Bon Bon stepped off of the squealing train in Canterlot’s main station before it had even come to a halt.

She was more than happy to leave behind the passengers with which she’d shared a cabin for the several hours journey.

Usually, Bon Bon liked to travel in first-class, with a seat or a cabin all her own, somewhere she could focus and relax, meditating to the rhythmic clicking and clacking of the train wheels as the locomotive puffed and chugged its way up into the Canterlonian Mountain Range, higher and higher, past beautiful alpine meadows and streams. It was such a great way to unwind and relax — a last decompression before heading into the maelstrom of the capital city’s whirlwind of politics and intrigue.

But managing to snag the very last ticket before the noon-express sales booth closed (and even then only after some very threatening words to the bored colt managing the ticket-stall) meant that she’d had to make do with a shared public cabin.

She’d breen ready for it though, the inevitable small-talk and incessant banter that so many ponies used to fill up their days. It wasn’t that Bon Bon was anti-social, per se, it was just that other ponies didn’t interest her.

Except Lyra.

Celestia help her, she didn’t know why she had fallen for the lovable mint-green goof... but she had. These days Bon Bon often found her mind wandering from those meditations of serene mountain glades to other ‘mountainous regions’ and ‘flowing valleys’, and she’d hoped to let her fantasies drift to playful romps with Lyra amongst the wildflowers passing by the train window after a few curt responses to her neighbours signalled her disinterest in holding a conversation.

Unfortunately, she had drastically underestimated just how obnoxious public cabin-mates could really be…

This had easily been one of her worst trips in recent memory, eclipsing even the time she had to hitch a ride in a Yakyakistanian manure-cart to escape with Griffon refugees after a botched operation years back.

Sure, they were a nice looking couple: a stallion who had clearly just gotten his wings in the Wonderbolt’s auxiliary and his unicorn fillyfriend who was head-over-hooves about just how lucky she was to be dating a future military flyer.

As if the gag-fest of affection the two were lavishing on each other wasn’t enough, the pair were about three levels past ‘horny’ on the scale that went from ‘chaste nun’ to ‘Celestia at the Canterlot Baked Goods Festival’.

With little shame, the unicorn filly’s hooves were clearly extremely active underneath the blanket the pair were sharing. The giggles and moans coming from the other side of the cabin were just incessant by that point, with little sparks and flashes of the filly’s unicorn magic coming here and there after her coltfriend’s wings started shuffling and moving the covers between her thighs.

It was such a shame — the filly really did have a cute face… and even cuter moans. If Bon Bon had run into her at some of the Canterlot bars she frequented back in the day she’d have taken the younger mare under her wing, and showed her just how skilled the touch of a real mare could be.

Of course, Bon Bon knew most mares had experience with how amazing a female lover could be — it was only all too common in a society where more than three-quarters of the population were female that mares would ‘rub two bits together’... and they weren’t referring to the currency.

It was really no big deal. In fact, it was a normal part of sexual development for fillies to entrust a close school-filly friend to be their ‘cooler buddy’ once they started getting their estrus cycles — satisfying those primal urges with specially designed equipment to ‘cool’ the need that biology demanded could be sated only by a male. Luckily for fillies everywhere, Equestrian chemists had long ago figured out how to simulate stallion-essence with a salt-infused chemical mixture that could trick a mare’s body during those unrelenting Spring-season weeks of frustration. Otherwise, Equestria would find all of its females herded up after their first heat, with three or four mares to every colt and stallion… and banging down the doors of any male who thought to refuse.

Not that that wasn’t pretty much how things turned out in the long run… herds and harems were still extremely common.

And as much as a cooler-buddy could provide relief, there really was no substitute for a real stallion. Every mare dreamed of being mounted by something with the real article, and not just the cheap plastic imitation and tubed reservoir of synthetic liquid that was a cooler.

Bon Bon always rolled her eyes when she heard ponies make such claims… There were also a small minority of mares, of which Bon Bon was one, who were perfectly happy to have nothing to do with stallions and what hung between their legs.

Fillyfoolers.

Mares who only liked other mares. Ponies knew mares like her existed, of course, but they were often regarded as mere curiosities — perhaps mares who were too unattractive to really pull in a stallion and had given up… or mares who had just never been ‘shown the light’ of a real relationship.

Bon Bon grimaced when she thought of such things. At least she didn’t have it as bad as colt-cuddlers had it. Taking a couple of mares out of a sexual marketplace already overcrowded with them was a plus… but taking stallions out of circulation? Scandalous.

So while most fillies knew the touch of another mare… few had experienced the mastery of a real fillyfooler.

Such a waste. The young unicorn who was sitting across from her whose squeaks were starting to fill the cabin would only ever know the fumbling, unskilled hooves of her male lover. Bon Bon shook her head softly at the cute piece of eye-candy, sure that her tongue alone would easily outclass the two-pump chump that she was sure the pegasus cadet was.

Really, that all stallions were.

Bon Bon had just never understood what mares saw in stallions. Rough, rugged, sure… but she’d given them enough of a whirl to know that after a few haphazard pokes in the plot they would self-declare themselves as Celestia’s gift to mares and collapse into sleep.

And the… thing… itself.

It had always reminded Bon Bon of some kind of rigid, knobby snake.

She hated snakes.

She always got a shiver whenever she saw a male drop nearby, or when her friends would show off their favorite studs from lurid magazines like Playfilly or Horsetler. She’d never been able to understand why mares thought the organs in question were ‘beautiful’ or ‘sexy’.

Droopy, drippy, slimy, stinky.

Gross.

And she’d given them the benefit of the doubt in her early sexuality days — rough tumbles where she was most happy when it was over.

Still, the unicorn filly sharing her cabin seemed to be a quick shot — her coltfriend had managed to fill the cabin with a sudden glowing burst of sparks and a mewled moan that was impossible to ignore.

“Ahem.” Bon Bon had coughed, conspicuously clearing her throat in the hopes that it would bring some semblance of decency back to the pair.

“Was wondering when you’d speak up.” The colt hummed confidently, as he carefully laid his cabinmate to rest on the cabin-couch in her happy post-orgasmic sleep. “It’s your lucky day, lady… my girl here zonked out before ‘doing her duty’, so now you get to ‘fly’ with a future Wonderbolt.”

He’d stood up then, the confident smile on his face of a military stallion who had never been turned down. A swarthy, smug, self-assuredness that bobbed as much as the log of flesh hanging underneath his belly.

Ugh.

“What? Too big for you babe? Don’t worry, we’ll get through it…” He’d trotted closer.

She almost felt bad for him. Sure, he was coming on stronger than most stallions would but it was likely that in his experience that had been a winning strategy in the conquest of most mares.

But Bon Bon wasn’t most mares.

A smile had formed on her features then, just as confident and devious as that of the pegasus’s.

“Ah, finally heating up are we, lady? Well, get to it!”

Bon Bon smiled to herself as she quickly slipped through the crowd of the Canterlot’s Grand Central Station, making her way toward the street where a row of taxi-carts would be waiting. A quick glance over her shoulder let her see her cabin-mates carefully stepping down from their carriage, the unicorn filly holding an ice-pack against her lover’s groin.

Not quite a gelding, but he’d be singing soprano for a few weeks.

“Taxi!” Bon Bon chirped, looking to make a quick exit to avoid any questions from the authorities should the injured stallion unwisely choose to report his encounter to the local authorities. A quick flash of her credentials could easily flip the tables and land him in a military tribunal should he dare to open that door.

She hopped into the nearest taxi.

“Where to, miss?” The chipper pull-pony barked.

“The castle, double-time.”

Bon Bon sighed to herself as the familiar shops and restaurants passed by on either side. Each one as ancient as the flagstones of the city-streets, nothing ever changed in Canterlot. Day after day, season after season, year after year… crisis after crisis.

Another investigation, another mission.

After all these years, she was back.

This was her first investigation, her first mission!

After all these years, this was her chance to show everypony!

She was a deputy agent, after all!

Lyra trotted with purpose through the streets of Ponyville, a happy spring in her hooves at the raw excitement of the task before her. She’d long ago abandoned any doubt about her decision to ignore Bon Bon’s orders.

Really, they were more like strong suggestions.

Recommendations, even!

Besides, Lyra knew that she was the best human incident investigator Equestria had ever known — if Bon Bon hadn’t been in such a rush, she’d surely have reconsidered and begged Lyra to take the lead on this case. As Bon Bon’s friend, it was Lyra’s duty to fulfill that theoretical request, it was the least she could do!

Of course, in order to do this investigation thing right, she’d first need to be properly equipped for the job. And that meant fashion.

Dress for success! Lyra had never seen one of the private-eyes in her comics trotting about the grimy streets of Manehattan without a good outfit! She jauntily bounced up the steps of the Carousel Boutique, bursting through the ornate door with enough enthusiasm to occlude the small ring of the door chime with the clattering smash of the door against the interior wall.

“Excuse me! Careful, please!” The dainty voice of the owner sharply cut from the back of the store.

“Oh hey, Rarity!” Lyra effused, waving eagerly at the fashionista, currently hunched over her sewing table, her surger thrumming away as she worked part way through some complicated design.

“Oh my, Lyra! Darling if you wouldn’t mind giving me just a moment I’m here with a custom-”

“No time!” Lyra cut her off immediately, lifting up her nose and nodding with vigor. Didn’t Rarity realise just how important she was now? This was her turn to have the fate of Equestria resting on her withers — now even one of the Elements would need to listen to her. “I’m here on critical business from the Crown, Rarity.”

Rarity paused in her work, looking up from under her red-framed spectacles with a bemused glance. “Really, darling? And which crown would that be?”

“Can’t say.” Lyra hummed, satisfied to be able to refuse with an air of mystery. She turned and looked into the nearby bargain bin, inspecting a rather comely fedora. “This is super-secret special agent work, Rarity. I’m sworn to secrecy. Super-secrecy.”

Rarity stood up from her table, cocking her head. “Interesting. And how might I help you Ms. Heartstr-”

“Oh very well, Rarity.” Lyra sighed, sidling up to her and leaning in conspiratorially. “Since you insist, I’ll read you in on my mission. But only because I know you’re so good at keeping secrets and resisting the urge to gossip.”

Rarity’s snout scrunched up, looking almost offended. But the moment quickly passed, and she shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Really, dear… if it’s so secret you needn’t t-”

“I’m investigating the theft of a captured human, Rarity!” Lyra shouted, hard enough to make Rarity’s slender ears fold back against the audio onslaught. Clearly she’d been expecting a whisper and not Lyra’s hoof-bouncing, energetic yell.

Rarity sighed, grimacing and rolling her eyes even harder. “Oh really now. A hyoo-man, again. And how can I help you in recapturing this fanciful beast of yours?”

“Hu-man.” Lyra growled, frowning. Rarity was just treating her like she always did! Didn’t she realize that this was official business now? That Lyra was an agent? That humans were real? “It’s human, Rarity. That’s how you pronounce it! And you can help by providing the correct outfit for a deputy… er… deputy agent of the Crown!”

“A… a what?”

Lyra slid the fedora onto her head, turning to face Rarity and tipping it daintily. “M’lady, this hat is perfect!” Lyra slid over to a rack of coats, quickly seizing a beautiful gray trench-coat with large brown buttons.

“Wait!” Rarity yelped, standing up from her work and reaching out a hoof in a vain attempt to restrain Lyra’s impetuousness. “That’s my Sapphire Spade outfit, it’s not for sale — it’s mine!”

Lyra was already buttoning up the jacket, tying the fetching overcoat belt that went with it in a rapid flourish. “Sorry Rarity, but I need to commandeer this jacket in forofficial Royal Business, trademark. This thing was yours though, huh? Guess that explains why it’s so tight in the flanks but roomy in the waist.” Lyra hummed to herself, not realizing that her observation just might have been the slightest bit insulting.

For some reason, Rarity’s left eye was twitching as she cleared her throat and steadied herself before replying. “Yes… roomy. Yes. Ahem — SO just how do you intend to pay for the outfit? It was quite expensive to tailor, you know.” Rarity pulled her spectacles off as she trotted over to her cashier.

Lyra was already partway to the door, halted in her tracks by Rarity’s question. “Pay?” Lyra didn’t have any bits. She’d spent all the bits from her last performance on two barrels of bananas, to study what she surmised was the primary foodstuff of a human’s diet. Plus they were useful for other things, in a pinch. “Uh, pay you say? Huh. Hm. Well, I guess just put it on the Crown’s account with your shop.”

“The Crown’s account? They don’t have any such thing at the Carousel Boutique in Ponyville, Lyra.”

“Well… what about Twilight?” Lyra cocked her head, chewing her lip.

“Twilight?”

“Yeah! Twilight!” Lyra pounded one hoof into another, the epiphany to her money problem blossoming in her mind. “She’s a Princess, right? And in this sort of an emergency, I’m sure I’m authorized to charge expenses to any Crown member!”

“I’m not su-”

“Anyway, gotta go, see ya!” Lyra quickly barked out, speaking over Rarity’s doubt as she pulled open the jingling door and zipped out of the store.

She was a deputy secret agent, after all!

*****

Rarity shrugged at the departed unicorn and, with a sigh, rang up a hefty sum on the cash register — soon to be delivered into Twilight’s heretofore non-existent tab at the boutique. She turned back toward the rear of her shop, a little nook where her dressing rooms were located, snagging the strangely large piece of clothing she had been working on — slacks that seemed to be designed for some creature with long, plantigrade legs.

“I am so sorry about that, Miss Heartstrings is such a dear… but she gets so worked up when it comes to these rather ridiculous ‘hoo-man’ notions over hers.”

“Eh, s’nah problem. Ain’t no biggie.” A nasally voice responded from behind the changing room door. “Was a very… interestin’ conversation to overhear, anyway.”

“Yes, amusing, I’m sure.” Rarity smiled to herself, placing the slacks next to the similarly oddly proportioned dress shirt. “In any event, your custom order of these rather odd minotaur clothes is ready for you… are you quite sure you gave me the right measurements, Miss… what was your name again?”

The door opened, and a young teenaged thestral stepped out from the changing room, admiring the leather duster she had selected to try out.

“Dusk Wing.”

Bon Bon had been whisked into the palace via the back-entrances, a handy door for deliveries and the vast army of castle-staffers… as well as a great way for clandestine agents to slip in without fanfare.

She hadn’t even had to go through the usual song-and-dance with the ever-vigilant sentries… Luna herself had swooped down as she approached the security checkpoint. The Princess of the Night had been keeping a close eye from her balcony on the approaches to the castle, correctly assuming that Bon Bon would have arrived in the shortest possible window of time after receiving the encrypted thaumological message.

The overnight train and her rather… uncomfortable cabin-mates had left Bon Bon with a distinct lack of sleep. Luckily for her, Luna was no fan of early mornings either — after being escorted by the alicorn to the underground crisis center of Canterlot castle, a rich brew of dark Zebrican coffee was already on hoof.

“Ah… ‘tis no substitute for a blissful sleep, but it makes do… does it suffice, Agent Drops?”

Bon Bon took a deep sip of her coffee, inhaling the powerful vapor and unwinding into her chair. “Mmhmm… wonderful, thank you, Princess.”

“Very well, We shall begin then: allow us to provide you with a recounting of the heist that occurred three moons ago, to the best of the agency’s current knowledge…”

Bon Bon’s ears flicked forward — of course no notes would be permitted for such a highly classified and secret briefing… but every detail was essential. Each little hint, cue or habit that she might pick up could be the element that let her crack the case wide open… or save her when the chips were down. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time something minute saved her bacon.

But, perhaps… Bon Bon thought internally, with a small cringe, the level of detail that the Princess was going into was a bit excessive.

Bon Bon’s mouth had already dropped open in shock at the pure audacity of the heist, and the evil nature of their love-poison machinations… but it stayed open due to the raw, vivid style of the otherwise prim Night Princess.

“...and then the vile-whorse did dis-entrench our noble Captain’s throbbing stallionhead from her toxic, slatternly sludge-gulch, whereupon doing so did pour his voluminous seed upon the mane of his prostrate wife an-”

“OK!” Bon Bon coughed, finally holding up a hoof in surrender. “OK… I think… I think I get the picture. Phew. I really did not need to hear all of that.” She pushed the small saucer of coffee cream a little bit further away from her. She didn’t know if she’d be able to look at any white-colored liquids the same for a while.

Luna scoffed and shook her head mildly at Bon Bon with bemusement. “Forgive me, Agent Drops. Pony-society has become so modest in the years since my banishment, I sometimes forget.” She motioned with a hoof and looked away in recall before going on, “A thousand years ago my night-agents would seduce and bed our enemies, manipulating them with the carnal pleasures of the flesh until they would do our bidding.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.” Luna’s deep eyes slipped over Bon Bon’s frame, making the usually confident mare shiver under the strangely cold, yet seductive gaze of the Mistress of the Night. “We daresay we would have handled the training of an agent like yourself in the art of the bedchamber… personally.”

“P-personally?” Bon Bon felt her heart skip a beat. Just the subtlest of purrs in Luna’s voice was able to make her heart skip a beat — she made a mental note never to meddle in the affairs of immortal, ancient, alicorns.

“Yes, we rather miss such opportunities for rigorous tutelage. My sister informs me that in our current times such tactics are no longer apropos… and that attempting such hooves-on training would incur the wrath of something called an ‘HR department’.” She grimaced as she shook her head. “We know not why our ponies have complicated such things. Seduction is a tool. Nothing more.”

“A-ah…” Bon Bon coughed into her hoof.

“In any event, these criminals would never be the target of such a honeypot trap. By violating the most sacred of our laws in dabbling in such heinous black magics, especially those which corrupt our innocent ponies’ free will… they deserve the most brutal of punishments.”

“We have to catch them first, your Majesty.” Bon Bon offered, placing her empty mug back onto the coffee table.

“Yes, of course. And then we can draw their entrails from their abdomens, before quartering their limbs via stretching.”

And yet another tickmark into the ‘do not mess with immortal, ancient, alicorns column.

“But enough talk of such happy conclusions, Agent Drops.” Luna adjusted her wings before rising to her hooves, “As you have rightly observed, the work must be done first before we plan the punishment. Come, please follow me.”

Bon Bon nodded, then followed the Princess to a small, neatly hidden passageway in her chamber that led down a long, long spiral stairway.

The way was completely unlit, and Bon Bon could only manage to not lose her footing by carefully concentrating on the luminescent glow of the Princess’s tailhairs as they flicked back and forth in front of her. Unlike most nobles of this age, Luna had no qualms about keeping her tail proudly held high — which meant that Bon Bon saw more than her fair share of Princess-bits.

To avoid ogling and taking an embarrassing tumble forwards, she cleared her throat and began to ask questions about the investigation. “From what I have read about this spell in question, it could prove invaluable to a criminal enterprise looking to make their product more addictive than a Sugarcube Corner cupcake.”

“‘Tis far worse than that, Agent Drops.” Luna responded from up ahead. “We are taking you to the dungeon so you can see first-hoof the damage this foul spell can inflict.”

The stair finally ended at a small door, which itself opened into the better-lit corridor of the Royal Dungeons of Canterlot Castle. Bon Bon knew the place well — this was a prison reserved only for those who had committed crimes against the Crown itself. She’d put more than her fair share of supervillains and sentient monster-creatures away here.

“This way, Agent drops.”

Bon Bon followed, nodding at one of the wardens standing at a post whom she had met on an earlier adventure. The security in the Royal Dungeons was beyond elite — the only thing more secure than incarceration here was Tartarus itself… or conversion to a stone statue.

“Ah,” Bon Bon remembered, seeing one of the iron doors behind which she’d personally escorted a particularly maleficent mastermind chimera. “I nearly forgot, Princess. Of course, the spell is of the utmost concern… but I know this is falling into S.M.I.L.E.’s jurisdiction because of the monster.”

“Yes, a convenient circumstance to allow me to employ our very best agents.” Luna nodded, taking a corner toward a wing that Bon Bon had never gone down before.

“I’m flattered… but what can you tell me about the monster… the hyoo-man?”

Luna sighed before responding, “Yes, yes… the ‘monster’. Princess Twilight was actually quite insistent that I not employ S.M.I.L.E. and invoke the term of monster.” Luna scarcely paused as a guard stiffly saluted and disbarred a heavy iron security checkpoint door, “Apparently she has had personal experience with such beasts during her time exploring the strange dimension on the other side of my sister’s mirror-portal.”

“They’re not even from this dimension?”

“No. Personally, I find the things quite unappealing — Twilight’s sketches gave them the appearance of a hairless, bipedal ape from the jungles of Zebrica. Smaller than a minotaur, clad in ridiculous rags and with the strangest stub for a muzzle: their noses are not even connected to their mouths! I can’t even recall if Twilight said they were sapient or simply wild.”

Bon Bon frowned, creatures from another dimension weren’t a problem — she’d dealt with those before. Still, she did wish she could have a little more information. “Forgive me, Princess… but that isn’t very helpful. Do you know if they are strong? Violent? A threat?”

Luna shrugged her wings. “We know not. However, Twilight confirmed to me that, aside from some extremely limited exceptions, humans have no magic.” Her regal trot continued toward a door at the furthest end of the wing, “Make no mistake, Agent Drops. Though my sister and Princess Twilight have the strongest desire to recover the human… we believe your focus must be upon securing the love-poison spell, for reasons you shall shortly see.”

Luna finally stopped at the door itself, a heavy iron affair with only a small viewport. On either side of the extremely sturdy doorway stood two stern-faced sentinels… nearby was a small desk at which sat a Royal physician, currently shuffling over some papers.

Bon Bon saw the name-panel over the doorway, which read PATIENT STALWART… and gulped.

Lyra saw the name-panel over the doorway, which read Potions and Armchairs Store… and gulped.

But she couldn’t get intimidated! Not now!

She was a deputy SPECIAL secret agent, after all!

In a theatrically exaggerated sneaking motion, she slid along the exterior wall of the main-street establishment, in plain-view of half the town as she huddled under the upturned collar of her overcoat and the low brim of her fedora.

Not that anypony really cared: it was just Lyra, after all.

But Lyra wasn’t going to take any chances, carefully sidling up the first few steps as her golden eyes darted left and right, looking for threats.

“Hey, Lyra!” Roseluck smiled and waved at her as she trotted past the store. “Eight thestral stallions! Count ‘em! I got eight hot and hung Thestral stallions flying into town for the night and I’m in a giving mood. Know any thirsty fillies looking for a hot night in the tree cuz that’s where I’ll be!”

“NOT NOW, ROSE-BUTT!” Lyra shouted, loud enough for her echo to bounce back from across the town-square, “Don’t you know I’m on a secret mission!? You can’t just call my real name out like that! Jeez.”

“Whoa! Calm down…” Rose recoiled slightly, raising a defensive hoof. “I was just trying to share my good fortune! Sheesh.”

Lyra lifted her forehooves to the sky as if pleading to the Creator for strength. “Rose, why would you waste a night up in a tree? Don’t you have better things to do then go tree-climbing with a bunch of smelly old stallions? But why hang out with them anyway? You have the power of NO, Rosie. Use it!” Lyra knew what Rose was talking about but couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be thoroughly unimpressed with the florist’s sexual exploits if only in the remote chance it might discourage her from continuing to talk about her male conquests in the future.

Roseluck brought her forehooves to the side of her head, clearly horrified. “You can’t tell a stallion ‘no’. That’s just not cricket! You want them to think I’m not in for a good time? You want them to tell their friends who’ll tell their friends that Roseluck isn’t cool anymore? C’mon, help a friend out!”

Lyra turned and placed her hooves on her hips, her sneaking ways temporarily forgotten as she prepared herself to deal with yet another of Roseluck’s evening invitations. The last time she’d been tricked into attending one of the minx’s parties she’d been promised creampies — in the end she’d left early when it became clear that no desserts were en route… and the ponies present started getting really hoofsy.

“Well, I’m saying no. Can’t you usually handle a hoofful of stallions on your own?”

Rose looked into the midday sky and gave a weary groan. “But if it’s just me there, I won’t be able to walk straight for a month. Have you considered the logistics of eight well-endowed studs playing with you for hours on end?” Roseluck bit her cheek and looked up into the sky, imagining something for a moment. “Okay, I guess that’s not the end of the world if I’m a bit sore.”

“So just do a bunch of stretching before you go tree-climbing then.” Lyra shrugged. It was always important to warm-up properly before exercising, surely Roseluck knew that much.

“Oh I’ll get lots of stretching in,” Rose chuckled. “But c’mon, you know how piranhas go into a frenzy when they catch the sight of food in the water? That’s what eight-on-one is like.” Roseluck shuddered, then licked her lips. “Boys like to play rough, Lyr-…”

“I SAID DON’T USE MY NAME!” Lyra bellowed, causing every neck in the town square to turn to watch her and Roseluck. “DON’T call me LYRA!”

“Yeesh! What do I call you then?”

“Hmmm…” Lyra mused, tapping her chin with a hoof. She hadn’t had time to consider a nom de plume! How could she have forgotten so essential a part of espionage? “Uh… call me… Lie-ra. Lie-ra Hartstrings.”

Roseluck blinked, tilting her head. “Um, I… did? That’s literally what I just said.”

“No no no, it’s spelled differently. Like ‘L I E’, get it? And I took an ‘E’ out of my last name.”

Roseluck seemed to be looking at her with pity. “But… Lyra, that doesn’t make any s-”

“It’s a double entendre Rose!” Lyra groaned, rolling her eyes. “That’s Germane for clever, by the way — see it’s like lie-ra… like a fib? Get it? You wouldn’t get it.”

“I get i-”

“You don’t get it.” Lyra waved a hoof dismissively and slunk up the remaining steps to the door, “Now go climb that tree or whatever, Rosey, I can’t play around with you all day — I have some investigating to do.”

“Oh-kay.” Rose rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out her and began to turn away. “Ly- Li...? Lee…? Lie-ra? Hey, if you change your mind, swing by the store later. Even if you don’t want to meet my stallion friends, we can all hang out afterward and play some board games. Lily really wants to try another round of O&O and I’m sure at least one of those thestrals could play a great rogue.” Rose grinned over her shoulder as she trotted away.

“Sure!” Lyra grinned. She was the best at board games and amazing at Ogres and Oubliettes. If Roseluck wasn’t careful Lyra might even be able to score a romantic interlude with any stallion friend she might bring along. Surely, she could coax away a colt with her superior roleplaying-game skills when compared against Rose’s weird tree-climbing activities, whatever they were. “Of course! I’ll bring the cheesy poofs.” Lyra half-whispered as she ducked into the door.

Inside the pharmacy/furniture-store hybrid, Lyra slid down the middle aisle hissing in frustration as her tail knocked over a small display stand filled with harness-bells, causing an explosion of jingling noise.

“Oh! Hello there, Ms. Heartstrings.” A middle-aged unicorn yawned as he looked up from his work behind the counter, setting aside a prescription bottle he had been filling. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll clean it up later.”

“It’s Hartstrings.” Lyra corrected, tiptoeing up to the counter (and kicking random harness-bells as she did so).

“What did I say?” The pharmacist asked, scratching his head. “Anyway, strange to see you here this time of year — are you having another one of your out-of-season heats? I’ll need to get the industrial-grade suppressant out of the back then…”

“No!” Lyra groaned. “Mr. Pill Popper, can you maybe NOT broadcast to the whole world how bad my heats are?” Lyra growled, leaning over the counter.

She hated coming into the pharmacy — whether she needed medication OR a new armchair… Pill Popper had a big mouth, and no qualms about talking loudly about everypony’s medical predicaments. If you went into Pill Popper’s Potions and Armchairs store for an earache, chances were, by the end of the day, your neighbours would be politely whispering to you so as not to cause you additional pain.

Thanks to him, everypony now knew the cinnamon musk that surrounded the Heartstrings household every spring wasn’t coming from Lyra’s kitchen.

“Ah, here it is,” Pill Popper nodded, adjusting his spectacles as he found what he was looking for amongst the many shelves of behind-the-counter potions and medications.

“I said I’m not here for that! I need a special order —” Lyra’s shout slowly turned into a hissing whisper as another pony lined up behind her, surely about to overhear Pill Popper spill the beans about her embarrassingly powerful estrus cycles! Why couldn’t Pill Popper learn some discretion!? She hated ponies that were so oblivious to their own faults.

“Nothing to be ashamed about, dear,” Pill Popper hummed as he lifted a giant bottle of heavy-strength hormonal suppressant onto the countertop. “It’s actually quite healthy to have such a powerful estrus-drive! Means all your plumbing is in good order: you must drive your colt-friend absolutely crazy in bed wi-”

“ENOUGH!” Lyra stomped her hoof, a blush rising into her cheeks. She found talking about bedroom stuff really embarrassing, especially in public. “I’m not in heat, doc. I need supplies for a mission.”

“A mission?”

“Yes. I need a suicide pill and a protein pill.”

Pill Popper stared back at her, a whole beat of time in which there was no sound at all — you could have heard a pin drop.

“What?” Pill Popper broke the silence first.

Lyra reared up, slamming her forehooves on the counter in frustration. “ALL good secret agents need a suicide pill! In case they get captured, obviously!” Lyra leaned in to the pharmacist, who was shrinking back from her anger. “Can’t you understand that I’m on a super-secret mission from the Crown, Pill Popper? If I’m captured, I’ll need to make the ultimate sacrifice.”

“What.”

Lyra paused, tears beginning to form in her eyes. All the things she would never be able to do, the songs she would never get to play, the cupcakes she would never get to eat… the thought of dying was intensely sad. The tears began to stream — “A civilian like you could never understand.”

Pill Popper began to smile, then giggle… before bursting into a deep belly laugh.

“H-hey! That’s no joke! How dare you disrespect my noble sacrifice?”

The doctor’s laugh slowly trailed off, becoming a lighter and lighter expression of mirth as he caught his breath, “Hee-hee-hee…. Ah, sorry, sorry. Very noble of you. But I could never fill a suicide pill prescription — that’s against my hayppocratic oath.”

“But how am I sup-”

“And...” Pill Popped continued, cutting her off, “A protein pill? What the hay do you even mean by that? You know there are like a ba-jillion different types of proteins that do all sorts of different things, right?”

“Ah-HEM.” The pony behind Lyra cleared her throat loudly and stepped forward, an earth-pony mare with light-blue fur and a turquoise mane… and a very unique cutie mark. “Listen, can you two hurry this up? I need to get some supplies and get out of here, quickly. Just give this crazy mare some digitalis concentrate in a gel-capsule and send her off on her merry way.”

Pill Popper frowned seriously at the new mare. “It seems you know enough about medicine to choose a potent poison, Miss…?”

“Miss will be sufficient.”

“Well, Miss, I would never issue such a dangerous pill to so clearly a delusional pony-”

“HEY!” Lyra puffed her cheeks out, stepping in front of Blackheart to cut her off from the counter. “Delusional, huh? OK wise-guy, I’ll have you know that I’ve been officially deputized as an official deputy secret-agent for the official Crown!” She snagged Pill Popper by his white lab-coat’s collar, pulling him in close to boop her nose against his and scowl directly into his face. “I’ve been assigned to track down a recently purloined human. Hence why I need that protein pill. Protein is meat, in case they didn’t teach you that in medical school.”

“It’s n-” Pill Popper began to stammer.

“AND.” Lyra snarled, cutting him off and continuing her lecture, “In case they also didn’t teach you this in medical school: humans need meat. As an expert in human-inity, I happen to know that humans require over three-hundred pounds of meat per day! So know that you know my bonafides… that’s Prench for ‘knowing her stuff’ by the way… ISSUE ME MY DAMN MEDS!” Lyra shook him back and forth with each of her last shouted words for good measure.

Her raucous simulated-earthquake complete, Lyra stared at the pharmacist… who promptly readjusted his spectacles, cleared his throat and, completely unfazed, replied: “No.”

“Augh!” Lyra groaned, throwing both her hooves and her head up in frustration as she stormed out of the store. “You haven’t heard the end of this, Doc! And if you dare tell anypony who isn’t authorized to know about my mission… you’re gonna go to jail.” Lyra shouted over her shoulder before slamming the door on her way out.

That showed him.

She was the Chief deputy SPECIAL secret agent, after all!

Author's Note

I think Roseluck got all of two paragraphs in the old version of this story and had basically no character. This time around, she’s based on my version of Roseluck and I wrote all of her lines. The first version was a bit longer and contained still more lurid details of Roseluck’s sexual appetite but Cloppy thought it took much away from Lyra’s scene. Fair enough, I suppose

This version 2.0 was deemed acceptable to both of us and I hope you enjoy her! If for whatever reason this wasn’t enough Nymphomaniac Roseluck for you, there’s a number of stories on my account that goes into her character in depth — the best shameless clop being “Fertile Ground and best romance fic being “A Gentleman’s Price”.

Shameless plugging aside, this is a huge, huge chapter for Luna. I gotta admit, I didn’t care much for her at first but she grew on me in a big way. Nice job on Best Princess, Cloppy!