High above the floor of Canterlot’s airship hangar, in a dusty window sill shrouded in twilight’s shadow, sat the two best-dressed soon to be customs jumpers in Equestria.

“Methinks we have found our conveyance, Fluttershy.”

“Well, it, uh, has the right name on the side, so I think you’re probably on the right track.”

Below, the airship Sheneighdoah, magnificent in repose. A monstrous and haughty specimen of ponykind’s very finest engineering and magi-neering prowess, it beautifully melded the peak outputs of Equestria’s tribes. Above, a mammoth perfecto-shaped gas envelope held carefully tuned bags of light-gas, chilled synthetic dragon-fire, and what the Equestrian Dirigible Concern called, with tongue in cheek, “a secret ingredient;” it was usually assumed to be some particular kind of skillfully pegasus-massaged weather formation. Below, attached tightly to the gas envelope, a rakish wooden and steel gondola-yacht, complete with gold-adorned promenade deck and small cabin balconies and with two underslung podded props, all finished in gorgeous and perfect alabaster white. If Rainbow Dash, avid reader of Mane’s, had been here, she, in between hyperventilated breaths of excitement, would have rifled off a litany of impressive factoids: an eighty knot cruising speed, a maximum altitude well above what all but the most athletic and dedicated pegasi could accomplish, a thermo-magical atmosphere system for the comfort of its exclusive passenger list, the works. Even Fluttershy and Luna, the former of whom generally ignored Rainbow Dash’s gushing about the newest and greatest vessels, the latter of whom did not know such things as “airships” existed until Twilight had mentioned them a half day ago, could see that the vessel below them was as close to an ideal of “elegance” writ expertly in steel and magic as had ever existed.

They also saw that the attendant outside was checking the incoming passengers’ papers before boarding.

Fluttershy had noticed the problem “That’s not good.”

“What is not?” asked Luna, fiddling with part of the pilfered mostly Night Guard uniform she had squeezed herself into. After some short deliberation, it was decided that Luna probably ought not go gallivanting around undisguised and would be traveling covertly, both for the sake of avoiding tabloid speculation and as an experiment to see if Celestia would even notice. A duchess being unlikely to travel unaccompanied, Luna decided to attempt a disguise as a member of Canterlot’s nocturnal squadrons. Most components could be sourced readily enough, although the cuirass and unicorn’s helmet sat beside her, both clearly too small for Luna’s size.

“The guy up front is checking for travel papers.” Fluttershy fidgeted in her dress, clearly worried. Cadence’s old dress fit Fluttershy remarkably well, if a little tight around the rear, but it, combined with the mixture of Luna’s (hastily resized via a bit of magic) tiara and Cadence’s jewelry she was wearing, was considerably more clothing than she was used to.

The concealing shawl around her patchy and definitely un-ducal wings did not help.

“What is the issue?” Luna’s horn lit, levitating two tickets towards Fluttershy for emphasis. “Our bookings upon yonder vessel are legitimate; we have nothing to fear.”

“They are, yes.” Fluttershy plucked the tickets out of the field. They really were genuine articles, the results of Twilight’s last-minute inquiries to a ticketing office and a frankly disturbingly large check drawing upon a Crystal Empire state account. “But they are legitimate for a ‘Duchess Tempo’ and … ” Fluttershy inspected the ticket to find Luna’s invented name “… ‘Lunar Presence?’ That was the best you could come up with?”

“It is a perfectly satisfactory alias for a pony colored and Marked as mine posterior is.” Luna shrugged. “Twas short notice.”

“It’s … fine. I don’t think anyone is going to, um, go inspecting you on a hunch anyway.” Fluttershy rolled her eyes. “Just remind me to make up the backstories from now on.”

“Our suspect mastery of the modern dialect would give us away anyway.” If nothing else, the “Royal Canterlot ‘We’” would do that. “Continue with your description of our predicament.”

“Our problem is that we are not a ‘Duchess Tempo’ and her attendant, Luna. We have tickets, but if he asks for visas and travel documents we don’t, uh, have any.”

“You are a duchess, the blood-kin of a princess. You needn’t concern yourself with such lowly things.”

“I am not–”

“Are you not?” Luna stamped an authoritative forehoof against the window frame. “We accepted your and our fellow princess’s warning that our traveling undisguised would be a cause for great hullabaloo from certain notorious broadsheets; a fair concern, especially if we are to keep this trip a secret from our sister and the Crystal Princess.” She pointed a forehoof. “But if we are to be successful in our endeavor we must be truly disguised. I will grant you your request – we shall keep our dialogue to a minimum. But if that is to be the case, you must be utterly convincing. This point hence, mistress Fluttershy is no longer extant; there is only the fair Duchess Tempo.” The forehoof lowered. “Understood?”

“I guess so.”

“You cannot guess so. A duchess does not and shan’t do any guessing – ‘tis beneath her station. You must know, and one should project that she does.”

“Okay.” Fluttershy nodded, not entirely sure if she got quite all of Luna’s drift about the necessarily self-assured nature of nobility (especially as that seemed more than a little incongruous with Luna’s previous behavior, but she chalked that up to her rather fiery handling of previous interactions) but kinda-sorta sure she got the basics of it. “I know so. I am the Duchess Tempo, and I deserve to be on that airship.”

“Excellent!” Luna chuckled. “We shall make a haughty paladin–” and there was a tiny little hitch there “–of you yet! Now. Let us – Oh! We did forget our own disguise!”

“Yeah. It’s, um, probably more convincing if you lose the wings. Or horn.” Fluttershy gazed around Luna at the pilfered, piled breastplate and helmet. “And lost a few hoof-widths of height. And got small enough to fit into a guardspony cuirass. How are you, uh, going to do that again?”

“Such a metamorphosis can be done, but, er–” Luna blushed, red flashing across navy blue “–the process by which we regain our … diminished form is a mite bit embarrassing.” A cough. “Do turn around?”

Fluttershy did as she was requested. There was, after a moment, a rush of air, followed by a sound not unlike protracted flatulence. After another moment, a sheepish “you can face us again if you so wish.”

Fluttershy did, gasping as she saw the lunar princess. Shrunk down to Fluttershy’s size, more or less, Luna had brightened a few shades in her coat and had had her ethereal mane replace with an attractive but pedestrian shock of hair in of light blue, sans even a single star. Her wings and horn remained larger than a normal pony’s, but only a little. The guardspony gear, previously rather undersized, now fit comfortably around her, the helmet carried aloft in her field. Fluttershy, full of questions, only got the start of one out. “How–”

“We know not. Sister and I have both inquired with the magical minds of the eras, but did receive no seriously satisfactory answer. It may be a certain … damping of our relations with our celestial bodies, but it may as well also be some sort of harmless magical seizure. We know not.”

“Oh, okay.” Fluttershy had to ask. “Is, um, with the, uh,noise … does it actually involve, y’know–”

“Ah, no. It does not, despite the uncouth sounds which do originate from it.” Luna shrugged. “Another mystery. A long-forgotten curse, perhaps?”

“A practical joke by Discord?”

Luna’s eyes hardened. “In forlorn times past Discord did not play jokes such as that, Fluttershy. If he had possessed such power over us as to enact such a spell, he would have found it much funnier to replace my blood with spiced honey before eating me whole.” A beat. “A Royal Feast.”

“I don’t think he would have done something quite like that, Princ–”

“Verily?” Luna cut her off with more than a little bit of edge. “Based on what experience? An hour’s worth? A day’s worth?” She shook her head with gumption. “Decades. I had decades. The toil of a century, of centuries, magnificent cities of bronze and stone-cut reliefs which did honor and worship our and our sister’s name, all wiped clean by decades of naught but hellish chaos. Our warband swelled to an army, to nearest all of pony-kind, for the fields grew naught but poison and the cities naught but horrors in the shadows, and while we did amass such a host as to defeat him it extracted an immense toll from us, all of us – we did lose not only the cities and the kingdoms, weighty things, but also the Talents of civilization; the Fine Four Winds set askew, the techniques of antimony-bronze, the doom-songs and ballad-epics of our works, the very art of writing.” Luna swore something ancient, spitting out the word like a loosed arrow. “Perkwunos! Wasted years, poetry and song and art and fanciful little games struck away by thee which did condemn me to another lifetime of war, of scores of years as the campaign’s ambush-planner, quartermaster, and a dozen other low, thankless stationsunder the incorruptible Sun-Bearer.” A stomp, ice crackling along the window-frame under hoof. “But who rallied the levies when thine visage did slip, sister, and crushed so many before us at such an awful cost? Yet once your banner, your sun, did rise above your Ever-Free redoubt and our forces did lock the Discordant One in stone, was there any place for those old troubadours and tinkling moon-lit dances in our new Equus? Any place for–”

“Luna?”

“Ach!” Luna, shocked out of her rant, slipped a forehoof along the patch of ice, nearly falling off the ledge. That would have been bad for maintaining stealth, but it probably would have been pretty funny.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, really – worry not, we beseech you, please! Just–” Luna wiped away a tear Fluttershy had previously not noticed “–old memories, that is all.” She shook her head. “We beg your pardon, it is simply that we are a smidgen … excitable at present. Sortieing out into the world, watching your and our fellow princess’s brawl – all quite invigorating. Mine emotions are running a bit hot; that aside, we digress. Truly, we shall return to business at once. Unicorn or pegasus?”

Confused by what seemed to be a tremendous non sequiter, Fluttershy was momentarily unable to respond. “Uh … in what, um, sense?”

“For your escort; we would inquire as to what appendage you would have us hide with spellcraft.” Luna thought for a moment. “We suppose we could abandon both, but we would frankly not enjoy such an ask; we have grown quite fond of our horn and wings over the years.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Fluttershy answered rather quickly. “Unicorn. I think a pegasus would have a unicorn as a guard.”

“There are different thoughts about such a situation, but I would agree with you.” Luna levitated the helmet onto her head, then, with a burst of spell-fire, cast a spell atop her wings; they disappeared from view.

“Whoa!” Fluttershy took a cautious step closer. “Are they still, um, there?”

Luna answered her question by waving an invisible but still present wing under Fluttershy’s jaw; she batted it away, giggling.

“Aie!” Luna skipped backwards in a joking expression of greatly exaggerated pain, drawing her presently-invisible wings in with a “woosh!” of air. “Stay thine hooves! You are stronger than you look”

Fluttershy smugly and deliberately placed her fore-hooves back beneath her. “Serves you right.”

“Yes, yes, that may be. We have been accused once or twice of being quite the rascal.” Luna held out her own hoof. “Ready to depart?”

Fluttershy, unsure of Luna’s intentions, touched her hoof to Luna’s; in the next moment, she was on the floor of the station, just out of sight of the guard. With a squeak and a pant, she hopped into the air, wings rustling under her shawl. “Goodness!” She fixed Luna with a look of betrayal. “A little warning?”

“A warning addressing the dangers of what? Teleportation?” Luna barked a laugh. “Ha! Teleportation is not dangerous. One can only come to harm through insufficient casting power or improper targeting; put simply, if cast by an idiot. And we are not an idiot.”

Successfully settled, Fluttershy fixed part of her hairdo that had come loose in her shock. “Twilight once teleported all six of us on a visit to Canterlot. Sixteen pony-lengths off the side of a cliff. If I hadn’t been warned, I think I would have not been able to catch Pinkie.” And that was a miracle in and of itself – she wasn’t a great flyer, and her somewhat wimpy climbing ability sometimes struggled with just her distinctly un-pegasus sized frame; when combined with Pinkie’s spectacular density, her ability to fly was … tenuous.

“As we did say, ‘if cast by an idiot.’” Luna’s horn lit again; with a “fwip,” the pair’s luggage popped into her waiting field.

“If you say so.” Fluttershy rolled her eyes, suddenly standing-to with an idea. “Wait, could you teleport us onto the ship? We could avoid having to, uh, talk to the attendant. Which would be nice.”

“We could not.” Luna’s field extinguished; the bags floated gently to the ground. “We did check for that first, but there is a ward preventing such access around the hull of the vessel. We could break the protection, but its absence would surely be noticed.” She shook her head. “Besides, we have no such need for that level of subterfuge; our tickets are genuine and our bags need porting.”

Fluttershy looked off to the side, “Yes, but–”

“We shall suffer no buts, ‘Tempo!’ Our success is predicated upon your own confidence – if you cannot even convince a lowly guard, we would not succeed anyway.” Luna lowered her gaze to the gangway of the airship. “Now, advance!”

The mares set off at a smart trot, levitated baggage (of which there was a lot, seeing as a number of Cadence’s old dresses were being brought along) in tow. The steward, a dull looking unicorn, raised his eyes from his clipboard. “Names and tickets?”

Luna’s horn lit softly, a thin line of her field passing to her lips. Fluttershy’s question as to what she was up to found itself quite staunchly interrupted by the answer; Luna’s imperceptible whisper was a firm and clear voice in Fluttershy’s left ear. “A duchess is always a ‘The,’ Tempo. “The Duchess Tempo.”

“I know!” Fluttershy shot back in an unfortunately un-amplified whisper; Luna clearly heard it, as her horn extinguished. Satisfied, she turned to address the guard, channeling her best “haughty bitch” (mostly Rarity at her worst, a little bit of everypony who had been present at her show with Photo Finish) and putting a little bit of extra “clack” in her hooves. “We are The Duchess Tempo and her attendant, er, Lunar Presence.”

“A duchess?” The attendant cocked his head. “Really? Walking? On her own hooves?” He shook his head. “How peculiar. Forgive me, your grace; I can only assume the palanquin service was somehow incapacitated. I’ll have to check in.”

“That won’t be necessary!” said Fluttershy a little too quickly, but she managed to recover her appropriate sense of gravitas. “There is, er, no need to do that. We simply … prefer to trot on our own hooves. It is delightfully–” Fluttershy thought for a moment to select an appropriately snobbish piece of vocabulary “–pedestrian. And it helps with the exercise.”

At a deadpan. “Right. A thoughtful and wonderful way for you to stay in touch with the lowly hoi polloi.”

“You–” Fluttershy gasped, taking a dramatic step back in what she hoped was a realistic portrayal of hurt ego. “Watch your tone when you speak to me!” In all honesty, she would have probably let something like that loose in the face of such verbal snobbery, but she had a character to play, damn it.

“I am giving you the required amount of deferment, your grace. The Equestrian Dirigible Concern Passenger Line is dedicated to serving all citizens of Equestria with the utmost of respect and care.” He paused. “I would also like to emphasize that the Concern is a Royally Chartered organization which operates with primary jurisdiction in the realm of airship transiting. As such, what local privileges you possess are moot, and all arbitration must go through the highest levels.”

“Well, that’s all fine, but I am a, um, Duchess in the Crystal Empire.”

“A client state. Your rights and privileges remain the same.” A thoughtful scowl. “Although that does explain why we did not receive a letter informing us of your attendance. Anything above a baroness would usually receive, timing notwithstanding, a welcome from the captain. For that I do apologize.”

“Well, you – you should be! I would have expected a red carpet.”

“My condolences. We cannot prepare for that we are not informed of. I will happily provide a telegram station for your steward to contact in the future.” He bowed theatrically. “All that aside, I welcome you to our noble vessel. Please present your tickets and associated travel documents.”

Fluttershy, after a moment of fear from her lack of such documents, hoofed over hers and Luna’s tickets.

“Thank you – wait, hang on.” The stallion sorted through the two foil tickets, confused. “These are two tickets. Why did you give me two tickets?”

Fluttershy gestured towards her attendant. “Mine and hers.”

“I only asked for yours. I take tickets one at a time.” He appraised the odd-looking mare in not quite right guard armor. “Can she not give her own tickets?”

“… No.” Fluttershy shook her head. “No she can not.”

“Why not?”

“She is, um, foreign. She speaks very bad Ponish. And she is very dumb.”

“Really?” He locked Luna with a gaze. “She doesn’t look very foreign. Where is she from?”

“I, um–” suddenly unable to think of a single passable foreign country, Fluttershy folded. “I don’t know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know where your bodyguard is from?”

“She is retained because she is big and strong and tough. Not because she can, uh,speak.”

“Right.” Another squint. “So? Where are you from, mysterious soldier?”

Caught off guard, Luna had to think for a moment for a bit of foreign tongue appropriately obscure for the situation. “Shalom aleichem.”

A beat passed. “Huh. You know, I don’t think I know that one.” He shrugged. “Okay. That’s fine, I suppose. I’ll look at them both.” He held both tickets aloft, eyes widening as he passed by the level of accommodation. “Ah. I had been wondering who our Royal Stateroom passenger was. Excellent choice, and we thank you for your selection of our vessel for your transportation to Dubrayvnik. I hear it is lovely this time of year.”

“We are disembarking in Marelan.”

Not wanting to question the sanity of the seemingly very brave duchess before him, the stallion decided to recuse himself from that line of questioning. “… I see. Please excuse me.” He passed the tickets, now marked with a stamp, back to the waiting mares. “Those look fine.”

“Thank you.” Fluttershy took a step forward. “Will you be taking our bags, or–”

The stallion stepped in front of her. “I am sorry. I also need to see your travel documents.”

“What documents?” Fluttershy did her best to looked indignant; internally, a wispy flame of panic was rising. “I do not know what you are, um, talking about.”

“A number of them.” The stallion matched her attempt at a forceful stare – unfortunately, Fluttershy’s famous Stare was rather less effective on ponies. “I will need a passport for the both of you–”

“A pass – Bitaly is in Equestria!” shouted Fluttershy, wincing as her shock aggravated her very fresh injuries.

“That is true, but the airship will be passing through and docking at The Slingers, which is a Minotaur island. You will need documents for that.” He pointed a hoof at Luna. “I presume your guard also has a sword? Importation of armaments through their lands will require a form number fifty-three twenty, unless it is magically enhanced by a fire charm in which case you will also need a form number nine and a letter from one of their pashas.”

“T-this is outrageous!” Fluttershy stamped a forehoof. “I am a duchess! I will not be subjected to this, um…”

The stallion raised an eyebrow. “This … what, exactly, your grace?”

“Shakedown! This injustice!”

“I will repeat myself. ‘The Concern is a Royally Chartered organization which operates with primary jurisdiction in the realm of airship transiting.’ I reiterate: ‘As such, what local privileges you possess are moot, and all arbitration must go through the highest levels.’ While I am sorry to require this additional work, you are required. What powers you do and do not have in the Crystal Empire are irrelevant.”

“Bu-but this is outrageous!” Fluttershy was starting to lock up. “I bought my tickets! I, um, de-deserve to be on that, uh, ship!”

“I frankly do not care what you deserve.” The stallion shook his head, reiterating. “I simply do not care what you think you deserve, because I have nothing in my book of regulations regarding what duchesses think they deserve.”

“I-I’ll, um, make sure you lose your job over this! You will never work again for disrespecting a duchess!”

“Whatever you say, your grace. But this is not a fight you are going to win.” He allowed himself a smirk. “I have had this fight before. Prince Blueblood once swung at me over needing an entry document into New Aerostotska and I punched him so hard he urinated himself. I was commended by the ownership for this.”

With that last anecdote, Luna’s mask of non-understanding slipped; she snorted a few giggles at that admittedly extremely funny mental image.

The stallion shot Luna a look of confusion. “I thought you didn’t understand me?”

Her cover blown, Luna, after a moment of thought, shrugged, horn lighting. “It was a decent attempt. We are sorry for this.”

The stallion’s eyes widened as he took a step back, horn starting to light. Before he could spool up whatever spell he was preparing, Luna’s field snapped forward, striking him on the horn. His own field extinguished immediately, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Fluttershy, momentarily confused, gasped. “Luna! You can’t–”

“He is unharmed.” Her field snaked back to her horn, corona still burning. She addressed the stallion in a clear voice. “We are trustworthy and attractive mares, are we not?”

“Guuurrrhhh…” The stallion stumbled forward. “Sh-sure?”

Luna helped him straighten up with a bump of telekinesis. “A fine observation. And such mares as us, so striking in our beauty, would verily not commit acts of treachery, yes?”

“Uh-huh.” He stammered over his words. “Yer-you’re both really pretty.”

“Many thanks for your appreciation of our shapely forms.” Luna took a step closer. “Now, should mares like us who do possess valid berthings upon this vessel be denied entrance?”

“N-no.” The stallion staggered aside, pulling a rope with him. “Wel-wekkum aboard.”

“Many thanks!” Luna beamed, field surrounding the mares’ baggage and pulling it along. “Come along, duchess!”

Gobsmacked, Fluttershy followed her along the gangway.

“Are you serious?”

The mares, baggage in tow, had ducked into a cranny of a hallway after boarding the ship.

“Quite, presumably.”

“MIND CONTROL?” One of the jewels on Fluttershy’s tiara was sparking faintly, which probably meant that she was close to triggering some kind of automated defensive enchantment. Luna idly tried to remember which one that was.

“’Twas not mind control. We merely did … addle his decision making. Like drunkenness. We henceforth directed his logic.”

“That’s supposed to be better?”

“Ethically? No, not particularly. Legally? Yes, if the laws we did write long ago still shape the present interpretation. To control another pony’s very mind is a grave, awful offense. But to … lubricate the windmill of another pony’s mental grindstone? Minor, really.”

“I can’t believe you would try and justify–”

“Cease.” Luna shot her an unexpectedly stern look. “Quiet yourself, lest a passerby perchance catch our conversation.”

Fluttershy did shut up, but if looks could swear, the one she was giving would be accumulating fines from the Equestrian Standards Board at a rate of 168 bits per second.

“We could continue, but carefully: what would you have us do? You had been caught. Our ruse was nearly over. ‘Twas either our noble failure and your friend’s likely death, or it was mine own deception and a chance at making things right and just later.” She shrugged. “We would never make a statement so authoritative as to suggest that all means can be justified in light of the desired end. We, er–” a very faint blush “–know all too well about that. But in this case methinks it justifiable.”

“It’s still wrong. What kind of kindness is that?”

“We do not know, but that is your problem, not ours. Tis thee who art the Element of Kindness, not us.”

Fluttershy’s retort was cut off by a voice from around the corner. “Mistresses?”

Both mares peered around the corner. An attentive looking attendant (funny how that worked out) stood with head cocked, gesturing at the levitated baggage. “Can I relieve you of your baggage?”

“Certainly!” Luna abruptly cut her field off, dropping the bags at the mare’s hooves. A look of mild shock cut across the attendant’s gaze, but only fleetingly.

“R-right, of course.” The mare’s horn lit, picking up nearly every bag presented before her with only a mild grimace of effort. Notably, one bag stayed resolutely un-ensconced in field. “Wh-what is–”

“Private documents of the Empire.” Fluttershy, having composed herself in the meantime, decided to answer before Luna could. “They’re mine as part of my duties as, uh, duchess.”

“Duchess?” The mare’s ears perked up, preceding a quick curtsy. “My apologies for not recognizing you from the guest list previously.” Truth be told, she had gone through the guest list fairly extensively last night and had not seen any kind of duchess, but she chalked that up to faulty memory – duchesses did not book last minute after all. She decided to prevent any further faux pas by taking the easy route. “M-may I see your tickets as to guide you to your staterooms?”

Luna’s field lit, pushing over the tickets in her shimmering aqua field.

“The Royal Stateroom it is. A fitting choice.” The mare set off smartly. “Please follow me. Your cabin is at the bow of the ship, so we will be getting a wonderful overview of the amenities!”

That tour had, at the very end, encountered something of a problem.

The Royal Stateroom, as befitting its name, was placed at the very front of the gondola-yacht to allow for a full set of wrap-around windows complete with private promenade. It was the forward-most room on the vessel, with only the pilothouse, located directly below it, protruding further. This meant that the Stateroom enjoyed unmatched privacy and amenities, including, as an ultra-rare luxury, a private head.

But it also meant that to get to the Stateroom, one had to walk through every single meeting space, it seemed, on the ship, with the vast asbestos-lined smoking parlor cum dining room directly in front of the doors into the room. This was the finest lounge space on the vessel, with high-backed chairs and chaise couches and every other bit of fine furniture the Equestrian Dirigible Concern had thought to budget for, and could, at peak time, fit up to fifty percent of the passengers into the room.

It was really quite impressive, then, that what seemed like a hundred and ten percent of the passengers were currently between Fluttershy and her cabin.

Emboldened by whispers that a duchess was on board (no doubt overheard as the bellhop plodded through the ship, mares in tow), the Sheneighdoah’s entire compliment of ass-kissing well-to-dos had decided to make an appearance and greet the duchess in person (and if some personal finagling also got accomplished? All the better, then!).

Which meant that now dozens of ponies were waiting with bated breath, for the duchess to make her public introduction.

For Fluttershy to make her introduction.

Seconds dragged on. Fluttershy, conspicuously, had not made her introduction. Fluttershy had conquered much in the way of her fears those last few action-packed weeks – unexpected guests, unruly manticores, potential judicial consequences for murder, potential judicial consequences for battering a princess, potential judicial consequences for battering a different princess, the works – but she hadn’t conquered all of her fears.

And definitely not her fear of that most horrible of things; public speaking.

Luna leaned over to speak into Fluttershy’s ear. “They await your introduction, duchess.”

Fluttershy visibly gulped, swallowing nothing from a dry mouth. A quick glance ahead showed that the attendant, baggage in tow, had fixed her with an odd look, puzzled by the seeming oral ineptitude of this ears-back, stuttering duchess.

“Duchess,” Luna said with a little more force. “’Twould be unthinkable not to train one of your status in etiquette and courtly manners. You need not be perfect, but to not be an apparent fraud you must attempt!”

Steeled with necessity (as she had found herself quite often recently) Fluttershy, after clearing her throat, did what she had to do. “T-the Duchess Tempo is–”

And then, curiously, a gemstone from the very tip of her tiara illuminated a soft aquamarine, and the rest of her address seemed just a little bit more important – and quite a bit less Fluttershy.

“–hath been rendered quite wearied from mine own lengthy and arduous travel from the Crystal Kingdom. Whilst we are greatly appreciative of your interest in making mine acquaintance, we must request a night in which we may find some small recuperation from such as to more effectively converse and make our introductions. As our accommodation is directly ahead, we do ask for your dispersal such as we may enter our stateroom.”

The crowd did not move, both shocked at the eloquence of this unknown duchess as well as shocked by the apparent fact that she had time traveled at least two hundred or so years forward.

Luna, seeing her opportunity, firmly rapped a shod hoof off the high-pile carpets. “Your cooperation is greatly encouraged.”

The crowd, fully understanding that, parted.

The three went in, baggage in tow.

“You can reach the staff with the intercom on the wall. Just press the red button and wait for the dial tone to clear.” The attendant neatly stacked all but one trunks against the wall. “Do you require anything else?”

“That will suffice, thank you.”

Without another word, trained steps ducked around a corner, the door latching after her.

As soon as the door latched, Fluttershy wheeled about, one foreleg going between pointing at the tiara on her head and the princess across the room. “What the FUCK did this just do to me?

“Ah, yes, we did forget about … some of the enchantments.”

“Like mind control?”

“Tch! So flippant with your usage of that term.”

“It made me say things I didn’t think, Luna. That’s what it means.”

“It does – but that is not what you experienced. You said exactly what you wanted and believed you needed to, even if it did not spring forth exactly in that form from your mind.”

“Then what was it?”

“Naught but an accessory ward to the other spell-gems in the piece. Sister and I were raised in a tongue now extinct as a pair of hard-scrabble fur-adorned illiterate warriors, Fluttershy. We learned, we studied, but we did not have the dubious honor afforded to to the dignitaries to have been raised from from the literal and figurative teat of high society. We were better than she, but we did both make mistakes.” She pointed to the tiara. “The ward simply presents a … recipe to the mouth for the mind’s intentions. We suppose it must still be a useful bit of spell-craft, as it evidently has been refined since mine original departure.”

“This is the update?”

“Of course. You would not have understood much from the original routine for a room full of sycophants – probably for the best, as it started with a joke about the never-extant yet infamous practice of prima nocta. ‘Twould have made for a poor first impression methinks, though we can assure you it was a smashing bit of jest once upon a time.”

Fluttershy tried to think of a retort, mean-mugging the whole time.

“Think for a moment.” Luna cut in, suddenly serious. “You have managed to make it this far by punching your way through, which, while impressive, and perchance a bit frightening, be not a winning stratagem for the sort of politicking we will likely be performing in Bitaly.”

“If she’s still alive, it’s been working for Rarity.”

“Rarity seemingly possesses a combination of purposeful savagery and no remorse for her actions and is, additionally, not pretending to be a duchess upon a vessel full of court-rats. Not comparable.” Luna shook her head. “Courtesan-talk is exhausting, Fluttershy. Take all the help we can muster.”

Fluttershy thought for a moment. “… Fine.” She stamped a shod hoof. “But I need to know what else this thing does too.”

“All of the enchantments? Goodness, no, we can’t remember that.”

“How about some highlights?”

“You already saw the most commonly used one. Besides that, it is mostly a collection of defensive spells to combat a waylay whilst one is in regalia. If your heart-beat becomes elevated and the spells think you in danger, a harness of armor-plate will fit itself to your form, a set of spectral weaponry will be placed around your waist, and a number of enchantments will fill your body with an excess of wild, formless magic with which to embolden one’s horn and wings.” Luna paused. “Which, with further thought, and seeing as you lack a horn, is likely enough magic to cause your heart to explode. Then again, the enchantments target an alicorn, so…” Luna shrugged. “It may simply do nothing at all. You may take your chances.”

“And you were going to tell me about the landmine sitting on my head when?”

“Well, you were the one who demanded to use mine adornments. I simply forgot in the haste.”

Fluttershy, after a deep breath, carefully removed the tiara, placing it onto a mirror-polished mahogany table. “I’ll … take my, um, chances. I guess I do need all the help I can get.” She turned to face Luna. “I’m sorry about snapping at you. Just, er, a bit stressful, all of this.”

“Apology accepted.” Luna, after a pause, flashed her horn: her armor lay neatly on the same table. “Now what?”

“Now what what?”

“We are presently being conveyed in the peak of luxury, Fluttershy, and, to be perfectly frank, I aim to enjoy it.” She waved a forehoof around. “So survey and find us something entertaining.”

Fluttershy looked around. The nice big phonograph in the corner was interesting, but probably a little uncouth at this hour depending on the sound-proofing of the cabins. The full-size and well stocked bathtub visible through the head’s door was interesting, especially considering that Fluttershy was about seventy percent soreness by volume at this point, but bathing was usuallystrictly a one-pony affair, which would probably be a little rude to Luna. And then–

–and there it was.

Fluttershy possessed a peculiar curse: she was too good, or her friends were too bad, at drinking.

Fluttershy had spend much of her precious teenage partying years with Rainbow Dash, who was both a horrendous lightweight (unsurprisingly) and who also seemingly forgot that every single time they went out. Many a night had ended up with a mildly buzzed Fluttershy wiping vomit from Rainbow Dash’s miserable and occasionally unconscious face after the prismatic party-animal had sucked down a grand total of three whiskey sours or cosmos or pulls of Firemane and then proceeded to self-destruct over the course of fifteen minutes.

Rarity was … better, although not as good as she believed. She often fancied herself an “expert” at public drinking, and she was indeed better than Rainbow Dash insofar as half a bottle of wine would not send her to the brink of Tartarus, but she too could be drunk under the table by Fluttershy, resulting in any number of less than desirable outcomes. The best would be her falling asleep peacefully, usually after raiding the nearest freezer for a generously sized tub of ice cream, which was altogether fine enough, even if usually entailed retirement from carousing a little early for the butter-yellow heavyweight. The next was Rarity experiencing a bout of “inspiration” which led to a flurry of furious illustration – usually okay, but the paint cleanup the next day was occasionally tedious. The last, thankfully rarely seen, was Rarity launching herself at the nearest passably attractive stallion like a bitch in heat, about which the less said the better – it was really a tossup as to who that was most embarrassing for; the stallion, Rarity, or Fluttershy, who generally had to drag her squirming friend away.

The others weren’t much different. Applejack was as robust as Fluttershy, but had evidently had a bit of a problem in the past and now stuck to cider only. Fluttershy wasn’t about to pry, nor was she about to make demands, but she didn’t much care for cider – much too bloating for the quantity she would theoretically require, and the grand Apple-clan gatherings full of loud cousins-of-cousins were very much not Fluttershy’s style. Pinkie would firmly refuse an offered drink, which, as Pinkie didn’t refuse much, was enough storytelling for Fluttershy to know not to push it. Twilight was usually too anxious about her public appearance to have much fun, although Fluttershy supposed post-change Twilight might be worth another shot or six.

All of which meant Fluttershy, every single time the girls went out, barely got to the “fuzzy eyes and numb nose” stage of the night before she was stuck baby sitting at least two of her friends. She didn’t mind the caring, mind you, but sure would be nice to actually get to the “embarrassing anecdotes and running into doorframes” stage at some point, especially because of her “never drink at home” rule – she had read too many stories about isolated little cottages with reeking winos inside to make that mistake.

But here?

This was perfect.

Who better who match Fluttershy’s formidable capacity for imbibing than this demigod, this mighty alicorn, full of vitality and assuredly well-seasoned from many an ancient feast? Oh yes, Fluttershy had finally found someone to go hooftip-to-hooftip with, Celestia help them both.

And the bar! The room’s minibar (though little was mini about it) was stocked with bottles the names of which Fluttershy knew only as the punchlines of jokes about conspicuous consumption. There were bottles in the racks she was pretty sure were more expensive than she was.

“Luna?”

“Yes, Fluttershy?” Luna cocked her head. “Have you found something for us to do?”

“When was the last time you drank? And I mean, uh, really drank. With an objective.”

“Truthfully?” Luna sucked in a breath. “Since before I was imprisoned, and a number of years before that as well.” She smirked. “We would warn that we have quite the constitution for these kind of things.”

“Perfect!” Fluttershy pointed towards the minibar. “It’s time to, uh, get back in the swing of things then.”

“Pardon?”

Fluttershy put it more succinctly, borrowing a turn of phrase from Rainbow Dash. “Let’s get fucked up.”

Author's Note

Protip: do not do this.