Ned Stark in Equestria

Chapters

0 - Prologue
1 - In Which Ned Stark is Both Afraid and Brave
2 - In Which Twilight Sparkle Gets Insufficient Rest
3 - In Which Ned Stark Flees the Premises
4 - In Which Princess Luna Receives Concerning News
5 - In Which Twilight Sparkle Attempts to Make Conversation
6 - In Which Prince Blueblood Makes a Startling Discovery

0 - Prologue

A Note from the authors, ProbablyHuman and The Sweezlenub: We do not own MLP:FiM or A Song of Ice and Fire. That would be Hasbro and George R. R. Martin, respectively, and we have no intention of profiting from their work. It won’t be as dark as the ASoIaF series, nor as bright and cheerful as MLP:FiM. Please don’t sue. Also, spoiler warning for if you're not through the book A Game of Thrones, or the first season of the show. Apologies to George R. R. Martin.

Equestria, as well as most of the wide world around it, had been at peace for a millennium. The War of the Sun and Moon had passed into history long ago, largely forgotten by most ponies. The short-lived return of Nightmare Moon, followed by her defeat by the famed but largely mysterious Elements of Harmony, and her recovery as Princess Luna, had been in the newspapers for some time. The Night Court eventually was reinstated, and new representatives elected. That whole ordeal lasted months, and was frequently discussed from Vanhoover all the way to Appleoosa.

Things had just begun to settle down in Canterlot when another disaster struck—the ancient spirit of chaos, Discord, awoke. He rapidly sent all of Equestria into a panic. Floods of chocolate milk from cotton candy rain killed crops throughout the nation. City blocks were leveled, and riots briefly erupted in Baltimare and Manehattan. Equestria was, for a short time, brought to its knees; it seemed not even the wise Princess Celestia, nor her younger sister Princess Luna, were able to do much to halt the madness.

But the Elements, it is said, stopped Discord, in a showdown in the small, peaceful town of Ponyville. Peace returned to the land for a time. There were grumblings that the Princesses and the government were incapable of keeping the realm safe, but after a thousand years of peaceful monarchy, few wished to openly criticize the long and largely successful rule of Celestia. While many were concerned for their safety in these changing times, none were sure what could be done about it when their mighty Princesses and the Royal Guard seemed unable to protect the people. Many blamed Luna’s return, but few openly discussed this, and fewer still were willing to criticize Princess Celestia, who had ruled so well for so long.

The Changeling invasion of Canterlot, the very seat of the Equestrian government, shook things up even further. While the invaders were driven back, it was generally known to be through the heroics of the young Captain of the Royal Guard, Shining Armor. The Princesses, on the other hoof, and even the Elements of Harmony, had been unable to stop the Changeling Queen. Some even claimed that Celestia had confronted the Queen of the Changelings and lost. The details of how the changelings had so effectively broken through the magic barrier around the city was kept quiet, as were the circumstances that drove the Changeling horde back. For the first time since the end of the War of the Sun and Moon, many ponies openly voiced distrust of their government.

Pax Equestria was drawing to a close. The end of a long peace, and the beginning of a time of great turbulence.

This story is not just about Equestria, though. One of the major players in the events of this tale had lived his entire life in another world. He was not a pony, but a member of an odd, rather violent race known as mankind. The world he came from was a bloody and rather primitive place. He was a powerful and influential man in this world, a man of honor in a world with few honorable men left in it. This story begins with his death.

This is the story of Ned Stark in Equestria.

1 - In Which Ned Stark is Both Afraid and Brave

Eddard

Eddard Stark was a good man, betrayed and broken. He knew he’d lost, that the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros had been delivered neatly into the laps of traitors. King Joffrey Baratheon was no Baratheon at all. The first child of Queen Cersei Lannister, born from incest with her brother Jaime, was believed by all to be the son of the late King Robert Baratheon. Robert had been killed by a boar, but it was more than likely the Lannisters had had a hand in his death. That’s another king killed by Lannister treachery, he mused darkly.

Ned had mourned endlessly these last months. His friend Jon Arryn, who had served as the Hand of the King to Robert, had been poisoned for learning the truth of the matter--that the Queen’s children were not the King’s. Then Ned had to cope with his son Bran’s grave injury-- he’d fallen from an old tower at Winterfell, or perhaps he’d been thrown, as the attempt on the boy’s life in the week afterwards suggested. But when Robert died, he’d had no time to mourn, as he had tried to act to stop the traitorous Lannisters. Tried and failed, he reminded himself.

Sitting in his cell, he thought back to what Varys had told him. Ned knew they had his daughter Sansa hostage, and they would be sure to kill her if he refused to confess to a treason he had never committed. If he claimed that Joffrey was Robert’s true heir, if he lied to preserve the peace… his daughter would live. He himself might be allowed to live if he confessed, to be sent as a traitor back north, not to Winterfell but to take the black, to serve on the Night’s Watch with Jon Snow and Benjen. All it would cost him was his honor.

There were footsteps outside his cell. The cell door opened, and without a word, two of the gold cloaks walked in and grabbed him, dragging him from his cell. He tried to stand for himself, for a second, but the wound Jaime Lannister had dealt his leg burned in agony, and he gave up, closing his eyes and trying to block out the pain. As they dragged him up the stairs from the dungeon, he thought of Arya. If they had found Arya, she would have tried to fight with the sword he’d let her keep. They’d be sure to kill her. She could be dead already, a voice in his head grimly reminded him.

Ned opened his eyes again, and was no longer in the dark dungeon, but in bright, blinding daylight, facing a crowd. He lifted his head, and saw himself to be on the Sept of Baelor. Surrounded on all sides by the gold cloaks, he had a hard time seeing who else was there. The High Septon was present, fat and grey with age. So was Queen Cersei, as well as the boy, the false King, Joffrey. Petyr Baelish, who’d betrayed him, stood by Sansa’s side. She looked… happy? Did they mean to forgive him? Ned could not be sure. The Hound and four men of the Kingsguard stood by, ready to kill him if he made a wrong move. Varys moved among the lords in his slippers and silk. Ned knew what he had to do; looking forward, he spoke, though his voice came out weak and wavering. The crowd jeered. Trying again, he raised his voice as best he could.

“I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, and I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men.” They heard him this time, and the crowd booed him. He raised his voice louder, straining to be heard. “I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert.” He was shouting now. “I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose and murder his son and claim the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

The lies left a foul taste in Ned’s mouth, but he knew it to be a necessity--for his family, and for, he hoped, peace in Westeros. He began to look down to the floor of the Sept once more, and so he didn’t see the stone until but a moment before it hit him. It struck his forehead, leaving a painful gash. Blood streamed from the wound, obscuring his vision as it poured over his eye. As the commotion subsided, the High Septon knelt before Joffrey and Cersei.

“As we sin, so do we suffer”, he spoke, his voice resounding and deep. “This man has confessed his crimes in sight of gods and men, here in this holy place. The gods are just, yet Blessed Baelor taught us that they are also merciful. What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?”

Eddard listened as the boy began to dictate his fate. Young Joffrey raised his voice over the noise of the crowd, still jeering Eddard's alleged treasons. "My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father." Joffrey paused, as if savoring the moment, and then continued.

"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

The crowd roared, Sansa screamed, and Eddard prayed to any gods that might listen. He prayed forgiveness for his mistakes. He prayed for his family to be reuinited, and prayed for peace in Westeros, though he knew that to be in vain. His son Robb would have war when word of his execution reached Winterfell, there was no doubt of that. Stannis Baratheon would try to claim the throne that was his by right should word reach him of Joffrey's true parentage. Eddard did not pray for himself.

There was argument on the pulpit, as it was a holy site, and Joffrey had defied his mother, who assuredly knew this would bring war. But the king had spoken. Ser Ilyn Payne walked up and pushed Eddard to the ground. He wielded the greatsword Ice, the ancestral blade of House Stark, forged of Valyrian steel. For a moment, Eddard looked out to the crowd, kneeling, and waiting for his deathblow.

One person in the crowd stood out to him, though a distance away. A girl, dressed in rags. She looked on the scene with anger, moving through the crowd as fast as she could, before a man stepped in front of her. Could it be? Gods, it is; Arya is alive!

It was then the blade came down. There was a flash of pain. Darkness followed.

Much to Eddard's surprise, he was still conscious, a mind floating in an empty void. It is an indescribably odd sensation, to be without corporeal, physical form. It is also a hard thing to confront the knowledge that you are no longer alive, or at least not in the way you were previously. Dead. I'm dead. This is what happens after life, Eddard thought, numbly. Suddenly, there was a voice.

Sort of. Well, mostly yes to your first observation, and not really to your second.

Eddard attempted to respond to this. He fumbled with the words, in his mind. Eventually formulating a coherent reply, he thought Where am I? This is the afterlife?

Where you are is a sort of a place between worlds, the voice explained, patiently. There are places between life and death, where time doesn’t entirely apply.

Do I get to see them?, Ned asked, pleadingly.

What are you talking about? See who?

Rickard, Brandon, Lyanna, Robert, Jon Arryn-

The voice sighed in frustration, and then began to speak. NO, this isn’t some big communal afterlife. This isn’t really an afterlife at all, per se. You see, when your head got cut off, I took your soul from your dying body, and put it here.

My soul...? Eddard thought in awe, What are you? A god?

Annnd suddenly I remember why I don’t do this more often, the voice said in an exasperated tone, to itself more than anyone. Explaining even a little bit of how the multiverse functions is a pain, especially to people who just died. Here’s the thing- you’re not Lord Stark of Winterfell anymore. You’re a disembodied soul on a far off plane of existence, and for most intents and purposes, quite dead. Though not a ‘god’, I am a being of significant power and knowledge, and I did just you a big favor. Your little world is one of many, and in Westeros, your body died an unpleasant, though quick, death, and your soul would have gone with it if I’d not plucked it out of there. However, I do have the power to give you your body back and put you back in a different world, good as new. What sort of world would you like to go to?

It took Ned no time at all to be sure of his answer. Send me back. Send me back to Westeros. I have to fix this, my family needs-

The voice cut him off once again. No, no, no. You’re dead there, remember? I’m not resurrecting you in Westeros. Try again.

Eddard was silent for a moment. I want to go somewhere peaceful. Some place where good triumphs over evil, which has not seen war in a thousand years.

There aren’t all that many places like that... I do know of one, though. You’ll get your old body back. It’s not a perfect world, and I can’t see its future. You’ll live the rest of your mortal years there, and there’s no do-overs for this.

Life. A new chance to live. Why are you doing this for me?

The voice just laughed. FOR you? I’m not doing this for YOU. I’m doing this because it’s funny.

Before Eddard could respond, he was pulled from the void, and into Equestria.

2 - In Which Twilight Sparkle Gets Insufficient Rest

Twilight

Twilight Sparkle was up late studying, reading an old tome on advanced Abjuration theory. The only thing that was particularly unusual about this was that she was having trouble focusing on it. The attempted invasion of Canterlot by the Changelings the month before weighed on her mind, and it was bothering her. My friends didn't trust my judgement on the fake Cadance, she mused, and even after I had proof, we weren't able to do anything about it.

With a sigh, Twilight put down her book, and walked over to her bed. She could hear Spike snoring in the other room. Climbing into bed, she looked over at the clock on her wall. One thirty-two AM. Ok, wow, I really need to get some sleep. She tossed and turned for a time, trying to get comfortable. Eventually, she managed to doze off, and dreams followed soon after.

"First, we take Canterlot! And then, all of Equestria!"

Twilight watched in horror. Her brother was hypnotized by the Changeling Queen's magic, and was unable to defend the city with his shield. All seemed lost.

And then Princess Celestia walked up. "No. You won't," she stated, plainly. Continuing, her anger began to rise "You may have made it impossible for Shining Armor to perform his spell, but now that you have so foolishly revealed your true self, I can protect my subjects from you!"

Celestia shot a beam of pure energy from her horn, and the Changeling Queen countered. It seemed as if Celestia would triumph easily, at first. She controls the Sun, she's the Princess, she's immortal, over a thousand years of experience- suddenly, the Changeling Queen began to hold her own, and push back, she can't lose, she can't-

Twilight blinked, and it was over. Celestia was on the floor, exhausted. She was dimly aware of shouting her teacher's name, and of the boasting Queen, confident in her victory. The immortal princess whispered to Twilight and her friends. "The Elements of Harmony", she wheezed, "You must get to them, and use their power to defeat the queen."

Twilight ran, frightened but determined, and her friends followed.

It only occurred to Twilight later that the Changeling Queen could have killed them when she and her friends tried in vain to retrieve the Elements. Her mentor, brother, and her favorite foal sitter could have all died that day. If not for the Changeling Queen’s arrogance, she could have easily butchered them then and there, and would have in all likelihood successfully conquered Equestria.

Twilight woke suddenly, practically jumping out of her bed. Her mind raced, but she managed to shut out the worries and replace them with less negative thoughts. It's okay; calm down, that was a month ago. There have been no signs of activity from the Changeling Wastes since then, it turned out ok, that mess is over.

Still, she was concerned. There wasn't much info in her library about the Changeling Wastes or its Queen Chrysalis, whose name she's only learned after a fair bit of research. That this Queen Chrysalis had been able to defeat the Princess was concerning, to say the least. Even though she had extra magic reserves by consuming Shining Armor's love while disguised as Cadance, Twilight was sure she shouldn't have been able to be able to overwhelm Celestia all by herself.

I should have just asked Celestia about what happened, Twilight thought. I doubt I could do anything much to help, though. I'm already her student, and the Element of Magic as well. She'd ask for my assistance if she needed it.

Taking a few deep breaths, she managed to calm herself, and walked over to pick up a book Pinkie Pie had given her recently on positive thinking. I've got to thank her for that; this technique really works. Resting in her bed once more, she began rereading the introduction chapter.

Twilight looked up at the clock some time later. Three forty-seven AM? Ugh, I'm not going to be able to function tomorrow whatsoever at this rate, even if I do sleep in. Putting the book down beside her bed, she lay back closed her eyes, hoping she'd be able to stay asleep this time. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, there was a loud noise from above her head, as if something had fallen from a great height and landed in the branches above the Ponyville Library.

This was quickly followed by a series of noisy thumps and grunts of pain as whatever it was rolled out of the top of the tree, landing unceremoniously on her balcony with a thud. What the hay was that?, Twilight wondered, half-awake. Getting up once more, she walked over to the balcony door, opening it with her hoof.

A large creature lay sprawled unconscious on the balcony. The creature had hair only visible atop its head and around its mouth and chin. It was also covered almost entirely with clothes made of an odd material she could not recognize. It wears clothes, so I can assume it's an intelligent species, but what's with its short forelimbs? It looks vaguely like some sort of ape with—what are they called again—hands? But apes are only found in jungles, and they certainly don't wear clothes. What is this thing?

Her previous exhaustion all but forgotten, Twilight examined the creature with her magic. What she noticed made her jaw drop nearly to the floor. The thing, whatever it was, had no inherent magical field. All living creatures in Equestria, probably the world, had a magic field of some sort. For example, Earth ponies have an inherent magical connection to the ground and living things, and Pegasi have inherent magic that helps them fly and move clouds. For that matter, it'd be absolutely impossible for it to have been flying above my house and crash land, since it has no wings or magic to keep it aloft. As an afterthought, she noticed that while it had no magic of its own, it did have some residual magic on it, as if somepony had recently used a powerful spell on it/

A being without a magic field couldn't possibly be alive. All life in Equestria had at least some sort of magical field, no exceptions! But the creature was still breathing, despite its clear and distinct lack of any magic of its own. Her mind racing with the implications of this paradox, Twilight picked it up with her magic, and lifted it into her home. Pulling out the sleeping bag she’d used when Rarity and Applejack had slept over half a year ago, she was about to lay the creature down to rest, only to realize it would be far too small for the creature. She decided that it could use the sleeping bag as a pillow, and rolled it up with her magic, putting the large mysterious animal down with its head resting on the sleeping bag.

It was then that she gave the odd thing a closer look. From the somewhat wrinkled skin of its face, Twilight deduced that it was probably past its youth, though likely not yet into old age. An odd scar stretched all the way around its neck. Twilight knew she was far too tired to be using her magic like she was, but it was simply too interesting to pass up investigating more closely. Plus, she wanted to check to see if the thing had a concussion or broken bones from its landing, which was quite likely as it had been knocked unconscious, probably from the impact with her balcony/

Using her magic to examine the creature, Twilight quickly detected that while while it was bruised from his landing, and had several shallow cuts from the branches, the creature wasn’t seriously injured, and appeared to be in fairly good health. Judging by its facial hair and squarish bone structure, Twilight decided it was probably a ‘he’, though she wasn’t entirely positive about this, and she certainly wasn’t about to check to make sure. She was feeling slightly woozy from exhaustion, but she pushed thoughts of sleep aside, and continued her examination.

After making sure he wasn’t in any medical danger, she examined the scar on his neck more closely with her magic. It was then Twilight got the most shocking surprise of the night.

Around the scar on his neck, his whole neck was off by a few millimeters, and there was a faint glow of residual magic in that area of his body. It was as if his whole head had been chopped off, then reattached and healed. But that was clearly impossible; nothing could survive that. But that was exactly what it looked like had happened, and she couldn’t think of any other way such a bizarre scar could have been made.

It was then, due to shock, confusion, and sheer tiredness, that Twilight Sparkle lost consciousness, collapsing to the floor beside the alien form of Eddard Stark.

3 - In Which Ned Stark Flees the Premises

Eddard

Eddard Stark awoke in a bright room, staring up at a low ceiling His aching head rested on something soft, a makeshift pillow. It took him a second to remember all that had happened. His discovery that Joffrey was not truly heir to the throne, Robert’s death, Littlefinger's betrayal, the confession, the execution. And then the memories of the the void resurfaced, like an unpleasant dream he could half recall. He remembered what happened immediately afterward, he’d fallen from the night sky, towards a tree in what appeared to be a relatively small town. Alive. I'm alive, and I cannot return to Westeros. I'll likely never see my family again. He closed his eyes again, and realised he was close to tears, closer than he had been since he’d heard of Rickard and Brandon’s death.

When he spoke to the voice in the empty plane, it had not yet sunk in. Now it had. He was stuck in this place, likely for good, while his family was sure to suffer the horrors of war. Wherever he was now may not have had a war for a thousand years, but it was no matter. The idea of living, unable to help his family, trapped in some inescapable ‘paradise’, was as unappealing as having his head chopped off again. At the thought of this, he put his hand to his throat, feeling a thin scar that went all the way around his neck.

He suddenly heard what sounded like a young woman snoring and opened his eyes again, this time glancing about. What he saw confused him thoroughly.

A lavender thing slept soundly next to him. It had four legs, and was clearly equine. It was an oddly shaped, small little thing, and had a design of some sort on its flank, a large purple star surrounded by several white stars, and a horn upon its head as well.

Ned, surprised and confused, inched away from the purple quadraped. What is a pony doing indoors? What is a purple, horned pony doing anywhere? This is too strange. Looking around, he noticed two other things. First, it appeared to be early to mid morning by the amount of light outside through the window. Second, there were books strewn around the room; a small pile of them sat by what appeared to be a child’s bed a meter or so away.

Standing up, Ned nearly hit his head on the ceiling. Ducking, he carefully made his way across the room and picked up the top book next to the bed. Much to his surprise, the title was printed in the Common Tongue; the letters and words all perfectly understandable. The second oddity was the title: On Pony Psychology, Volume IV: Developing a Positive Mindset.

That’s when it clicked. The low ceilings, the small bed—it couldn’t be, but this book title proved it. It was a book written for ponies to read. The concept of intelligent ponies unnerved Eddard. He picked up the next book in the pile and flipped through it. Advanced Abjuration in Theory and Practice: A Guide for Talented Unicorns was apparently a book of highly advanced magic, though he didn’t understand any of the terminology in it. He put down the tome and tried to assess his situation.

A world of magical, intelligent ponies. This is a joke, it’s just ridiculous. I must be mad, or dreaming. Trying to bring himself out of his dream, he pinched his arm.

Nothing happened. Eddard cursed under his breath, careful not to wake the sleeping unicorn. He walked quietly to the stairs leading downwards, towards the door. As he descended, he noticed numerous shelves filled with more books than he’d ever seen in one place. There might be more books here than any one place in Westeros, besides the Citadel in Oldtown, or the Guildhall of the Alchemists in King’s Landing. The shelves appeared to be cut into the wooden walls; in fact, the walls, ceiling, and floor appeared to all have been cut from one massive slab of wood.

Another realization dawned on him. I’m inside a of a tree. Probably the tree I was falling towards after my arrival. It appeared to be night when I fell . . . the unicorn must have brought me inside after I Ianded.

He heard another snore, this time from a corner of the larger central chamber in which he stood. By the side of the room, in a bed smaller even than the one upstairs, was what appeared to be a small, somewhat chubby purple dragon.

A dragon.

Suddenly, he found himself lost in thoughts of the Rebellion, many years ago. The dragon, symbol of House Targaryen, the royal house of Westeros for near 300 years.

I remember when Jon Arryn told me my father and brother had been brutally slain on the orders of the Mad King, and that he wanted to have Robert and I executed as well. I remember returning to Winterfell, to rally the troops against the Targaryens. I remember when Robert slew Prince Rhaegar at the Trident. I remember Jaime Lannister sitting upon the Iron throne, over the dead body of the Mad King, whom he had sworn to protect. I remember the Tower of Joy in Dorne, my friends dying all around me to the blades of the Kingsguard, and I remember my promise to my sister. Eddard realized he was crying. I failed them all. Robert dead. Sansa a hostage, Arya alone in the treacherous streets of King’s Landing. Catelyn a widow. Bran broken, Robb near certainly off to war, and young Rickon will barely be able to remember me. Jon will never know who his true—

The small dragon, still sleeping, burped, distracting Ned from mourning his failures. A green flame came from the Dragon’s mouth, followed, inexplicably enough, by a sealed scroll.

The dragon mumbled, still in his tiny bed. “Twilight, message for you.” It yawned and sat up, eyes still closed. It stretched, and Eddard backed towards the door, unsure what to do. For lack of a better idea, he ran, ducking out the door to the Library and slamming the door behind him. His breathing was panicked and shallow, and he didn’t look back to see if the dragon had seen him.

Eddard found himself in a town, everything smaller than it should be. He didn’t know what to do, where to go, he didn’t know anyone, he didn’t even know the name of the world on which he stood. The streets were largely empty, though he saw a cyan dot moving quickly about in the sky over the other end of town. He wondered if it was pony too.

It was then, as he stood in the middle of the town, that he was spotted. A gray pony with wings flew clumsily towards him, carrying a package. He slowly walked away from it, but it followed him persistently, though kept a safe distance. Ned eventually found a bench by a small park and sat down, exhausted and pushed well beyond his limits from all that had happened. He was vaguely aware of other ponies of all different colors slowly coming out of their houses to go about their business, only to notice him, and observe him from a distance. One of them, a pink one with a fluffy mane, saw him and gasped loudly, then proceeded to run in the opposite direction. He ignored them all. None of them came very close, but many stared, and wondered aloud in the common tongue what he was.

Eddard looked back towards the tree that had housed the purple unicorn and the small dragon. The leaves here may just be beginning to change colors, he thought, but for me, winter is no longer coming—it is already here.

4 - In Which Princess Luna Receives Concerning News

Luna

Princess Luna had put the moon down for the morning, and was going to her chambers to get some rest. The Night Court, as usual, had argued for most of the night over various issues of policy. Equestria being largely a Monarchy, the two courts' power was mostly advisory in major issues, though they were given largely free reign over issues that were not important or interesting enough for either of the Princess’ attention. Luna halfway thought they should just give her full political power to the courts, just so she wouldn’t be responsible for dealing with them anymore. Whom dost thou kid, Luna? Thy court would run amuck without thy guidance.

Listening to them bicker was rather stressful, particularly in the aftermath at the attempted Changeling invasion. Luna knew many of the elected officials, nobles, and dignitaries she had to put up with in the Night Court had ambition to ‘move up’ into the Day Court, and not only because the hours it met were easier on most ponies. Celestia’s court was generally considered far more prestigious, mostly because it had been active for over a millennium, while the Night Court had only been reinstated last year, a month or so after Luna’s return. As a result of the Night Court being reopened, new ponies were needed to fill the court. Most of them were either ambitious and cynical or well-intentioned but hopelessly naive, by her estimate. The appointed head of the Night Court, Chancellor Grey Glasses of Cloudsdale, was one of the few who seemed intelligent, well-meaning, and reasonably sensible, though the manner in which he presented anything of even minor importance was longwinded, monotone, and unspeakably dull. It said something that Luna had no better options than him to make the head of her court.

Still, she didn’t envy Celestia having to deal with with the Day Court. Populated largely by a bunch of uptight and often pompous nobles, Celestia had told her that they were largely well educated and sensible, but also arrogant and unwilling to compromise. There were a few that stood out as being more reasonable, however. There was the somewhat eccentric Mayor Mare of Ponyville, who managed somehow to also find time to make frequent trips to Canterlot to represent her peaceful town in the Day Court, for example. The Vanhoover representatives, particularly the elder statesman of the city, Count Beard, tended to propose a lot of good ideas, despite being a bit uppity about his ‘unquestionable wisdom’ being questioned by anypony but the Royal Sisters. On the other hand, there were ponies like the somewhat notorious Lens Glare, the personality and socialite from Los Pegasus, who ran for representative with ‘Why Not?’, as her campaign slogan, was basically the opposite: relaxed, accepting, and basically useless. Celestia also often frustratingly expressed concern to her sister about the increasingly influential railroad magnate from Manehattan, Major Markets, and her increased sway over many of the representatives.

The pony Celestia had put in charge of the Day Court, Chancellor Ironblood, was an extremely competent organizer and facilitator. Ironblood had made his way up in the world- an orphaned unicorn raised in Baltimare, he’d entered the Royal Guard as a young colt, and was soon after made the youngest Captain of the Guard in three centuries. After retiring from the guard he’d gone into public service, and was known to Luna to be as persistent at brokering deals in the Court as young Twilight Sparkle was at studying magic. Celestia had told her that Ironblood later married into royalty a bit over twenty years ago, though his wife had died in foalbirth. Ironblood’s son, however, had become somewhat infamous in the nobility as a complete twit. Few were particularly surprised that his date with that young fashionista, known to Luna to be the Element of Generosity as well, went so badly at the last Grand Galloping Gala.

Despite his son being an incredibly un-charming Prince, the Chancellor had a reputation of being stern but fair, and Celestia, who had been presiding the Day Court for well over a thousand years, had commented privately that she’d have a hard time adjusting to dealing with Court without him when he inevitably died of old age.

Luna eventually reached her chambers. Yawning, she pushed the doors open and entered, only to find her sister inside. To the common observer, Celestia would have seemed to be in her full regal splendor, confident and wise. To her sister, on the other hand, she currently looked worried, her gentle smile masking a deep concern. Something in her eyes gave away her age in a way Luna could see, but did not comment on. She has been like this since the Changeling fiasco, and by the look of her it seems to have worsened.

“Sister, what art thou doing in my room in this early hour?”, Luna asked.

Celestia’s horn glowed, and the door behind them closed and locked, the windows shut, and the balcony door slammed closed, loudly. Luna knew intuitively if anypony tried to listen in on them, by means magical or mundane, they would not meet with success.

“Something’s come up, Luna.”

“Prithee, ‘Tia, what has transpired?”

Celestia sighed, exasperated. “Sister, please try to speak in modern Equestrian. Nopony says ‘prithee’ anymore.”

Luna gave a smile, and replied “Well, at least I’m no longer TALKING LIKE THIS on a regular basis.” The furniture trembled at the use of the old Royal Canterlot voice.

Frowning, Celestia went on. “As I was saying, sister, there’s been a ripple in in the Veil. Something’s come through.”

At this, Luna stopped. The Veil, the magical boundary high above the world, was a carefully kept secret, known only to the most skilled and trusted magical researchers, and the highest government officials. Pegasi never flew that high, and even those that tried would find it impossible, due to the low amount of magic at higher altitudes temporarily weakening their magical field which helped their wings keep them aloft. The only two ponies whose magic could affect anything above the Veil were Celestia and Luna, and then only to control the Sun and the night sky.

But there had been cases, in the past, of things coming from ripples in the Veil; not from space, but from other worlds. It had been theorised by some of the top magical minds in Equestrian history that the Nightmare, the infamous being that had bent Luna to its selfish will a thousand and one years ago, had come from beyond the Veil though magics powerful and unknown, and it was entirely possible that Discord’s origins lay beyond the Veil as well.

Needless to say, the idea of something else coming through was gravely concerning news, to Luna in particular.

“When did this happen?”, she asked in barely more than a whisper. “And where? Do we know what it was that came through?”

“I just received word of this myself, sister; the unicorn that detected it from the Canterlot Observatories didn’t know what the ripple was, so it was about four hours before the observatory’s Director saw it in their report, recognized it, and brought it to me.”

Normally Luna would be annoyed that the director had woken her sister to report to instead of just going to her; after all, the night was her domain. Luna realized she probably would be mad at him later, but at the moment, hearing what he’d reported took priority.

“I notice you’ve not yet told me where the ripple was detected to be, or what came through.”, she asked, carefully trying to avoid habitually slipping back into Old Equestrian grammar.

Celestia looked down, her mask of confidence slipping. “Above Ponyville, and we have no idea what came through. I’ve already sent Twilight a scroll asking her to keep a lookout for anything unusual, and be careful. No response yet, but I suppose it is to be expected, as it is early, and she’s always tended to study into the night and wake up late.”

While Luna did not know Twilight Sparkle as well as her sister did, she was still greatly concerned, as she owed the young mare a debt that could not be easily repaid for freeing her from the Nightmare’s influence, and for her assistance when she had visited Ponyville on last Nightmare Night.

“What should we do?”

“Twilight is a grown mare, a brilliant pony, and has the of Element of Magic besides.” Celestia continued, with a hint of regret in her voice. “We shall simply wait for a reply from her, and pay close attention to goings-on in and around Ponyville. It is unlikely that whatever entered Equestria from the other side of the Veil will wish to make itself known, so we may have to wait a while on this, and prepare ourselves and Equestria for whatever may occur. You should probably let Grey Glasses know about this as well before the next assembly of the Night Court.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Luna conceded, despite the fact that she hated dealing with the Night Court’s Chancellor. “Speaking of young Twilight and her friends, has word reached the public of their connection to the Elements of Harmony?”

Celestia looked up at her sister. “I’ve personally seen to it that everyone at the wedding during the Changeling invasion knows that, while I inadvertently revealed them to be the Element-bearers when I asked them to get to and use the elements, it was in a moment of crisis, and under no circumstances are they to spread word to anypony that those six are the bearers of the Elements of Harmony.”

“Do you think it will last, sister? We can’t keep it a secret forever,” Luna countered. “They are going to have to be acknowledged for all their heroic deeds someday.”

Celestia walked toward the balcony, and pushed the doors open. “Yes, perhaps someday. But do you truly think all of them are actually ready for the fame and celebrity it would bring? Remember that time when Fluttershy wound up as a star model for Photo Finish? You can’t just quit being one of the ponies that saved Equestria from Discord. That sort of fame sticks, and I don’t want them being dragged into politics any more than I can help it. They deserve better than that.”

With that, the immortal Princess of the Sun walked onto the balcony and into the bright fall morning. Opening her wings, she flew off, leaving her sister to ponder her words.

5 - In Which Twilight Sparkle Attempts to Make Conversation

Twilight

Twilight awoke to the sound of the sound of Spike calling her name. What a weird dream, she thought, recalling a bizarre memory of an huge, magically inert, anthropoid thing falling onto the Library balcony after tumbling through its branches. I probably shouldn’t have had so much of that cake left over from Pinkie’s latest party before studying last night... what was the occasion for that party again? Ugh, I don’t even remember.

“Twilight!” Spike shouted for what was probably the fifth time, as he made his way up the stairs. Unlike the first four or so times, Twilight was now awake enough to respond to him, if only barely.

“Spike, what is it?” she mumbled, staggering up from the floor, her eyes half-open.

Spike waved his arms wildly and pointed out the door. “Some weird monster just ran out the library door when I woke up! I only got a quick look at it as I opened my eyes, but it was really tall, and kinda scary!”

Twilight stared back at her assistant blankly. Turning her head slowly, she looked at the balcony door.

It was wide open. The only possible conclusion was that her weird dream had not, in fact, been a dream.

Twilight Sparkle panicked. Hoping the creature wasn’t long gone, she scrambled out the door as fast as her hooves could take her. Spike didn’t even have time to mention the letter from Celestia.

A huge entirely non-magical lifeform on the loose quite possibly dangerous have to find it can’t let anypony get hurt! She could deal with researching and studying its safely later, she had to find it and make sure it wasn’t a threat to Ponyville first.

Twilight didn’t have to look very far. The thing was just a bit farther into town, sitting on a park bench that was clearly too small for a creature of its height. There were several ponies looking at it curiously as they moved about through the park, though none approached the creature. She recognized one of the local mailmares, who waved hello to the creature from a distance while carrying a package. Needless to say, the clumsy pegasus dropped the package in the process, and Twilight snapped out of her panic enough to telekinetically catch the mailmare’s delivery. The mailmare then looked around and waved at Twilight with a goofy smile, picked up her hovering package again, and flew off.

Twilight took a deep breath, trying to calm herself like that book Pinkie gave her recommended. It, no, he hasn’t hurt anypony. No need for panic. Stay calm.

She opened her eyes again to see the thing looking right at her.

Twilight froze up. Despite never having seen anything of its species before, she seemed to be able to read its facial expressions surprisingly well.

The creature, this alien thing, seemed to have a deep sadness written all over his face, and Twilight thought he looked somewhat afraid as well. Suddenly, his expression changed to something she couldn’t tell, as if it had put on a mask to hide its emotions.

“Twilight. An interesting name,” he spoke.

Twilight was flabbergasted. How does it know my name? And for that matter, how does it know Equestrian? I guess Ponyville is near the middle of Equestria, but this thing clearly is nothing I’ve ever heard of, certainly not from Equestria. Is it, no, he psychic? Wait, no, it’s magically inert, it can’t—

The creature looked at her curiously. “Your small dragon called your name when he woke up.”, the thing stated simply. “I think he had some sort of message for you.”

“Wait,” Twilight said, finally. “How’d you know I was wondering how you knew my name?”

The thing shrugged its shoulders. “It was obvious you were panicking suddenly over something I said, and I only said one thing.”

Twilight broke eye contact for a second. Was my panic really that obvious? She then remembered the other question that had just come up. “Where’d you learn to speak Equestrian?” she asked, somewhat weakly.

The thing looked down at her, and replied “I was wondering where ponies and dragons learned to speak at all.”

An awkward silence followed, in which Twilight processed the implications of the creature’s last sentence. He couldn’t mean that, she thought, but there was only one way to know.

“You mean, where you’re from, there are ponies and dragons? And they can’t talk?”

The being leaned back on the bench and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve never met nor heard of a speaking pony of any sort before today. As for dragons, they died out long ago, and I’ve never heard that they could talk.”

The young unicorn felt a mix of emotions at this, with confusion and curiosity chief among them. Her curiosity, however, was enough for her to ask another question of the tall creature, one she’d been meaning to ask before she was sidetracked “Well, where are you from, anyway? How in the world did you wind up falling from the sky into the middle of Equestria?”

Twilight thought she’d asked it politely enough. In fact, she was sure she had. His reaction, however suggested otherwise. He was silent, a pained emotion clear on his face as he stared off past Twilight, lost in thought. He held his hand to the scar on his neck. However he had come to Equestria, the circumstances of it had wounded him deeply.

Stuttering on her apology, Twilight managed to say “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” before she was interrupted.

“I am here because I tried to do the right thing. I tried and I failed, and all of Westeros is going to pay the price for my failure,” he spoke, in barely more than a whisper. “I failed them all, and this is my punishment.”

Twilight had plenty of questions she wanted to ask at this, but knew she shouldn’t put any more emotional pressure on the creature, who was quite clearly still recovering from a painful ordeal. Despite her curiosity, she resisted the urge to press him for details on his homeland and his arrival in Equestria. Wisely, she Instead changed the topic, asking another, far simpler question.

“Well,” she began, cautiously, “What’s your name?”

“Eddard Stark, of Winterfell.”

Putting aside the fact that she didn’t know of anywhere in the whole world called ‘Winterfell,’ she continued. “Eddard Stark,” Twilight laughed, nervously. “An interesting name as well. What does it mean?”

Eddard let out a long breath. “Nothing,” he said. “Not here, anyway.”

Twilight picked up on what he meant immediately. “So, your name doesn’t mean much, unlike most pony names... and whatever it does mean is irrelevant here?”

Eddard nodded his head.

“Well, what does your name mean where you’re from, anyway? What does Eddard Stark mean in, what did you call it, Winterfell?”

“Turn around.”

Twilight tilted her head to the side, confused. “What on odd meaning for a—” she said, before hearing Spike shout her name from behind her.

The baby dragon was running up to them at an impressive speed. “Twilight!”, he shouted, “that’s the monster I was telling you about!” Reaching Twilight, he stayed behind her, peering at Eddard cautiously. “It’s probably dangerous, what are you—”

Before Spike could finish his warning, Twilight interrupted him. “It is a he. His name is Eddard, and he’s not from around here. The least you could do is be polite,” she reprimanded her #1 assistant in a stern a manner as her tired and confused self could muster. Looking back at Spike, she noticed he was holding a scroll.

Spike looked up at Twilight, and passed her the message from Celestia. “So you’ve already managed to make friends with the scary alien?” He stroked his chin as if fiddling with an imaginary goatee. “Impressive”

“Uh. Alien? As in not from this Equestria, or what?” She looked at the strange being called Eddard, hoping for more details about Winterfell or wherever it was Eddard came. The alien said nothing, and he appeared somber, avoiding eye contact and looking at the ground. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts again, and by his expression she could tell they were not pleasant ones.

Giving up on Eddard elaborating on his situation further, Twilight turned her attention to the letter from her mentor, Princess Celestia. Opening and holding it in midair with her magic, Twilight began to read.

To my most faithful student, Twilight Sparkle

There are some things I need to inform you of. I regret that I must communicate this via letter, as my visiting Ponyville unscheduled would bring attention that would distract us from the urgent matter at hoof. Under no circumstances are you to let anypony besides Spike and the other Element bearers know of the contents of this scroll, and I recommend you burn it when you are done reading it.

There is a magic border above Equestria, and in fact over the entire world, known as the Veil. It is higher than Pegasi can fly, and it has been theorized by my top researchers to be a barrier between our world and other realities. The reason you’ve almost certainly never heard of it before is really quite simple; due to the dangerous and mysterious nature of such a border, its existence is a carefully kept secret, with only twelve living ponies authorised to know of its existence, over half of whom are dedicated to its research.

Actually, I suppose it is eighteen authorized ponies and a young dragon now, with my having confided in you and your friends. I’m sorry I’ve had to keep such an interesting magical subject from you for so long, and I’m sure you aren’t happy to learn of my keeping this secret from you, and from Equestria. However, to be frank, knowledge of the possibility of worlds is dangerous, as some would try to find a way through the Veil to other worlds.

This wouldn’t be nearly so much of a problem, if it weren’t for the one thing we know to have entered Equestria through this boundary. The Nightmare, which possessed my sister, twisting her to its awful will over a millennium ago, is not from Equestria, nor any other place in this world. According to Luna, it confided in her during their long imprisonment as Nightmare Moon, and claimed it came through the Veil, from another world, to ‘help’ her. The bit about helping her was one of the Nightmare’s many lies, but our researchers did notice an anomaly in the veil, a ripple of sorts, in the weeks before her rebellion kicked off the War of the Sun and Moon, so it is very likely that the dark spirit spoke truthfully of its origins.

I am informing you of all this for one reason. There has been another ripple in the Veil consistent with something coming through into our world, much as the Nightmare did a thousand years ago. The disturbance in the Veil was noticed last night by an employee at the Royal Observatory, and was brought to me by the Observatory Director, as soon as he recognized what it was. The ripple was located directly above Ponyville.

As your mentor, Princess, and as your friend, I urge that you keep an eye out for anything unusual in Ponyville. Whatever it is that has entered Equestria, there is a good chance it is dangerous, and I advise the utmost caution. There will be guards sent to the area to patrol the Everfree forest in case whatever it is takes up residence there, but they will not be informed of the details of the situation. I am trusting this entirely to you and a your friends. Please keep me informed of any developments in Ponyville, if and when they occur.

Wishing you luck,

Princess Celestia

Twilight, being the extremely intelligent mare she was, realized the implications of the Veil as soon as it was mentioned to be above Equestria. Her mysterious visitor had fallen from the sky, after all. Normally she would be rather panicked at having to suddenly deal with a visitor from another world, who was quite possibly dangerous, but she was getting somewhat numbed to the outlandishness of her current situation. Also, despite Celestia’s warning, it was clear to her that this ‘Eddard Stark’ had no desire to be in Equestria, and seemed distraught over his situation. In other words, he didn’t come here to wreak havoc on a peaceful word, but was instead sent here against his will.

Handing the young dragon back the scroll, she addressed her number one assistant. “Spike, we need to respond to the Princess as soon as possible.” Twilight said, with a quiet urgency to her voice. “Eddard, we should probably try to keep you out of sight for now. Would you mind returning with me to my home?”

“It’s fine,” he responded. “It isn’t as if I have anything better to do around here.”

The walk back to the library was rather solemn. Twilight had to fight back an urge to ask Eddard countless questions that popped into her mind, such as what his species was called, or what sorts of magic there was where he was from. She was fairly sure being pestered about the world he was from wouldn’t help Eddard adjust to being in Equestria, and doubted he’d react well to such questions anyhow. Upon their arrival back at the library, she asked Spike to find a book on Equestrian history for Eddard. After a quick search, their visitor from beyond the Veil was sitting on the stairs, reluctantly reading a relatively relatively new history textbook. If he had any thoughts on Equestrian history, he didn’t state them.

As soon as Eddard sat down with the book, Twilight grabbed a quill with her magic, and quickly began to write a letter to the Princess.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’ve found our visitor from beyond the Veil already. He’s some kind of tall bipedal creature. He does looks a bit scary, but as far as I can tell he’s here in Equestria against his will, and doesn’t mean anypony any harm. I’ve only just met him, and will send you more details as I converse with him further. His name is Eddard Stark, by the way, and he mentioned being from somewhere called Winterfell. I’m not sure if that’s the name of the world he’s from or not, but judging by the context in which he said it, it’s probably a city. He kept referring to a failure on his part, and said that something called Westeros, which might be the world he’s from, was going to suffer as a result of his failure. He seems quite distressed by his situation. If I had to guess, it sounds like he was someone important in his world, which is in some degree of danger. No details on that yet, though.

This is so exciting, a chance to learn about a whole different reality! I really wish you’d told me about the Veil sooner, its very existence implies all sorts of fascinating things, and I’m sure I’ve only just scratched the surface. I’d love to read some of the research done about the Veil and other worlds sometime, if that’s alright.

I’ll try to stop rambling now. Please respond when you can.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle

6 - In Which Prince Blueblood Makes a Startling Discovery

Blueblood

The sky above Canterlot was a pure grey, through which Celestia’s mid-morning sun shone coldly and dimly. A strike by the Pegasi who managed the city’s weather was in the process of being negotiated in the court, and the weather had consequently been indecisive for the past few weeks. Today was no exception. It refused to rain, nor would it shine down upon Canterlot’s streets. The city found itself in a sort of mild limbo.

This was Prince Blueblood’s least favorite kind of weather, he decided, gazing out toward the distant horizon, past Ponyville and losing clarity in the dark shroud of Everfree. It was noncommittal, and that bothered him. If only it would make up its mind, he thought, pressing his quill into the paper at his desk. One thing or the other. It’s not hard. There was a snap. The prince looked down to see his quill shattered, its ink burst across the page. The letter was ruined.

Don’t know who that was addressed to, he realized. Little mishap was probably for the best, come to think of it. He would start a new letter, he decided, but after his break. He needed another break, surely. After all, it had been a tough day on the job. He rose from the desk and drifted aimlessly from the room. Working made him feel like—he thought for a moment—a slave or something.

“It’s ridiculous,” he assured himself. “Nopony should have to spend that much time working.”

He paused. “Not me, at least. Preposterous.” Entering the break room, he said rather boldly, “This job is a joke.” And he smiled, for that summed it up nicely.

“Ahem,” said his boss.

Carriage Return, a somewhat elderly dark blue pegasus, and the chief administrator of the Equestrian Outlying Regions Foreign Affairs Department, seemed to be undergoing a sort of internal struggle. There had been twitch in his eye for two months, twenty three days, an hour, six minutes, and three seconds, and it had incorporated itself irreversibly into his demeanor. “Stop,” he muttered. “Stop right there.”

Blueblood did not hear him, greeted him briefly, and walked past him into the break room. But Carriage Return was on a mission. This would end, he had decided during his most recent sleepless night, today.

“You,” His voice shook. “Are fired.” He adopted a practiced manic grin. “You are fired. Are fired. You. You’re fired. You are fired.”

“Hm?” Bluebood turned from across the room. “Oh, hello.”

“Prince Blueblood, you have been terminated.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“You’re fired.”

“What?”

“I am firing you. Ergo, you are fired. You are now fired.”

“You,” Blueblood tried to read the pony from across the room. “Can’t? You can’t. Can you?”

Carriage Return looked confused.

“No,” Blueblood decided. “You’re not the boss of me.”

This was going better than expected. “Oh, but I am.” He retorted swiftly. “That is literally the situation we are in.”

Blueblood smiled knowingly. “Ho,” he chortled. “Ho, ho. I’m pretty sure I’d know if I had boss.” His smirk faltered. “I mean, that is, because a boss is something I would know whether or not I’d have.”

They stared at each other for five entire seconds.

Blueblood said, “Are you my boss?”

Carriage Return smiled knowingly. “One and the same. As such it is my prerogative to fire you, which I have just finished doing.”

Blueblood blinked. He detested the job, certainly, but not enough to let pass what was clearly a direct, personal attack on his character from this old Pegasus. “How dare you, sir,” he whispered. “This job, this isn’t a job. It’s a death sentence. You expect me to work for twenty hours a week? You want me to wake up early four days out of seven—”

“And that’s another thing,” the jittery pony broke in. “Where do you go on Fri—”

“—Oh, so now it’s some big crime to take the odd day off, is it?”

“No. Well, yes. You’re fired.”

“How dare—”

“—Out of my hooves,” Carriage Return lied.

“—I . . .” Blueblood seemed at a loss for words. “I hope you’ve learned something.” he finished and exited the room.

Once he was out of the building, it began to rain.

Wandering down the wet streets of Canterlot without a rain jacket, the newly unemployed Prince tried to decide whether this latest development in his life was for the better or worse.

I’m a noble, He reassured himself. I don’t see why people can’t seem to respect me. I mean, seriously, fire me? I couldn’t possibly be that bad. Blueblood sighed, and continued on towards his father’s manor near the center of the city. There’s no solution—jobs are so excruciatingly dull, and yet everyone apparently expects me to do work, like a common peasant or something. There really has to be some way around this. . .
Blueblood arrived at the gates of the family manor about a half hour before noon. His father, Chancellor Ironblood of the Day Court of Equestria, certainly seemed to flaunt the wealth and prestige he’d earned over the years, if the size the family’s estate was anything to go by. Then again, for a stallion such as Ironblood, it might not seem like such an expense. He’d always been a skilled investor.

Entering the his home, he shook himself dry, and trotted up the stairs towards his room. Before he could get there, he heard the door to his father’s study open. Ironblood, an imposing unicorn with a brown coat and grey mane, walked towards his son.

“You’re home early,” the old stallion stated simply. If his voice or face betrayed any sort of emotion, Blueblood failed to pick up on it.

“Yes, I am,” Blueblood replied in as calm a voice as he could muster, and walked past his father towards his room.

“Any particular reason why?”

Blueblood stopped in his tracks and turned to face his father. He knew there was no dodging the question. All the pent-up frustration in his mind boiled over, for the second time that day, and this time he raised his voice in a harsh tone.

“They fired me. Me! Terminated, laid off, removed from from the workforce!” he snarled. “Job over. The end!”

Ironblood sighed and looked down at his son, with a rather unsurprised look on his face. “Figures. Was it due to laziness, insubordination, or that fact that you were skipping work each Friday?”

Blueblood didn’t reply, except by glaring daggers at his father.

“A combination of the three, then.” Ironblood concluded. “I doubt anyone will hire you now, with such a bad record on the job, nobility or not. At least, not until you improve your work ethic and fix your reputation.”

Prince Blueblood remained stubbornly silent.

The Chancellor shrugged. “Your loss,” he said, and walked down the stairs toward the manor’s front door. Suddenly, he stopped, and turned back for a second. “Oh, and Blue? Being laid off is not the same as being fired. You were fired, not laid off.”

Ironblood left the building, closing the front door quietly behind him, leaving Blueblood alone, angry, and dejected. Why does life have to be so difficult? Everything is so . . . inconvenient.

Five hours later, the words were still resounding in Blueblood’s head.

“Fix my reputation.” He muttered indignantly. “Who does he think he is, saying that to me? He’s a former military grunt, a glorified bureaucrat who married into royalty.” He’s also your father, the Prince briefly thought to himself, but shot the thought down in a second. “What sort of father is he, always out, always working? He’s just a high-level government bureaucrat, I bet he’s not even earning all that money he brings in legally.”

It was at that moment that the Prince’s gaze lighted upon the door to his father’s study, which was closed. It was always closed, and with the exception of a brief peek when he father entered and exited the room, he had never seen its contents. His father had left the house for a joint meeting between the night and day courts, which, naturally, took place at dusk. He would never know.

He crept toward the darkened door, which had an ominous quality to it. To look at it with the intention of entering was like making eye contact with a psychologically unstable ruffian whose eyes had taken a liking to your coinpurse. It was a grim, foreboding feeling, but Blueblood pushed on in spite of it. He would pass this door and he would find what his father was hiding.

He reached with his magic to twist the doorknob. He gripped it gingerly, but was not sure why. His father was miles out of earshot. He could not hear. With great caution, he began to twist. He gave a slow turn and found that the door was locked.

“Damn,” he said, but then used his magic to unlock the door. “Ah. That’s better. I’m glad he never figured out I learned how to do that.”

The study was dominated by an enormous roll-top desk, which itself was flanked by several rows of stacked filing cabinets, which, despite their immaculate tidiness, looked overwhelmingly heavy with paper. Only a few papers lay on Ironblood’s desk, and as Blueblood stole warily across the room they drew his attention.

“Labor Subordination and Emergency Reacquisition Act,” muttered Blueblood, reading from the top document. “Pegasus unions . . . must be about the strikes.” He lifted it to the side, reading what was underneath. “Ugh,” he said. “This goes for—” He flipped through the stack. “—thirteen pages.”

He pushed them aside to find a different document, a small stack of papers in a manilla folder marked TOP SECRET in red. This document seemed to be full of magical mumbo-jumbo, most of which Prince Blueblood couldn’t make heads or tails of, going on about something called the Veil. It looked complicated and boring, but the red stamp on the folder implied it could be interesting and useful if he had the proper time to peruse it.

The third item on Ironblood’s desk was full of names listed in descending alphabetical order. Numbers accompanied them. It was a payroll sheet, he realized. Comments were listed alongside several names. “Thirty percent raise,” said one. Another said, “Promotion: Move to manager salary.” Among the names with comments listed were “Phake Phantom,” “Questionable Existence,” “Bogus Employee,” and “Embezzlement Fund.”

“Hm,” said the Prince. “Everyone says he’s awful to his employees. Guess you can’t believe everything you hea—” He squinted at the fourth name. “Hold on,” he said. “I know what’s going on here.”

He carefully lifted the ledger from the desk, but was jarred by a rattling at the front door. It was his father. It had to be. The meeting must have been cut short. He would replace the papers later, he desperately decided. He used his magic to break open Ironblood’s study window from the outside, and knocked objects over within the room to make it appear there had been a burglary. With the documents in his magical grip, he fled the room, pulling one door closed as another one opened. Quickly, Blueblood moved from the study, down the stairs, through the parlor, up the stairs to his room and through his bedroom door;.

By the time his father had left the entryway, the records were safe in Blueblood’s own study.