzled.

“This is just perfect, Twilight! Such a thoughtful little mare!”

Hadkhûna let out a rumbling chuckle. “Indeed she is.” Twilight could see her lay down on her claws, idly drumming the tips into the dirt. “It makes me all the more eager to see my own.”

A heavy blush colored her cheeks, Twilight returned Skittershy’s hug, then squirmed her way free so she could retrieve the crown jewel—aha—of her recent endeavor.

As soon as its glimmering body was free of her pouch, the very instant that deep, purple glow bathed them in its light, both Hadkhûna and Skittershy sucked in sharp breaths and drew near.

“It’s beautiful,” Skittershy whispered. “And … powerful! I’ve never felt a magic like this before!”

Hadkhûna rumbled in agreement, “And very, very old. Far older than you or I, dear friend.” Her eyes flitted to meet Twilight’s. “You found this in Nomad’s Vale, of all places? How in the name of sanity did you come to own it without stealing, darling?”

“I, er …” Twilight ran a hoof through her mane. “Look, there was a bet about something and my fee was seventeen sacks of gold. I knocked off three sacks and paid twelve bits for stuff to make pendants out of this and the amethyst you gave me.”

“Did you? Pray tell, what was this bet?”

The blush in her cheeks returned in full, creeping its way to the nape of her neck. “That I’d never enter Erebark and leave alive.”

Hadkhûna threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, irony! My failure to protect my hoard earns me the gift of a lovely gem and lovelier mare!” She leaned forward, nuzzling Twilight affectionately. “Well, then, darling. Go on.” The great she dragon drew back and bared her neck. Ready to be adorned with her gift.

And Twilight did mean to give exactly what she wanted. Really, she did. Her magic had already retrieved the cord and pendant fasten, and attached the fasten just a second later. She was so eager, so excited that she didn’t notice the fatal flaw in her design, even as she looped the cord through the eyelet.

No. That only came as Skittershy noted aloud, “Um, Twilight? I don’t mean to be rude, but … I think you’ve neglected to account, ah, for Hadkhûna’s size.”

“Huh?” Twilight stared at the cord for a moment, then looked up at Hadkhûna’s neck. Then looked once more. The she dragon turned to gaze down at her, those eyes locked on the cord and a slow smile beginning to split her features.

It clicked.

Twilight buried her face in her hooves, her shoulders shook with mirth. “I,” she announced, “am an idiot! A complete and total idiot!”

The sound of her lover’s chuckling made her ears twitch. A slow, soothing tracing of one massive claw down her spine drew a little shiver of delight.

“No, not an idiot, my gemstone,” Hadkhûna purred. “Just a fool in love, as am I.” She dotted Twilight’s head with a kiss. “I thank you for the gift, but I’ll ask that you keep it safe for me. Perhaps, in our travels, we will find some way to make a necklace out of it that fits.”

Disappointment filled Twilight’s chest. With a heavy sigh, she nodded once and replaced the diamond into her pouch, closing it up for the time being. “Yeah. I’ll figure something out for you.” Her ears splaying, she ducked her head, adding, “We’ll both wear our gems as pendants, until then, they’ll stay safe.”

“Good mare. By the way …” Hadkhûna gave her a playful lick, then plucked her off the ground and set her upon her back. “You’re grounded for that knife wound.”

“And we’ll have your word that you don’t go into towns like Nomad’s Vale again,” Skittershy added as she climbed up onto Hadkhûna’s back and settled down beside Twilight. A coy smile played upon her lips. “Since you just can’t keep out of trouble even when you try.”

For once, arguing didn’t come to mind.

Sure, she’d asked Angel to lie, but, truth be told …

Well, between King Fido IV looking for her and putting a bounty on her head, it was probably in her best interest to avoid any towns between Nomad’s Vale and Port Sommerset that didn’t come with some lord and vassals watching.

Nodding once, Twilight raised a hoof. “No more visits to towns like Nomad’s Vale,” she said with a solemn sniff. A strange, acrid scent reached her nostrils and made her snout wrinkle. It smelled almost like …

No, that was just silly.

But, damned, if it didn’t smell just like that time she’d slipped away from Fido’s hunters in the Moor.

Slowly, Twilight looked around. “Is it just me, or does something smell like burnt diamond dog fur?”

Red Sky of Morning 1: Storm Clouds On the Horizon

Truth be told, Twilight Sparkle hated violence.

It was that, above all else, that so often stayed her hoof and kept her spells mostly focused toward the benign or strategic, if she were charitable—cowardly, if not—in times of conflict. That distaste for blood or the sight of another creature in pain, coupled with her teachers’ lessons, which drove her to use wit, not brawn, to resolve the bulk of her problems.

Run-ins with Fido, Clifford the Big Red Bumbler, and the rest of the pups and a couple other incidents aside, that is.

The self-proclaimed Princess of Thieves forced a smile as she ground her teeth together and did her best to remind herself of that fact, even as the ship’s owner and captain each leveled her with flat stares from behind the wooden podium. The former, an older unicorn with graying mane and a patch over his left eye, tapped his hoof against the edge.

“Two hundred gold pieces or your cargo doesn’t sail, Miss Sparkle,” he spat in his gravelly voice. A crooked, yellow-toothed scowl marred his aging face. “Take it or leave it.”

Maybe what small remnant of her conscience lingered would forgive her if she just threw him into the harbor. She could skip him right across the surface like a pebble across the crystal clear pond in the Royal Gardens of Canterlot.

That would get her message across quite nicely.

And, if Celestia or Luna were here, it might earn her a long lecture on how just because they took up arms and threw themselves into the fray to try and tame two continents didn’t mean it should be a default answer.

With a heavy sigh, Twilight flicked her tail and said, “I’ve seen your rates and compared them with other companies in the harbor, Clipper. One hundred gold pieces for twelve tons and a bit is quite generous.” She arched a brow, tilting her head toward the docks on the opposite bank. “I’ve already spoken with White Cap. He’s said he’d take sixty—why should I pay over triple that for you?”

“White Cap? Ha!” the captain, Wave Crest, said with a grin. “That moron wouldn’t know port from starboard on his best day! You’d be run aground before you even got out of Riptide Bay—and then you’d have to pay us to tow him out!”

Well, that certainly explained the state of White Cap’s ships. Not to mention such low rates. Still, Twilight kept the frown off her face.

Being a thief didn’t mean she didn’t know how to twist someone’s hoof on pricing a bit. Clipper and Wave Crest were her first choice, but far from her only one. She had options.

White Cap just so happened to be her last—evidently, for good reason.

Rather than simply concede, she simply hummed, inclining her head to the docks a just a short walk up the path. “Then I suppose I’ll go back to—”

“Who?” Wave Crest cast a look back over his shoulder, waggling his ears, that damnable grin still splitting his features. His gaze lingered a moment, then, slowly, he turned to face her again, that grin mercifully absent from his face.

This time, Twilight had to bite the inside of her cheek to hide a smirk. Game to Sparkle.

When he next spoke, there was no lingering trace of amusement or smugness to be found in his tone. Rather, there was just a hint of bitterness. And a boatload of disdain. “Now, see here a minute,” White Cap said, forgoing that lazy posture he’d taken, his hooves hitting dock with a loud double thud. His brows furrowed in a heated glare. “You can’t just come over here from Equestria and start shopping around gold like this!”

“Actually, I can.” Twilight beamed. “If there’s one constant on both continents, it’s the power of money and that of the holder’s decision to spend it. I hear you two have a bit of an issue with Typhoon and Sons.”

“Those crazy pegasi sail straight through storms!” he blurted.

Clipper turned and spat off the side of the dock. “Most of ‘em, anyway. Only ones they stop for are the ones she brings through.”

White Cap’s head snapped around so fast Twilight would wager his muscles strained, a scandalized look worn upon his face as plain as day. “Don’t talk about her, you daft fool! Or her children! You know what happened to the last crew who did and set sail right after!”

“Sorry, lad.” Clipper had the grace to look sincere. He bowed his head low by way of respect. “Darn fools. Should’ve known better to sail these waters after seeing a red sky in the morning.”

Her ears twitching, Twilight fixed the pair with a raised brow. “Surely you don’t believe that old superstition. A red sky doesn’t mean anything about the ferocity of a storm.”

The pair of sailors paid her no mind. White Cap swept his hat off his head and wrung it between his hooves, murmuring, “A morning just like this one.” The captain glanced out over the bay, out toward the horizon where a sky as red as a raging inferno loomed. A visible shudder ran through his body, White Cap shook his head, then stepped back and away from Twilight. “Sky like that, I’m not sailing until the storms pass us by. You couldn’t pay me enough, Miss Sparkle. And if you were as smart as you like to act, you’d rethink your own plans and get ready to hunker down.”

Twilight’s brows disappeared beneath her bangs. Surely he couldn’t be serious about this. “You’re going to walk away from a potential client over a storm?” she asked, scoffing. “You complain about Typhoon and his sons, but for a hundred and fifty pieces, they were willing to sail in rain or shine. I’m starting to think you were overselling yourself.”

“I’ve got more problems with that lot than sailing through storms, Miss Sparkle. And that sure as sugarcubes isn’t why I can’t stand them.” White Cap leveled her cold, hard stare. “They’re fools for doing it, but I pity them for it. I pity them, ‘cause, someday, they’re gonna spit in one of their faces and the storm that follows’ll drag the lot of ‘em to the bottom of the sea.”

His piece said, the captain snorted and turned away with a flick of his sea green tail, and trotted briskly toward his ship. His intent, no doubt, to tell his crew to put a stop on all preparations for sailing and get ready to tie everything down for a storm.

From his podium, Clipper clicked his tongue and sighed. “Head as thick as a mast, that one,” he said, then turned to fix Twilight with a grimace. “And I’m afraid I have to back him on it. We’d be happy to have you and your cargo on board after the storm passes. However, I’ll not move on my price. Two hundred pieces, take it or leave it.” He thumped his hoof against the podium, then pushed off and trotted down the dock leading into town.

That was that, then.

Wait until the storm passed? With Hard Tack back in Nomad’s Vale stewing over what she’d stolen and done to his home, and Fido and Clifford the Big Red Loudmouth hunting for her every day?

There was no time for patience if she wanted to make it back to Equestria with her head in its rightful place atop her shoulders.

Twilight would simply have to take her business elsewhere.

She turned sharply on her hoof and made her way into town the same way as Clipper had. Her jaw was set and shoulders squared, every bit of her posture radiating confidence and purpose.

“Crazy pegasi, here we come,” she muttered under her breath.

What could possibly go wrong with that?

There were times Twilight wondered why she did things to tempt fate. Fate and fortune were fickle, of course, far more so than quite a few of the mares she’d been with in her years.

As she stood on the dock and watched the crew of The Skylark, Twilight found it one of those times. The crew was anything like those uptight, navy ponies she’d always seen in the Trottingham shipping yard.

The crew were like a bunch of rowdy teenagers laughing, hooting, and zipping about through the shrouds and rigging, some even pulling tricks and flips as they went about their duties checking and re-checking that everything had been tied off and ready to embark while others below fooled about as they finished loading cargo. Barrels? Clearly, those were meant to be kicked around and rolled into place. Crates? The perfect launchpad for the springboard into a triple-somersault the young captain, Headwind, performed before landing nimbly on the dock to greet her.

“Ah! Miss Sparkle, back again!” Headwind waggled his ears, casually buffing a cloudy gray hoof on the sleeveless blue vest he favored. “I take it old Clipper and Wave Crest were gonna overcharge like I said?”

Suddenly, two hundred gold pieces seemed like a rather reasonable price. If they were this way with cargo, well … her cargo might just eat them.

Then again, between the price and their reputation for success, Typhoon and Sons wasn’t exactly a bad option. Far from it, so long as their employers could stomach their—aha—antics.

Gee, isn’t that a pleasant thought? Twilight shrugged, her posture just as laid back as his. “They wouldn’t budge from two hundred.” She raised an amused brow and added, “And they seemed quite scandalized that I’d consider one of your father’s ships. Rather, you and your crew.”

With a roll of his eyes, Headwind snorted. “Those two are still sore they lost a bet on shipping times to my father years ago. Just can’t fathom that a crew of pegasi might know whether or not to sail through a storm.” He shook his head and gave his wings a little rustle. “Ah, well, their loss.”

“And your gain.” Predictably, his feathers fluffed and tail swished eagerly. If there was one constant Twilight had learned in all her travels, it was that daredevils and egoists just loved to hear how impressive they were—and to his credit, Headwind was right to be proud of the company’s reputation.

Typhoon and Sons hadn’t lost a ship to storms in their history, if the word around Port Sommerset was true.

Fortunately, Headwind was like quite a lot of pegasi Twilight knew—brash and easily distracted with flattery. “Quite so, quite so. Dad’ll be thrilled getting a commission from the Princess of Thieves herself.”

Her ears twitching, Twilight couldn’t help but beam. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Well, you know ponies around these parts love a good story about a rebel. Especially any who spit in old Fido’s face!” Again, he waggled his ears. A conspiratorial grin spread across his face. “You gotta level with me, is it true you actually made it into Erebark and got out before that dragon could get you?”

Twilight’s easy smile faltered. How in the world is news traveling so far so quickly? Had Fido’s hunters been spreading word to every coastal town in hopes they might get some creatures interested enough in stealing the crown?

Or, more likely, was it all just an extra effort to get them to bring Twilight’s head back to the pack?

Regardless, she didn’t need more spreading around while they were on her trail. “If I told you, I’d have to toss you off your own ship,” she retorted cheekily.

Headwind’s ears splayed. “Aw c’mon! I’ll knock off thirty pieces!”

Thirty pieces? Twilight bobbed her head. Well, it couldn’t hurt to tell him after they left, right? “After we’re out to see. I don’t want Fido’s hunters catching wind that I’m here and bragging about the thing when they’re already baying for my blood.”

“Heh. Fair enough. It’ll make a good dinnertime story for the boys, anyway.”

“Then, we have a deal.”

With a nod, Headwind turned toward the end of the dock where his father’s office waited and whistled, bobbing his head toward Twilight. A young colt with slate gray mane and deep blue coat flew over, quick as a flash, with a box labeled “Payment” strapped to his back.

The little tyke was so adorable with his box and the sailor’s cap sitting crooked atop his head, Twilight nearly crooned.

A quick summoning spell brought forth one of the sacks of gold hidden within her bottomless pouch. Something about that bright, innocent smile he wore without reservation played upon her heartstrings and brought her back to days spent studying beside Celestia and Luna. Twilight counted out the bits with the little colt, letting him take charge like he’d been delegating the entire affair.

Once he was satisfied he’d paid in full, the little guy turned to his older brother nodded once.

Headwind gave a solemn nod in return, the corners of his mouth twitching and threatening to betray his amusement. Rolling his shoulders, the stallion glanced toward town. “So, where’ve you got this cargo of your stashed, Miss Sparkle? I’d offer to help you get it aboard, but unless you’ve got it hidden under that cloak, I’m gonna guess we’ll be waiting a bit while you get help bringing it up the dock.”

The young mare couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Oh, my cargo isn’t that far away at all. In fact, I’d like you to meet them.”

He blinked twice. “Them?”

Rather than explain, Twilight turned her head back toward Port Sommerset, angled as if she were about to call to somepony out in the crowd, and gave a shrill whistle.

Far away though they were hidden, she could hear the sounds of leathery wings flapping, beating against the wind. Her smile broadened into a full-blown grin as she saw the clouds roll off her lover’s opulent white scales as Hadhkûna wheeled through the sky like its master, her great shadow falling over a town full of panicking, screaming sailors and families. Behind her, Twilight heard Headwind, his little brother, and his crew shout and dive for cover.

She had the grace to wince. So maybe she hadn’t quite thought that part through.

Hadhkûna soared over the harbor, then banked around slowly, gliding in for a landing. At Twilight’s gesture toward The Skylark, she adjusted her course to head straight for the docked vessel.

The mighty she dragon leaned back, flaring her wings out wide to brake, then landed upon the deck with a thud. “Arrived without issue or burning, as asked, darling!” she sang with pride—as though it were some great effort not to immolate a town each time she flew overhead. She turned, leaning about with her long neck to check on her passengers. “Skittershy, dear? Are you and Angel all right?”

A yellow hoof appeared over her shoulder, giving a shaky wave. “W-We’re fine!” Twilight heard Skittershy call back. “Though I think Angel might be feeling a little queasy—ohhh! I told you to slow down!”

“Skittershy, I can only slow down so much if I want to stay aloft!It’s not like walking, you know!”

As the pair bantered back and forth about flight and proper speeds at which baby bunnies could stand traveling, a shuffling of hooves against wood made Twilight’s ears flick. She turned, amusement worn plain upon her face at the sight of Headwind gaping open-mouthed at the sight before him.

“Th-Th-That’s—that can’t be her!” he whispered.

“I can assure you, it is.” Twilight raised her brows. “I did say my cargo was about twelve tons and a bit—I’m not sure what Skittershy’s exact weight is, but you’re more than welcome to ask Hadhkûna if she’s absolutely sure of hers. Though, if you’ll pardon me saying it, that would be more ill-advised than sailing through a storm.”

Her quip seemed to snap him out of his reverie. Headwind glanced between Twilight and the she dragon chatting away with the spider mare on the deck of his beloved ship, then pointed and cried, “By the blessed sun, are you mad? That’s Hadhkûna!”

Twilight’s brows disappeared beneath her bangs. “Yes. Yes it is,” she replied slowly. “Hadhkûna, conquerer of Erebark, and Skittershy of Mount Thunderhoof.”

“You’re expecting me to transport them?” He took several steps back. “For a hundred and twenty pieces?”

“In fairness, you never did ask specifically what my cargo was and we agreed to add ten pieces for enough meat for the trip. And, if you think about it, she can verify just how I survived entering her mountain if you doubt my story.”

“But—that—she—they—”

Twilight gave a sweet smile. “She’s sworn not to harm your crew or your ship, same as Skittershy.” Then, she reached into her bag of gold, and pulled out another fifty pieces. “If we make it across safely, I’ll add another fifty for your troubles. Call it compensation for your stress, if you’d like.”

The stallion sputtered a moment, a deep red coloring his cheeks. He turned to look at Hadhkûna once more as if he half expected to find her casually dropping one of his crew ponies into her gaping mouth, his tail flicking in agitation.

After several tense seconds, he muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grunted. “I’ll have a word with the crew. We’ll finish getting set, then get set to leave.”

Her smile blossomed into a grin. Twilight thanked Headwind, then, in a burst of magic, she teleported from his side to stand before Hadhkûna and Skittershy for the first time since long before dawn. Her day had started far earlier than most, but for good reason.

And, by Celestia’s grace, did it feel good to be in their company again.

“Passage to Trottingham secured,” Twilight reported happily. “No stealing, no fighting, and no injuries, just as promised.”

The pair broke off their discussion and turned to greet her with warm smiles. Though, Hadhkûna’s, admittedly, looked quite a bit more smoldering.

The she dragon lowered her head to nuzzle Twilight’s mane. “Yes, very good, darling. You’ve proven that you can behave and not get yourself into trouble. For once.”

“For once? That scuffle in Nomad’s Vale wasn’t my fault!” Really, it wasn’t. She had gone in with every intent of being good.

It was hardly her fault Clifford the Big Red Dunderhead showed his ugly mug and Hard Tack turned out to be a backstabber. It was, however, her fault that the latter’s house had been dropped upon his thick head.

That’d teach him.

Hadhkûna let out an amused rumble. “Yes. For once.” She licked Twilight’s cheek affectionately, then surveyed The Skylark with a derisive sniff. “Far be it from me to question your knowledge of shipping vessels, this is a rather sizable one and I’m sure I could rest quite comfortably …”

Tilting her head, Twilight fixed her with a confused look. “You don’t like it?”

“Well, it does seem a bit …” she rolled one of her massive claws through a forward circle, her frown deepening. “Frankly? It’s nothing like what I’ve heard those of higher class traveling in—especially one of your station in—”

“Ah! Ah! Ah! No!” Twilight waved her hooves frantically, casting a look back over her shoulder to make sure the crew hadn’t heard. To her fortune, they were busy putting the finishing touches on preparations. Lowering her voice, she murmured, “If they find out that I’m more than just a mouthy little thief, they’ll think I have more money and drive up their rates. Or, worse, word will get out, then I’ll have to deal with the scum of this continent chasing after me!”

The she dragon blew a smoky breath through her nose. “Let them,” she replied darkly. “Skittershy will eat well in that case.”

Skittershy, to Twilight’s horror, didn’t deny it. Instead, her eyes hardened, even as she petted Angel Bunny’s fuzzy little head. When she spoke, her voice was soft, but full of underlying danger, “I don’t care for harming or frightening innocents like my old villagers in Brickenbrack. However, it most certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dined on those who threatened those closest to me—nor the last, if they tried.”

Twilight had to force a smile. The way those two talked about simply eating others, whether out of genuine hunger or retribution for a slight against her, made her stomach churn and brought a wave of nausea. Images of that first meal with Hadhkûna flashed before her eyes.

Her gag reflex decided to voice its displeasure, choking the breath from her throat.

“Well,” she said once she managed to get herself back under control, “I’d rather not entertain the thought of fighting our way out of here.” Or parting with more gold, she added to herself. “So, let’s just keep that to ourselves and let them think I’m just a rare type of pony, not what these wings actually mean back home.”

Her lover raised a scaled brow, but didn’t argue. She and Skittershy, of course, were far older than any living pony on this continent. Alicorns were quite known to them.

After all, Hadhkûna’s idea of fond memories were fighting Celestia and Luna. Repeatedly.

“Very well,” the she dragon rumbled. The corner of her mouth twitched into an amused smirk. “If you wish it, we’ll play your little game. However, I’ll insist that you remain with us during the trip.” She leaned in close, fluttering her lashes. “You’ve been off galavanting in these towns quite long enough.”

An easy request to grant. Besides, Twilight could hardly argue. She’d found it quite a bit more stressful even entering these towns now that she knew Fido had his hunters on her trail—even if those poor mares back in Nomad’s Vale got themselves involved in her mess.

Hopefully, they were able to give them the slip.

On a happier note, time spent with Hadhkûna and Skittershy was far more relaxing, more comfortable for the Princess of Thieves. Ironic, really, given the circumstances of their meeting. But one could hardly put a price on how it warmed her heart to cuddle and be lavished by Hadhkûna and chat with Skittershy when she wasn’t turning her face away from the couple.

“Deal.” Twilight dotted Hadhkûna’s nose with a quick kiss, earning herself another lick for her troubles. As she drew back, Twilight noticed the pegasi hurrying to vault or glide off the ship and onto the dock, all standing before Headwind in line.

Curious, she trotted over and reared up to prop her hooves on the railing. “Everything ready to go?” she called to Headwind.

The pegasus looked up, shielding the sun from his eyes with a hoof. “All cargo loaded, Miss Sparkle!” he called back. “Just have to visit the Statue of the Storm Mother for voyage rites, then we’ll be ready to get out on the open water!”

Twilight tilted her head. “The what of the who?”

“You’ve never heard of the Storm Mother?” he asked, incredulity written plain upon his face.

“Not in Equestria, no. Who is she?”

“Who is she, she asks!” one of the sailors groaned. “She asks us to ferry a spider mare and Hadhkûna, and she doesn’t know who the Storm Mother is. Captain, this trip just gets better and better!”

Headwind clipped his ears with the edge of his wing and snapped, “Stow that talk, Waterspout!” Turning to Twilight, he offered a sheepish smile. “Apologies, Miss Sparkle. The Storm Mother, Ouránio Toxo, is … well, exactly what the name implies—the creator of storms and mother of all storm sirens. We’ve got a few around these parts who like to stir up trouble, so we ask their mother to rein her foals in so we can have easier sailing before each voyage.” The stallion held his stare a little while longer, as if expecting her to come to some sort of realization.

It took Twilight a bit longer than she would’ve liked to admit for it to finally click. “You’re joking.”

“When it comes to voyage rites, we never joke.”

Well, that certainly changed her plans. Twilight aimed a sheepish smile at her lover and bowed her head. “Do you mind if I, ah, pay tribute?” she asked.

The she dragon gave an amused rumble. “Well, it would put a damper on our travels if this supposed Storm Mother sends us to the bottom of the sea.” She shifted, her mighty muscles tensing with sinuous grace as she made to rise. “Here. I’ll come with you.”

Alarm bells rang in Twilight’s head. Visions of screaming foals, scrambling ponies, and glass shattering with the slightest flick of Hadhkûna’s tail made her raise a hoof. “Er, maybe not the best idea. We’ve already scared the entire port, so … maybe not before we go to their important statue.”

“I—now, see here! We let you wander this town by your lonesome after your little incident in Nomad’s Vale! And you promised you’d stay with us after you’d secured passage!”

Before Hadhkûna could work herself up and launch into a full blown rant, Skittershy skittered onto her shoulder to lay a hoof upon her neck. “Hadhkûna,” she said softly, just a hint of scolding to her tone. “She does have a point. If you don’t mind my saying, that is—but I did hear a lot of screams. And you, um, don’t exactly mind your tail sometimes.”

Gaping, Hadhkûna sniffed and turned her nose up. “Well! I never!”

A patient smile spread across Skittershy’s features. “I’ll go with her instead. You know I won’t let her get into trouble again.” As she spoke, she plucked Angel off her thorax and set him upon Hadhkûna’s shoulder. “In exchange, you can keep an eye on Angel for me. He could use a little quality time with his aunty!”

Twilight had to stifle a snort of laughter at the look Angel shot Skittershy in return—scandal, indignation, and just enough petulance to come together in what could only be the the bunny version of “are you nuts?”

No, Skittershy wasn’t nuts. She was just sly in her own way.

A way which earned a thoughtful hum from the great she dragon before she bobbed her head in acceptance. “Very well. But only if you don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Hey!” Twilight stomped a hoof.

Skittershy paid her little mind. “Deal.” She climbed down Hadhkûna’s leg, then, wrapped a hoof around Twilight’s shoulders and guided her down the gangplank to stand on the dock with the rest of the crew.

A shiver swept through the assembled pegasi. Headwind did his level best to tear his gaze away and mutter, “Let’s get this over with before I think on it too much.”

Port Sommerset, while quite a bit more well-off than Brickenbrack or Nomad’s Vale, was a far cry from Canterlot in terms of building design and material.

The houses were made largel with wooden supports and thatched roofs, the market was a bustling mess of ponies milling about, voices shouting and calling out prices and deals with such frequency it became almost indiscernible. Their volume enough to make Skittershy flinch and lay a hoof upon Twilight’s shoulder so they might stay together.

Perhaps it was that combination of building style, bustling, jostling crowd, and the overall experience on the continent outside places like Olorin’s palace to the southern forest, but when Twilight laid eyes on the Statue of the Storm Mother for the first time, it took her aback. There were statues back home in Canterlot which would’ve been put up against it and fallen woefully short.

The Statue of the Storm Mother had been chiseled from smooth obsidian stone. Upon its surface, there were no signs of blemish or cracking, not even a hint of a the wear of time’s passage. It depicted the visage of not just one mare, but five in total—four smaller pegasi, each dressed in flowing gowns that harkened back to the time of ancient Pegasopolis, each with their eyes closed, head inclined, and mouths open in mid song, and surrounding the Storm Mother herself.

Just looking upon her face made Twilight’s breath hitch. The Storm Mother stood tall, more so than Celestia herself, garbed in old pegasus armor, with a high crested helmet held under a foreleg. Her wings were spread in proud display of her majesty and wild mane flowed as if whipped into a frenzy by the very storms she and her storm siren daughters heralded. Her eyes were open, the corners of her mouth tugged into a smile even as she sang, like she were an opera singer lost in the joy and fervor of her performance and the forces she controlled.

Even Skittershy had stopped to survey the statue a moment. “The helmet is wrong,” Twilight heard her mutter under her breath.

Ears twitching, Twilight tore her eyes away from the Storm Mother and fixed Skittershy with a quizzical look. “I beg your pardon?”

“Huh? Oh!” The spider mare ducked her head, a sheepish smile playing upon her lips. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to speak so loudly.”

“That’s fine, Skittershy. But, explain.” Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Headwind led his crew up one by one to kneel before the Storm Mother’s hooves and offer some muttered words. A prayer, she’d wager. “How’s the helmet wrong?”

Skittershy bit her lip. “It’s nothing, really,” she replied softly. Each of her eyes flitted away from Twilight’s face. “Just me musing aloud. Don’t pay it any mind.”

Curious, even for such an odd creature as Skittershy. And the way she squirmed and looked away after making such a statement with all the air with which one might look down at a foal to remind them of whom was older and wiser only further piqued her interest.

If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was having some creature know something she didn’t and insist on keeping it quiet.

Unfortunately, Skittershy could be quite stubborn in her own right. Perhaps a function of all those years serving as caretaker for a family of bunnies.

With a little huff, Twilight turned away and strode up to the Statue of the Storm Mother. The Skylark’s crew parted before her to grant passage, though not without a few stray murmurs complaining about her strange cargo.

She simply splayed her ears back to block out their voices. They didn’t get a say in her company, no creature did. It wasn’t her fault she felt more at home in the company of a she dragon and a spider mare than she did any other save her own family and teachers, now was it?

Surely not.

Twilight came to a stop a mere step from the base of the statue. She found herself gazing up at the Storm Mother’s face, much the same way she had looked up at Celestia and Luna when she was but a little filly eager to learn. Only this time, there was less wonder at the knowledge held, more intrigue at the power implied.

Slowly, the young mare bowed her head. “Who are you, to instill both fear and a need to worship?” she muttered under her breath. Louder, so Headwind and the crew could hear, she added a quick prayer of her own. Little more than respect for her apparent power and dominion over this strange land, then, thinking on it longer, a plea, “I don’t know how much stock I put in this, but these are good ponies with families taking us home. I’ve certainly caused my trouble, and so have my friends, but we’re leaving this land, hopefully for good. If you’re real and if you’re listening, I would ask that you make whatever storms that come our way light and navigable.”

She drew back slowly, her eyes flitting about just to see if there might be anything to hint at the presence of this supposed Storm Mother. There was nothing. No flash of lightning, no rumble of distant thunder.

Just the ever-present chatter of the crowd as they milled about the edge of the little clearing, and a sudden flash of pink glimmering just out of the corner of her eye.

A flash that grew brighter and seemed to draw Twilight to turn slowly and look. Her eyes widening even as she found the source—a pink medallion fashioned in the shape of a butterfly, worn by a mare, perhaps a few years younger than herself, with a newborn foal in her hooves and two little colts leaning against her sides. Only then did Twilight realize that the mare was sitting with her back to one of the houses, her head downcast to show a tangled mess of mane and matted coat. The glowing pendent around her neck served a stark contrast from the tattered rags she and her family wore.

Twilight’s lips tugged into a deep frown. She turned away from the statue, her tail flicking in dissatisfaction. The bags of gold in her bottomless pouch seemed to weigh her down like an anchor.

Did she have time to dally?

Cadence would scold me and tell me that time spent helping another was never time wasted, she scolded herself. Sometimes, she could just kick herself for her need to help.

Curse her bleeding heart.

The Princess of Thieves gave a heavy sigh and trotted over to speak with the family. Her eyes stayed fixed upon her goal.

“Twilight?” Skittershy’s voice called over the crowd. She could imagine the spider mare fretting and sputtering apologies as she tried to fight her way through the crowd without catching somepony with a leg or the side of her thorax. “Twilight, slow down!”

Twilight continued onward, weaving her way through the crowd until she came to a halt just a few steps away from the young mare. As she did, she took a closer look, a sharp pang shot through her chest.

The mare holding the newborn, she realized, was younger than she thought. Too young to possibly be her mother. Her deep blue eyes showed the slightest glimmer of hope as she looked up and spoke softly, “Do you have any spare gold for a hungry family, Miss?”

Her decision had been made before the poor thing had even asked. That pendant around the young mare’s neck glowed brighter still. Twilight felt a familiar warmth enter her chest, like the light was sparking something deep within her heart. Cadence’s shows of compassion, kindness to those less fortunate or in dire need played before her eyes.

Just like in Nomad’s Vale.

A hoof touched her shoulder. Twilight started, she turned and followed the pale yellow limb up to find Skittershy looking down at her. The spider mare’s brows knitted together.

“You’re not supposed to run off,” Skittershy chided.

Twilight ducked her head. “Sorry. Just saw something I felt inclined to help with.” She returned her attention to the family, just in time to hear a chorus of little bellies growling for want of food. She arched a brow. “You’ve not eaten?”

The young mare ducked her head. “Our mother is trying to see if she has enough for food,” she murmured. “Whatever she can, at least.”

“I see. And how likely is it she has enough for you all to eat more than a few bites of bread?”

The little wince and averting of her eyes spoke more than the young mare ever could.

Humming to herself, Twilight reached into her bottomless pouch with a tendril of magic and retrieved three bags of gold. She held them aloft, letting the young mare’s eyes track them as comprehension dawned.

She floated two bags to rest just within the mare’s reach. “Two bags to house and feed yourselves,” Twilight said softly. “Those are yours unconditionally and I’ll accept nothing in return.”

The mare and both little colts gaped at the bags, then glanced up at Twilight. Awe, jubilation, and just a hint of disbelief were written upon their young faces.

“No catch?” the young mare asked. Her hoof twitched toward the bags.

“Not for those two.” Twilight nodded toward the bag still held aloft in her magic’s glow. “I would like to buy that pendant necklace off of you in exchange for this one.”

Skittershy’s hoof gripped her shoulder. “Twilight, what are you doing?” she hissed. “We don’t—”

“It’s pretty and it’s my money anyways, I’ll spend it on what I want,” Twilight cut her off with just a hint of a smirk. Her eyes, however, didn’t leave the young mare’s. “How about it? There’s about three hundred and fifty pieces in this bag—more than enough to feed and clothe a family for a couple months.”

To her delight, those deep blue eyes sparkled. The young mare licked her lips as her own stomach growled, almost on cue. One of her hooves unwrapped from around the foal in her grasp and traced along the edge of the butterfly-shaped gemstone’s wings.

She bit her lip. “My grandmother gave me this gemstone before she died,” she whispered. “It was supposed to bring us luck, but then we lost our house last year …”

“Unless you’re planning to sell it, that gemstone isn’t going to bring your home back,” Twilight replied. Offering the mare a wry smile, she stepped closer and bent down to murmur, “I understand the value of family inheritance, but financial stability and the chance to start again is one many would kill for in this land.”

As she spoke, Twilight noticed something peculiar—the gemstone’s glow seemed to dim, almost like a disappointed mother’s face falling as she heard her own foal lie.

Curiouser and curiouser with each passing second. What were these gems?

The little mare let out a little whine, gripping the gem tight while her gaze flitted between the two bags on the ground, the one in Twilight’s grasp, and Twilight herself.

She was struggling. That gemstone held such value that she had to wage a war within her own thoughts to justify parting with it for more money.

Even with an ocean between them, Twilight could almost feel her teachers’ disappointed gazes upon her. She could certainly sense Skittershy’s unease with how the spider mare shifted about at her side.

Twilight closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. Slowly, she set the bag down with the others. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t make you choose like that. The money is yours. Take care of your family, please.”

Her ears barely so much as twitched at the choked gasp and sputter that came in reply. Twilight turned and trotted back toward the crew, coaxing Skittershy along with a little nudge of the shoulder so they could meet up with a most bemused Headwind once again.

The gentle hoof upon her shoulder never left. Skittershy let out a little cough, then leaned down to ask, “What made you change your mind?”

Twilight hummed and gave a nod to Headwind as she passed him by. “I thought about what Celestia and Luna might say if they saw me dangling money in front of a family like that because I wanted something shiny,” she said after a moment’s thought.

“Oh.” After a beat, she asked, “What did you imagine they’d say?”

What would they say?

What wouldn’t they say if they saw her act in such a manner? Their lectures the days following the discovery of her late night hobby had been quite enough for one lifetime.

Not to mention the disappointment in their eyes.

Those looks still burned her to the core.

With a sardonic little chuckle, she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter,” Twilight muttered. “It was just me being greedy anyway.”

Skittershy sucked in a sharp breath and made as if to speak up, but bit whatever it was back in favor of a discontented little noise from the back of her throat.

They resumed their walk through town in utter silence, only broken by the crew’s conversation and the sound of pony hooves upon the road.

“Dar~liiiiiing! Do hurry along!” Hadhkûna was leaned against The Skylark’s railing, her long, serpentine neck granting her the chance to twist and maneuver herself to drift low and near the dock. A playful gleam shone in those dazzling sapphire eyes. “Did you see that silly statue and pay respects or what have you to that Storm Mother?”

Twilight didn’t break stride, continuing on her brisk approach toward the ship with Skittershy and Headwind’s crew following in her wake. A hint of a smile tugged at her lips despite her mood.

That expectant look Hadhkûna wore, always so eager to hold her attention and receive affection, simply never failed to bring it.

With a nod, she stepped by the gangplank to allow the crew to board first and continued on until she came to a stop within easy reach of her lover’s face. She reared up on her hind legs, nuzzling the great she dragon softly.

Hadhkûna gave a rumbling purr in reply. “Well! It seems the little thief of my heart missed me as much as I did her!” She drew back, her warm breath washing over Twilight’s face, then licked her from the tip of her snout to just beneath her horn, dotting it with a kiss—as much a creature her size could dot one with anything—and added another slow lick for good measure.

Once satisfied, the she dragon nosed into Twilight’s mane and asked, “Did she behave, Skittershy?”

Twilight would be a terrible liar to claim she didn’t feel just a bit of indignity at that remark, but Nomad’s Vale had rather earned it.

Perhaps, then, she could understand why Skittershy giggled and patted her shoulder. “As a matter of fact, she did.” A note of pride crept into her tone as she gave a quick recounting of how Twilight saw that poor family and trotted over to offer them enough gold to feed and house themselves, along with a deal for more.

The she dragon listened with intent, that rumble in her chest growing while she listened to Skittershy speak of that beautiful gemstone and how willing Twilight had been to offer such a sum of gold in exchange.

When she learned that the younger mare refused the offer, Hadhkûna sighed and clicked her tongue. “A shame, truly,” she said. “The way you speak of that gem made me think of the one Twilight found in Nomad’s Vale, or that one I gifted her from my hoard.”

Instinctively, Twilight reached up to touch her bottomless pouch. A thoughtful frown played upon her lips. “That’s what I was thinking as well,” she said aloud. To herself, well, she could only curse her greed and bemoan the missed chance to acquire the new gem and study it further.

The first had been gorgeous, of course, but something about the other two made it come to life—quite literally!

She had never heard about gemstones that could produce and hold their own light, let alone those which could invoke such raw, intense feeling in her chest.

Or call forth such visions of things that once were or could be.

In any case, there was no use dwelling on the matter. Her good deed had been done, a family would be able to put food on the table, and, a bit more selfishly, she would be away from this crazy continent and home soon enough.

Home at last. No debts hanging over her head, and with a new friend and a lover in tow.

The looks on Celestia and Luna’s faces would be nothing short of priceless, that much was certain. And Shining? Well, if he thought learning about her penchant for moonlighting as a daring little thief was scandalized, just wait until Hadhkûna came over to meet the family!

Now there was a thought she could savor and look forward to.

The sound of tiny hooves thudding against the dock in a rapid thumpity-thumpity-thumpity! cadence and a couple dissatisfied crewponies grunting and cursing made her ears flick. Then came a chorus of little voices calling, “Wait! Miss, wait!”

Twilight turned to see what caused such a commotion.

Those two little colts who’d been huddled up to the young mare and the foal came galloping up the dock as fast as their little hooves could carry them, undeterred by the sight of a bemused she dragon and stunned spider mare.

They came skidding to a halt, their little chests heaving as they tried to regain their breath. One stepped forward, his hoof clutched to his chest for a moment, then he ducked his head and removed a pendant hanging upon a slender black cord.

Only then did Twilight notice the butterfly-shaped gemstone he’d borne to her, and how it glowed that brilliant pink light once more.

“Our sister didn’t get to call out to you because she was so stunned,” he said in between breaths. “By the time she regained her senses, you were gone, and the gem started glowing again, brighter than ever before!”

“She said she hadn’t seen it glow like that since grandma was alive!” his brother chipped in. His little eyes shone with delight. “She said grandma used to tell her it only glowed when ponies did acts of kindness without expecting reward, and that if it ever glowed like the stars, that our family would give it to the one who caused it!”

“Like she promised her grandmother!”

“And hers before that!”

Together, they finished with grins nearly as bright as the gem’s glow, “And all the way back since the day our family first found it in the Fountain of Astrapi two hundred years ago!”

Twilight felt as though her head was spinning just trying to make sense of everything they said. Their grandmother knew about its glow? And only observed it happening when ponies were kind?

What in Equestria was this thing?

What in Equestria were the two sitting in her pouch, for that matter?

Fortunately, Skittershy hadn’t been stricken dumb. She took a cautious step toward the colts, offering a kind smile that didn’t quite hide her lethal fangs. “Thank you, boys, I’m sure my friend is quite surprised and happy that your sister would ask you to deliver this.” She bent down to accept the gemstone, giving each an affectionate nuzzle..

They didn’t recoil, amazingly enough. Rather, they scuffed their hooves upon the dock, gave bashful grins before they shyly nuzzled her in turn, then quickly darted off in a flurry of giggles and hurried goodbyes before any could think to comment.

The spider mare was practically floating on a cloud. “They nuzzled me back! Oh, by the heavens, they weren’t afraid!” Skittershy did a little prancing jig, quite the sight with her form, then scooped Twilight into a tight hug and looped the pendant around her neck. “And you, you silly, sweet mare, were going on about how greedy you were! Ha!”

Twilight couldn’t bring herself to reply. Her eyes were too lost staring into that glowing gemstone, only freed as she slowly turned to glance down at her pouch.

What are you three, really?

“Ready to launch!” Headwind’s voice rang out. “All hands and passengers ready! Miss Sparkle, on deck now, Miss Spider as well, and … er … Miss Hadhkûna if you don’t mind bringing in your neck …”

The mares hurried to obey, even Hadhkûna offered a mildly apologetic grin to the nervous pegasus before she lost interest and instead plucked Twilight and Skittershy straight off the gangplank and into a warm embrace. Angel, naturally, bounced down off her shoulder to take his rightful place atop Skittershy’s head.

Though he did offer Twilight a smile and wave like an old partner-in-crime.

With a rustle of cloth, the sails unfurled and billowed in the wind. The Skylark jerked forward, nosing its way out into the harbor like a great beast emerging from its slumber, ready to venture forth onto the open water.

Hadhkûna let out an excited rumble mixed with a squeal. Quite a curious sound to come from a dragon, of all things.

Turning to face her, Twilight fixed her with a wry smile. “Did the great Hadhkûna just squeal like a little filly?”

“Oh, hush, you! I can be excited!” The she dragon blew smoke in her face, a teasing gesture, as Twilight had learned. “There are some things even I have not experienced. Riding on a ship is one of them.”

Something about that statement wiped the smile from Twilight’s face. There was something that just made her feathers twitch.

Could Hadhkûna … no.

That was just a silly idea.

Twilight relaxed and reclined back against her lover’s chest, nuzzling into Skittershy’s shoulder as well. “In that case,” she said, casually slipping that gemstone into her pouch for safekeeping, “I think you’ll find this a rather enjoyable experience.”

Out in the distance, a fiery orange bled into the red sky. Purple clouds loomed out over the northern horizon like towering mountains.

For but an instant, Twilight could’ve sworn she saw a pegasus in a flowing Pegasopolian dress. But when she blinked, it was gone.

Scoffing, she shook herself. I really need to stop listening to these stories. I have Hadhkûna, Skittershy, Angel, and these gemstones. Everything will be fine. From here on, it’s smooth sailing.

She pointedly ignored the distant rumble of thunder that came in reply. It most certainly wasn’t ominous, or some acceptance of challenge.

Just coincidence.

Author's Note

If anyone has any comments about Hadkhûna's weight, God help you.

Red Sky of Morning 2: The Storm and the Siren

Of all the things Twilight could have done without, she was quite certain watching a seasick dragon in the throws of agony was among them.

Poor Hadhkûna hadn’t been joking when she said she’d never been sailing before, and she was running the full gauntlet on every last bit of the joys of its symptoms. The opulent white scales on her face and muzzle had lost their color, then tinged a dull greenish gray. Those splendorous purple curls hung limp and lifeless, falling over her mane like a veil even as she bowed her head and covered her eyes, moaning like a filly with the flu for the first time.

Then again, that was probably about how she felt.

The waves made the ship pitch and yawn like a foal splashing about in a tub, the wind whistling and playing through the sails with such force the edges flapped and snapped against the lines. Perhaps the only solace it brought was a cool tracing along Twilight’s coat.

For Hadhkûna, however, it was torture.

The great she dragon shivered and curled in on herself, her fangs chattering together. “I-I-I’ve n-n-never been so cold!” she complained. She didn’t whine, heavens no. Twilight had been corrected on that several moments prior.

A true dragon never whined, as her lover claimed. Right before she let out a sudden retch, then quickly laid her head upon the deck and clutched her belly.

Twilight prayed Hadhkûna kept whatever poor creatures she’d eaten before their trip down—for multiple reasons, really. The last thing she needed was to see what that deer she’d caught her lover eating looked like after she’d swallowed it.

Watching it the first time had been quite enough for the Princess of Thieves.

“This is the worst!” Hadhkûna tried to curl herself tighter, like a foal on a winter night. “The worst possible thing!”

Skittershy chewed on her bottom lip, seemingly at a loss for what to do to alleviate Hadhkûna’s suffering. She’d thrown her nice, fluffy blanket across her old friend’s neck, but that had been about as much use as draping a napkin across a full grown stallioon’s in the midst of a storm.

Speaking of which …

To the south, Twilight could see the distant shoreline had long since faded from view, but she knew it to extend out like a sort of barrier against the tumultuous southern sea. A small boon they’d soon lose once they made their way farther out, save for a few chain islands. To the north, however, lay the danger.

Those purple clouds lining the horizon rolled through the sky toward them like a black shroud. Deep within the darkness, Twilight could see lightning flashing and brine blow across the surface of the sea as those winds tried to carve off a share of the water. Even as she looked out, The Skylark lurched to its port side and a wave came crashing down against the side, spraying cold water across the deck.

Hadhkûna let out a muffled shriek as soon as it splattered upon her scales and spines. “Twi-liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!” she most certainly didn’t whine. “You didn’t tell me seafare would be like this!”

“I also never said it couldn’t get like this,” Twilight retorted before she could catch herself. The baleful look her words earned drew a sheepish smile. She scooted closer, nuzzling Hadhkûna’s wrist. “Sorry,” the mare murmured, dotting a kiss upon those scales. The cold, clammy feeling nearly drew a frown. Her lover truly wasn’t well. When had she even been in such a similar state in her life? “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Destroy all ships,” came the piteous reply. “And every stupid sea in this world. We’ll fly next time—Hurk!”

Skittershy swiftly snared an empty barrel with her webbing and tugged it over, then stuck it under her friend’s snout with a flat look. “If you’re going to be sick, at least do it in a barrel and not all over the deck, if you don’t mind.” Wrinkling her snout, she added, “Just try to ignore the smell of that preserved meat.”

“Oh heavens, why did you remind me! That meat was disgusting!”

Her ears burning, Twilight ducked her head and made to cover herself with her wings. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know preserved meat tasted terrible to predators used to eating it straight off the bone. Or those who preferred to drink vital fluids.

Neither had been particularly enthused when Twilight’s big reveal that they wouldn’t have to fish or pluck an unfortunate sailor from the crew involved eating, in their minds, spoiled goods. Hadhkûna had been caught eying a few up and mumbling, “Surely, they wouldn’t miss one or two.” Though, to be honest, that had been somewhat expected.

When Skittershy started to sneak over to a couple with fangs bared, though, Twilight made sure to put herself between the crew and the hungry spider mare, and went straight for the proverbial low blow.

“I don’t think those foals in Port Sommerset would’ve found that a welcome look,” she’d muttered.

To her relief, Skittershy snapped right out of it, albeit with a flash of pain across her features. The spider mare had since made herself content by doting on Angel and Hadhkûna, largely staying silent and refusing to meet Twilight’s gaze otherwise.

That would certainly be a delightful conversation to have once they made it to Trottingham. Twilight was looking forward to that about as much as she was seeing that nosey little nag, Sunset, upon her return to Canterlot.

A flash of lightning threw their shadows across the deck, then came a crash of thunder with such force Twilight could feel it upon her skin. Her coat stood on end and feathers bristled, she looked up, grimacing at those near-black clouds that had slowly blocked out the sun’s light and heralded them into an ominous darkness.

There was no drizzle or tepid droplets to offer warning of what was to come. The storm hit like a freight train at full speed, a heavy shower descended upon them with a rush of water and constant drumming upon the deck, and a howl of raging winds.

With a yelp, Twilight threw up a hoof to try to shield her face, stumbling into Hadhkûna’s chest as the ship began to pitch and roll dangerously onto its starbord side. She saw Hadhkûna open her mouth to shriek again as she gripped the deck with her mighty claws, the sound blocked out by another roar of thunder. Splinters of wood flew up and stung her chest.

Another wave loomed over the ship before crashing down upon the bow and spraying everyone aboard with cold seafoam. The crew of pegasi, having forgone their acrobatics, scrambled about, frantically trying to tie everything down.

“Tie it down!” Headwind called. “Tie it down and get below!” His eyes found Twilight’s, she could see fear written across his face. He opened his mouth to call out an order, but a sudden wave and lurch of his ship sent him sprawling across the deck and into the mast. He fell in a crumpled heap, groaning even as a pair of crew ponies helped him up.

It was chaos. Twilight could do little but watch in horror as pegasi, proud masters of weather, were thrown about, scattering and struggling against the very force of this storm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the crew ponies clinging to the base of the mast for dear life, his eyes clenched shut and mouth muttering something as if pleading to the heavens.

Or, perhaps, pleading to one in particular for deliverance.

All that yelling, the roar of thunder and drumming of rain, and startled squeaks and timid growls from spider mare and she dragon alike filled Twilight’s ears like some sort of macabre orchestra. Her own heartbeat hammering within her breast served to keep the time.

But above it all, she could hear something else. A voice, ethereal and enchantingly beautiful, floating through those howling winds and wrapped itself around Twilight like a warm blanket and filled her ears with a song so sweet, so enchanting she froze in place, her eyes wide and ears perked to listen.

That voice sang in a language vaguely familiar, but far older than any pony ears had heard in recent centuries. It held a strange mix of the tongues of those nations surrounding the Mare Nostrum—or the Mesogeios Thalassaddle before the rise of Roam, back when the city-states of Hellas stood tall and mighty—languages only the scholarly or those who walked the land during that time knew. And yet, far older. As if the singer had walked before ponies, gryphons, diamond dogs, and even the great serpents had begun to crawl.

And that melody!

Twilight felt her heart skip a beat. That voice! That song! Even as it rose, seemingly with the might of that terrible storm and sudden arc of jagged light that hit the water just a few lengths from the bow, she found her breath hitched. Slowly, she rose and slipped out from Hadhkûna’s grasp and began to walk toward the railing, the corners of her eyes stung with unshed tears, a bright smile tugging at her lips.

She had to get closer somehow. She had to hear this beautiful singing from the source!

A hoof grabbed her by the tail and tugged her back before she’d taken three steps from the little group. Pain shot up her spine, snapping her out of her stupor. Twilight shook herself and turned a questioning look upon Skittershy.

Her friend’s eyes shone with horror. “What are you thinking?” she cried over the howling winds. “If you get close to the railings, you’ll be thrown over!”

“But that voice!” Twilight replied, casting a fervent look out over the waters as if she expected to see some gorgeous pegasus gliding along. She looked back at Skittershy, her breath catching. “Tell me you heard that singing! It was so beautiful!”

“I can barely hear you! Let alone singing!” Any offense taken by Twilight’s words forgotten, the spider mare reeled her in by her tail until she was tucked safely away beneath one of her hooves. Angel Bunny seized the chance to dart down Skittershy’s hoof and slip into his old hiding space in Twilight’s bottomless pouch.

Skittershy, meanwhile, bodily lifted Twilight off the deck, then hurried over to prod Hadhkûna’s shoulder and shout, “We need to get below! Into where they put all the cargo!”

The great she dragon shivered and moaned, shaking her head. “Not a chance!” Hadhkûna buried her face in her claws. “I’m not sitting with the cargo like some pauper!”

Another wave crashing upon the deck sent Skittershy staggering. With a grunt, she drifted closer to her friend once more. “If we don’t move, we might get thrown over, you great ridiculous dragon!” Leveling her with a stern glare, Skittershy leaned in close and yelled, “Put your pride aside and get below! We need to get to safety!”

Even as Hadhkûna complained and shifted like a little filly trying to resist being called to rise, the spider mare refused to relent. It was that persistence, all those years spent nursing a family of mischievous bunnies that served Skittershy well as she looped a hoof around her friend’s claw and actually pried it off her face and managed to pull it forward.

At last, Hadhkûna rose with a groan and a most ungraceful lurch. “Oh, fine!” she grumbled. “But I don’t like it one bit!”

Whether or not Skittershy cared for her opinion, Twilight didn’t know. She managed to wriggle free of the spider mare’s grasp, offering a smile and silent vow to help as she darted around to nuzzle just beneath Hadhkûna’s jawline and whisper encouragement as she lumbered forward until she came to an open square cut out of the deck so the crew could lift up crates and safely lower them into the cargo hold.

The great she dragon peered into the depths with a frown. “No staircase? You can’t expect me to simply hurl myself—eek! Now, see here!”

Skittershy withdrew her fangs from Hadhkûna’s flank and glared. “Get in there now!” she cried as she delivered a sharp shove that sent her friend tumbling head over tail into the dark depths of the cargo hold, where she landed with a dull thud and a flurry of old curses. Then, the spider mare turned her gaze upon Twilight.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Twilight said with a gesture into the hold.

Those sky blue eyes narrowed. “No tricks?”

“No tricks. I don’t play around with storms on the sea. Just get yourself in and tell me when you’re ready for me.”

The little frown that marred Skittershy’s face betrayed her discontent. She’d already seen Twilight get into trouble after such a promise once, no doubt, she wondered if she shouldn’t just pick her up and carry her down.

Fortunately, she granted the mare a sense of dignity this time. Skittershy turned and hopped over the edge, spreading her legs wide for a graceful landing. Twilight didn’t even hear a sound when she hit bottom until she cried out, “Aim for the center so you don’t hit a crate! Things have shifted about in here and I’m going to have to web them in place!”

“No thanks to you throwing me down here headfirst!”

“Complain later, help me move this now so Twilight and Angel don’t get crushed!”

Oh, good. Shifting cargo.

Casting a look back at the crew, then a glance down at her pouch, Twilight unfurled her wings, ready to ease her landing. But first, she delivered a little prod to the side. “Angel, I’m going to jump down You okay in there?”

A series of chattering squeaks came in reply. The pouch began to shift as he struggled to reach the top, then he pushed the flap open and stuck his head out and pointed into the depths of the pouch.

Twilight’s world ground to a screeching halt, the storm, the sailor’s cries, even that beautiful singing faded into the background as she took note of the colors tinging his snowy white fur a strange blend of purple, amethyst, and pink.

It clicked.

She held out a hoof to pluck him from the pouch, then snaked a few tendrils of magic inside to retrieve her gemstones. Sure enough, the instant they were free of her pouch, Twilight was met with a wondrous sight—all three of her gemstones glowing bright as miniature suns deep within the darkness of this terrible storm, all pulsating together in perfect harmony.

Her breath caught in her throat. Twilight reached out with a trembling hoof to touch the edge of that amethyst starburst Hadhkûna had given her just a few short days prior. It seemed brighter than the others somehow, like whatever sparked it within was older, deeper. More powerful.

Then, it happened.

The amethyst starburst suddenly sparked and shone pure white, followed by its two sisters. There was a crack, a rush of wind as a lance of amethyst, purple, and pink shot through the storm, piercing into its very heart and spreading through those black clouds like all those textbooks depicting medicines killing an infection she once read. Once spent, the gemstones lost their light and seemed to dim, each clouding over as if the power within had gone into some sort of slumber.

Twilight could only gape in muted shock as she floated the gemstones closer so she could inspect them once more, as if seeing them for the first time.

“What,” she whispered, “in the name of Celestia and Luna are you?”

All around her, she could hear the sailors stirring, each of them rising from where they’d fallen and gazing up at the sky in wonder.

“What was that light?”

“Where did it come from?”

“How could it overpower one of the storm sirens’ songs?”

Unease crept into her chest. While the crew cast their gazes skyward, she swiftly slipped her gemstones into the confines of her bottomless pouch once more and tried her level best to look innocent. She even feigned interest in the slowly dying storm just as they.

“Twilight!” Skittershy’s voice jolted her out of her act. The mare turned to peer into the dark depths of the cargo hold to find each of Skittershy’s eight baby blue eyes narrowed in a stern glare. “You get down here! What are you up to up there?”

“Nothing! I just—the storm—it’s died down!”

“What? That’s—how could a storm like that just die?”

From somewhere nearby, Hadhkûna groaned and added, “Does this mean the world will stop spinning?”

“I don’t—I have no idea!” Twilight glanced back at her pouch, then down at Skitershy and gestured at it. “The gems! I don’t know what happened, but they did something! I couldn’t explain it if I tried!”

A cool breath of wind blew across the back of her neck. Twilight took another quick look over her shoulder as if to confirm the storm was gone, silly, she knew. It was indeed, all it afforded her was a glimpse of a mare garbed in a flowing white dress among the crew, and little more.

She blinked.

That mare hadn’t been on the ship before.

Slowly, Twilight began to turn, her eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open. Her ears began to splay. The newcomer was gorgeous, stunning in every sense of the word. Her coat was the same shade of blue as a clear, open sky, with a cloud and tricolored lightning bolt emblazoned on her flanks. Her mane and tail shone all the colors of the rainbow, and her eyes were a deep, vibrant reddish-purple. Cerise, if she were right.

Each stallion gaped in open shock, backing away from this newcomer until she had nearly three full pony lengths between her and the nearest among them. Her lips were curved into a snarl, she gave her wings a confident rustle, then unfurled them just slightly in open challenge. “Who among you dares insult me?” she asked. “Who among you dares disrupt the storm I sang?”

Silence fell over the ship. Twilight felt her heart sink into the very pit of her stomach. The storm she sang?

By Celestia’s grace, the storm sirens were real.

Thinking quickly, she cast a quick barrier spell over the cargo hold, adding an obscurant haze almost as an afterthought.

“Twilight!” Skittershy hissed. “What’s going on up there? What are you—”

The Princess of Thieves added a one-way silencing spell on top of it and cast a meaningful glance into the cargo hold, and made a placating “wait” gesture. The last thing she needed was this mare, this storm siren and daughter of Ouránio Toxo, getting into a fight with Skittershy and Hadhkûna while on the ship.

Hadhkûna alone would be more than enough to put it under.

She returned her gaze to the storm siren just in time to watch her begin to make a slow circuit around the deck, those haunting, keen eyes of hers surveying each stallion in turn. “Who is it?” she asked once more. “Who would be so bold to levy their power against one of Ouránio Toxo’s daughters? Come now.” The storm siren stopped and brought herself nose to nose with a burly stallion who made a face like he longed to shrink into the woodwork. “Which of you would challenge Melodía Kataigídas, eldest daughter of the goddess of thunder and storms?”

Oh, spiffing. We’ve graduated from pissing off monsters and deposed kings to angering literal demi-goddesses. Twilight wondered idly if storm sirens could see through invisibility spells. Or if she’d just rip apart the ship the instant she noticed a missing pony.

Headwind managed to shrug off the stallions helping him and stepped forward, sweeping the cap off his head. “M-Miss Melodía, please,” he stammered. “I-I don’t know who would have disrupted your storm, none of my crew have such power! It must have been some other creature!”

Melodía turned to level him with a critical stare. With a derisive sniff, she flicked her tail and said, “Do you take me for a fool, Captain Headwind? I know this ship and its crew, and this ship was fated to be tested by my storm.”

“I understand, but please have mercy!” Headwind dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “We’ve been faithful, respectful of your mother all our lives! Please have mercy on us!”

“You have been faithful, that much is true.” Melodía raised her brows, then brought a hoof up to stroke his mane in a rather mocking gesture. “That’s why you were fated to be tested, silly mortal, not sunk outright. My mother wished to see just how able your crew was, and dispatched her most powerful and able daughter to see it done. Should I return to her side and report that some other interrupted her, I wager she will be most …” she trailed off, her eyes wandering across the deck, lingering on each pony in turn until they met Twilight’s.

Time stood still. Twilight could feel her heart leap into her throat and choke her airway.

Slowly, comprehension began to dawn upon the storm siren’s face and, with it, a smirk. Melodía stepped away from Headwind and swaggered toward Twilight, her hips swaying and tail swishing in a slow, sensuous motion that spurred memories of a few trips to those exotic clubs and parties in far off lands when her silver tongue won entry. This, however, was all that and more.

Enough to make her mouth to dry and wings itch to fluff and display her feathers.

Melodía Kalaigías came to a stop, her nose a mere hair’s breadth from Twilight’s. “You,” she murmured, her lips almost tickling against Twilight’s in a way that made her back go rigid. “You aren’t of this crew, little mare.”

Blinking, Twilight eyed the storm siren for a moment, noting the stark difference in their height. She decided in that instant that pointing out it was she who looked down at Melodía probably wasn’t in the best interest of anyone present.

She felt a sudden, sharp impact against her barrier. Twilight winced and forced a smile. “Me?”

“You.”

“Ah. Well, no, I’m just a traveling mare. You certainly caught me.” A bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. Was it too late to jump over the side and try flying for it? “What ever gave me away?”

Melodía’s eyes flashed. “You’re new to these waters, these lands. Your accent, your clothes, the way you carry yourself, even the way you smell is foreign. And an alicorn! Here, of all places!” A single brow arched, her voice dropped an octave. “Well, isn’t this just my lucky day?”

Twilight fought to maintain her smile. “Lucky? Like, lucky as in you get a free sundae at the next storm siren gathering lucky?

“Witty as well! Oh, I think I like you more and more.” Fixing Twilight with a heated gaze, she purred, “Why did I ever bother with those little minnows when the big fish was standing so graciously in view the whole time? You must be that Sun Princess’s rival in strength to weaken my storm.”

“I-I wouldn’t really say—”

“You’ll do just fine.” Melodía turned away and strode to the center of The Skylark’s deck, then stopped and pointed to Twilight. “You will sail to Thunder Bay Harbor and dock. This mare will meet me atop the north tower overlooking the Fountain of Astrapí, alone, and answer my challenge in repayment for disrupting my storm. If I see you deviate from that path …” She turned and locked eyes with Twilight, flashing a winning grin. Then she took a deep breath and sang a low, haunting note.

A bolt of lightning struck missed The Skylark by mere inches. The water hissed and boiled angrily.

The storm siren unfurled her wings. “Then I send this ship and all aboard to the depths of my uncle’s sea, and tell my mother that Fate was right when he voiced his doubts about its crew.” With her piece said, Melodía pumped her wings once, and shot into the sky with a crack and crash of thunder echoing through the air.

Once Twilight was certain she was gone, she let out a groan and slumped to the deck, her horn flashing as she dropped the barrier to allow her friend to rise at last from their hiding place and level her with a furious glare.

She held up a hoof in defense. “I just wanted to keep things calm so she wouldn’t do anything while she was on the ship.”

“I heard,” Skittershy replied, pursing her lips. “And now she’s spoiling for a fight—a storm siren, Twilight.”

“Yeah.” Twilight sighed and shook her head. “I don’t have a choice this time. And if she sees any creature other than me …”

A low groan made her ears twitch. Hadhkûna at last poked her head through the opening, her scales still tinged a sickly green even as she tried her best to look menacing. “Oh, to Tartarus with that arrogant thing!” she hissed. “Just get close enough to Thunder Bay and I’ll fly over and burn her to nothing in a—a—ohheavens! Hurk!” The she dragon quickly ducked into the cargo hold and retched, drawing a grimace from all present.

“If she didn’t use that barrel, I swear,” Skittershy mumbled. Shaking her head, she looked down at Twilight. Her shoulders seemed to slump.

The spider mare sighed and came over to sit by Twilight, pulling her into a hug and laying her head atop the smaller mare’s. The tips of her fangs teased into Twilight’s scalp as she murmured, “Why do you always have to find your way into trouble?”

Twilight didn’t try to fight or wriggle free. Everything felt weak, her muscles so tired. She just leaned against Skittershy and buried her face in her friend’s chest. “I wish I knew.”

They stayed together throughout the trip to Thunder Bay Harbor, joined a short while later by a sickly she dragon who was content to curl herself up around her lover and friend and drape a wing over them. The only thing she could do to try and offer protection in her state.

Even in sickness, even in anger, Hadhkûna loved her and Skittershy held her close.

Somewhere in the depths of her bottomless pouch, those three gemstones began to glow anew.

At first glance, Twilight would’ve almost dared to imagine Thunder Bay Harbor and the little port town had seen better days.

Then she took a second glance and noticed that the entire blasted place had so clearly been beaten, battered, and beset by terrible storms for as long as it stood. The rocks ringing the bay had been scared and carved by lances of lightning and mighty waves, and the town itself had been fashioned out of dull gray stone. Perhaps the only way they could assure their homes wouldn’t be ripped apart by a strong gust.

The waters swirled and churned as the wind whistled through the harbor, blowing her mane this way and that. She could hear Headwind barking orders and curses as The Skylark’s crew tried to wrestle the ship into docking position. Quite a feat, especially with how quickly they set about tying off to avoid plowing into the dock itself.

She felt Hadhkûna give a discontented rumble and Skittershy’s hooves squeeze her tight.

They didn’t want her to leave the ship, even if it meant saving the rest.

Truth be told, neither did she. But the lessons learned from two princesses weighed heavily on her mind—Celestia and Luna both would have died before they allowed others to suffer in their stead, and nearly had many times.

So, too, would Twilight.

She leaned up to nuzzle beneath Skittershy’s chin, then planted a soft kiss upon Hadhkûna’s nose. “I have to go,” she whispered.

Her lover’s massive wing all but pinned her to the deck. “No, you don’t,” the she dragon grumbled, her voice strained with pain. Sea sickness had been unkind to her, the one enemy she couldn’t simply burn. “Give me time to recover. I’ll burn that so-called storm siren to cinders in an instant! See if I don’t!”

Twilight smiled and kissed her lips. “I think we all know we don’t have the luxury of time to wait for you to feel better,” she replied, adding another kiss for good measure. “She’s watching us. The instant she thinks we’re taking too long or you start for that tower, she’ll bring down everything she has upon us. And probably the town, too.”

The grumble that came in reply only made her smile grow. Twilight nuzzled a slow circle around her snout and whispered, “Don’t I get a lick for luck, honey?”

“Honey?” Hadhkûna’s cheeks flushed pink. “That’s the first time you’ve called me such a name.”

“I’m your gemstone, aren’t I?” The little mare beamed. “You’re big and sweet. Can’t you be my honey?”

“Perhaps if you return to me whole and unspoiled.” Wrinkling her snout, Hadhkûna sighed and raised her wing, withdrawing her head from Twilight’s reach. “I think it best if I didn’t with how sick I’ve been, darling.” Those sapphire eyes glinted with just a hint of mischief. “Though, if you need affection, I’m sure Skittershy would be delighted to give you a—”

Skittershy shrieked and batted at her friend’s chest. “You big! Troublesome! Dragon! That’s the last time I tell you anything!” As Hadhkûna drew back, chuckling despite the mood, the spider mare gave a sad sigh and turned to Twilight. She swept the little mare into her embrace without hesitation, all but squeezing the breath from her lungs.

“Ack! My ribs!” Twilight tapped her friend’s shoulder. “Skittershy, my ribs!”

“Don’t be such a foal, I know how tight I can squeeze without breaking them,” she scolded softly. The spider mare held her at hoof’s length for a moment, those baby blue eyes brimming with fear and something she couldn’t quite place. With a sigh, she set Twilight down on the deck and stepped back, closer to Hadhkûna. “I know it sounds odd given how things went, but … well, do a better job outwitting her.”

Sputtering, Twilight leveled her with a scandalized look. “Hey!”

“Seconded,” Hadhkûna put in, arching a scaled brow. “Little miss over hill and rivers.”

“Har-de-har. Won’t you two be surprised. I already have a plan.”

The pair raised their brows. “Oh?” Hadhkûna asked. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“Tell you if it works.” And once I actually figure one out. With a flick of her tail, Twilight turned and strode toward the gangplank, sparing a little nod to Headwind and the crew as she passed.

She did her level best to keep her hooves moving on that long trot down the dock and into town despite the cold shiver running down her spine, her mind conjuring visions of Melodía Kalaigías’s deep cerise eyes every step of the way.

Even in her own mental picture, she felt it. There was something off with those eyes. Something deeper, more powerful than she knew. More importantly, though, was the realization that brought another shiver to the Princess of Thieves:

When Melodía’s eyes met hers, they held a bit too much glee for comfort.

Red Sky of Morning 3: Melodía Kalaigías

The walk through Thunder Bay’s little town was haunting to say the least. The town itself wasn’t quite a ghost town, far from it in fact. There were shops, stalls, even a well at the center, but no creature there to greet her. Not even the sound of foalish laughter.

Perhaps, she thought, because they were all smarter than whatever fool would be out in the open when a storm siren had come to call.

With that cheerful thought in mind, Twilight trotted briskly through town, idly plucking the wooden bucket off the edge of the well and giving it a look. Full to the brim! Some creature had been fetching water when Melodía had shown up.

Twilight took a quick sip of water, then set the bucket down on the edge of the well. She took a deep breath and set her jaw. In for a bit, in for a bag. She ascended those stone steps slowly, her her hooves trembling the closer she came to the summit. Her mind raced, frantically trying to cobble something together to keep herself alive.

Could a storm siren be distracted by flattery? Blinded by light? No, that last one was stupid. Melodía was the oldest and greatest of them all and she heralded lightning, of course that wouldn’t work.

Maybe if Twilight were desperate. Melodía did seem to have a thing for boasts, much as the old powers in legends always did.

At last, she reached to top of the stairs and set her hooves on the cold, wet cobblestone. Twilight glanced about, taking stock of the tower—well, it was less a tower, more a lookout post build on a nice, flat portion of the ridge overlooking the town. The structure itself was, interestingly enough, quite well kept. There was little sign of wear or tear on the stones, it looked to be recently swept clean, and in the old Hellasine pillars, she could see depictions of Ouránio Toxo singing with her daughters and the storms their songs wrought.

Behind her, of course, she could see out over the little town and all of Thunder Bay. She could even see Hadhkûna’s distant form pacing on The Skylark’s deck while Skittershy tried to keep pace. On the other side, however, awaited a sight that, despite the situation, stole Twilight’s breath away.

The Fountain of Astrapí was not, as she expected, some little marble fountain sitting in the middle of some clearing or town square. No, the fountain itself was a large natural basin where the mountains met and trapped the waters of those great storms. A staircase set on other side of the tower led to a white stone landing—or, more aptly, a dais—with a lone bucket waiting near the shallows. A place where the townsfolk would come to pay tribute to the opulent statue of a tall mare in Pegasopolean battle armor with wings spread situated at the very center and wash themselves with the rainwater she brought with each storm.

Ouránio Toxo once again.

The Storm Mother’s presence was quite real in the hearts and minds of the inhabitants. Then again, with Melodía flying about singing storms whenever she pleased, who could blame them?
A rustle of wings drew a little flick of her ears. Twilight turned just in time to see Melodía Kalaigías descend from a little patch in the storm clouds swirling over the island. Sunlight filtered down like a natural spotlight to herald her arrival as she touched down upon one of the pillars on the far side of the tower with a gleam in her eyes and a smirk playing upon her lips.

Melodía gave a little hum, the clouds above closed like a curtain and chased the sunlight away, shrouding them in the darkness of a deep storm waiting.

The telltale rumble of thunder made it quite clear the storm was just as eager to begin as its herald.

“Ah! You made good time, little mare!” Melodía beamed, then paused a moment and chuckled. “Little alicorn, I should say! Your sort is awful rare, after all. I only knew of three before I met you!”

Twilight’s mind raced. “Y-You know Cadence, Celestia, and Luna?”

The storm siren fluffed her feathers. “Oh, you know them by name! Does that make you … y’know?”

Gritting her teeth, Twilight nodded grudgingly. An act which only served to make a smile flash across the mare’s face like chain lightning.

“Ohohoho! That just makes my storm getting ruined worth it! Wait ‘till I tell mom!” Melodía laid down atop that pillar and let her forelegs droop idly over the edge, tracing a little circle in the stone just above one of the storm cloud carvings. Her eyes glittered, piercing into Twilight’s very soul. “I never asked your name,” she murmured after a moment.

“I’m sorry?” Twilight blinked.

“Your name, little alicorn. I can hardly call you that while you answer my challenge. I’m many things, rude, though, I am not. Mom would fry my hide with a lightning bolt if she heard I didn’t ask.” Propping a hoof beneath her chin, Melodía fixed Twilight with a half-lidded look. “So before I tell you my challenge, I’d like to know your name, if you’d be so kind. One mare’s courtesy to another.”

“Courtesy? I’m … pretty sure you’re about to tell me exactly how you’d like to kill me with that challenge.”

Melodía simply shrugged. “I could just kill you here and now and forget about the challenge, then go sink that creaking tub you were on.”

Well, that was a point Twilight certainly couldn’t refute.

The young mare blew a breath through her nose and held a hoof out in a vague little half-wave. “I am Twilight Sparkle,” she answered with a little bow of her head. “Princess of Thieves by choice, but back home, my title is Princess of M—” she hesitated a moment, her eyes flitting this way and that as she bit her lip.

“Yes?” Melodía purred, leaning forward. “Go on.”

She had two titles back home. One would do just fine. “Princess of Friendship,” Twilight finished, giving a sheepish little smile.

The storm siren wrinkled her nose. “I think I prefer Princess of Thieves. It’s more impressive. And fitting, if the stories I’ve heard are true.”

“Thank you!” Someone got it! Someone actually got it! Twilight could’ve walked right over and hugged her, challenge or not! Why, she even beamed!

Then everything came to a halt.

How had a storm siren heard of her?

The slow, wicked grin spreading across Melodía’s features sent a chill down Twilight’s spine. The storm siren rose, her feathers fluffing and twitching eagerly as she began to speak, “I’ve heard of the little mare who tricked Fido’s pups and sought to enter a dragon’s domain, the mare who came from far off lands after stealing the greatest prizes history ever had to offer. Quite unlike my, ahem, ex, I take the tales of your deeds quite differently, Princess of Thieves. In fact, I’m a lot like those mortal sailors who worship and pray to my mom”

Lightning flashed through the sky. Those cerise eyes sparkled with utmost delight. “I love a good rebel’s story. But what I love more is a rebel who can back up her mouth. So, here’s my challenge: you and I in single combat. If you win, you’ll have my guarantee that you and your companions sail on with clear skies and fair winds all the way home.” She rose slowly to a chorus of thunder. “Admittedly, I don’t like your odds there.”

Twilight took a step back. Maybe she should’ve told Hadhkûna to circle around and see about catching this storm siren from behind. “And if you win?”

“When I win,” Melodía corrected her, “I think I’m going to take you back to my palace in the clouds and keep you. A little alicorn trophy to sing for me when I please. If you survive, that is.” She shrugged again. “If not, I’ll just sink that silly tub like I said and whip up a storm for Port Sommerset to let them know they’ve lost a ship by Fate’s will.”

A lump caught in Twilight’s throat. A lifetime singing for a storm siren’s amusement or the deaths of some forty-odd pegasi, her lover, and her friend.

And, well, her own, obviously.

Not exactly favorable for her want to avoid violence.

With a sigh, Twilight undid her cloak’s fasten and removed her pouches, setting them aside in a neat little pile by the wall. Then she fixed Melodía Kalaigías with a hard look and lowered herself into a challenging crouch, her wings flaring out wide.

“Good girl.” A glint of approval shone in those dangerous eyes. Behind her, lightning flashed again. Twilight could feel the electricity making her coat stand on end, her chest tingling as Melodía grinned and shouted, “Start!”

Melodía didn’t simply leap off her perch and fly at Twilight, she closed the distance between them before the young mare could even think to intercept. Her manic grin almost splitting her face as she drew a hoof back and aimed a punch at Twilight’s face.

The Princess of Thieves only just managed to duck and twist herself out of the way, letting the storm siren pass overhead. As she rose, Twilight cast a quick shield spell to intercept a follow-up one-hoofed buck that would’ve caught her square in the nose and was promptly sent skidding backward for her trouble. Her eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

A buck like that with only one hoof? Such force would’ve surely curved her face inward!

So surprised was Twilight that she didn’t notice the way Melodía spun gracefully one one hoof and aimed a back-hoofed slap across her face that sent her entire world spinning and sent her senses haywire. Color faded, the entire right side of her face erupted in stinging pain, numb just along her jaw, all as the familiar taste of copper bled into her mouth.

Oh, and the ringing in her ears was just delightful.

“Not a bad start! But you’d better be quicker, Twilight Sparkle!” Melodía closed the distance between them again and nearly took her head off with an uppercut, if not for a timely leap backward. The storm siren cackled and gave chase, her eyes alight. “Can’t beat me if you keep running away!”

True, Twilight realized even as she had to raise a shield to fend off another flurry of blows, her eyes flitting this way and that to try and keep up. If she kept letting herself be pushed back, there was no chance she’d beat Melodía. A creature this old and powerful didn’t earn their reputation by being a pushover. Still, trying to counter her physically was foolish, even with her strength. Her aching face was a testament to that.

She needed a plan.

In a flash of raspberry light, Twilight teleported herself across the tower. As soon as she got there, she readied a spell and fired it straight at the pursuing storm siren’s face without a second’s hesitation. Surely, at her speed, there was no way she could dodge at that range.

Melodía’s grin only widened like she never got tired of somepony trying that same play.

She moved almost casually, leaning to one side to begin a turn, then banked herself around the magic lance Twilight had fired so she continued on her path upside-down and lashed out at Twilight’s face again. Only another timely teleport saved the mare from a punch that would’ve sent her flying.

This time, as Twilight popped back into existence, she was greeted by a sudden explosion of thunder not from above, but across the tower. A jagged bolt of pure light slithered through the air at her like a hungry python, she let out a yelp and teleported again, appearing once more in time to see it hit the rocks behind her former position and carve an ugly scar in the surface.

Lightning? She felt her blood turn cold. Slowly, she swallowed. “She can use lightning without singing. Of course she can. Why not? This isn’t one-sided enough.”

Another explosion of thunder was all the warning she had before pain devoured her entire world and her vision went blue. Tendrils of lightning arched over her body, her muscles spasmed and limbs flailing, a cry tore from her throat as her eyes squeezed shut. Vaguely, Twilight realized she was falling. Falling farther than she should have.

Through the throughs of agony, she managed to crack open her eyes and see the edge of the tower above and rapidly retreating.

Oh, she’d been shot off the tower. That, to her addled brain as it struggled to reboot, made perfect sense.

Unfortunately, her brain didn’t rejoin the world fast enough to realize that falling meant a rather hard impact on the stone pathway below. Thus Twilight didn’t get to try right herself or flap her wings to ease her fall before she hit the ground with a sickening smack of flesh upon stone. That blasted ringing in her ears grew louder, more shrill. With a groan, Twilight feebly tried to roll onto her belly so she could rise. She bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes as her entire body protested her every move, doubly so when she began to push herself to her hooves.

The sound of hooves landing on the stone pathway with a light clopity-clop made her ears flick. It was all the warning she had before another explosion rang out and a bolt of caught her square in the chest.

Agony was all she knew until her body landed in the shallows of the Fountain of Astrapí.

“Come on, Twilight Sparkle! Up!” she heard Melodía’s taunt as though it came through a thick fog. “You started off great, just like all those stories I heard! Where’s that power and ingenuity? That brilliant wit?” The sound of electricity coursing over her body filled the air. “At this rate, I might as well pick out the manacles to keep my little singing alicorn.”

Manacles. Singing. Right, if she lost, Melodía had vowed to make Twilight her personal singer in her palace. And she’d sink The Skylark with everypony aboard—including Hadkhûna and Skittershy.

Twilight’s eyes snapped open, she leveled the storm siren with a heated glare.

“Ah!” Melodía’s ears perked up. Lightning flashed behind her, even as little tendrils of electricity danced across her coat. “There you are.”

There you are. Like she knows me. In the back of her mind, Twilight slowly put together a plan. Melodía was a powerful foe, the daughter of a goddess, but Twilight had gone up against Hadkhûna and Skittershy and survived with her wit, and her magical prowess had served her well against Fido and his rabble and countless others. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at that bucket and stealthily snaked a tendril of magic around the base to test its weight—full to the brim. Thank heavens for rushing townsfolk.

Oh, Melodía certainly stood head and shoulders above her in terms of power. But not brains.

Power without brains, as Luna used to say, is utterly useless and can be turned against the wielder with ease. And all that electricity, Twilight only just realized, wasn’t actually touching Melodía’s body.

It was dancing across the very tips of the hairs making up her coat, her mane, or even the little fibers of her feathers.

How very interesting.

Twilight charged her horn so it shone brighter than a miniature sun. All she had to do was get Melodía to believe she was putting everything into catching her with magic, then time her counterstrike just right …

The storm siren was done waiting. With a jubilant warcry, she launched herself at Twilight, closing the distance between them in a hurry once again. Just as before, when Twilight cast her spell, Melodía casually flipped herself over the beam and aimed another punch.

She didn’t notice Twilight hurling the bucket full of water at her, and, if she did, it never quite dawned upon the unfortunate storm siren what happened when water and electricity met.

All that electricity dancing across Melodía’s coat attacked her soaking body like a flurry of angry wasps. Her skeleton flickered in and out of view in an instant, her body arched and spasmed as a ragged gasp stole her breath, then a shrill cry of utmost pain followed in kind. The storm siren stumbled forward, still standing through the pain somehow. Whatever manner of inequine strength enabled her so, Twilight didn’t care. She had only sent a third of that spell for bait.

Twilight let out a furious cry and hit Melodía full in the face with the rest of her spell, the concussive blast sent her hurtling backward into the wall with enough force to put a crater a full hoof deep into the stone.

“There!” she grumbled, gasping desperately for breath. Her brows furrowing, Twilight snarled at the battered storm siren and tried to ignore her body begging her to just lay down and take a nice, long nap until all the pain went away. Not an option. “How’s that from running away, you smart-mouthed little—”

Melodía’s eyes snapped open. She leaned forward, her prismatic mane askew, and tugged herself free with a grunt. Landing on all fours, she locked eyes with Twilight and licked her lips. “Ow,” she murmured. “Actually, legitimately, ow. That hurt. My own lightning turned against me—pain and insult. Ow.”

Twilight took a step back into the shallows. Her mind racing, she made sure to keep her eyes locked with Melodía as she tried to slowly, subtly refill her bucket. That plan was a bit limited but it was all she—

The storm siren lashed out with a hoof and shot a lance of lightning which promptly blew the wooden bucket into a thousand tiny, smoldering cinders.

Well. It was all Twilight had before that.

“No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to use that trick again. That hurt. That actually hurt me.” A wild, manic grin spread across Melodía’s features. Her eyes positively danced like—dare Twilight think it?—lightning across the sky. She took a step closer, her wings unfurling once more. “No mortal has hurt me since the days of Heraclopus, and even then, no mortal who wasn’t of divine bloodline.”

Twilight could feel her blood slowly turn to ice. Her tail began to tuck itself between her legs until she forced her posture straight.

There could be no sign of weakness or the storm siren would zap her in an instant.

“You,” Melodía continued, “a mortal, actually hurt me.” Lightning flashed around the fountain, as if caging them inside a ring. The storm siren threw back her head and laughed, a sound as wild and beautiful as the forces she controlled. Electricity began to leap across her coat once more. “Mom’ll kill me for saying it by her statue—but oh, fuck yes! Finally, one worth the effort!”

Another step back, deeper into the fountain. No bucket, not good. But Twilight wasn’t entirely out of options. The fountain itself could be a weapon, if she timed things right.

Quick as a flash, Melodía jabbed her hoof in Twilight’s direction and sent several thin prongs of lightning arcing and spreading through the air like spider webs. A quick teleport spared the young mare their touch, but as soon as she popped back into place just a few paces to her left, she found herself met with a solid double-buck to the chest, charged with pent up lightning, that sent her flying through the air.

She hit the statue of Ouránio Toxo and continued on through in a shower of opulent white stone. Across the fountain, she heard her foe groan, “Aw, Tartarus! Sorry, mom!”

The mare landed in the water with a gasp. Her hind legs twitching and wings stinging, she gritted her teeth and rolled over onto her belly again and stood. Twilight took a deep breath, eyeing Melodía for a second, and cast another spell.

“And she still rises! You’re a tough little—ack! Not that trick again!” Melodía pumped her wings, taking a hard left before she was caught in a geyser of water, then banked just in time to avoid a follow up that nearly caught her full in the face. She flipped herself onto the remains of her mother’s statue, grimacing as she let the lightning wreathing her body die down with a little ripple of thunder through the air. Ducking under a quick magical lance, she winked at Twilight and said, “Very well-played, Twilight Sparkle! Hows about we break for a little music?”

She drew in a deep breath, then began to sing again in that hauntingly beautiful voice. Words in that long forgotten language spilled forth from her lips like honey and filled Twilight’s ears with its warm sweetness, the sound so sweet she felt an odd sense of calm wash over her, she took a step toward the storm siren.

A roar of thunder jarred her from her stupor. Twilight shook her head and threw herself into a flying leap just as a bolt of lightning hit where she’d just been, a bubbling, hissing sound filling her ears as the water boiled. She banked again, avoiding another strike just enough that the very heat singed her feathers.

Something was different this time. The lightning called down from above was more ferocious, like Melodía had only been using some lesser power when she’d attacked before.

This was the oldest storm siren at her strongest—Melodía Kalaigías was done playing and ready to win her prize.

Twilight managed to teleport away just as a bolt came crashing down, and charged up another lance to give reply.

But Melodía was ready. With that wild grin, even in mid song, she jabbed her hoof and sent another bolt at Twilight, forcing her to cancel her spell and dive to her left.

Even singing she could hurl lightning like that?

Thinking quickly, Twilight circled around the singing storm siren, weaving about at random to make it that much more difficult to target her for another bolt. She charged her horn, focusing on the waters surrounding her opponent. If she couldn’t knock her off her perch, she could at least disrupt her singing. And thinking on it just a bit more, if she could soak Melodía again and trick her into hitting herself with lightning heralded by her song …

Bingo.

She waited for the perfect moment, just as the storm siren closed her eyes, lost in the rapture of her song and the storm it brought, and turned her head skyward. Twilight shot a jet of water straight into her mouth.

The effect was instantaneous. Coughing, sputtering, and staggering on the remnants of her mother’s statue, Melodía spat and shook her head. “Gack! What kinda dirty trick was that?” She aimed a glare at Twilight and hurled another lightning bolt, easily dodged. “You think you can just interrupt the song of Melodía Kalaigías in such a way, you little—garrabble!”

Another jet of water caught her full in the face. Then another. Twilight hit her from all sides, every angle, thoroughly soaking her until her colorful, wild mane hung limp and clung to the either side of her face and her coat was matted. To add insult to injury, she reached out with her magic and scooped up the fountain’s water and lifted it up to form a great tidal wave which came down upon the indignant storm siren before she could think to retort.

It didn’t knock her off the statue, though. Melodía’s strength and balance was as constant as it had been earlier. But it did make those cerise eyes burn and wipe that grin off her face, a heavy scowl taking its place.

“That’s. It!” she snapped. Her eyes began to glow, that scowl slowly changed into a cold, evil smile. “I’m done playing with you! You wanna taunt me? Me? Eldest daughter of She Who Sang Storms Into Being? Fine! I’ll hit you with the biggest bolt I’ve got and what’s left of you will either sing for me or be my trophy!”

There it was. Exactly what Twilight needed.

She banked hard, shooting toward the furious storm siren as thunder crashed above. She narrowed her eyes, pinning her ears back to block out that sweet, melodious voice as Melodía took a breath and began to sing a song of wild fury—more akin to new age music back home than that haunting opera from moments ago.

Charging her horn with as much magic as she could muster for a pair of quick spells. Twilight would have to time it perfectly. If she failed, well, she’d be impressed if she woke up to find herself in manacles just in time to sing for her new mistress.
No pressure or anything.

She pumped her wings hard, picking up speed as she closed in. Melodía’s eyes snapped open, alight with wicked glee matched only by har manic grin as she thrust a hoof out to hurl another bolt.

Twilight wasn’t nearly as mobile as she, but teleportation was just as good a substitute.

A quick pop a few lengths ahead, after the bolt had past, halved the distance. She heard another crash of thunder, the very world around her lit up as lightning struck around them. Which could only mean there was one bound for her a half-second later, and Melodía had a hoof raised, ready to ward her off with another of her own—the storm siren meant to either catch her with a double dose or force her to slow and be caught in the big one.

Such a pity, for her, that Twilight’s plan didn’t involve charging and delivering that magical blast straight in her face.

Melodía Kalaigías didn’t even realize she wasn’t the target.

Twilight dove and rolled, splashing through the shallows as she tumbled on a path that carried her beneath the ruined statue of Ouránio Toxo. As she passed under, she caught a glimpse of her foe gaping down in shock and the telltale glow within those black clouds. Then, she was under.

Springing to her hooves, Twilight thrust her horn upward and let out a cry, loosing the full force of her remaining magic in one shot. There was a loud crack of shattering stone, a startled yelp, and whistling as the statue went flying straight up into the air.

Straight into that great lightning bolt meant to put Twilight Sparkle down for the count.

The crack and explosion of thunder shook her to the very bone. The sound echoed through the air like a shockwave, then there was silence.

Blissful, beautiful silence.

With a tired, pained groan, Twilight let herself slump to the side and fall upon the dais. She rolled onto her back, closing her eyes as she gasped and panted for breath, her chest heaving in desperate need to be filled. Every bit of pain she’d tried so hard to block out hit her like a freight train at full speed. Lightning, divine strength, a hit through a statue?

Twilight would wager she’d just tested the upper limits of alicorn hardiness. But, hey, victory had to come at some cost, right?

If her limbs could just suck it up and take it like a mare, she’d be delighted.

A whistling sound filled her ears. Twilight dared to crack open her eyes just in time to see a sky blue blur hit the dais with a splash and a sickening smack.

Unease crept into her chest. Slowly, she forced herself to shift, whining at the lance of pain that shot up her spine, to eye the fallen form of Melodía Kalaigías. The storm siren lay curled into a ball, her lovely white dress singed and thoroughly ruined, and her feathers smoking. Was she dead?

Twilight taste bile on the back of her tongue. If there was one thing she hated more than violence, it was those moments there was no simple putting an opponent down while she slipped away into the night. Those moments she had to look upon some creature she’d killed to save her own hide and others’.

Her regrets were dashed when the fallen storm siren let out a pained grunt and began to rise on shaky legs. Twilight felt her blood freeze, her heart gripped by the icy claw of sheer terror. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t dare even think to as Melodía Kalaigías, eldest and most powerful of all storm sirens, looked her in the eye and began to limp over. No doubt, a thousand deaths for the insolent little mortal who’d injured her so ran through that ancient mind.

Melodía stopped at Twilight’s side, gazing down upon her for a long moment. Then, with a ragged breath, she gave a tired smile and let herself fall onto her side once more, splashing Twilight with a few droplets of water. “Ow. Again. A lot of ow.” She winced. Facing Twilight, she blew a breath into the shallows. “Can you move?”

Nervously, Twilight swallowed and shook her head. Her body ached at the thought of even trying anything more.

“Mmm. Any spells you got left in you?”

Another shake. “I put everything into that last one.”

Snorting, Melodía closed her eyes. “That’s unfortunate. That little limp over was all I had too, and lightning right now seems like a really bad idea.” She groaned again, gritting her teeth. “Soaked and hit by my own lightning—freaking ow, mare! Those stories didn’t exaggerate your brains or power, but damned if they didn’t tell me you could take a beating and then some!” Opening her eyes once more, she gave that tired smile again and said, “Call it a draw, I guess.”

A draw?

Twilight would’ve laughed if her ribs didn’t ache so. “Then … what about the challenge?”

“Well. I didn’t beat you, so I’m sure not gonna sink that ship. Fate’ll get pissy and moan at mom.”

“Isn’t that a problem?”

“Fuck no. Mom hates him. If he says anything, she’ll ram a lightning bolt somewhere unpleasant.” That tired smile spread into a cocky smirk. “That son of a hydra’s been badgering us into whipping up storms to kill sailors, ruin cities, and sink ships for eons.”

“I see.” Twilight resigned herself to pretending she had any clue what that meant. Her eyes flitted between the storm siren and those black, rumbling clouds she’d sung up. “So … you’ll sing that storm away?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Gimme a sec.” With a grunt, Melodía rolled onto her back and lay spread eagle, gazing up at her storm almost longingly, as though she were admiring her own artwork. The storm siren closed her eyes and began to sing a calming melody in that ancient tongue, heralding a feeling of utmost bliss and warmth into Twilight’s heart.

Oh, Celestia, she could listen to that voice forever and never tire.

Above, she watched in utmost awe as the dark clouds began to thin and pull apart like a foal tugging at cotton swabs. That mighty storm died before Melodía had even finished her song, and peace reigned over the heavens.

The storm siren finished moments later, her voice trailing off in a little warble that made Twilight’s heart skip a beat. Giving a happy little hum, Melodía murmured, “There. That one was for you, Twilight sparkle.” Then she looked down at her charred gown and frowned. “Oh, come on! You ruined my gown, too! This was my favorite one!”

Twilight snorted and laughed. She couldn’t help it, everything about her life was absurd at this point—a dragon lover, a spider mare for a friend, and a storm siren whining about a charred gown after an all out fight.

Why not?

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up.” Melodía rolled over and on top of Twilight’s belly, her mirth dying in the back of her throat as she found herself nose to nose with the storm siren. A gentle hoof caressed her cheek, those gorgeous eyes met hers in a half-lidded look. She smelled rather nice, actually—like rainwater and ozone.

And there was a little bit in Twilight’s heart hoped she started singing again.

“I haven’t had a tilt like that in three thousand years. Heraclopus still won’t shut up about breaking my jaw,” Melodía whispered, softly nosing Twilight. “ Such a pity I don’t get to take you back to my palace now, but I guess I’ll just have to keep you all the same.”

“What?” Twilight blanched. “But you said—”

“Yes, yes, you’ll have clear skies all the way home. I’ll make sure of that personally. After all …” With a throaty purr, she turned her head and closed the distance between them, capturing Twilight’s lips in a heated kiss. So stunned was the pinned mare that she simply sucked in a deep breath, her eyes fluttering as she felt that sweet, warm tongue slip into her mouth to play with her own.

Oh, Celestia, her face felt so hot she could’ve fried an egg.

All too soon, the kiss ended. Their noses still touching and lips still teasing together as Melodía whispered, “You’re just my type, and I think I’m in love.”

Twilight would try her best to pretend her breath didn’t hitch in her chest as the storm siren leaned in for another kiss, but she couldn’t ignore the longing in her heart.

Nor could she pretend she didn’t wrap her aching hooves around Melodía’s neck and purr into that second kiss. This one, she hoped, would last quite a while longer. Only in the back of her mind did she realize that Hadkhûna was going to be furious. But that, she reasoned, was future Twilight’s problem.

Melodía’s talented tongue did well to put that one on hold for the time being.

The walk through that dreary town was certainly awkward, in no small part because, when they at last broke their kiss and rose, Melodía threw a wing over Twilight’s shoulders and refused to remove it.

“Just had a fight as good as I’ve had with any demigod,” she crowed, a smug smirk playing upon her lips as she leaned in to kiss the corner of Twilight’s mouth. The storm siren leaned up to purr in her ears, “If you think I’m letting go of you, you’re nuttier than an oak tree in spring!”

Two sides waged war within Twilight for facial expression supremacy—logic demanded that she grimace knowing that any chance of disguising this new relationship from Hadkhûna at least until she could talk her into a good mood, but affection …

Well, she managed to meet both halfway by sucking in her lips and ducking her head to hide the blush as she muttered something about picking up her cloak and pouches on their way up to the tower. It just wouldn’t do to leave all those little trinkets she’d collected behind after all the trouble she’d gone to getting them.

Fortunately, Melodía had no problem with such a detour. It allowed her that much more time to smirk and eye Twilight like she were appraising something spectacular and pester her with questions.

Oh, Celestia, were there so many questions.

“When did you first start stealing things?”

“When I was a filly,” Twilight admitted as she buckled her pouch belt and tugged it tight. “I stole the Heart of the Sea out from under Celestia’s nose and nearly started a diplomatic incident with the Hippogriffs.”

“Whoa! Sweet! Why’d you take it?”

Why? Twilight had to think back a bit. She slipped her cloak on and hummed a low note. “I think because it was shiny and I wanted something pretty for my room.”

The storm siren snorted and draped her wing across Twilight’s back again, almost as if to reel her back in after allowing her a moment’s freedom. “So, not-so-humble beginnings for the Princess of Thieves. Fitting.” She raised her brows. “So, from stealing the Heart of the Ocean to taking a trip into Erebark? Why?”

A hint of a grimace flitted across Twilight’s face. She still wasn’t technically done with that one. “Settling debts with Celestia in exchange for my slate being wiped clean.”

“Fair enough. Okay! Juicy stuff now! How much truth is there to that rumor about you and that changeling—”

“Could we not?” Twilight stomped a hoof on the cobblestones. Memories of that little misadventure flashed before her eyes. “I’d rather not talk about changelings, please.”

“Aw, c’mon! I don’t judge! I’ve had more than a few flings in four thousand years or so!” Melodía pulled her in close and nuzzled just beneath her ear. “Some with a couple changelings, too. Though, I’m not sure I’d have gone your route and played with that one if I were a mortal.”

A shiver ran down her spine. Twilight was quick to steer the conversation elsewhere, to a few of her personal favorite escapades. Anything to get out of reliving that ill-fated evening.

By the time they reached the docks, Twilight half expected to see Hadkhûna’s great head tracking her progress, those sapphire eyes of hers alight with fury seeing her under the wing of another mare, let alone the one who’d threatened to kill them hours prior. Instead, there was no sign of her lover, nor of Skittershy.

Curious.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, a pang of worry gripped her. What if Hadkhûna’s sea-sickness had returned with vigor? She bit her lip and quickened her pace, eager to get to Hadkhûna’s side again even if it meant an unpleasant confrontation. The young mare all but dragged Melodía down the last leg of the dock and up the gangplank, her throat tightening as she made it to the deck.

There Hadkhûna lay on her belly with her claws over her face, a very uneasy Captain Headwind by her side, and a barrel resting within easy reach. The she dragon let out a deep groan and cursed. “Oooooh! That blasted meat just isn’t agreeing with me at all!”

“Er. There, there?” Headwind looked as though he’d rather fly than be anywhere near her, glancing impatiently at the cargo hold. “I’m sure Miss Skittershy will be able to find that soda water. The fizz will help. Hopefully.”

“I certainly hope so—urrg! Pardon me, dear. You’ll let me know the instant my darling Twilight returns, yes? This whole mess is just aggravating my illness.”

There were times Twilight’s distaste for violence was put on hold and she so longed to meet whoever had cursed her with such a talent for getting into trouble. She could take that creature out to dinner, perhaps have a nice little chat, maybe some dancing, and then she’d slam them face-first into a wall as hard as possible until they found some other mare to bother.

This moment, in particular, became one of those times. If only because a certain storm siren just had to open her mouth.

Melodía burst out laughing and stomped upon the deck. “Wait, wait! You’re dating her too?” she asked with a grin. “Oh, Twilight Sparkle, you’re a wilder mare than I thought! This is gonna be epic!”

Before Twilight could correct her and try to save face by scolding, Hadkhûna jolted upright and turned to see just who dared say such a thing. “Too?” she growled, eyeing Melodía with utmost disdain. “And just who in heaven’s name are you to lay claim to my gemstone?”

“Melodía Kalaigías. Eldest daughter of Ouránio Toxo and most powerful of the storm sirens.” The wing around Twilight’s shoulders tightened, a wicked smile played upon Melodía’s lips. “Who’re you to lay claim to the best fighter and banterer I’ve seen in three thousand years?”

“Hadkhûna.” Smoke began to waft from her nostrils. Headwind wisely chose to scamper off and away from the pair before the fighting began. “Queen Under the Mountain and Harbinger of Destruction.” Her claws dug deep grooves into the deck. “And though there is one creature whom I would consider sharing my gemstone with, you are most certainly not her!”

“Er, Hadkhûna,” Twilight cut in. A wooden smile stretched across her features. She’d just gotten done fighting, why were they starting up for another round? “Maybe we could all just sit down and I’ll explain. It’s a funny thing, really, kind of like how you and I … y’know.”

Unfortunately, Melodía had no intention of backing down. Instead, she smirked, her ears waggling. “Oh, now I remember you!” she crooned. “It’s been some time, little one! I remember when you were just a little welp hiding behind big daddy Enzun Onuzn’s ankles. Such a darling little thing,” she teased, mocking Hadkhûna’s tone.

To Twilight’s surprise, her love recoiled. The color drained from her face. “You … knew my father?”

“Yeah. My sisters and I used to love smacking him around whenever he got uppity. Then he mouthed off about his hard-on for immolating everything ever, so mom punted him out of what became Equestria and across the sea, and told him that if he ever tried crossing it, she’d send what was left of him after she finished to feed my uncle’s subjects in the deep.” That smirk took on a dangerous edge. “Got to watch that Moon Princess finish him off, too. Put a storm on pause so I could enjoy a front row seat to that magic trick.”

Hadkhûna’s eyes flashed. She snarled, spewing smoke through the cracks between her teeth as her belly took on a deadly orange glow. A rumble of thunder sounded above.

Oh. Oh, Celestia no.

Twilight slipped out from under her wing and put herself between the pair. “Both of you stop it now or … or…” She’d what? What could she do to break up a fight between an immortal and dragon?

Naturally, it was at that precise moment Skittershy climbed out of the cargo hold and skittered her way across the deck, rolling a barrel toward her friend. “Sorry it took so long! I had to go slow so those nice sailors didn’t think I was rushing them or trying to bind them up, even if they did look like they could use a nice, snug place to nap.” She glanced up, blinking in surprise at the sight of her friend up and about. Then she began to follow her gaze, beaming at the sight of Twilight alive and whole. With speed far greater than her size or build suggested, she crossed the deck and swept Twilight into a tight, rib-cracking embrace, nuzzling her softly. “Oh, thank heavens, you’re back! We heard all that terrible thunder and saw the lightning, and thought for sure you were hurt!”

Her body aching both from the lightning and Skittershy’s hug, Twilight did her best to force a smile. “W-Well, it definitely didn’t tickle! A-Also, you might want to say hello to our, um, new friend.”

Confused, Skittershy turned to search about, her eyes found Melodía’s colorful form in an instant.

All that joy and warmth seemed to run away from her face. In their place, utter terror took hold. Skittershy’s face was as pale as a sheet, her body shaking uncontrollably. “Y-Y-You!” she stammered, her grip on Twilight tightening. “I-It can’t be you!”

Twilight only just managed to squeak, “You know each other, too?”

Melodía laughed, stomping a hoof again. “Another old face! I remember you!” She grinned and shook her head in disbelief. “The spider mare who turned on her kin and set off to find peace. I was there when mom told you not to cross the sea because we were gonna roll out the big storms! And something about Equestria getting noisy around that time.” Turning her grin upon Twilight, chuckled. “I take it back, drawing with you was the best thing to happen to me in ages. This trip is gonna be awesome!”

Her words did little to calm Skittershy. Instead, they only served to draw forth a whimper as she buried her face in Twilight’s mane, and a low, rumbling growl from the looming she dragon a few strides away.

Sighing, Twilight closed her eyes and forced the biggest, most plastic smile she could manage. “Greaaaaaat,” she drawled. “We all know each other. That makes everything. Just. Great.”

Her lover, her friend, and her post-battle-fling all on one ship, each of them literal killing machines who’d nearly put an end to Twilight herself. All on one suddenly tiny ship, bound for Equestria.

Oh, and two wanted to kill each other while the third was ready to run, hide, and probably cocoon Twilight and hang her upside-down in the cargo hold for safety.

With a sigh, she buried her face in Skittershy’s furry chest and grumbled, “If you two could hold off killing each other until after we make it home, I’d be thrilled.”

Battering whoever had cursed her with this talent for trouble would be little more than foreplay by the time Twilight finished with them.

Pacifism be damned. The upper-limit of her patience had been reached.

Author's Note

No, I am not making any lightning puns. I know, I know, that's so out of character for me as a person. A real shocker.

Interlude - Tides of Love

Calm seas and stormless skies.

Those were the terms given should Twilight achieve the impossible and defeat Melodía Kalaigídas, eldest daughter of Ouranío Too, in single combat. As far as Twilight was concerned, that should have meant she didn’t see a single damned cloud in the sky.

Yet here she was on the deck of The Skylark, stumbling sideways and flapping her wings to try and keep balance against the howling wind. The cold chill of rain and seawater stung her face and soaked her to the very core.

Though, nothing could possibly overshadow that hauntingly beautiful song which wrapped around her like a warm lover’s hooves and wings. More specifically, the warm lover serving as her current source of ire.

“Melodía!” Twilight shouted above the din—or at least, she tried. But her voice seemed to die the instant it passed her lips, faltering beneath those howling winds and roaring waves.

Not to mention the anguished cried of those pegasus sailors.

A crew full of the brashest, most daring ponies to sail the Seat of Ardor, all reduced to a panicked, stumbling mess by the power of Melodía Kalaigídas’s storm. It certainly proved one of Shining’s old witticisms true—the pegasi were worried, so it was definitely time to find cover and hide from the elements until the storm passed.

Naturally, Twilight chose the far more dangerous option of finding the cause and giving her a piece of her mind instead.

If anything, if she could yell at that smirking storm siren, Twilight could pretend she had some semblance of control over her life anymore. Not much, admittedly, but she’d take any little bit at this point.

Twilight managed to half-stagger, half-storm—oh, the irony—her way over to Captain Headwind’s side. She threw a hoof out and caught the stallion as a wave swept across the deck and nearly took him off his hooves and over the other side. The stallion yelped at her touch and flared her wings, his natural instinct to fly even now betrayed his fear.

But who could blame hime? With a storm siren singing and two great predators in the cargo hold, he wasn’t exactly living a life of security.

“Just me!” she called, giving a little wave to ease his worry.

Well, as much as one in his situation could be at ease.

Twilight held up her hoof to forestall any complaints he might voice. “Where is she?” she asked, her tone deceptively calm.

Headwind jerked his head toward the crow’s nest. “She came out with that damned grin on her face and kicked Eagle Eye out! Then she just made herself comfortable and started singing!”

Oh, great. Twilight groaned and dragged her free hoof down her face. The grin.

The very one which betrayed all the mischief her ancient mind could concoct. The very same which never failed to draw a little fluff of mulberry feathers. Maddeningly enough, Melodía knew full well the power she held with that grin, and just how to stop her. And, admittedly, that she’d give right in.

More maddening, still, Twilight noted as she sighed and stumbled her way toward the mast so she could climb the rigging, was that she wasn’t at all against the idea.

All for it, in fact.

She grumbled and cursed Melodía’s beautiful song. Couldn’t she sing without whipping up a storm? Just once? Skittershy always sang Angel, Hadkhûna, and she to sleep without issue, and the aforementioned she dragon was quite fond of humming—which was more a musical rumble within her breast—when they laid together!

Of course not. That would be something far too normal to belong in my life, Twilight told herself as she finally pulled herself to glare over the edge of the crow’s nest.

Melodía laid upon her back, her hooves folded behind her head to cradle it against her head as she sang. Her eyes were closed and, coupled with that little smile upon her face, showed the picture of contentment.

Furious though she was, Twilight couldn’t deny how beautiful the storm siren looked when she sang. Whether wild and gleeful like when they battled at the Fountain of Astrapí, or peaceful and content as she was now, something about her never quite failed to make her heart flutter. And that smile? Almost enough to douse the flames of her ire.

Almost.

A stern “ahem” was all it took to get Melodía to cut her song short. With a little flick of her ear and a roguish grin, she opened her eyes to gaze up at Twilight. “Took you long enough! Thought I might have to hit a crescendo to get you out here!”

Twilight blew an angry breath through her nose. Anger, definitely anger. She wasn’t at all flattered at the implication. “We had a deal,” she ground through gritted teeth. “I beat you one on one and we’d get clear skies all the way home.”

“And?” Melodía raised her brows, daring her to say it.

No. Not daring her.

She wanted Twilight to say it. And if she didn’t, given what Twilight knew of her antics from the past few days, the storm siren was liable to just shrug and go right back to singing.

Growling, Twilight waved her hoof frantically at the blackened sky and demanded, “Then what do you call this?”

“A storm, obviously.” Melodía’s grin turned positively impish. “Like my work?”

“I might like it more if—eep!—Hey!”

Quick as the lightning she commanded, Melodía darted forward to steal a kiss and nip to the tip of her nose, then laid back down as if it were nothing at all. “If I might put my mouth to better use?” she teased.

Twilight pointedly ignored her reddening cheeks. “What’ll it take?”

“For?” the storm siren sang.

Another angry breath. “For you to sing the damn storm away and keep your promise.”

“Oh! Well, since you asked so nicely!” Unfurling a wing and giving her feathers an inviting twitch, Melodía turned her eyes skyward. “If some stunning, brilliant little alicorn might hop her pretty self on over the edge of this crow’s nest and spend a little quality time with me, I … might be convinced to sing a calmer tune.”

If not for the sciences Celestia and Luna drilled into her head, Twilight might have thought the heat in her cheeks enough to burn away the rainwater which soaked her face.

The logical side of her would concede, however, that it was enough to make her not feel so cold anymore.

“Y-You could’ve just asked,” she managed to squeak.

“Yeah, probably. But I got a rep to keep.” Waggling her brows, Melodía added, “Plus, this was more fun. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how my favorite mare loves my songs!”

Twilight’s only reply was to turn and try in vain to hide the wobbly smile which crept across her features. Her efforts earned her a chuckle and gentle turn of her cheek so the amorous storm siren could capture her lips in a deep kiss. Enough to turn that embarrassment and ire into a gasp and needy croon.

A creaking of wood and the unmistakable rumbling growl of an indignant she dragon killed the mood in cold blood.

Oh, Celestia, please. Not this again.

Melodía broke the kiss with a frustrated groan and leveled a glare at their interloper. “Really?” she deadpanned. “I can’t have her for five minutes before you pitch a fit? Didn’t Enzun teach you any manners?”

Few would have dared glare at Hadkhûna, Harbinger of Destruction, as she. Let alone even think to scorn her so.

Then again, most ponies weren’t immortal demi-goddesses who whipped up hurricanes out of boredom.

Such mockery only served to spur a long, smokey breath through the mighty she dragon’s nose. “Your storm,” Hadkhûna hissed, “interrupted our nap, sent Skittershy into a tizzy when Angel got lost belowdecks, and aggravated my seasickness. Again!”

“Ah.” Melodía had the grace to look a tad sheepish. “Er, I mean, I’m not sorry I got her up here, but I am for all that, if it makes you feel any better?”

A dark look crossed Hadkhûna’s features. Twilight winced and sucked in a sharp breath as she let her ears splay.

And to think I finally managed to talk the pair of them into giving her a chance just this morning.

With speed and dexterity that should’ve been impossible for her size, Hadkhûna snatched Melodía straight off Twilight and out of the crow’s nest, and flung her sidearm across the open sea. The storm siren barely had time to protest before her indignation turned to pained cries with each time she skipped off the surface of the water.

Twilight heard a heavy splash in the distance. Melodía had finally gone under.

Which meant they were about to start up. Again.

Sighing, Twilight closed her eyes and let her head thunk against the wood. “Great,” she grumbled. “When are you two going to stop antagonizing and trying to kill each other?”

“I did nothing of the sort this time.” Hadkhûna’s warm breath washed over the mare’s form as she nosed against Twilight’s side. “Had she actually apologized, I might have considered that forgiving thing you were talking about.”

And there was a big part of the problem. Not that she’d actually forgive Melodía outright if the storm siren was more sincere in her apology, but she’d consider the notion.

Come to think of it, other than any tiffs with Skittershy over the centuries or Twilight herself for trespassing and stealing from her hoarde, had Hadkhûna ever forgiven anyone? To be honest? Twilight had her doubts.

Which meant between the temper and pride both she and Melodía held, it was like a chemical explosion just waiting to happen.

Something Hadkhûna perhaps realized was going through her mind, for that was when she chose to give an affectionate lick to the mare’s cheek. “She’ll get back up soon enough, darling. You and I both know she’s far too much of a pest to be done away with a little skip across the sea.”

Oh, of that, Twilight had little doubt. “It’s not whether or not she’ll get back up that worries me,” she said, finally opening her eyes to level the she dragon with a tired look. “It’s what she’ll do when she does.”

“I can deal with her just fine. Now, with that said—” she gave a smoldering smirk and gently nosed Twilight’s cheek before she scooped the little mare out of the crow’s nest and lowered her down to the deck “—why don’t you come down from this silly thing and rejoin Skittershy and I for that nap? Once we’ve found Angel again, of course.”

If only.

But Twilight knew her chances of a relaxing day had been shot the instant she heard the first notes of Melodía’s song.

Sure enough, the sea swelled and shot a geyser of water into the air. Melodía launched herself forward with an angry cry and caught Hadkhûna right on the chin with an uppercut strong enough to send a thunderclap through the air.

Twilight saw her love’s reptilian eyes cross and head snap back as her massive claws were lifted straight off the deck. The great she dragon flipped over, landing hard upon her shoulders with a pained grunt and reached up to clutch her jaw. Blinking owlishly, Hadkhûna actually leaned up and gaped at the soaking, furious storm siren as if in complete shock.

“Told you my sisters and I beat your daddy like a drum, little whelp!” Melodía snorted. “Come on! Get up so I can beat the lessons he didn’t teach into you!”

Oh, Tartarus. Twilight scrambled to her hooves and dashed over, placing herself between them and flaring her wings out wide. Like she was honestly going to stop the two if they got physical.

But it didn’t stop her from trying. “You two, knock it off!” she scolded. “If you’re going to fight, fine! But at least wait until we dock at port some—eep!”

Hadkhûna brought one of her massive claws down over Twilight and picked her up by her shoulders, carefully as she could. Her eyes never leaving Melodía’s, she calmly lifted the little alicorn up and moved her closer to the cargo hold.

“Well, I never!” she hissed, black smoke pouring from between her razor sharp teeth. “You think one sucker punch validates your boasting? Very well. Let’s put it to the test!”

Lightning wreathed Melodía’s form. She took a wide stance, grinning wildly at the chance for battle. The thrill of the challenge, as Twilight had realized, was the only thing that matched her love of song and storms.

Which made it all the more imperative that Twilight get between them before lightning or dragon fire came into play.

Twilight took but a single step before she felt something hit and grip her between her wing joints, then a sudden, strong jerk backward—all too familiar. She didn’t even have a chance to squeak in protest before Skittershy’s fuzzy, strong hooves wrapped around her shoulders and held her tight, so much like a protective mother.

The spider mare looked at the bickering pair as though they were a volcano about to erupt. All eight of her eyes shone with utmost fear, especially when she turned her gaze upon Melodía and saw the lightning buzzing about her form.

A fact exemplified in how she whimpered and clutched Twilight tight, backing up toward the cargo hold.

“Th-They won’t fight if as long as we’re on the ship,” she stammered. Whether she said it more for herself or Twilight’s benefit, Twilight couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that the spider mare kept moving back, a trembling, fuzzy hoof reaching up to stroke her mane. “Throwing and punching and yelling. That’s it.”

Twilight nearly started to squirm and demand her release, but a quick look up at Skittershy’s face drove all thought of such from her mind.

She’d thought Headwind had been scared.

Skittershy looked as though she thought she were trapped in a bottle with the end of the world.

Instead, Twilight forced a weak smile. “S-Sure,” she replied. “They’ll temper it a bit. How’s Angel holding up?”

“I-I left him sitting on a web hammock down below. He, um, hit his head.” She paused a beat, then leaned in to press her snout into Twilight’s mane and murmured, “If it’s not too much to ask, you wouldn’t happen to know any healing spells, would you?”

Twilight took one glance at her lovers, just in time to see Hadkhûna lash her barbed tail in anger, nearly taking Headwind’s left wing off.

Yeah, it was time to hide.

“I’m no medic, but I can see if a minor headache cure might work.”

Skittershy slipped back into the cargo hold with all the grace and speed for which her kind were famed, and then some. Daughter of Gloomweaver or not, she didn’t want to be anywhere near the front row for a fight between a demi-goddess and a dragon.

Finally, someone with sense.

Breath of Stone 2: Healers of Vulcan's Basin

By the time The Skylark made it to harbor and docked in the port town, Vulcan Basin, in the middle of Steaming Bay—which, incidentally, did tell Twilight that she was going to be in for a full day of the heat-related name schemes—Hadkhûna’s state took a turn for the worst and jumped straight onto the express train for the capitol city of the nation of Darkest Days. If such a thing as karma were real, Twilight would venture to say it was quite sapient and liked to wait until exactly the wrong moment in one’s life to pin their head against a wall and buck it like an apple tree.

Such realizations came during the last leg of their voyage into Steaming Bay. That last segment seemed to crawl along, time slowing like everything in the world chose to work in combination to ensure her lover’s suffering would indeed be prolonged. Her gray-white scales were dry and flaking, her armor, one of her biggest boasts, turned against her and peeling at her very skin. It was all Twilight could do not to reach up and try to stroke some life back into them.

They’ll flake right off if you keep touching them, Fluttershy had told her. And if Hadkhûna’s scales flaked off, they’d expose her vulnerable hide laying beneath those ironlike scales.

And her stomach pains grew worse.

It was a small mercy, perhaps, that Hadkhûna hadn’t been able to eat anything in the previous day and a half. The most she could do was lurch and heave, much more manageable than trying to direct her head to one of the few barrels they’d been able to repurpose to hold her sick so it wouldn’t make a mess of the deck.

Or, more importantly, eat through the ship itself. Dragon bile wasn’t a joke.

Twilight wouldn’t have been surprised if the blasted stuff could eat through solid stone. Even still, her attention was split about ninety-ten—the ninety, of course, went to her poor, suffering lover.

The ten went skyward, to where Melodía Kalaigías lounged upon one of the spreaders, laying on her belly and looking down upon them with an analytic gleam in those rosy eyes. Her lips were curved into a tiny frown, Twilight could almost see the wheels turning in her ancient mind to work out what could be wrong with her reptilian rival.

By the irritable flicking of her tail and primaries, her conclusion was anything but happy.

What could be so wrong with Hadkhûna that it drove one who so happily batted her about and boasted about doing the same to her father would grow quiet and contemplative?

They’d only been together a short time, Twilight and Hadkhûna, and Melodía even shorter still. Barely a couple days. But the little mare liked to think she’d learned enough about her lovers in their actions to know when something was off.

Something was quite off with Melodía Kalaigías.

That she wouldn’t shout or boast or sweep Twilight into an embrace at the first chance or even sing to amuse herself only served to drive the point home like a sledgehammer.

While The Skylark’s crew tethered the ship to the dock, Twilight pressed her nose against Hadkhûna’s cheek, as soft as she could manage without disturbing her scales, and whispered, “I’m going to go see if I can find a place where you can soak, love. I promise I’ll be back.”

“Warm …?” Hadkhûna asked, her voice weak.

“Melodía says they have hot springs on this island that can cure most ailments. You could rest and soak in one as long as you like. Doesn’t that sound good?”

A groan of affirmation was her only reply. Some twenty paces behind her, Twilight noticed the great she dragon’s spaded tail twitch and nearly clothesline an unsuspecting deck hoof had his senior not jerked him out of the way.

Skittershy laid a hoof upon Hadkhûna’s shoulder. “Try to keep still,” she murmured soothingly. “You need to save your energy until we’re ready to have you move to one of the springs.”

“Water …?” the she dragon pleaded.

“I’ll go into town and get you some. And maybe some of the sailors can help me find something to warm your towels again while Twilight and Melodía go look for the springs.”

That was enough to make Hadkhûna’s sapphire eye snap open. “Don’t—”

Twilight held up a hoof. “She knows the healers here, love. I need her with me so we can find one who can treat you.” She offered a small smile. “We’re not going to wander off.”

A rush of wind made her ears twitch. Melodía landed at her side, that frown marring her features. “Normally, I’d be offended,” she admitted, eying the she dragon with a disdainful sniff. “I could easily have let your suffering continue, whelp. Were it not for your being somewhat rational by comparison to your father or this lovely mare’s affection for you, I might.”

Hadkhûna couldn’t move. She could do little but give a discontented rumble and bare a glimpse of her swordlike teeth.

The storm siren actually snorted, amused. “Some fight in you. Good.” She nodded once and said, “You’ll need that to make it through this ordeal, so save it until our return.” Her eyes flitted to Skittershy, who froze in place. “Listen to Skittershy, if no one else. She has the right idea in all this. Her time spent in those mountains, watching over that village taught her well what the ill require.”

Skittershy’s face betrayed both a hint of flattery and, still, fear. Fear at whatever events had transpired between she and the storm siren’s mother long ago.

Something to look into. Once Hadkhûna was back on those massive claws and at full strength.

Twilight put that aside for the time being and turned to face Melodía, and gave an uneasy smile.

With a nod, Melodía beckoned her toward the gangplank and led her down onto the dock and into Vulcan’s Basin.

A treacherous little voice in the back of Twilight’s mind whispered doubts and questions of what might have befallen her lover, and whether or not she might find herself the center of another town wide scuffle.

Or, heaven forbid, another monster or demigoddess.

Melodía Kalaigías didn’t get any more talkative on their way into town. She paid little mind to the astonished gazes and reverent bowing every pony, gryphon, wyvern, or otherwise in the mixed crowd in Vulcan’s Basin gave in her presence, affording little more than an approving flick of her ear to assure them of her approval.

Given the frown marring her features, that did quite a bit to help them relax. Knowing the storm siren wasn’t about to vent whatever garnered such displeasure upon their town was probably akin to learning that a wild storm coming in from sea was going to break up before it made landfall.

Then again, Melodía was probably the source of those wild storms, too.

Despite her longer legs, Twilight had to trot briskly to keep up with the smaller storm siren, her tail lashing nervously. “So,” she began conversationally, “where exactly are these healers you know?”

Melodía flicked an ear. “Through town, bit into the forest closer to the slopes of Mount Ignis. The family’s used the hot springs to help with their healing prowess for generations.”

“Mount Ignis,” Twilight repeated slowly. “Isn’t, er, that the volcano that erupted with enough power to shatter its own top and destroy four islands?”

“Five,” the storm siren corrected. “Or was it six? It’s been fifteen hundred years or so, I can never remember. Anyway, relax. Ignis is dormant, most it can do is warm the springs and island a bit. Eruption that powerful doesn’t just come along, you know.”

“I mean … you’re not going to tell me there’s a volcano god? Or goddess?”

“Well, yeah. My uncle, Vulcan. Total hothead, naturally, gets pissy at the drop of a hat. But he’s not come back here since that last eruption. Grandpa had a temple on one of the islands back in the day and he was not happy.”

Immortal family spats over an eruption caused by a temper tantrum? Why the hay not?

Twilight shouldered her way past a gryphon swathed in bandages, her brow arching. He wasn’t the only one sporting such affects.

In fact, a good third of the crowd sported some sort of injury or malady. Bandages, crutches, and canes were the fashion of the day. And was that an actual, functioning wheelchair?

It was!

Imaging that. Wheelchairs, even here. Perhaps some enterprising pony toting the designs made it out and managed to sell a few before some nameless creature cracked their skull open for brunch.

Such a pleasant thought.

Still, Twilight found her thoughts wandering back to the sickly she dragon awaiting them on the ship. Namely, on how the sailors and townsfolk shrieked when she flew overhead before their departure.

“We’re not going to start a panic if we lead Hadkhûna through, are we?” she asked, a note of concern filling her voice. “I don’t think I can have her fly in that condition.”

“She couldn’t if she wanted to,” Melodía scoffed. “And it’ll be fine, little one. Worry not. You see the wyverns, no? This place is a haven to all, even your changeling—”

“Could you seriously not? Like, really seriously?”

A roguish grin flitted across the storm siren’s features. “Were we not in such dire straights, I might demand a kiss for each time the notion comes to mind. But for now, I’ll comply.” Her frown returned. “In any case, none are turned away in Vulcan’s Basin. The healers we seek, likewise, will see your lover and treat her. They’re the ponies who lead this town, if only by example due to their distaste for title.”

Now there was a surprise.

Somepony who shunned titles. Rare on both continents.

Twilight’s curiosity piqued, she followed Melodía in silence the rest of the way. Through the streets of the old island port and shops and houses with their thatched roofs and wooden doors, they trotted along the well-worn dirt path until they saw the edges of an old forest thick with verdant foliage and mighty cyprus oak and cedar. The path itself leading onward, into the darkness ahead.

Melodía nudged Twilight forward with a brush of her shoulder to the side. “They’re a good ways into the forest,” she said. “They and the best springs. Can’t bother with the lesser ones in town.”

Whether lesser meant small or of less healing prowess, it mattered little, Twilight supposed. In this place, she knew utterly nothing. The fact that she’d stood in a crowd and not seen a glint of steel or claws ready to tear out her throat was enough of a novelty. Certainly enough to grant her a sense of ease to continue onward, deep into the strange forest which lay ahead.

The storm siren led her to a large clearing at the foot of Mount Ignis, where a few stone buildings with thatched roofs and paned windows awaited. Behind them, a series of dividers constructed out of wood and rock separated a dozen or so steaming pools like a great bathhouse of sorts. The hot springs bubbled and gurgled, tickling her ears and matting her coat with the humidity choking the air.

Melodía strode up to one of the buildings and called out, “Healers of Vulcan’s Basin! It is I, Melodía Kalaigías, come with one favored and bearing tidings of a sick being! Will you come forward to give aid?”

Silence reigned for a long moment. Twilight swiveled her ears this way and that, waiting and wondering if these healers Melodía claimed to know would take kindly to being called upon in such a fashion.

Then, the latch clicked and the door opened inward. A mare of pale green coat and chestnut mane held back by a white headband stepped out into the sunlight. She paused a moment to look her visitors up and down, her eyes widening with each passing second.

“Great-grandmother wasn’t telling tales,” she breathed.

Melodía smiled. “It’s been some time since I’ve come to call. The last healer I knew was Jasmine, and her young daughter—”

“Clementine,” the mare supplied. “My mother.” She snapped out of her stupor and bent at the knee, bowing her head. “Forgive me, Lady Melodía. I’ve heard of you from my family, but I couldn’t dare to dream I might look upon you myself.”

The storm siren chuckled and beckoned her with a wave of her hoof. “Rise. I have long favored your family, mare. Such unfamiliarity at first glance is not foreign to me.”

The healer rose as asked, a little flick of her tail betraying her nerves. “Cedar Spruce, Lady Melodía. And thank you for your understanding.” Her eyes flitted to Twilight, one could almost see the wheels in her head beginning to turn as she ran through a quick checklist of what might be wrong.

Twilight held up a hoof. “Er, I’m not the patient,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Feeling fine here. It’s my, er …”

“Her lover is ill,” Melodía supplied, her lips twitching in amusement. “Her other lover, I mean. A rather nasty case of seasickness, even for a dragon. I worry that it might have progressed further.”

Cedar Spruce raised her brows and gave an understanding hum. “You’re worried that she’s developed Churning Belly or Flame Gout?”

“Aye.”

“Wait, what or what?” Twilight blanched.

“Deadly diseases among dragonkind,” Cedar replied gravely. “Both affect the digestive system in similar ways. Of the pair …” She wrinkled her snout and cast her eyes skyward in thought. “Of the pair, I would say the latter is the worst as it would mean that the glands in your lover’s abdomen containing the ignition fluid may have ruptured and gotten into her stomach.”

“Ignition fluid? I thought old dragons like she just had fire in their bellies.”

The healer chuckled and shook her head. “A common misconception. Nothing, not even a dragon, could keep flames that hot in their belly and hope to survive. They certainly do ignite it within their chest when they breath it, but they secrete a flammable substance much like snake or changeling venom, or the latter secreting slime, for that matter.” If she noticed Twilight wincing at the mention of changelings, Cedar paid it no mind. “If you’ll bring her to me, I should be able to fit her in one of the springs and examine her. About how big is she?”

Here, Twilight could just sense the wicked grin splitting Melodía’s features.

“Let’s just say you’re about to get an introduction to the great serpents of old,” the storm siren purred.

Again, it is imperative to emphasize that Hadkhûna maintained that dragons of her stature and class most certainly did not whine or warble or pout like little hatchlings. The very idea was utterly insulting and were her stomach not trying to rend itself apart, she just might incinerate whomever insinuated such terrible slander.

Or, in a certain little thief’s case, demand affection as repayment. There were some allowances to who would suffer her wrath. Were her wrath a threat at this point.

Naturally, Twilight was happy to keep her own observations of such to herself while she focused on the arduous task of moving several tons of sick she dragon girlfriend off The Skylark’s deck, through the crowded streets of Vulcan’s Basin, and deep into the forest. Skittershy’s soft, firm coaxing did well to help keep her moving, no matter how Hadkhûna complained of the stabbing pains in her belly.

“Just a bit farther still,” the spider mare called. She patted Hadkhûna’s mighty claws with a hoof and smiled. “You’ll be able to soak and rest soon.”

The great she dragon gave a deep, rumbling groan the likes of which made Twilight’s very bones vibrate. “Can’t I just lay down here?” she groused, stomping a massive claw hard enough to make a fallen tree jump. “Just bring a bucket and dump it on me. Several times.”

“There isn’t a bucket big enough and you know that.” Skittershy fixed her with a stern look, the sort all mothers knew. She scuttled up Hadkhûna’s leg, even as the she dragon walked, and perched upon her shoulder so she could lean in and whisper something only she could hear.

Curious, Twilight dared to drift a little closer, mindful of those stomping claws, and craned an ear. Just enough so she could make out the tail end of a comment that ended with “... whining like this? Like a hatchling?”

Whatever she said, Skittershy’s point was well made. A glint of determination shone in those ancient sapphire eyes. Though her muscles lacked their normal strength, the great she dragon, the Conqueror of Erebark lurched forward, her strides lengthened and jaws clenched.

“Going to soak in those bloody springs for the next two days after this,” she rumbled. “See if I don’t!”

Twilight smiled despite her worries. “You can soak as long as you like, honey. If it’ll make you feel better, a couple days rest is fine with me.” She glanced over her shoulder at Captain Headwind and his crew, offering an apologetic grin.

The pegasi returned it with weak smiles that became pointedly enthusiastic when they noticed Hadkhûna herself glancing back to check. Anything that didn’t cause them trouble with her, it seemed, was fair game. Not to mention, they were probably rather tired of being cooped up on a ship with her. A couple days resting in Vulcan’s Basin was like a holiday right about now.

At least somepony’s enjoying themselves, then.

When they arrived on Cedar Spruce’s proverbial doorstep, the mare had assembled whatever small team of apprentice healers and family members she had living in residence or in some of those stone buildings ringing the springs. Mares and stallions young and old gathered, dressed in white healer smocks and lined up before the main house to gawk at the newcomer.

And gawk they did.

Clearly, when Cedar relayed to them that Melodía had come asking that they treat the last of the great serpents, they thought it some sort of joke the storm siren played.

By the way she fell over, howling and kicking her legs in mirth, Twilight was willing to wager their disbelief was the punchline.

Or perhaps it was their faces. Those, admittedly, were hysterical. Twilight could’ve sworn one aged mare’s chin nearly touched the dirt.

To her credit, Cedar didn’t so much gawk as she did raise her brows. There was a rather distinct difference in reading about the great serpents and actually seeing one up close. That much, Twilight could appreciate.

Nevertheless, the healer called them all to attention with a single stomp of her hoof upon the ground. She offered a polite smile to Hadkhûna and the accompanying group and said, “Lady dragon, your lovers have told me that you’ve taken ill lately.”

If there was one thing Twilight could savor about that misinterpretation, it was the way Hadkhûna gave a rather pained grimace and Melodía choked on her laughter.

Skittershy, on the other hoof, hastily covered her mouth with both hooves and hide her mirth behind her veil of a mane. A wise choice.

Twilight, herself, had to turn away when Hadkhûna caught her trying in vain to hide a fit of giggles. Instead, she masked it with a sudden cough and said, “Thank you for agreeing to treat her, Cedar.”

“Of course.” The mare gave a magnanimous smile, then turned to two young mares. “Starlight, Trixie,” she called.

At the far end of the line, a pair of unicorn mares ceased their gawking and muted chattering and jolted to attention. “Yes, Miss Cedar?” they replied in kind.

For a moment, Cedar wrinkled her snout. Under her breath, she grumbled something to the effect of “complete lack of professionalism, honestly,” and then she called, “Kindly escort the lady dragon to spring twelve. She’ll need the largest of our amenities.”

Their faces lost their color. The mare with dusty blue coat regained her wits first. “O-Of course, Miss Cedar,” she said. “Right away. Lady dragon, if you and yours will just follow us this way—come on, Starlight!”

Starlight, jolted and shook herself, her eyes cloudy and out of focus for but a moment longer, lingering upon Twilight as her mind returned from its wandering. She stammered out a quick apology to Trixie and Cedar before affixing a rather toothy, wooden grin upon her features and throwing open one of the gates leading back to the springs.

As Hadkhûna lumbered forth, Twilight noticed Cedar drifting closer to Melodía and cocked an ear.

“You didn’t tell me I would be treating the Harbinger of Destruction, Lady Melodía,” she deadpanned.

The storm siren, at least, had the grace to look the slightest bit sheepish beneath the mortal’s gaze.

Dragons, even the great serpents, as Twilight soon learned, had a great deal in common with cats.

Well, not really. The only way one could construe a cat as “wicked” was in the midst of their temper, and there weren’t any cats she knew of who could fly, rip a full grown cow in half with one claw, or incinerate iron with its fire breath.

Again. None that she knew of. Who could say for certain, these days?

The point, however, was not that cats and dragons could be considered wicked in the same respect. Rather, it was that Hadkhûna, the last of the great serpents, the Harbinger of Destruction, Queen Under the Mountain, and about fifty-odd other titles Twilight couldn’t think of at present time, purred like a kitten when she stepped into the bubbling, steaming pool and allowed her massive body to sink into its depths.

“Dear heavens,” she crooned, loosing a delighted breath of steam through her nose. “I lied. Three days. Perhaps four, would be best.”

Twilight shared a patient smile with Skittershy. “I think we should wait until Cedar has a chance to get a look at you before we decide how long or short we’ll be staying here, honey,” she replied.

Hadkhûna turned on her side and blew a sharp breath, spraying her with a shower of spring water. “I have decided. Once my strength returns, I’ll reach out of this pool and snatch you both into it, and we won’t emerge for four days.” Another breath, with an air of finality despite the weakness in her voice. “So there.”

So there, indeed.

The mares, Trixie and Starlight, busied themselves floating baskets of herbs and wildflowers aloft in their magic. They approached, each offering a slight bow of the head to Twilight and Skittershy.

A glint of nerves shone in Starlight’s eyes, her soft violet ear twitched. “Er, Cedar Spruce sent us to begin a bit of aromatherapy treatment to see if scents might help alleviate the lady dragon’s stomach problems.” She shuffled about in place, her purple and minty blue tail flicking anxiously. “If, er, you don’t mind, miss.”

Before Twilight could reply, Trixie rolled her eyes and said, “Starlight, please. Show some gumption or ponies will walk all over you!”

The mare shot an indignant look her way and said, “I’m showing plenty! And for the record—” she stopped just short, her eyes flitting between Trixie and Twilight a moment, then Hadkhuna. She raised her brows.

Comprehension dawned upon her companion in short order. “Ah, really?” Trixie flicked an ear, then turned to Twilight. “Trixie implores you forgive her, miss. She did not realize you were destined for—”

“Trixie!” Starlight hissed.

Her teeth clicked shut. “Forgive Trixie again,” she said smoothly.

Twilight imagined she must have looked like somepony had just hit her in the face with a piece of rotten fruit. What in heaven’s name were they on about? Destined for what?

She shook herself and brought up a hoof to massage her temples, she could already feel the onset of a headache. “Sure,” she said with the air of somepony who’d just about had their fill of the oddities in her life. “Go right ahead. It’s destined or whatever.”

In the Hall of the Mountain Queen 1. In the Shadow of the Mountain

Only a fool left the safe haven of Equestria for the Lost Continent of Panthalassa.

That ancient land lay beyond the vast Sea of Arbor, riddled with the scars and ghosts of the titanic clash between the Eternal Sisters and the wicked spirits and nameless creatures, older than time and more evil than the blackest pit, who called it home. Battles waged and blood shed in the name of all living things—pony, diamond dog, cat, wyvern, deer, and yak alike—who wished only to live and prosper.

Many had made the journey, of course. Scholars in search of ancient history, opportunists and businessponies eager for the chance for trade and wealth, daring heroes sure of their strength and mettle, ready to take up the Sisters’ crusade against the chaos and turmoil which had ravaged the land since the stirrings of the Old Ones, the Dawn of Harmony, and the Loss of Harmony’s Light. So many had gone, seeking fame, fortune, and history.

So few returned. And yet, they still went. Lured by something intangible—whether greed, intrigue, or some terrible curse, none could quite say.

Save for the greatest fool of them all.

The one who went in search of treasure long lost to pony kind, sure of her prowess and skill. After all, there were none like her in this world or that beyond the veil of death. There was no creature so cunning, so wily as she.

All she needed, after all, was to complete that one last task, then she could retire and be free of all her crimes.

Princesses weren’t supposed to moonlight as thieves, but as far as Twilight Sparkle was concerned, she was more of a liberator. A liberator of stolen properties.

It didn’t matter how long ago they’d been stolen or why, or whether it was part of some spoils of an age-old conflict. If it had been stolen, she was the mare to get it back. And get it back she would, regardless of what far off, exotic land she had to travel to find it.

But as she sat out on an open balcony in a dingy old bar in the middle of Sterling, sipping tea that tasted like it had been filtered with dirt and sweetened with sawdust, Twilight was starting to heavily reconsider her sales pitch. And, well, the fact that she came clean with her fellow princesses about her late night hobbies in the first place.

It was a rare sunny day in this part of Zestógis, the poor, sprawling nation situated on Panthalassa’s eastern coastline with a great mountain serving as its border to the west. Here one was more likely to see storms rolling in from the distant coastline, right up the river until they reached Lake Rover. A glimpse of Luna’s lovely stars, just one constellation at night, was enough to make her long for home. For the scent of Canterlot, the taste of Pony Joe’s doughnuts, and the warmth of her teachers’ embraces.

Twilight heaved a heavy sigh and let her tail flick. “Wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d kept my mouth shut.”

Why hadn’t she just said she was a dancer in one of those naughty clubs? At least Cadence wouldn’t have been so scandalized. Shining, maybe, but he still couldn’t even fathom his baby sister knowing what sex meant.

At very least she could’ve avoided taking this job on top of her own and that friendship quest business, or at least not such dangerous ones as this. What in the name of sanity had Celestia been thinking?

“Probably got the idea from Sunset, that damned nag,” Twilight groused as she let her eyes flit toward the door leading back inside, watching as if she expected it to explode outward at any moment.

In fact, she did. There were no small number of enemies back home. Plenty of rulers, warlords, self-styled “collectors”, and criminals furious that they’d been bilked out of their ill-gotten gains by a puny, bookish mare, of all things. The Lost Continent should have given her a clean slate. Not necessarily a safe place to work—heavens no, who would even think such a thing?—but at least she wouldn’t have that crowd breathing down her neck again. Especially that changeling.

A shiver ran down her spine at that memory. By Celestia, she needed to stop thinking about that one.

But Twilight couldn’t. After all, it was just another example of how her little talent for getting into trouble hadn’t left her, even on the journey to Panthalassa. Nor her talent for picking up enemies.

Her left ear twitched. She could hear steady steps, thud-thud-thudding against those creaking old steps through the battered wooden door. She readied the perfect spell to deal with whomever came through if they proved to be one of her new “friends”. With her luck, she could hazard a guess or two which.

And why they’d come calling.

Instead, the door shunted open with a rattle and creak of rusted hinges. A diamond dog stood hunched over, a tattered gray cloak sitting upon his misshapen form as he shuffled out into the sunlight and held up a paw to shield his amber eyes. The gold tag with the emblem of a lonely mountain hanging from the collar around his neck glinted and shone in the sunlight. Their goal.

Twilight let out a relieved sigh and set down her teacup. Her spell fizzled out in a shower of sparks. “Rex, we’ve really got to talk about your entrances or one of these days I’m going to put you through a wall!” she said with a laugh.

Rex returned her little joke with a crooked, and very forced, smile. Partners though they were for the time being, the self-proclaimed princess of thieves knew her talent for getting under ponies’ skin didn’t exempt Rex or his kin.

A few had even grumbled so. Right before the pair slipped away into the Silent Moor.

His red-brown tail flicking, Rex reached up to scratch his chin. “The pack’s closing in on Sterling,” he said in his gruff tone. “Told you that fire wouldn’t hold them off for long.”

Always so blunt and to the point.

And such a melancholy fellow, as well. Then again, given the rough hoof fate had dealt his pack and kin overall, that was to be expected.

Yes, fate. Not at all the very beast Twilight might come face to face with on this little escapade.

Her mood came crashing down faster than a rookie Wonderbolt cadet. Twilight let her gaze fall to her tea, or whatever was passing as its facsimile. “We both knew that fire wasn’t meant to do anything more than give us a chance to slip away and maybe get them lost in the Endless Fog,” she whispered. “And maybe put Clifford the Wondermutt out of action for a while.”

“You should have listened then, thief princess,” he scoffed. “Clifford will be leading the first hunting parties—if they’ve even split off. They’ll be baying for our blood.”

Baying. Always baying.

The so-called “True King” and his pack had certainly been baying for someone’s blood as they sang those old songs and recited haunting rhymes about that forlorn kingdom they’d lost so long ago. Though, how one could bay at something when they whimpered in feared in the same breath, Twilight wasn’t quite sure.

With a sigh and a moment to steel herself, she drained the rest of her alleged tea and set it down, then rose and began to fasten her pouches and wrap her cloak around her shoulders. Twilight glanced out across the vast Smoldering Fields, forever scarred and left little more than barren rocks and dirt with a single lonely river by the searing heat of dragon’s fire.

The hottest such fire since the days the Old Ones still walked the earth.

And in the distance, standing tall and dark as if to remind any who might dare think themselves able enough to venture forth and steal the riches of the mighty ruler slumbering within, the Solitary Mountain.

Erebark.

Smiling, she nodded to the diamond dog and said, “Well, let’s see how much truth there is to this Song of Rover your pack was going on about.”

If there was none, well …

Twilight would just have to figure out another way into the Solitary Mountain. After all, Princess Celestia insisted she keep that appointment with its Queen.

And she’d already disappointed her teachers enough for one lifetime.

The Smoldering Fields, as Twilight realized during their crossing, weren’t named so out of some old diamond dogs’ sense of mourning for their fallen kingdom and lost seat of power.

The princess of thieves reached up to wipe a bead of sweat from her brow. For the first time since her jaunt into Saddle Arabia, Twilight found herself cursing her insistence on wearing her cloak. A place to hide her weapons and wares, she’d told herself the first time she’d put it on. What’s more, it had served well enough to hide her wings and cutie mark in the past.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the same in Panthalassa. Too much time spent running or flying from danger, or fighting for her life despite her distaste for violence, tended to have that effect.

Frankly, it was a darn good thing no stable line of communication between Equestria and any Panthalassan nation existed, or word might get back to a few old marks with both the temper and means to vent it upon her homeland.

Still, though, the cloak and bags were a killer. Though Erebark’s fall had been centuries prior, the land around the Solitary Mountain had yet to recover from the she-dragon’s fiery breath. Any plants which managed to grow through the dusty, dry dirt were thin and wispy. At most, they came up to her shin—not exactly the best for providing any semblance of shade from the sun’s unyielding glare.

That even the dirt smoldered and seemed to reflect the heat right back up turned Twilight’s cloak into a portable sauna.

About halfway across the Smoldering Fields, she let loose a string of curses and all but ripped the blasted thing off her shoulders and unceremoniously stuffed it into her bottomless pouch. And promptly told Rex to stick his in his bag when he looked as though he might like to ask if she minded taking his as well.

Rude? Perhaps. But Twilight knew a bit too much about where his had been and how long ago he’d admittedly had fleas.

By the time they reached that lonely river, Twilight was almost ready to take a running leap into the shimmering, cool water like a foal rather than the young mare she was. She could not, however, resist dipping her hooves in the shallows and plunging her face right in for a deep drink.

“Celestia’s pinions, this job sucks!” she growled in between laps of sweet, sweet water. Then, almost as an afterthought, she drew back and glared at the river, then sighed. “When you said this place was hot, I didn’t think it’d be like its own mini-desert!”

Rex, too, had dropped on all fours and begun scooping water into his waiting mouth without restraint. “Dragon fire scarred the land and burned deep,” he explained. “Our fathers and grandfathers and their fathers and grandfathers before have come here countless times since she took Erebark, looking to see if they might be able to retake it for their own. Each such attempt has failed, and each has brought back tales of this land’s state.” With a snort and shake of his head, he added, “It’s fortunate we’re not here in midsummer, or the heat would be unbearable.”

A small comfort, perhaps. If anything on this job could be, she thought.

“So,” she began, wiping the back of her hoof across her mouth. “The song mentioned a light shining down upon the entrance way?”

Her partner nodded. “Only on Rover’s Day, when the sun’s last light shines upon the land through the sentinel towers of Remus and Romulus, thief princess.” Rex cast a fervent glance skyward, frowning, and began to rise. Droplets of water cascaded from either side of his jowls as he leveled his gaze at the mountain ahead. “We need to move quickly. If we’re not on the westernmost side of the mountain, we won’t have a chance to find it.”

Not for another year, of course. That hardly needed saying. Nor did a rather understood “if we can evade Clifford and the hunting parties.”

How very delightful.

A glance skyward didn’t exactly help her mood. Midday had already long passed them by. They needed to cross the last leg of the fields and make it to the complete opposite side of the mountain in six hours. Not to mention actually being in the right spot while it was lit.

“Then let’s get moving,” Twilight replied. She unfurled her wings, ready to take off, and cast a cheeky smirk back over her shoulder. “I suppose you’ll be asking for a lift?”

His ears perked up. Twilight could almost read “I don’t have to swim, thank heavens” right off his face—or whatever diamond dogs swore to.

That relief vanished the instant her horn flashed and a tendril of bubbling raspberry glow wove its way around his waist and jerked him into the air as she kicked off and took flight.

His frantic yips and cursing carried over even the rush of wind, and drew a bright grin and bubbling laugh from within her breast.

After a lengthy flight over the Smoldering Fields and a few more minutes of cursing and promises of pain if Twilight should ever think to cast magic upon Rex so unceremoniously again, the pair of thieves began their lengthy search for a good spot to observe the sun’s dying light revealing the secret path into Erebark’s halls. Of course, there was just one problem. One which, honestly, nearly saw Twilight lose her considerable self-control.

“What the hay do you mean you have no idea where the sentinel towers are?” she asked, goggling at the diamond dog.

Rex shrugged. “It has been over four centuries since any diamond dog was able to set paw upon the slopes of the Solitary Mountain, let alone enter Erebark, thief princess,” he replied. “There were many sentinel towers on this side, to protect from the northern cat armies.”

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut. This time, it was she grumbling curses under her breath for a moment before she managed to draw in a deep, calming breath. “Are there any defining features or markings?” she ground out through gritted teeth, the slightest hope that fate wasn’t completely screwing with her on this endeavor.

“The sentinel tower of Remus was marked with the crescent moon, but Romulus was unmarked to ensure the cats could not locate it and use the passage in the event they ever learned of it from prisoners.”

Sensible, given what Twilight knew of their history. But at present, she could only huff an impotent snort through her nose and kick a stray pebble from its resting place atop the rock formation on which they stood, down to join its larger brethren below. She let out a frustrated sigh and let her gaze wander to survey the area.

The sentinel towers weren’t constructed out of marble, brick, or even some sort of sandstone like Canterlot and so many other capital cities she’d visited in her time. Why waste extra materials like that when the mountain and surrounding terrain provided everything they needed?

To call them “towers”, honestly, was a bit of a misnomer. In reality, the towers were more like bunkers built into the high rising plateaus overlooking the western side of the Smoldering Fields and the rocky terrain—some dropping so steep they were nearly ninety degrees straight down.

Due to the random nature of the terrain, there was no real line of towers protecting the side of the mountain. It was all staggered, leaving a few low bunkers at the frontlines with higher raised locations looking down upon them. Not a bad setup, strategically speaking, if a bit unconventional.

But for the sake of using them as landmarks, it was an absolute pain in the flank!

“Which is the Remus tower?” Twilight asked evenly. “You said it was marked?”

“With a crescent moon, yes.” He bobbed his head, idly scratching his chin once more. “Though, it was said to be more prominent on all sides, since it was the greatest and strongest of all. And tallest.”

Typical of old world empires. How nice to know that some things were still constant. “Perhaps rain eroded some of the western facing side,” Twilight offered. “I’d imagine it would be tallest and nearest the entrance?”

“It’s a possibility. Though, if that were the case, the cats would’ve known it immediately, thief princess.”

“Fair. Then we’ll need to evaluate which are the tallest and go from there. Is there anything you might know from your songs or stories that might hint as to where the Romulus tower might have stood in relation?”

Rex furrowed his brows and gave a low hum which tapered off to a musical note. “The sibling towers, mighty and proud,” he murmured. “Rise to stand against Catalan shroud. As Romulus stands ‘till day’s last breath, with the moon, Remus stands to the very death.”

Her mouth set in a thin line. Not all that helpful at first glance.

What was it even supposed to mean? Could one of the sides have a rising sun etched upon it? Or perhaps, a setting sun, given rhyme.

The princess of thieves shook her head. One thing at a time. Just like the other jobs, getting ahead of yourself doesn’t lead to a big score, just big trouble. Unfurling her wings once more, Twilight turned to face the northern cluster. “It’ll probably go quicker if we both check for candidates. You take the south side, we’ll meet up in the middle closer to the mountain itself and see if we can narrow it down.”

“Would be faster if you take the ones further outward, thief princess,” Rex noted. “You cover more ground in the sky than I can on paw.”

She nodded once. It served to disguise the little grimace she wore at having her logic successfully critiqued by a diamond dog.

If word ever gets back to Canterlot, that nag will never let me hear the end of it.

Twilight kicked off her perch and pumped her powerful wings once, drawing a flurry of curses at the cloud of dust and rock her departure kicked up.

Maybe dealing with Sunset would be preferable to whining diamond dogs.

Twilight soared almost lazily, banking wide around a rather large, egg-shaped boulder as she crossed two candidates off her mental list. Too small and too far from the base, she told herself. If Remus is the greatest tower of them all and meant to look down upon the rest and protect the secret entranceway, it’ll be a lot closer.

She had a few candidates, but something just didn’t quite feel right. They just weren’t … grand enough.

Closer inspection didn’t show any sign of crescent moon markings, though she did get a rather nice look at a few towers that had been taken down either by the elements, a long-forgotten battle with the Catalan cats, or, quite possibly, a swipe of a massive dragon’s tail.

Again, Twilight scolded herself. One problem at a time, that’s what Celestia and Luna drilled into her head all those years.

If only they knew how she applied it to her little hobby—then again, they had probably figured that one out on their own.

A glance across the land brought a frown to her face. The sun had long since begun its slow, tortuous crawl toward the horizon, ready for its rest after a long day bringing light to the land. If only she could send word to Celestia to give her a few extra hours.

Alas, that was quite impossible.

At most, she had a few minutes.

In a few minutes if she didn’t find that damned tower, any chance of getting her slate cleaned would die with the setting sun. How very poetic.

It was then she saw it.

There, near the very base of the tower, in some nondescript little corner, was the image of a crescent moon barely the size of her forehoof. By Celestia, no wonder the cats hadn’t found it—the damned thing was in such a spot they’d have to get behind the tower and wander around with a torch in the dark trying to find it, all the while evading arrows, boulders, spears, and whatever else the diamond dogs might drop on their heads.

Clever.

And just in the knick of time.

Pumping her wings, Twilight shot toward the diamond dog sprinting for the base. “Rex!” she cried over the rushing winds as she hit the ground in a run, and very nearly knocked him straight off his paws. “I’ve found Remus, please tell me you’ve got an idea for Romulus!”

“Need Remus to find Romulus!” he snapped back. “Which—no, don’t you—not again!”

His pleas that his dignity be kept intact held no sway. The blasted pillar would be found if Twilight had to take drastic measures—by Celestia, she’d take the laws of magic, set them aflame, and use the energies to jumpstart a time dilation spell if need be!

Passing by a series of groove-like scars cut into the backside of the tower, Twilight had the grace to set Rex down on the rocky ground gently, despite a renewed bout of cursing and questioning her parentage. As she touched down, Twilight jabbed a hoof at the little crescent moon mark and said, “There, see! I found the stupid moon!”

“Do not,” he growled, “call my heritage stupid, thief princess. You walk upon ground which—”

“Was once some great empire that got torched by a dragon, yes, yes, can you wait until later to complain?” Her tail lashing, Twilight gave an anxious little groan and pranced on the tips of her hooves. Time, time, time! There just wasn’t enough of it! “We need to figure this out yesterday, or we’re going to need to find somewhere to hide for the next lifetime! Romulus stands ‘till the sun’s last breath and Remus to the very death—what would that mean?”

Rex’s ears splayed. Those amber eyes flitted between her, the Remus tower, and the horizon. Were it not for his cloak, Twilight would’ve thought he might be tucking in his tail.

He knew it just as well as she did.

Fat lot of help it brought.

“Something that makes them brothers,” he babbled. “A matching marking on the other towers! There are three near! If I just …” Without another word, he dashed off to one of the nearby towers, frantically darting around the base in search of a matching mark. Finding nothing, he hurried off to the next.

Well, there was the panicky attempt. Twilight took a deep breath and tried to think, fighting off the tide of her own anxieties. Now wasn’t the time to run around like an idiot—especially with the role filled so wonderfully. No, this was the time for observation and logic.

As much there could be within four minutes, tops.

Twilight took a few steps back, both in the literal and figurative sense. She needed to get a good lay of the land anyway if she were going to figure this out. “A little carving in the side would tell the diamond dogs where to find Remus—the moon itself is just the first part of the hint. There’s got to be something else.”

Romulus stood until the sun’s last breath.

Sunset. For once, not the nag who’d been in Twilight’s ear for years even prior to the revelation of her nightly activities, but the actual thing. It was a classic trope of poetry and older writing to refer to sunset or dusk as the last breath or death of daytime, preceding the birth of a new night.

West, then. The tower would have to be one of those nearest the Remus tower, but just farther west.

Glancing to her left and right, Twilight marked a cluster of two towers on either side off her mental list and took another step back. She needed to see farther still. She needed to survey every detail of the Remus tower, starting from the nondescript crescent moon of the base and working her way up along the eastern face.

Every crack, every groove cut in the stone was inspected by her watchful eye. From the smallest, spiderwebbing out from where some old impact had hit, to a pair of rather odd odd, sweeping gashes that seemed to begin from a spot no more than a pony’s length from the top, stretching out and downward as if arcing toward the center on the other side. But instead, they stopped just short and swept low to end near the base.

Curious, Twilight tilted her head and squinted. The lines themselves weren’t natural. They were too neat, too evenly cut. Even the gap between them was just too uniform—starting narrow, then widening as it neared the apex of its arc, then returning to original form again.

Her ears twitched. Those weren’t just gashes in the stone at all.

It was an unfinished carving of the crescent moon. All it was missing were the edges.

Twilight reached out with her magic and snatched Rex in mid-sprint, just as he was about to come bowling her over in his panic. A quick spell silenced whatever flurry of curses at fortune and her for daring to grab him again, and slowly gestured toward the markings.

“Look,” she commanded softly. “All this time, the Remus tower had a little moon carved in the base to get attention, then those for whoever might know how to look.”

Rex stopped his impotent cursing and froze in mid air. He followed her hoof, his jaw dropping as he noticed and began to babble something unheard. Then, he realized that she’d cast a second spell and fixed her with a glare.

“Right, hang on.” With a roll of her eyes, Twilight canceled her muting spell. “I only did it so you wouldn’t spend so long screaming this time. On topic. Looks like the crescent moon, agreed?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” He tapped his paw impatiently upon the stone. Rex let out a high-pitched whine that reminded Twilight of those domesticated dogs ponies kept as pets back home, though only for an instant. “The sun sets, though! If we don’t figure out where Romulus is …”

Panicking, still. Well, perhaps Twilight couldn’t entirely fault him for it this time. After all, this was his heritage.

Fortunately, her mind had been working out the problem as soon as Twilight noticed how neatly those carvings had been made. “Whoever carved this into the tower knew what they were doing,” she said. “As even and smooth as those cuts are, I’d wager they were an artisan of sorts. They had a specific tool for a job like this.”

“That would be sensible, thief princess, but what are you getting at?”

It should’ve been criminal to return his panic with as wide and confident a grin as she did. “It means I can do this.”

Her horn flashed a brilliant raspberry glow and tendrils of magic shot out toward the Remus tower and those spread out toward the western horizon. As her spell touched the carvings, the outline of the crescent moon shone a brilliant white, as did its smaller sister at the base. A little trick known as the Age of Iron, which Twilight had picked up on one of her jaunts to Saddle Arabia a few years back.

The perfect spell to find any cut made with the same tool during a similar time period. Naturally, this made it the spell every archaeologist’s best friend.

And an occasional ally of any thief after a score that might involve a bit of tomb raiding.

Curiously enough, her spell highlighted another marking she hadn’t noticed—a triangular shape that actually cut into the widest part of the crescent moon shape. And with it, a small groove cut into the very side of the tower and running along the southern side as if pointing to the west. Out toward the other towers.

Upon each tower, similar markings. Arcs and triangle patterns upon each, a few steps back revealing the image of the sun entwined with the moon. And in the distance, cut into the side of the tower farthest from the mountainside at the frontline where Erebark’s defenses began a similar groove to the one cut into the side of Remus tower.

It clicked.

“It’s part of a picture of the sun and moon together,” she realized. “But Romulus tower was always hidden farther out, out where the sun would set and day would end.” Her mind racing, a sudden flash of light through the groove cut into the Romulus tower drew a wince and forced her to turn away.

The light was being directed through the grooves. At the right instant, the last light of day would show the passage.

In a flash of raspberry magic and crack as air rushed in to fill the space she’d once occupied, Twilight teleported to stand atop the Remus tower and turned to face the Solitary Mountain. Her tail swishing and feathers twitching with excitement, it was all she could do not to prance on the tips of her hooves. This was it! This was the moment!

She just needed to time this next spell right to make sure she didn’t lose the damned passage.

Twilight could feel the warmth of her teacher’s sun slowly dying, as if Celestia herself could no longer hold her reluctant embrace over her wayward student and had to let go. She could almost hear a rueful sigh, then the first cool breath of night tickled the back of her neck.

All the while, she watched as the light filtering through the grooves cut into the sides of the towers began to grow more defined, more focused as if put through a lens. Why, it almost looked like a natural spotlight—the very rays of the sun like a beacon from the heavens—slowly tracing its way up the Solitary Mountain until, at long last, it reached its destination.

There, dug into a hidden ledge that was almost wedged between a crevice in the rocks. As that last ray of light pierced into the darkness, Twilight caught a glimpse of black iron door, with the visage of the Solitary Mountain and fabled Gates of Erebark emblazoned upon the face.

Bingo.

Twilight launched a bolt of magic through the air, straight into that hidden cave to light it a bright, brilliant raspberry as day at last gave way to night. Thus, ensuring she wouldn’t lose her passage into Erebark on the climb.

Sighing in relief, she leaned forward and let herself fall, gliding down to land next to a waiting Rex.

The diamond dog didn’t so much as glance at her. His eyes were locked, transfixed upon the illuminated door. “Four centuries,” Rex whispered. “It’s been four centuries since any diamond dog set paw inside.”

Twilight allowed herself a smile. Pain in the rear or not, she could definitely sympathize with that look.

She’d worn it herself the first couple times she found some old Equestrian treasure.

Taking a couple steps forward, she turned and jerked her head toward the mountain. “Well, it’s waited long enough, I think,” she said. “Let’s not make it another four, eh?”

Like she’d broken some spell over him, Rex scampered forward to match her pace. Together, they ascended the Solitary Mountain’s legendary, rocky slopes, careful to watch their steps lest some loose stone move and send them for a frightful fall. Twilight more so than Rex—thank you, delicate pony ankles—but she was at least kind enough to catch him when he slipped once or twice.

If not for her worry he might just break a leg in his haste or start shrieking if she picked him up again, she’d have just flown the silly dog and gotten it over with.

At last, they reached the ledge, each grinning despite their aching muscles and burning lungs.

The score of a lifetime and the redemption of a race both within their grasp. More importantly, the chance to wipe all of her crimes away and begin her life anew.

Free from the consequences of her thievery at last.

“Remember the deal,” Twilight said softly. “Whatever treasure you can carry in your paws and bags is yours, but the crown is mine. We get in, we get out, and we stay quiet as mice and avoid waking the dragon.”

Rex grunted an affirmative. “Yes, that was the deal, thief princess. I remember it well.”

If he’d still been wearing his cloak, Twilight might have missed it. That subtle little shift in his posture and the little glint of her spell’s light off steel came so quickly, with such practiced fluidity, it could only have been accomplished by a skilled assassin.

Twilight managed to rear up and twist just in time to avoid a thrust of his curved dagger, and pinned it beneath her wing. She snarled and snorted an angry breath in his face. “You idiot!” she hissed. “Us fighting this close might wake her!”

“Through that door and solid stone, I doubt it!” His other paw moved in a blur and struck her across the right side of her jaw, sending her stumbling backward into the wall. Rex tossed the knife to his right paw, grinning hungrily. “The True King will reward me well when I show him your feathers adorning my cloak! To think, he doubted his trusted blade’s plan—he might even apologize for his disbelief!”

Treachery. Of course.

How stupid. She was going soft. These weren’t the loafing, lolling mongrels who scrambled and scraped about the edges of poor towns back home. Rex, Clifford, and their pack were the purest breed.

The True Heirs, as they called themselves.

And they’d hatched a solid scheme to find their way in.

Still, Twilight found enough of that undying insolence in her heart so smirk at him, even pressed up against the wall at close range. “You? His trusted blade?” She laughed. “You’re really short on brains, Rexy-poochie, and Fido as well if he listened to this.”

Rex hesitated a moment, tilting his head. “And why is that?”

And this was why she loved diamond dogs on either continent.

They just couldn’t not take the bait. “Let’s be honest here, even if I dumbed it down, a mutt like you would never get it.”

He knew who she was. He knew her games. Why, the poor oaf even watched her trick Clifford and his best hunters by getting them to stop and talk a few seconds instead of just gutting her.

But she’d called him a mutt.

For the True Heirs, the only greater insult was to mock the collar around their neck.

Rex let out a primal howl and leapt at her, wild and frothing at the mouth. His eyes flashed with naked need to see her blood staining his fur.

Her horn flashed a brilliant white, blinding him as she simply shifted to the side and looped a tendril of magic around his wrist, then drove the blade straight into the rock. A second tendril caught him around the collar and gave it a twist, slowly lifting him into the air and floating him backward.

“Because,” Twilight crooned as she lined him up with the edge and took aim at Remus tower, “if you really wanted to catch me off-guard, you should’ve waited until we were walking back out that door and I had that crown in my pouch.”

Without another word, the Princess of Thieves quickly turned and delivered a full force buck right to Rex’s chest and sent him flying off the ledge, flailing and shrieking all the way until he hit the rocky ground below with a sickening thud.

Twilight gazed down upon his fallen form, her eyes wide and chest heaving. She cursed under her breath. Herself for not realizing, and he for making his play before they’d given the dragon slumbering within the slip.

At last, he moved, though just a slight twitch in his left arm and tail.

She released a breath. The idiot wasn’t dead. Probably had a few broken bones, but he wasn’t dead.

Not much in the way of solace for her heart, but it would have to do.

At least, that’s what Twilight told herself as she turned away to walk slowly toward the iron door and tugged it open to enter the fallen kingdom of Erebark.

The first visitor to enter those ancient halls in four hundred long years.

Breath of Stone 1. Dragons Don't Whine

There truly was nothing like a massive she dragon’s piteous warbling.

Twilight had heard her fellow student and longtime nuisance, Sunset, do her best to talk her ears off with some silly notion or other of proprieties and legalities of her acquisitions; she’d dealt with Rover, Clifford the Big Red Boor, and their pack’s alleged “singing”; and she’d heard an infant Spike shrieking for Celestia or Luna to give him attention.

But none of it compared to the scene her lover made in the middle of The Skylark’s deck when her seasickness took a turn for the worst, her stomach launching into a full, open protest of her continuing situation.

Twilight sat by Hadkhûna’s side, gently stroking and nuzzling her scaled belly like her mother would when she felt sick. A low rumble deep within the pit of the she dragon’s chest spurred an ominous gurgle. “Do you need a barrel?”

“Don’t have anything to vomit,” came her lover’s reply, her voice small and weak. Hadkhûna’s massive claws twitched, ghosting over her coat. Twilight could feel her shivering. She leaned in close, pressing her cheek against her lover’s side.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. The she dragon felt cold, clammy. Her beautiful scales had turned from opulent white with those lovely pale blue diamond markings and purple-gray belly to sickly green-white and gray.

Honestly, Twilight wasn’t entirely sure which worried her more. The coldness, perhaps. Hadkhûna had only ever been warm. Warm enough to never need a blanket even at high sea.

Skittershy came hurrying up, her steps barely more than a rustle, laden with as many towels soaked in warm water she could find. Enough to cover her thorax and both of her arms, but only just so that she might cover half of Hadkhûna’s belly. “I couldn’t find much else,” she murmured, her lip clenched between her fangs.

“Anything will help her at this point,” Twilight replied with a small smile. “Thank you.”

The spider mare nodded once. Then, she turned to look over her shoulder. “Angel,” she said softly. “Could you please help mommy put towels on Aunt Hadkhûna’s belly? I need you to be gentle and not bounce.”

Angel Bunny, the little hellion though he could be, didn’t argue. He gave a little wave of his paw, then leapt from the spider mare’s shoulder to land on Hadkhûna’s belly. Giving his landing spot a little pat, he held his little paws out and beckoned Skittershy to toss him the first of her towels, then shuffled off to find a good spot to cover.

A rush of wind and steady beating of mighty wings tickled Twilight’s ears. A shadow fell upon them and heralded Melodía’s call, “Did what I could to keep the wind low and sea level, but anything less is gonna leave us stuck!” She touched down beside Twilight, looking between she and the moaning she dragon with a slight frown.

Though there was certainly no love lost between the pair, Melodía at least seemed to recognize that Twilight held her close, and so too did Skittershy, for whatever reason that rated so highly.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could bring a front through to warm her?” Twilight asked.

The storm siren shook her head. “Not without bringing a bunch of storms through to lead up, and that’ll make it a lot worse before it gets better for her. Best I can do other than curbing the wind is chasing off the clouds.” Casting a look toward Hadkhûna, she called, “How you holding up, little one?”

“Terribly,” Hadkhûna groaned. “I’d like to die, please.”

“Figured. Sorry, but this is about all I can do. Warm isn’t my thing.”

A rumbling whine came in reply, then, much to Twilight’s surprise, a single claw shifted to brush affectionately against Melodía’s side.

Enough to earn a hint of a smile. “You’re welcome.” Melodía eyed Twilight a moment. “Gonna need to borrow you a second—don’t even think of rolling over, you. I’m just gonna talk with her.”

Hadkhûna’s sapphire eye bored into the storm siren, both untrusting, yet cloudy and weak. She was jealous and protective, like any dragon. More so, perhaps.

Twilight trotted over and planted a soft kiss upon her cheek. “I won’t leave you. If we do cuddle, it’ll be right here at your side in case you need me, love.”

Thought discontent shone in her eye, Hadkhûna gave a little rumble of assent and leaned into Twilight’s touch. Then, she closed her eye once more and turned to lay the side of her head against the deck.

Quietly, Twilight tip-hoofed over to where Melodía awaited beside Skittershy. With a muttered thanks for her help to the spider mare, she followed her second love—what an odd thing to say—a short distance away, to a spot near the stairwell down to the bunks.

“Right, this is good enough,” Melodía said. She drew in a deep breath and flicked her tail. “Far be it from me to play nursemaid to Enzun’s whelp, but you love her and I love you. That’s enough for me.”

“I appreciate your help.” Twilight offered a shaky smile. “If it’s too much trouble, I’m—”

Rosy eyes flashed. “It’s enough for me. I said it, and I meant it.” The storm siren shook her head. “I’m not complaining that you’ve asked for my help, I’m telling you that she’s not going to do well on this crossing if we keep going like this.”

Her blood ran cold as ice. “What do you mean?” Casting a glance back at Hadkhûna, Twilight bit her lip. “It’s just seasickness, isn’t it?”

“Do you know why Enzun Okun and Hadkhûna never crossed the Sea of Ardor after my mom expelled them from Equestria, Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight shook her head.

Melodía returned a thin smile. “Boasting aside, they are both formidable—your lover more so than her father, despite his greater size. However, with their might and stature comes a price. They cannot fly the distance, and they cannot abide the cold.”

A lump of ice sank into the pit of Twilight’s stomach. “How bad can it get?”

“She needs to be warmed, and soon.” The storm siren shook her head. “As much as I know of the great serpents, I didn’t realize it could get quite this bad. If I’m right, her seasickness has developed into something far worse for her kind.”

“But she was just fine yesterday!” Twilight protested. Her eyes flitted between her lovers, guilt crept into her heart at the time she spent apart from her first. “You two were arguing and fighting, just like the day before!”

In those rosy eyes, a flicker of regret shone. Whether at Hadkhûna’s state or seeing Twilight in such pain, she couldn’t say. But when Melodía spoke, her voice carried with it a melancholic note that made her feathers bristle, “Sickness doesn’t care for that, and you know that well, Twilight. Your scaled lover is ill, gravely so. If she’s lucky, my suspicion will be wrong. If not, then she is fortunate that we’ve not passed the Isle of Bubbling Springs.” The storm siren looked to the sickly dragon’s form for a moment, then back to Twilight. “She may annoy me, but she’s not her father and his sins are not hers. Your lover needs to be warmed, at very least. The Isle of Bubbling Springs will do her well either way.”

Twilight bit her lip. She knew very little about medicine beyond a few rudimentary healing spells, and even less about dragons. Dragons of Hadkhûna’s sort? Nothing but the fact that they were insanely powerful compared to their lesser kin.

Like, comparing Celestia, Luna, and Cadence to a newborn foal.

She did a bit of quick figuring, her ears twitching as comprehension dawned upon her. “You want her to rest in the springs,” she said.

Melodía nodded once. “The springs cure most ailments and will at least offer some relief if she’s taken a turn for the worst. For the rest?” She flicked her tail and sighed. “The healers on the island would be able to say for certain. We have favorable relations, they and I.”

A good option, then. The best she could think of, given the circumstances.

“Please tell Headwind that we’ll need to adjust heading for the Isle of Bubbling Springs,” Twilight said after a moment’s thought.

“Of course.” With a swish of her tail, Melodía made to turn and kick off the deck to find the captain amongst his kin in the shrouds.

Before she could, though, Twilight stepped in close and planted a kiss upon her cheek, right at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you.”

The storm siren stood stock still a moment, her eyes wide and the slightest hint of rosy pink bleeding into her cheeks. Her feathers fluffing, she ducked her head and said, “Don’t mention it.” A smile tugging at her lips, she glanced back over her shoulder and added, “Though, if you do feel like you have to, I wouldn’t say no to you being under my wing for a bit in those springs once she stops her caterwauling.”

Hadkhûna gave her tail a weak lash of indignation. “I do not caterwaul or whine!” she protested, making as though to rise. “Dragons such as I are above such—hurk!”

Skittershy skittered over by her head and placed a hoof upon her snout. “You aren’t doing anything until we get you feeling better, you silly dragon!” she scolded. “The only reason you get off this deck is when it’s time to go below at sundown!”

Another decidedly-not-a-whine sounded from deep within her chest, but Hadkhûna didn’t fight her. She shivered and leaned into the spider mare’s touch, mumbling something inaudible under her breath.

The three remaining mares shared matching looks of concern. “Yeah, I’ll tell him to double-time it,” Melodía said. Without another word, she kicked off the deck with an upward swell of wind and clap of thunder and went zipping through the shrouds and rigging in search of Captain Headwind.

Twilight, meanwhile, hurried back over to Skittershy and Hadkhûna’s side. She came skidding to a halt by her chin and sat, nuzzling softly and stroking with a gentle hoof as she whispered encouragement and promises of affection shared once her health improved.

All the while, the little alicorn sent silent prayer to any who might listen that her lover’s suffering come to a swift end.