Servant in the Twilight

by Dsarker

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Royal Guard, Suicide / Self Harm, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance
Length: 13544

A month after the attempted assassination on Princess Celestia, two guards are on patrol in Canterlot.

In the twilight hour between night and day, somepony has to be on guard. Taken from both the Night and Day Guard, these ponies are known, unofficially, as the 'Overlappers'. Tonight, two ponies are finding they have been put on this patrol for a reason, and neither know why or by whom.

This is a sequel to 'Servant in the Dark', but does not assume much or any knowledge of the previous story. The important sections are explained in the story.

Published 2020-11-15 11:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2020-11-15 11:00:00 UTC

The Story

In Canterlot, the patrols of the Royal Guard protect the innocent citizens. These ponies perform a mix of duties. These range from policestallion, to soldier, to first aid; and each pony has their own way of seeing their role.

The Guard divides into more than the types of ponies. Another division exists, deeper than any other. The difference is night and day. The Day Guard owes its loyalty to Princess Celestia, while the Night Guard to Princess Luna. A complicating factor in this division is the timeframe. The division existed for over a thousand years. The two groups worked together for three.

Three years it had been since Princess Luna returned, redeemed from the evils of Nightmare Moon. Before that, the Night Guard lived in exile, in a tiny town called Duskbreach. The exile was no punishment—it was self-exile, for the Night Guard took responsibility for not saving their Dark Lady from her corruption.

They alone knew the truth of Nightmare Moon and remembered the time of her return. And so, for one thousand years, they prepared, ready to rescue their Princess.

There was a mild embarrassment when six young ponies upstaged them, but the Night Guard took it in stride. Welcomed back into polite society, if with a little caution at their appearance, the Royal Guard integrated them back into the Guard proper.

This had, however, led to a slight question of jurisdiction. The Night Guard were Princess Luna’s vassals and bore responsibility for the night. It was in their name. But when did the night begin? And how should the Night Guard deal with situations outside the time of their responsibility?

The solution was a little patchwork, but it had sorted the problem: the ‘Overlappers’. They replaced normal patrols for one hour each day and night, for thirty minutes before and after the official Dawn and Nightfall. Because both Night and Day claimed jurisdiction, they were composed of one Night Guard and one Day Guard. As the normal patrols resumed, these Overlappers would report in, close their shift, and either go home, or rejoin the patrols with their regular squad.

For three years, the program worked. It prevented needing to ask the Princesses to decide, and that served the officers of the Royal Guard.

Overlappers were usually volunteers, occasionally filled out with assigned ponies from the Commanders of both Guards. One thing had changed that over the last year: the Princesses had called for more integration, and so they allowed ponies to request partners for the patrol. The Commanders intended to give deeper opportunities to develop trust and goodwill between the two Guards.

That intention had not been fulfilled. Almost the opposite had happened. Miscommunication meant that most ponies believed that if one were ‘volunteered’, they would not get a choice. As much as the officers tried to correct that misunderstanding, it had stuck. So, rather than trying to convince the Guard, they merely downplayed the program.

But it was still in place.

So, when the Captain and the Commanders received two forms, each requesting the other, they did not hesitate in approving it.

They did not even seem to notice the matching hoof-writing.

As a result, they assigned Sergeant Dizzy and Arbalist Mark to patrol the streets in the Clydesdale Cross district, and neither was very much sure why they were there.

The ponies could not look less alike. Dizzy was tall and sturdy for a pegasus pony, her fur a steady amber yellow and a periwinkle white mane trimmed to exact regulation. Her armour was smooth and gold-coloured, bearing the teal star insignia of Princess Celestia. Clipped to the armour was a rank badge, showing she was a Sergeant in the Day Guard. It was polished, and to anypony familiar with the Guard, that marked a recent promotion.

Mark, on the other hoof, was a lean sulphur blue earth pony, with a navy mane that exceeded regulation length considerably. His armour, being that of the Night Guard, was indigo and curved into spiked tips. It too bore an insignia of a Princess, this time Princess Luna. Her symbol was an indigo and navy cat’s-eye. No rank badge here, only a single bolt from a crossbow strapped across in its place. That identified him as an arbalist, a markspony specialised in the steel-prodded arbalest. Few ponies could claim that title.

It was not the first time, or the second, or even third they had met. The last time they had seen each other was almost a month ago, after a long-winded wager between the Dark Lady and Princess Celestia. Mark had won that wager for Princess Luna, and Dizzy had both unwittingly helped him do so and caught him afterwards.

Her heart had never felt so low as when she had marched Mark back to the Princess. She had known him as Tempo over the last months, and he had been such a kind pony. As Mark, she had known him before—he had been her cohort’s tutor in the crossbow, owing to his mastery of it. She awed at his ability to hit a target then, but now she was empty.

Dizzy had marched him right to the Princess and then stepped back. Whatever the Princess would say, whatever she would do to him, Dizzy wanted no part of it. Though she knew he had betrayed her, betrayed her Princess, she did not wish to see it.

Princess Celestia bent down to him, whispering something. Mark had nodded, his neck already bent. The Princess nodded, and then gestured for two of the Guard to take him away, leading him to the Palace.

The Princess had explained it to her then. That it was a test. A test of Princess Luna’s, of both the Day Guard and of Mark in particular. Dizzy had been there when Princess Celestia had led him from Princess Luna’s throne after he had returned. Mark staggered out; he was almost enervated. She had taken him to the barracks, supporting him as he walked. His almost complete change had shocked Dizzy, and as she had helped him down the stairs, she had seen Princess Celestia leave the room, a strange expression on her face.

Dizzy thought of him since that day. Now he was there in the flesh.

Mark had smiled and commended her on her promotion to Sergeant. “Good,” he had said. “They would be fools to waste you.” He had remembered her, at least. It was strange, almost. Dizzy remembered how surprised she was at the assignment when it had come in last week. That he would have forgotten her seemed inconceivable—he had requested her—but it was strange. It was as if he was watching her, waiting for her.

She had. It was difficult to forget getting to know a pony for five months. Tempo, his alias then, had been everything she had wanted. He was smart, compassionate, caring. Never made her feel foolish, even though he had always won. Had that just been a trick? Deep in her heart, Dizzy did not believe it. It could not be true.

Dizzy had tried to find him. When the Guard promoted her, she had asked the Princess. Celestia had given her a half-smile, almost knowing, and said something about a mission. What could she do, but accept it? She hoped that there was some part of him that had meant all he had said and been. And she would never know. Now they were side-by-side on patrol. And she could not think of what to say.

“It’s been almost four weeks.” Dizzy turned to face Mark as he spoke, the chiming of bells marking the half-hour in the background. He was still looking down the streets as they passed. Turning to her, he smiled. “I’m glad to see you again.”

She nodded, smiling in return. “Thank you,” Dizzy said. She had made a list of questions she wanted to ask him when she had received her orders, but she could not call them to mind. Only one stayed with her.

“Where were you?” she asked. Even though the Princess had told her it was a mission, it had felt different. They published deployment orders in the barracks. Even her Overlap patrol had a copy in the mess hall. But for him, there had been… nothing. Not AWOL, not SPECMIS, nothing. They had taken his name out. Just a blank spot. Not filled with another pony—just left empty.

Now he was back. What had happened? Where had he gone? She had hoped—though it was pointless—that he would be there at the ceremony when the Guard promoted her. That was when the Princess mentioned the mission. But nothing further.

“I had to go through to Fillydelphia,” he said, at last. Dizzy frowned. What could be so important in Fillydelphia that it took such secrecy? She was born there, and it seemed a blessing to leave.

“And?” she said, after the silence had dragged long enough that she was sure he was not pausing for dramatic effect. Tempo had done that.

“And… well, nothing, really.” Mark shrugged. “It was just a routine training jaunt. Make sure the Guard are competent with their crossbows. I’m surprised you did not see it in the orders.”

Dizzy stopped. “Mark,” she said. He turned, and seeing her stopped, he strolled back to her. “I didn’t see it in the orders because it wasn’t there. Not that I didn’t check. I worried about you.”

His eyes widened. “Not in the orders? I’m sorry, Dizzy. I don’t know what to say.” He scratched his chin for a second. “You could ask the Princess, I’m sure. We have less than an hour left. You can find out your answer then.” As if that settled the question, he turned to walk on, and Dizzy followed.

“Mark,” she said at last, as the silence dragged during their walk down the streets. “Why did you ask for me?” She turned to look at him, watching for some sign.

He kept walking, but now there was a frown. “Why did I ask for you?” he repeated, as if he was not sure he had heard. “You mean for this patrol?” He did not look back at her, eyes sweeping the streets as they passed.

“What else would I mean?” she said, adding a hint of a laugh to soften any sting. “Not that I mind, you know.”

He stopped and turned to face her. “Sorry, I don’t understand,” he said, his eyebrows raised. “I didn’t ask for this patrol at all.” Now it was Dizzy’s turn to be confused. “I thought you’d asked for me.” He rummaged through one of his pouches and took out a folded-up piece of paper.

Mark unfolded it and passed it to her. Dizzy looked at it. It was a set of orders. It was the same—names being different—as the one she received.

ARBALIST MARK to OVERPAT district CLYDECROSS. volunteer partner status Y/N partner SERGEANT DIZZY

She frowned, not sure what this meant. “I… I didn’t volunteer.” Dizzy looked up to meet Mark’s eyes. He held it for a second, frowning. “Mark?”

“Yes?” he said, then turned at the sound of running hooves across the cobblestones echoing from an alley. The two turned, Mark tensing.

“Thief!” shouted somepony from deep within. The word echoed through the alley, and Mark dropped to a crouch, drawing the patrol crossbow from his back. To Dizzy, it looked awkward to see him load, but it was faster than she had ever done it.

“Royal Guard! Show yourself, criminal,” he called down the alley. Through a single puddle of light in the alley, Dizzy could see a pegasus foal running, something in its mouth.

“Stop.” She pushed Mark’s crossbow down. “It’s just a foal.”

“Foal is still stealing something,” he said, but he did not raise the crossbow. “Can we catch him?”

“I’ll do it.” With that, she took off. Dizzy had never considered herself a fast flyer, but she found joy in flying. It was something she was never too busy to do. The foal was ducking through the alleys, but something was off. She could see now the pony chasing the foal, an earth pony. Why not fly away?

It was not long before she could spot a likely block-off point. Though most of the alley wound through a mess of buildings, the foal was heading down towards a long, straight section, with no ways out. Dizzy dove, landing on the other side of the alley, facing the foal.

“You need to stop,” she said. Her voice was firm, but she had frozen inside. Dizzy could see the foal up close now, and at once saw why he had not flown. He was young, but that was not the reason. His face was shrunken and tight, and she thought if she had the time, she could count all his bones, they were so visible. The foal was starving. He must have been for some time. Even as he skidded to a stop, Dizzy could see his heaving chest. This was no deliberate theft, nothing planned. She could see the desperation in his eyes, and she walked up to him.

“Thank you,” huffed the earth pony as he caught up with the now stopped pegasus. “Rascal just up and grabbed this loaf as I was closing.” He came up and lifted a hoof, ready to slam it across the foal’s back.

“Stop!” Dizzy shouted. The hoof stopped in mid-air. “He’s just a foal. And look at him! He can’t have eaten in days.”

The pony looked at her in confusion. “What’s that to me? He stole that loaf, and now he’s probably gnawed it almost in half with his chase.” True as that may have been, Dizzy had not become a Guard to take bread from the mouths of foals. Behind the earth pony, Dizzy could see Mark coming into the alley, and stopping to watch.

“Look,” she said, fumbling with a pouch tied under her armour. “How much would that loaf cost you?”

“About five bits. What does that matter? He broke the law!” Dizzy could hear voices, but did not turn to look. She could see Mark sweeping around. If his movements were any sign as to the number of ponies, it seemed they were drawing quite a crowd.

“Here,” she said, drawing and counting out ten bits. It was not quite a quarter day’s wages, but she could do without it. “That’s twice, to recoup the time it took you to chase. Now go back to your shop, we’ll take care of it from here.”

The earth pony took the coins, but did not move. “We? You mean you and that gutter thief?” He took a step closer to Dizzy. “This a bribe?”

“No, citizen, that’s a payment,” said Mark, coming up behind the earth pony now. “And my partner means her and I, and whoever else of the Guard is necessary to deal with this disharmony.” He tapped the earth pony on the back. “Permanently.”

The earth pony flinched at the touch and started backing away. “Of course, sir. No trouble from me. Thank you very much. Praise Celes- I mean, praise Luna!” Then he turned and ran out the alley, and Mark chuckled.

“That goes for all of you spectators, thank you.” He looked up at the windows slamming shut across the alleyway. Then his gaze shifted to Dizzy and the foal. “Now, Sergeant, back to you.”

Dizzy looked at Mark, and all she could feel was relief and confusion. This was not the Mark she had known before, or even when he had gone by Tempo. This was something… something different from both. A question for later.

She turned to the foal. “It’s okay now. You can eat now. You’re safe.” The foal looked between her and Mark, but no other movement. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

“He won’t eat it, Sergeant,” said Mark. He bent down to meet the foal’s eyes. “Who else is at home?”

The foal’s eyes widened, and Dizzy’s jaw fell. “What do you mean, Mark? Do you know him?” She looked in between the two. Were they related? How had he guessed something like that?

“No, Dizzy.” Mark straightened up. “It’s there in his entire actions. Foal could have grabbed a roll and shoved the entire thing in his mouth. Even if he got caught, he wouldn’t give it up. But he took a whole loaf.” He shrugged. “But I think you’ll have a better chance at talking to him than I will.”

Dizzy turned to the foal and crouched down, levelling her body with his. “What’s your name? Where are your family?” There was no response. “Please,” she said. “I want to help you. You can trust me.” Still nothing.

“Sergeant.” Dizzy looked up to Mark, who was shaking his head. “He won’t trust us. Let him go.”

She did not want to, but Dizzy agreed with Mark. It felt harsh. But if the foal would not speak, what could they do? Then something came to her. Dizzy reached back into her armour, to that same pouch. She unloosed the catch and removed it.

“Here you go,” she said, holding the pouch out for the foal. He looked at her, and at the pouch, and then up at her again. “If you need more, ask me. Come to the barracks and ask for Sergeant Dizzy.”

The foal reached out to take the pouch, his eyes darting between the two Guardsponies like he was waiting for them to take it back. But there was no trick. Dizzy could feel her eyes watering at the sight. What happened to a pony so young, to make him so distrustful?

At last he took the pouch. Before the two could react, he had run off the same way that he had been going before they had stopped him, Dizzy’s eyes following him.

“Sergeant,” said Mark, his voice quiet. “That was a good deed.” She turned and saw he had taken out a pouch. “Take it,” he said, offering it to her. “I know they don’t pay the non-coms enough as it is.”

She half-smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, Mark, but you don’t need to do that.” Dizzy would feel the pinch for about a week, but she could survive.

Mark shook his head in turn. “I don’t use it. I’ve never had a need.” Again, he offered it to her. “And just so we’re clear, Sergeant, I’m not taking no for an answer.” His voice was lighter now, and Dizzy was not sure if he was joking.

She put out her hoof to take it and gasped at the weight. It had to be at least twice what she had given. “Mark?” The earth pony had turned away, almost as if he had forgotten they were talking. He turned back, and Dizzy thought she could see just the hint of a tinge of red in his blue face.

“Yes, Sergeant?” he said, before once again turning away. “Should go… that way, I think.” He started turning back down the alley to where they had first heard the baker. Dizzy strapped down the pouch under her armour and trotted after him.

Mark walked down the alley at speed, welcoming the chilly breeze now blowing as the bells rung in the hour. The cobblestones were cold now, and the night had just begun. It would not be much longer with the pegasus. Even as he thought it, he could not decide whether he liked the thought. Something about her was different.

The promotion weighed well on her. She seemed to focus more on her duties. Good things.

Though he almost wished that she had not changed so.

The assassination. That mission. It had been his duty to do it. How could he refuse the Dark Lady? But he wondered. If Mark had left the stage, and Tempo had re-entered, would that have been better? It could not be permanent. Nopony could hide forever. And he was not Tempo. Mark could never equal Tempo’s happiness by himself.

But that was it, his mind whispered. He was not by himself. Mark glanced back at Dizzy, who was now catching up. It had taken time to decide, and he was glad that the Dark Lady had given him his time to do his own work. Why she had… well, thinking about what she was planning was a madpony’s way.

Few ponies walked the streets at the late hour, but that was just an illusion. The Clydesdale Night Market were renowned across Canterlot, and the district was breathing in before the activity surged once more. Ponies said that you could find just about anything at the Night Market, whether that was a gardening tool or a first edition of Starswirl’s Incantations. And it might even be genuine.

It would not be a place for Tempo. He would never come here. Tempo was a creature of routine. Did nothing out of the ordinary, or anything interesting. Was that what had made him so easy to put on? So easy to remember now?

Mark tried to avoid thinking of the past, except in terms of key information for the future. It came with his talent and his work. He had seen many ponies, and others, at the wrong end of his crossbow. Most of them did not intend it, like that foal back in the alley. Criminals were the easiest to deal with. Just put the scares in them, and—most of the time—they would be the most law-abiding citizen next time you saw them. No terrible memories from them.

But then again, that was not what his talent was for. Mark had to dig through his mind to remember what his cutie mark was now. It had been ten years, maybe fifteen. He had done something—that memory was a blur now—and it had appeared. Mark had known what would happen then. It was the same for everypony in Duskbreach. The Night Guard had failed. They had not kept their watch. Now, they had to atone. And it started with their failure.

Where had they failed? Mark remembered the story. The day after the Night Guard had exiled themselves to Duskbreach, the three Commanders found a quiet room, and locked themselves within it.

“Our failure was laziness. We needed more discipline!” had bellowed Midnight Will.

“Our failure was speed. We needed to be quicker to act!” said Iron Wright.

Onyx Bolt, the third, silenced them both. “No. Neither was our failure. We were quick to act. We were ready. Our failure was our pride. We were so damned proud of our abilities that we trusted in them. We can never fail like that again.”

And just with that, he had taken a torch, and burned his cutie marks off. The story said that he did not even make a grimace in pain.

It became the standing order. No pride. Talents come after skill and training. And so that night that his cutie mark had appeared, well, Mark received the same, and received the new name he bore.

Mark knew that the Day Guard who he had worked with had commented on how well he hid his true mark. He had never told them the truth. No pony of the Night Guard would. They would tell nopony. Not until they had made up for their failure a thousand years ago.

“Mark!” He turned his head but kept walking. He could not explain it, but he did not want to talk right now. Especially if…

“Mark.” Dizzy had caught up to him now and was panting in and out. “Almost lost you there,” she said, with a faint hint of a laugh. “Trying to run out on me?”

He laughed, but Mark had to force it. “Not quite,” he said, trying to put some cheer into his tone. Mark did not want to risk exposing himself there to her. Not even in his memories. Faces of ponies kept going through his head. I had to do it. “I had to do it.”

“Mark?” Damn, but he had said it. “Did you say something?”

“Oh, nothing.” Mark could not think of anything else to cover it. “Just… thinking about what sort of luck it is for us to meet again.” He winced even as he said the words. But he could think of nothing else. Not then.

She seemed to take it seriously, though. “Hmm, yes. It is rather peculiar for us both to have received volunteer orders if neither of us volunteered.” Dizzy frowned as she kept walking. “Might somepony have done it as a prank?”

“Hmm.” It was not impossible. But it felt rather odd. “They would have to get both of the volunteer tabs in, at both drops. And a Night Guard at the Day Guard drop, or vice versa, would be unusual. Somepony would remember that, and there’d be questions.” Still, the idea made the most sense. Two conscripted Overlappers, both getting marked as volunteers by the ponies in charge of making out the orders, with nopony checking and fixing them? Or one pony pulling a prank?

“Why would they have to be like that?” Dizzy asked. “Surely you’d just ask another pony from the other half to do the drop. Sure, they’d know, but they might be in on it.” Mark nodded at that. It made sense. And nopony—besides those two—would be the wiser.

“At that point…” Mark’s voice drained off as he spotted something out of the ordinary. He looked up the street to see an old brown earth pony mare kicking and yelling at a tree. “Do you see that?”

Dizzy nodded and crooked her head. “What’s she doing?”

He laughed. “Looks like she’s got into a nasty argument with that tree. Let’s go sort out what’s happened.” Mark could not be more thankful for that interruption.

The two ponies walked closer, and the scene made sense. There was a small white cat, perched up on a branch, and yowling. From the way the old mare was calling to it, Mark guessed that it had escaped from her and climbed the tree. And now it did not want to come down.

Mark turned to ask Dizzy if she had any suggestions, but she had disappeared. He turned back, and she was already at the tree, hovering just above the branch. Dizzy reached out a hoof to grab the stuck cat.

The cat, however, did not seem to like a strange pony catnapping it, and struck out. Dizzy flinched back before the claws marked her, and Mark smiled. She had been willing to stand up to an angry pony. She had even chased down a mystery assassin. And still a cat was enough to make her flinch.

“Would you care for some help?” he said, continuing to walk to the tree. The branch was just a little high for the cat to jump down, but it seemed sturdy enough.

Dizzy nodded. “It doesn’t seem to like me.” She flew down from the tree. “What do you plan on doing? I don’t think flying is in your repertoire.” Mark crooked his head at her, and she giggled. It had been some time since he had heard that from her.

He shook his head of the thoughts and turned towards the tree. If he ever found out whatever pony was in charge of the gardening here, Mark would thank him. It seemed almost perfect for climbing, with knots spaced out around the tree. He reached up, and taking hold, he began the ascent.

The cat’s branch was not high enough from the ground for anypony to consider it an arduous climb, and he made it with ease. Mark tested the branch, but it did not seem even to tilt. He pulled himself along to the cat, slow enough to not startle it. It had stopped its yowling, but it still eyed him with suspicion.

“It’s okay, little one,” he said, whispering to it. “You won’t like what’s coming, but it’s what you need.” Sometimes it was painful to change, even when you knew you would get what you wanted. You should never let pain win. He reached a hoof behind the cat and pushed it onto his shoulder.

It yowled louder, and Mark could feel the claws bite into him. Without letting go, he moved back across the branch, towards the trunk. It was a harder climb down, with the cat taking up one of his forehooves, but Dizzy guided him.

“Left hoof down,” she said, and he felt the solid ground underneath. Mark inched down until his back hooves were firm. Then he put his right hoof down and backed up from the tree till he had all three free legs planted on the ground. The white cat was still yowling, and Mark knew it was going to be just as difficult to extricate it from him as it had been from the tree.

He turned to face the old mare, who looked ecstatic. “Mr Smoochums!” she said and hurried over with an energy belying her age to take the cat from Mark. It came off with another yowl, but as soon as it was in the old mare’s hooves it was purring. She nodded to Mark and then turned back to an open door. She went inside and closed it with an audible click.

Dizzy came over, concealing a laugh behind a hoof. “Poor wounded Guardspony, with nopony to even wipe his valiant wounds.” He laughed at that and reached under his armour.

“Luckily,” he said, drawing out a clean kerchief, “I always come prepared.” Holding one end with his teeth, he tied it around his scratched shoulder. There were six thin red lines where the cat had clung on to him for dear life. With any luck, they would clean up with no reminders.

“I see you’re not only a comforter of animals, but well-prepared for any eventuality.”

“I try.” Mark chuckled. “Little cat knew what was good for it, but too afraid to do it.” Even as he spoke the words, he winced inside. Fear did not paralyse just the cat.

Dizzy seemed about to reply when the bells rang the quarter hour. “Has time gone that fast?”

Mark shrugged. “Guess it has.” He kept his words short. He did not want to speak too long, just in case his words were too obvious. In the wind, he heard the clamour of ponies. Looking around him, he got his bearings by the houses. “One last place for us to patrol before we go back. Need to check on the Night Market.”

The Night Market. Even in Fillydelphia, Dizzy had heard of them. To see them in person was almost a let-down. The idea made her smile. What had she expected? Something supernatural?

The markets were in a large empty plaza, now filled with stalls and ponies browsing through. Mark tapped her and pointed out two other patrols making their way up and down the lines of stalls. These were Night Guard, rather than Overlappers.

“Must be almost ready to take over for us,” he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. Dizzy nodded and let herself relax. Though she did not like to admit it, the need to be always ready was tiring. It was easier now, though, with the year of experience.

With that, though, it was easier to think.

To ponder.

The question that had started this night was still unanswered. Why were they both here? Who had put them up for this? And a less optimistic question: what did whoever set this up gain from it?

When she had suggested that it was a prank, it had been half a joke. Mark did not seem to see it that way. To her mind, that meant that he almost expected something like it. But then that left the question of why her.

Dizzy could not think of a Guardspony that she had anything less than a positive relationship with. So why would anypony pick her for a target of a prank?

Her eyes snapped wide. That was the wrong question to ask. That would have been right if it had just been one or the other of them. But it was both of them. Together. The question was not why Mark and why Dizzy, but why Mark and Dizzy.

It was about the connection they had before this.

But it was a small thing. She had not even told Ace, her old wingpony, the truth about Tempo and Mark. So who could it be?

Princess Celestia knew. Princess Luna might. Either might have told the Captain, Shining Armour. Who he had told… well, did that matter? The pony in question was a mystery. But they had to be planning this. Which meant there was some gain, some result, that they were hoping for.

“Mark?” she said, her voice just above a whisper. He was looking at one stall, but turned back at the voice. “I’ve been thinking.” Mark nodded, waiting for her to speak. “What if someone set up us up?”

He blinked twice. “Set up? You mean on this Overlapper patrol?”

“Yes.”

“What would anypony stand to get from setting either of us up?” He shook his head and his eyes widened. “No, both of us.”

“Yes.” She looked around, making sure nopony was close enough to hear them. “Somepony set us up, not us individually, but together. Somepony—someponies, perhaps—wanted us both together. Perhaps both in this district. Which means they would expect us to be here.”

“No, that’s not right.” Dizzy frowned at that. How was he so certain? Her question must have been easy enough to read, because he continued. “Only the officers allocate patrol paths. And they would not have left the volunteer status on.” That made sense. If their orders had read assigned, Dizzy did not think she would have suspected anything. Oh, it would be a coincidence, but not a set up. Which meant that it could not be them.

“Then who could it be? If they set us both up, then it would have to be somepony who knew both of us.” Dizzy scratched her chin. “They’d have to guess how we’d act.”

Mark nodded. “That makes sense.” Inside she was glad that what she had thought was paranoia was sharing with him. He turned away from her now, his eyes sweeping the square. “But who could do that? The only ponies who have seen us together…”

“… are the Princesses,” she finished for him. Dizzy did not like that thought. “But that wouldn’t make sense either,” she said after mulling the idea over. “They’d be able to do the same things as the officers.”

He nodded. “Yes. Unless.” He paused and then shook his head. “No, that can’t be it.”

Dizzy raised an eyebrow. “Can’t be what?” Mark turned to her and flicked his head left and right to make sure nopony would be in earshot.

“What if they wanted us to notice? Or at least suspect that we were being set up?”

At that, Dizzy blanched. “Then they’d expect this. They’d expect us to work out we were being set up. And expect our typical actions from knowing that.”

“Typical actions?” Mark tilted his head. “Or our non-typical actions from trying to foil them?” Dizzy shook her head at that. That was more paranoid than even she was feeling.

“No. If we settle for that…” She shrugged. “Well then it will paralyse us.” As she said the words, she breathed in. It was all they could do. It would be insane to try to predict somepony else’s predictions of them. Dizzy straightened herself up. “No. We can’t do that. We know it’s a set up now. All we can do is go in aware.”

Mark nodded. “Your call, Sergeant. So how do you want to play this?”

Dizzy thought over the possibilities. “They might expect us to be slack. Almost over, so we might get careless. But if we knew we were being set up, we’d be more alert now, more than before.” What to do? Being alert is not enough. Being careless will make it easier.

“They won’t expect us to do both.” The idea came to her. “Split up. We can keep watch over each other while appearing slack. And they’ll expect us to be together.”

Mark blinked at that again. “It’s unusual.” Then he nodded. “Very well, Sergeant, I guess we’ll see each other in about ten minutes. Don’t get too distracted by the salesponies.” With a wink, he turned away and started walking through the crowd.

Dizzy frowned as he walked away but shook her head. He was right. They did not know who was behind it, or what they even had in mind. It was frustrating. The worst part, though, was just the mistrust. Why would anypony want to hurt somepony?

Then why are you in the Guard? To protect ponies. From?

It was easy to say monsters. From wild animals. She had seen the Changelings invade, so she could even say those. But that was not it.

She had seen it in school. Ponies who seemed to love to spend their time hurting other ponies. Or just being mean. Dizzy knew that it was wrong then, and she knew it was wrong now. That’s why she was in the Guard. She looked down at her flank. Under the armour, her cutie mark. It was a single golden shield, with a red mark at its centre.

One of her friends, a little earth pony filly named Cherry Blossom, was being bullied by one of the older foals, a unicorn. Dizzy could not remember her name, nor did she want to. Even the memory of how it had happened was fading. She had just stood in the way. It had hurt, but she had never backed down. Dizzy had never given the bully what she had wanted. And after that, she never bothered the two of them again.

It had been hard to stick to that. Even now, that memory came back. The day after. Dizzy shook her head to clear it away. No. She needed to focus. Think. For all she knew, the masterminds behind this had predicted that. Dizzy had to keep her attention on where she was.

Dizzy looked around and found she was at a stall that was selling small pieces of gem-encrusted jewellery. Once she spotted the price tags, she snorted, and turned away. Even the cheapest pieces were more than a year’s pay.

“Excuse me, madam.” Dizzy turned back and saw a bright blue earth pony mare behind the stall. “Would you be Sergeant Dizzy?”

Even as the pony said the words, Dizzy froze. She looked at the pony, hoping to see something she remembered. But there was nothing. Dizzy took a deep breath in and replied. “Yes, I am.”

“Ah, good.” The mare was beaming now. “Wasn’t sure if there was any other Day Guard here.” She pointed at the pieces before her. “They told me you could take whatever piece took your fancy, and they’d cover whatever it cost.”

Of all the things to come from that, Dizzy was not expecting that. “I’m sorry. What?” She shook her head in confusion. “Who are they? Why?”

The salespony shrugged. “Don’t know why. And can’t say who.” She tapped her nose. “Told me to keep it a secret. Can’t even tell you how many there are of them.”

“But you could tell me they did it?” Dizzy asked. “And that they asked you to keep it secret?” The blue mare nodded. “I… I’m sorry, I think I might need some time to process this.”

“Oh!” The mare turned back and reached under the stall. She came back up with a rolled-up scroll, a red ribbon tying it up. “Got told to give you this… but you’re not to open it until after the patrol. I’m pretty sure that’s what she said.” Even as the words came out of the salespony’s mouth, she blanched. “I meant they. They said that.”

She. That kept Mark off the list, and Dizzy breathed in a sigh of relief. It was nonsense, of course, but there had been a part of her telling her that something peculiar was going on with him. Well, that did not matter. Dizzy took the scroll and slotted it under her armour, then made a show of looking over the wares the salespony had.

Not five seconds had passed before her gaze stopped moving. Many of the pieces were more frivolous pieces, for ponies who had more bits than sense. One, though, had caught Dizzy’s eye. It was a simple shield, rendered in gold and with a single ruby for a boss. To any other pony, it would seem like another piece. Perhaps more elegant, or better rendered, but another piece. To Dizzy?

“That,” she whispered. “That’s my mark.” Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but there was so much. The shield was round—of course, that might be best for jewellery—and it bore the same colours as hers. At this stall, where the salespony gave her free-range? That could not be a mere coincidence.

Could it be a trap? It would have had to be beyond belief for anypony, particularly one that knew this was a setup, to take such an obvious bait. So, if she was trying to avoid whatever negative result… that meant she should do it.

Dizzy looked up at the salespony. “How mu-”

“You need not worry, dear,” said the mare as she bustled over. “Ah, yes. A fine choice. I am told it resembles your cutie mark.”

Dizzy scrunched her eyes closed and then opened them again. “Told? Told by who?”

“Already told you I can’t answer that!” The mare deftly produced a small box and laid it open on the bench. Then she ducked down again, and came up, this time with a chain that looked and gleamed like polished gold, held in a white cloth. Dizzy’s eyes blinked again, and she made a note to apologise to whichever pony was paying for this. Even the shield alone would have been incredibly expensive.

The salespony laid the chain in the box and then picked out the golden shield with the same white cloth. She closed the box, lifted it and passed it to Dizzy. “There you go, dear. The box should keep it nice and safe, even under the armour.”

Dizzy took the box and reached down under the armour. Her eyes widened as she touched the pouch. In all the walking and worrying, she had forgotten that Mark had given her this one. The clasp was a little more finicky, but she undid and brought it out. It still had that curious weight, and as she opened it, she was not sure what she hoped to find inside.

When she had, though, part of her fears had gone, and confusion replaced them. The weight was not just the coins, though there were significantly more bits inside than hers. There was also another box. It was similar in shape to the one she had just received. This one, however, had a complicated-looking clasp. Whatever it was must be important, and Dizzy resolved to make sure she had handed it back to Mark before the Overlap ended.

The sound of bells put a stop to her thinking. It was the half-hour, and time for them to head back. And nothing had happened to her.

With a start, she turned to find Mark. Her heart thudded in relief as she spotted him. He was making his way over to her, a pensive frown on his face. He nodded to her when their eyes met, but there was not even a hint of a smile. Something must have happened to him while they were apart.

“Mark?” she said as he came closer. “Are you alright?” Dizzy closed the pouch, not replacing the box. She had no reason for it, but part of her wanted to show him the piece.

Mark nodded, but the expression did not change. “I’m fine. Anything happen to you?” Whatever was affecting him must have hit a nerve. Dizzy thought better of mentioning it for now and instead opened the box. It was awkward, trying to open it with one hoof, but it was simpler than the other box looked.

“Look at this,” she said, putting the box in front of him. “Whoever was behind this,” Dizzy gesticulated, “this everything, she knew what my cutie mark was. Must have made this up deliberately. The stall I was looking at, the owner said they had paid her to give it to me. Essentially.” Mark raised an eyebrow at that, then nodded. “Also let slip that it was the pony behind it was a she. And…” She closed the box, and put it into the pouch, and then put that back on its strap under her armour. After that, she took out the scroll and showed it to Mark.

“And gave me this scroll. I think from her, but I’m not sure.” Dizzy frowned. “But she said I’m not supposed to open it till we’ve finished the patrol.” Mark nodded at that. “So. What did you get?”

Mark shook his head, with a smile now back on his face. “What makes you think I got something? For your information, I had to keep both my eyes out while you were gawking over some necklaces.” He looked around and pointed roughly north. “And that is our new direction. Don’t want you to be late for your beauty sleep.”

At least his humour was coming back. Perhaps now she might open him up, if she asked the right question. They started walking, moving like an icebreaker through the increasing crowds. Maybe those rumours had not been so overblown.

Mark was the first through. It was something about his presence as a Guard, Dizzy thought as she made her way through. It was like he would never back down. Whoever was in his way would either collide or move. Dizzy followed in his wake. Even then she had slowed to let other ponies pass.

He was waiting for her once she cleared the crowd. “Come on, Sergeant,” he said. Now his smile was full. “You gotta use the shouty voice at some point.”

Dizzy wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s cute. Are you volunteering?” Mark laughed.

“Well, at least it’ll be a quiet walk back to the barracks,” he said, surveying the streets ahead. “Maybe we can find you a clumsy recruit to try it on.”

“Hah.” Dizzy smiled as she walked. All the worries of the night seemed to pass. Whoever had put them here… If it was just to give them some present, that was unusual, not troubling. And though she did not know quite how to put it into words, the night looked different tonight.

She looked up at the stars. Nopony could deny that they were the same stars as had been the night before. There may be a difference in where they were, but they were the same stars. But tonight, they seemed to be shining brighter.

The street they were walking down was a broad one. A small artificial stream ran down the middle from the Palace. The only sounds were a soft babble of the water running and the sound of their hoofsteps on the paved streets.

It was not a long walk to the barracks. It lay near the Palace, and like it, was as close to the middle of Canterlot as had been possible. Since the return of Princess Luna, the Guard had enlarged it, with new quarters for the Night Guard. The overall design was the same. It looked like a flat box at its base, with—originally—four towers, one at each corner, and an enormous pair of wooden doors for ponies to enter or exit. Dizzy could not recall them being closed in her time with the Guard.

Now there was a smaller addition on the side. It had turned the square barracks into a rectangle, but the addition had a lower roof, with two new towers added to it. These towers were not just keeping watch over the city, but rumour had it they were the sleeping places for the Night Guard’s pegasus ponies. Though she had now seen it herself, ponies said the bat-wing ponies to sleep hanging down from poles running between the walls.

Though they were walking in silence, Dizzy felt it differently to the silence they had begun with. It was a comfortable silence now, not the questioning that it had been. Though there was still a mystery, it was not as troubling now. And now their patrol was over, and nothing bad had happened. And in a few brief minutes, they would reach the barracks. They would finish.

“Hmm,” she said, quietly. There were two things that Dizzy still wondered about. One she could solve now, but for the other she needed Mark.

Mark turned to her. “What is it?”

Dizzy stopped walking and smiled, trying to put more curiosity in it than happiness. “I was just wondering.” Mark stopped, waiting for her. “Well, what I was wondering was this. I saw you at the stalls. Why did the thing you picked up have your cutie mark?”

Mark’s expression froze. “It didn’t,” he blurted, then stopped.

“Aha!” crowed Dizzy. “I knew it.” Mark’s face did not move. “I wasn’t really watching you, Mark. I’m sorry.”

The stallion did not seem to listen, and he had turned away and starting walking back up to the barracks. “Mark?” Dizzy called and hurried up to catch him.

“Why didn’t you say something, Mark?” she said, coming alongside him. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Whichever pony did this must have just seen your cutie mark at some point.” Mark snorted but said nothing. “Mark, what’s wrong?”

“Nopony here has seen my cutie mark,” he said. His voice was hard now, almost angry. Mark stopped now, his eyes flashing. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head and breathed in. “I should not have let that happen.” Now his voice was calmer, but still had an undertone of anger.

“Maybe…” Dizzy shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe somepony has? You don’t always go out in armour, do you?” Mark laughed at that, but there was no humour in it.

“No. I don’t.” He took a deep breath and started undoing the straps of his armour. Piece by piece, he removed it. His cutie mark, a pair of red apples, was distinct against his navy fur.

Dizzy looked at it, and then at Mark. “I’m sorry, Mark. But… I don’t understand. What’s wrong? I can see your mark just fine.” Again, that same laugh. Now he was alert again, though, and his eyes swept the streets. The nights were brighter than some ponies would think in Canterlot. Aside from the light of stars and moon, there were the dim lamps on the streets, and here was no different. Satisfied that nopony was watching, he beckoned Dizzy to follow him to the water.

“Understand me. I do not show this to Sergeant Dizzy,” he said, catching her eyes. “This is to Dizzy, not the Sergeant but the pony.” He lifted a hoofful of the water and splashed it over his cutie mark.

Dizzy watched, gasping in unbelief, as the mark dripped and faded. She looked up to Mark, and then to his mark, and then to him again. “Is… That’s…”

He nodded. “There is no cutie mark there. Not for me, never again. I bore it for half a day and then lost it forever.” Dizzy’s mouth was agape. “Now you see why? Nopony could have known my mark.”

“But. How? Why? When?” This was beyond Dizzy’s experience. How could a pony not only hide his cutie mark, but lose it? It would be almost to lose one’s name, one’s family, one’s everything. A cutie mark was more than a mere signifier of a talent. It showed a pony what they could be, who they could be.

All Mark did, though, was shake his head. “I cannot tell you. It is a tradition, and that is all I will say.” Walking back to the pile of armour that he had left on the ground, he turned to her. “If that is all your mysteries solved?” There was no emotion in his voice, not even the remains of his previous anger.

“I… I’m sorry.” Dizzy put her hoof on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have pressed you.”

He shook his head again. “No. You had a right to ask. I should not have acted as I did.” He forced a smile onto his face. “So, I take it there are no more mysteries then?”

“Well, at least one remains,” she said, sticking a hoof under her armour and taking out the scroll. It had been a little crumpled underneath, but there were no tears.

“I was thinking,” she said, looking at the ribbon tying the scroll together. “We’ve finished our patrol, haven’t we?” Mark nodded at that. “Well, that means it’s time for me to open the scroll. Unless you’re not curious about what it says?”

He shrugged. “It’s a bit of a mystery. I wouldn’t mind seeing that one answered, at least.”

Dizzy nodded. “Well, then I’ll open it.” She took the ribbon in her mouth and pulled. It came off with no difficulty. She unfurled the scroll, frowning as she read the words. It was not a long message, only four words long, followed by a single initial.

Open the other box.

-C

She read them aloud to Mark, who frowned. After a second, his eyes went wide, and she looked down at the scroll again.

“Please.” Dizzy looked up to Mark. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“I-” Dizzy frowned, looking back to the scroll. “I thought this was about your box. Didn’t your thing come in a box?”

Mark shook his head. “No. Just a pouch. You have the box. But. Please. Don’t open it yet.”

Dizzy’s eyes widened. “Oh, wait. Do you mean this one?” She reached inside the pouch under her armour, feeling around the clasp she had noticed. She removed it and looked to Mark. “Do you mean this one? I haven’t opened it yet. I thought you’d forgotten that it was in that pouch.”

Now Mark had his eyes scrunched closed. “No. That was no mistake. But please. Don’t open it now, not here.” There was a tone in his voice that Dizzy could not identify. Was it… fear? How?

“The scroll said to,” she said,. “Why are you afraid of it?” Dizzy looked at him, waiting for him to answer. What could have scared him now? Somepony who knew what was in the box? If he had not given it to her as a mistake, then was it a gift? Why was it now that scared him? Was it… was it her?

Mark breathed in and out. In and out. At last, he spoke. “You will see, when you open it. Then you will understand. Whatever happens, it will change.”

Dizzy frowned now and shook her head. “Then I’m opening it, Mark. You know what you need to do, but you’re too afraid to do it. Whatever this is… You shouldn’t let your fear control you. That’s what you said to me.”

There was no reply from the earth pony as she fiddled with the catch. It was more complicated than it had appeared. No doubt that was deliberate. If Mark had not wanted her to open it with him, then making it this difficult would discourage her. But not now.

Something clicked before she could move it. Taking a deep breath and forcing herself to calm, she lifted open the lid. Her eyes went wide, and she gasped, looking straight up to Mark, and then down again.

Inside the box was something she had seen before. Even now, she was wearing one almost identical. It was a Sergeant’s badge. One of the cunning things about these, about the armour they clipped into, was that they were both easy to see and easy to take out and put on. It was the same with all the different badges of rank, bar one.

It was something that they had mentioned while she was in training. The badge was a symbol of authority, but a limited one. They produced the badges en masse. The badges were cheap things, just crude pieces of metal in reality. They—the Guard—were not. The badges were replaceable. They limited you as much as they gave you access. It was a mistake, the instructor had drilled into her, to view the badge as more important than the pony. That was why they changed with ease. A pony could, if they put themselves into their duties and did their best, go from a private to a commander.

To keep ponies from limiting themselves, from settling, they had done this. At least that was the intention—Dizzy was not sure that anypony in the Guard kept that in mind when they looked at the badges. The only difference in this badge was whose it had been. She had seen this badge before, and she knew to whom it had belonged. She looked up once more at Mark and understood now what he had said.

Nopony would have remembered this but him. She had even told him. Dizzy had not known it was Mark then, but he had remembered. It was not the same as it was when she saw it last. Dents and tarnish had covered the badge. Somepony had taken great care to restore the piece, had gilded it, set the name and number underneath the rank markings in silver, had hammered out the dents and cleaned it.

It was her father’s. However he had done it, Mark had gained her father’s badge, and restored it. Dizzy could not remember when she had even last written to her parents. It was nothing acrimonious; it had just slipped her mind. And…

“Why?” she said. “How did you get this?” Dizzy had not accepted it, not yet. It all seemed so unreal, on a night that had so many unrealities. Perhaps this was the breaking point.

“How did I get it?” Mark was silent for a moment, looking down. Like he could not meet her eyes. “I told the truth. I found your parents… and told them the truth. That this was important to a pony who mattered to me, who I cared about. That you were being promoted to Sergeant. And that you cared about them.”

Dizzy blinked, and she felt a tear in her eyes. “Why, though? When? How did you know? You… You left, before even I knew that I was being promoted. How on Equestria could you know?”

“Somepony, I think the same pony who wrote that scroll, she told me. That’s when I asked permission to go to Fillydelphia. I did not mean for them to keep it secret from you like that.” Mark took a deep breath. “I went because I saw something in you. It has taken this entire night to say, but even now I cannot. You would not understand, not yet. First, I need to explain something easier.” He put down the armour and removed the pieces he had reattached. “I need to explain why I have no mark. Why I removed it.”

Removed it. Of all the ways that it could have disappeared, that had to be the most shocking one. Dizzy looked down at her own flank. Though her armour concealed her mark, she could almost feel it there, trace its outline through the plate.

“You have something, Dizzy, that I do not,” Mark said. “You have a way with ponies. When I met you as Tempo, I saw it then. Those five months were some of the happiest days I have ever had.” There was a wan smile on his face now, as he looked up. “You were my first genuine friend there. So willing to speak, to talk, to share. Everything I was not.”

Dizzy nodded, still numb from what he had said. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You… You deserve more than just one friend.” She had no more words. It was almost an absurdity, to see this situation. Neither of them was ready for this, she could tell that well enough. But C had seen fit to do this, to push them into it. Perhaps this was what they needed, but right now she was not sure if she would have killed C. Or at least had very cross words with her. Dizzy could see Mark and the effort it was costing him to say what he was saying. All she wished was that she could solve it, have the right words. But they were not coming.

Mark laughed. It was grim, unhappy, self-mocking. “I would not be so sure of that. Dizzy, look at me. I am an arbalist. I shoot things, kill them. It’s what I’m good at. I have trained a long time at it. That is not you. You are compassionate, caring. You are outgoing and inquisitive. Dizzy, you sought to improve yourself, to develop your abilities beyond guarding the Princess, or guarding the citizens. That is what you have, and what I do not.”

What I have. “That’s not true, Mark.” Dizzy shook her head. “I’m just another Guardspony. That’s my cutie mark.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Mark. “You’re a leader, and I didn’t need to hear the Princess to know she’d promote you.” Dizzy frowned. The Princess had told him she would promote Dizzy? Which one? “I know you have it within you to be more than that. To be a commander. Perhaps the Captain. If you think you can’t, you made the same mistake we did.”

“What do you mean, mistake?” Dizzy looked at him, eyes narrowed. “This has to do with your cutie mark, doesn’t it?” He nodded. “Then…” Her eyes widened. “It’s not just you, is it? It’s the entire Night Guard.”

He nodded again, now a half-smiled on his face. “Just a shield, a Guardspony? That’s right. The entire Night Guard does the same.” It made a certain grim sense. Dizzy could not recall ever seeing one of the Night Guard outside armour. They had their own quarters, and they stuck to them.

But to remove all cutie marks. That was extreme. “Why did you do it? What was the mistake?”

Now there was a laugh from him. It was a strange one, genuine laughter with just a bare hint of bitterness. “You’ve worked out who. You know what. Find when, and you’ll know why.”

Find when. He had already told her it was a tradition. Dizzy had worked out that it was the entire Night Guard. It was something they had in common. Something in common and important enough to remember.

At once, it clicked. “Nightmare Moon. That’s when. That’s the only mistake large enough.” It made sense, a little. “But Princess Celestia banished her. Why you? Why the Guard? There wasn’t a war, was there?”

Mark snorted. “No, but think. What was the cause? What was the result? Nopony forced us. We went into exile on our own recognisance.” Again, he shook his head, this time in sorrow. “We had failed Princess Luna. We could have stopped her, but we made the mistake you made.”

“Mistake?” What on Equestria could it be? It was about the cutie marks, she knew that much. And she made that same mistake. “I think I understand it. You mean that they limited- that you limited what a pony could do, could be, to their cutie mark, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. We had ponies who had certain cutie marks. And they did what their cutie marks said, whether that was lead or obey.” Mark lowered his head, looking once more to the ground. “The Night Guard was always loyal to Princess Luna. Not to Nightmare Moon. And we had a chance. A chance to stop it, before it got so far.

“But our pride, our arrogance, our trust that our cutie marks were all there was to us, it brought about disaster. That was why. We judged each other by our marks, not by the ponies themselves! And because of that, our Princess suffered. We had failed her. Failed everypony.”

Dizzy was nodding as he spoke. What he said made sense, though part of her rebelled against it. “But our cutie marks. If they are a sign of our special talents, then why remove them? You made a mistake, but was that the right answer?”

“It had to be.” His voice was steel now, cold and hard. “How many other ponies have a cutie mark of a shield? Is their talent the same as yours? These marks are magic, coming from the pony, but they do not spell out as easily as they might.” Mark almost shrugged. “What does a wolf mark mean? A compass? A cupcake? Why does shield mean protection, and not a blacksmith? Why a scythe for a farmer, and not a gravedigger? Does a quill signify a writer, or a salespony, or a bookkeeper, or a librarian?”

That, at least, she had seen. Plenty of ponies had borne marks that made sense only to them, and only after their talents manifested did they make that sense. If they had forgotten all their memories, would their marks have reminded them?

“Even then, though,” Dizzy said, not quite sure if she wanted him to convince her, “a cutie mark means something. It does not imprison us, no, but it reminds us of what our talent is, how we learned it, and how we used it. That’s reason enough to keep it.”

“Perhaps,” Mark said, shrugging his shoulders. “But that is why we removed ours. And, remember, you had said that before. You said that because of your shield, you were only another Guardspony. That is why I did it.”

Because she thought she was just another Guardspony. What did he mean by that? “Because… because my father was a Guardspony?” Dizzy asked, hesitation in her voice. “He’s not the same as me.” He nodded but was silent. “Because he doesn’t have the same skills I have. The same aptitudes. Personality, experiences. It’s all different.” Mark nodded again.

Those differences, at least, were true. Her father was, well, more like Mark had been. Confident and quiet. Serious, always focused. Too busy working to have much time for her. Perhaps that had affected her, made her try to differ from him. Dizzy looked down at the badge again. “I didn’t think he’d ever give it up. He was so darned proud of the thing.”

“Might prove that there was one thing he was prouder of.” Dizzy looked up at Mark. He gave a half-shrug. “Perhaps you’ll have to write and ask him, then.”

“Might have to,” she said. Dizzy closed her eyes and took a breath. “So that might be why he gave it. But why you?” Now she looked at him, watching for any response.

There was a half-smile on Mark’s face now. “Didn’t I tell you? It’s important,” he said, meeting her gaze, “to a pony who’s important to me. Who I care about.”

Everything clicked into place at that. “That is why you were afraid.” He nodded. “Why you took so long now. Because… because of me.” Again, he nodded. “But… why?”

Mark shook his head now, the smile growing just a little. “I told you that too. You are the only pony who cared. That moment, that time, as Tempo, with you? It was the brightest time I’ve had. And I wanted to thank you. Apologise for the lies. It wasn’t all lies, but for what it was… I’m sorry. And I would like to get to know you properly, as myself.”

Dizzy nodded, though she had to nod three times before it was certain. “Yes. I’d like that, too.” She breathed in, and out. “And thank you, for apologising. You didn’t need to do that. It was part of the job.”

“No. I had to. And.” Mark breathed in. “I will not lie to you again. Whatever it costs me. I promise you this.” He put one hoof over his chest when he said that and Dizzy could not help herself. She giggled. All her tension, all the worry and questioning she had built up dissipated at once.

“Mark,” she said, between gasps of laughter, “I’m sorry, I’m not making fun. This whole situation seems so… outrageous. Two ponies set up on a patrol, watching the entire time for something horrible or dangerous to happen, and end up staying fifteen minutes, at least, over time talking about what makes a pony.” There was another burst of laughter. “No novelist could put that to paper, they would laugh him out of the library.”

He laughed now too, though not to the same extent as she had. “Well perhaps. You are right, though, we are probably overtime by now. We had better get back before they send out a search party for you.”

Dizzy tilted her head. “Oh, just for me, hmm? And what about you, mister dark and brooding arbalist?” There was his laugh again, and now it was stronger.

“Well, I would think my patrol partner already knows where I am. Silver Spirit,” he called out, into the night, “what did I tell you about scrubbing up properly?”

“What are you talking about, I washed just this afternoon!” came a reply from somewhere in the night, followed by an immediate “Oh.”

“I’ve told him before, ‘never reply if you’re not sure’.” Mark shook his head, smile across his face. “And he’s supposed to be my spotter.”

“Well I did spot you,” came the same voice. “You going to hurry already? Getting bored waiting.”

“I suppose we’d better hurry then,” Dizzy said with a smile. “Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting too much longer. Better get that armour back on.”

Mark grunted. “Don’t I know it. I tell you, Tempo may have had to carry around his thermos everywhere, but even that foul stuff was better than fitting into this armour.”

Dizzy shook her head as she waited. For all the other ponies groused about the fit of the armour, she had never found it a problem. When Mark had finished donning his armour again, they continued the walk as the bell chimed the three-quarters hour.

It had been a strange night. Now they were silent again, just as they had been walking down this way to start the patrol. But it was different now, for it was not a silence of worry, of doubt, of anxiety. In a way those were all still there, but they had faded behind hope, trust, and ease. It was not a perfect ending, but then it never was a perfect ending. All a pony could do was to be themselves at the moment that mattered. If they did not, then not even the best luck, magic and courage in the world would help them.

They were almost at the barracks now, fifty yards before the doors. As Dizzy walked, she lifted a hoof to touch his shoulder. But as she did, it met another, and she stopped cold, turning to look. There was Mark, eyes as wide as hers must have been. Dizzy could feel her face warming, and as she watched, his face went red and his eyebrows stood up.

Almost at once she pulled her hoof back, and he did not take long before he had done the same. “I.” said Dizzy, her voice only squeaking out the one word. Now her face was like a burning fire, and she clenched her hooves tight.

Mark was still red-faced, but he had taken the time now to breathe in. “I’m sorry, Dizzy, I didn’t mean to-” He stopped speaking, and shook his head. “No. Sorry.” He breathed in and out, in and out. At last, he spoke again. “I do like you, Dizzy.” Now he squeezed his eyes shut. “That is why. Why everything.” His face was like before, as if he were waiting for somepony—for her—to strike him; it was hanging low, tensed, and ready for the blow.

There was none, of course. Dizzy waited, watching as he slowly relaxed. Perhaps there were words that she could use, but nothing came to her. It was nothing that she had expected, but also predictable. If she had not questioned the orders, would she have been more prepared for this ending? Maybe, but right now that did not matter.

At last his eyes opened, and he looked at her. There was still a hint of tension in his eyes, like he could not believe that the danger had passed. “Mark,” she said now, her voice quiet and low. “Thank you for saying that. Even though you have already told me that by your actions. I…” Now she took a deep breath as her voice threatened to break. Still the words failed her, and she looked at him, half-wishing that it had not happened.

But that was it, was it not? It was a half-wish, even to herself. She did like him—or at least, it was not out of the question. Tempo, his false name, had been somepony that she had liked, and she had enjoyed his company even for losing a game of chess. And Mark was who he really was, so why not at least try?

The reluctance was nothing that she could put a hoof on, something she could identify and point at. Perhaps it was just this, the suddenness of the idea. Perhaps she had that same fear.

And that decided it for her. They both knew the futility of fear. To give in now, to put aside something that she wanted, just because of that fear? It would be worse than cowardice, worse than timidity, it would be to reject her own self.

“I think I like you, too.” The words felt almost light on her tongue, like the taste of a crisp apple. Dizzy could barely believe what she was saying, even as she did it. It felt dreamlike, as if the merest touch would tear the idea away; and yet it felt as solid and unbreakable as the walls of the barracks before them.

Mark did not move, his face frozen. He blinked twice and garbled out something that sounded like a cross between ‘Incredible’, ‘Really’, and ‘Superb’. Dizzy could not help but giggle, watching his jaw mangling the words.

She put her hoof to his mouth. “You can figure out what you want to say to me later, Mark. You’ve still got a patrol to do.” Then she lowered her hoof to his. “Will you walk me inside?”

All he seemed to be able to do was nod and take her hoof in his. Dizzy felt strange, and she knew she would have trouble sleeping after this night’s events. She also knew that she would not wish them away. Whatever else might come, the night’s Overlap had been a good one.

There is a single room in the Palace of Canterlot that no visitor may see. Within this room, there are no guards, no servants, no lackeys. This room has no windows to the outside, and only a single door. A single hovering candle, as bright as the sun, is the only light in this room, yet half of the room is in pitch-black darkness.

That was what the two ponies who used this room intended.

This room, which not even the Captain of the Royal Guard may enter, is the meeting place of the two Princesses of Equestria, a place where the two may discuss in secret the affairs of the kingdom with no eavesdroppers. The room is spartan, with a single couch on each side of the split and a single table in the middle. Upon this table there is now resting a model resembling a city, surrounded by a sturdy wall. Apart from these, the room is unfurnished. On the side of light, the walls and floors are a sterile white, and anypony who could see the other would see black tiles meeting a black wall.

The two ponies within this room now, the Princesses of Equestria, sat at their couches, each looking to the middle. A mere second ago, there had been a shimmering white cloud depicting two Guardsponies on a patrol hovering there, just above the table.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” It was the Dark Lady who spoke first, her voice colourless but for a hint of causticity.

“Immensely.”

The Princess rose from her white couch, a small smile on her face. “Are you not, dear sister? Did you not say that your servant would prosper?” Celestia half-shrugged. “He seems at least happy.”

“With your tricks.” The words were spat out now, Luna’s voice no longer hiding her anger. “How long did you waste on this assessment? You know as I do, as the Captain of the Guard does, that we have no time to waste on petty drama. Equestria itself is at stake, and you decide now is the time to play match-maker?” Though darkness shrouded Luna’s half, Celestia could see her sister through it. Luna’s face was now a snarl, frustration written all over it.

What made it worse was that she had a point. This was the only chance they had, and if Celestia was wrong, she had thrown that chance away.

Not that she believed she was wrong, of course. This was their best—perhaps only—chance of stopping this threat for good. Easy enough for Luna to declare it misjudged, but they lacked any information on the ground that they would need for a prepared mission to be sure. No, this was the only way that Celestia could see a victory snatched from the jaw that even now were closing around Equestria.

Now she only needed to convince her sister she was right.

“Sister,” Celestia said, her voice deeper now, more serious. “What you have said is exactly why I think we will succeed.” Now she walked over to the table, waving at the city displayed. “What do you see here, sister?”

Luna did not move, her expression venomous. “Our target, and the doom of Equestria—if we are not careful. Trotfast. You know that as I do, so why do you ask?”

Another half-shrug. “Because you seem to have forgotten what we do not know. We know its walls, its threat, even one of its leaders. But those are not its only defences, and those we do not know. How many soldiers are within? Why are they following, is it compulsion or willingly? How many leaders are truly behind the plot? And what is the true source of the threat?”

Now her sister’s expression, though still angry, was calmer. “We do not know these because we cannot find them. No unicorn has brought us vision.” Luna breathed in and out. “And all who have tried are lost to us.”

Celestia nodded. “Exactly, and why we needed these two. Mark is the only pony able to get close to either of us—close enough to kill. Perhaps one of the unicorns would have matched him, but we cannot send them. His partner cannot go with him, for the same reason. And Dizzy has at least assisted him before, if accidentally.” Celestia’s eyes twinkled, and she could not help but smirking.

“And so, you think the best way for them to develop a productive partnership is having them make puppy eyes at each other?” Luna raised her eyebrows. “Forgive me if I think that is counterproductive.”

“Then you are less perceptive than I thought, dear sister.” Celestia pointed to the model of Trotfast. “Now where do you think our target lives? Where are her barracks? Where the device which threatens us all? We do not know, do we? So merely ordering in a pony may succeed, but a pony will think more carefully to protect their own life than to complete their mission—even under orders from a Princess.”

Luna breathed in. “But will willingly sacrifice themselves for a pony important to them.” She nodded now. “A crude form of control, but perhaps it will work here.” Celestia blinked and then shook her head.

“No. Not control. Luna, I trust them to decide what they need to do, and this mission depends on that.” Again, she pointed to the model. “We do not know, cannot know, our enemy’s positions, her defences, if there are one or many, what they plan. Only Mark and Dizzy will know. And because they both care about the other, they will not take risks, they will not take half-measures. They will complete their mission for each other, if not for us. Because if they fail, then neither will survive.”

Her sister did not speak for a long time. “You best be right,” she said, at last, and turned to leave the room.