His Heart's Rover

“So, you have a plan?”

“If that is what you want to call it,” Artemis muttered past the quill in his mouth. He lounged effortlessly upon a silk pillow, head hunched over a desk as his writing implement zipped back and forth across a scroll.

“...And why are you writing that with your mouth?”

Artemis turned around and looked at his brother as if he were stupid before turning back towards his desk. With a burst of magic from his horn, the quill took its place by the scroll, continuing to scribble on it.

A moment of silence pervaded the room before Solaris spoke once more, this time with a swaggering lilt. “Nervous, are we?” He sauntered over towards Artemis, looking over his shoulder. “I suppose the question now is, why?”

Solaris didn’t have to imagine the withering glare that he surely would’ve received had his target of annoyance not been so engrossed within his writings—no, that was made clear by the magic-driven slap he received to the back of his head. He rubbed it with a hoof, a sore look etched on his face. “Now you’ve really gone and done it, brother.”

“...Done what?” Artemis mumbled after a moment, though without pause to his labors.

“Piqued my interest, of course!” Solaris rumbled jovially, plopping himself down next to Artemis. “What has you so coiled up that’d you assault me so? Over a simple question, no less!—Well, I suppose you needn’t answer that. I have my suspicions.”

With a grumble, Artemis finally turned around, the quill pausing mid-stroke. “Did you come here merely to annoy me, Solaris? Or was there some purpose to your intrusion?”

Solaris’ face adopted a dumb look before he spluttered out his response with a wicked smile now adorned. “Of course there was a purpose! I wanted to see how your preparations were panning out! ...They are panning out, yes?”

“...I suppose, yes.” Artemis concurred. “No thanks to you, might I add, with your roundabout questions. You know what I am doing.”

His smile never slacked. “Care to enlighten me?”

“You have your suspicions, do you not?”

“And suspicions, they shall remain, until you decide to change that.”

Artemis ground out a small chuckle. “I won’t be deciding anything. Go pester somepony else,” he replied, returning to his work. “Oh, and next time? Use the daffodil spray. My brother likes that more.”

Solaris eyed his brother’s back for a moment before melting into the ground, only to reappear at the head of the desk, tapping leaning herself on the backboard. “So, how did I do?”

Pausing, Artemis eyed the miniature draconneques in front of him curiously. “You could’ve done with a bit less sass,” He ventured.

“...And?” Eris asked, now laying on her stomach with her head held upright by her arms.

Artemis rolled his eyes with a tiny grin. “And nothing.”

Eris practically squeed. “I’m that good~?”

“No,” he replied. “I just don’t have anything more to say about it.”

“Because you know I’m that good,” Eris said with a wink. “Don’t worry, I know what you wanted to say.”

Artemis didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing back towards the parchment dominating the table. He scooped up the quill with his magic, fully intending to put it back to the task of writing, but it never quite made touchdown.

“What, not even a goodbye? Not even a ‘wow, you’re such a good friend for bringing me food, Eris, thank you so much!’? Just right back to the paper, huh? Yeahhh, I don’t think so.” And then, the quill was condensed into a french fry and popped into a tiny maw.

As though taking a moment to comprehend her words, Artemis’ eyes contracted and dilated slightly before zeroing in on Eris, full of confusion and perhaps a pissant little shard of anger, but fully conscious and indicative of an incoming tongue-lashing.

Eris cut him off before he could make a full pass and indubitably say something mean. “I left it by the door, in case you’re wondering. Buttered toast with a serving of sunflower on eggs, cooked just the way you like it.”

She barely succeeded. Artemis seemed to briefly ponder her words, sparing a fleeting glance over his shoulder at the plate of food, before turning back towards her with a curious glint in his eye.

“Where’s my quill?” was the first thing out of his mouth however, not a thank you, much to her chagrin.

“It’s in the shadow realm,” Eris replied, flashing him a cheeky smile.

He rolled his eyes again. “Well… can I have it back?”

“Not unless you let me help you.”

Artemis stared at her hard and long for the enth time. “...Help me?” He finally replied, and Eris almost wanted to spare him a moment of pity for how pathetic it sounded.

“Yes. Help you. I want to help you.”

If he noticed the snark in her voice, he didn’t show it. “Help me? With what?”

Now it was her turn to stare. “Are you dim?” she asked after a moment.

“I’m not dim,” Artemis returned with a fledgling spark of ire. “I just… suppose I’d never imagined hearing those words leave your mouth. But still… you can’t be thinking of helping me with that.”

Eris leaped up onto her ambulatory appendages, taking care to step around the scroll in front of her as she made her way directly in front of Artemis’ snout. “Oh, but I do want to help you with that, my dim-witted friend. It was, after all, the entire purpose of this little expedition into your lonely chambers. Beyond bringing you food, for you haven’t been down the entire day.”

He snorted. “Niceties aside, I am curious as to what has you so vested in the consolidation of my relationship with my dearest?”

“Oooh, your dearest, now is he? That’s a bit bold—in fact, it’s almost contradictory! I was under the impression that you were still trying to figure this whole thing out?”

Grunting, Artemis replied. “I’ve had ample time to come to my own conclusions.”

“It’s only been two days since your brother told you the thing. You come to your conclusions fast.”

“Why must you always speak in tongues? My brother has told me many things in the last two days.”

“That you could love whoever you wanted,” Eris said softly.

Artemis met her eyes once more and was met with a surprisingly mellow expression. A moment passed and he became more aware of his environment. The candle sitting perpendicular to him that had lit his room with candor had burned itself to its base, now only emanating a little glow. He could hear the wind picking up outside, howling lowly against his balcony. He could feel the lukewarm air brushing up to his coat.

He could see her eyes. They were yellow.

“Let me help you.”

They were glowing.

His silence was profound, if only for a moment.

“Okay.”

“S—”

Artemis interrupted her before she could say a thing. “But only if you tell me why you care.”

Eris smiled, and if he looked hard enough, it even seemed to be a bit sour. “What’s it to you?” she shot back.

“The same that my situation is to yourself,” he countered gently, relaxing back into the pillow.

“You couldn’t know that.”

“I can think it.”

Eris’ claw tapped gently on the table. One. Two. Three times. And then she responded. “I’ll tell you after we pull this off, okay?”

Artemis grinned softly at her. “After we pull this off? That’s a bit bold, wouldn’t you say?”

Eris returned it. “Methinks you’re rubbing off on me.”

And then they returned to silence, but this time it was less charged and lighter. Lighter than Artemis ever thought it could be considering the individual.

It was only after she stood back up did Eris break it. “We need a plan.”

“I already have a plan…?”

“We need a better plan.”

“Wait, is that to imply that my plan is—”

She snapped a finger and a quill appeared in her hand, though a bit oversized. “Listen,” she uttered simply.

Surprisingly, Artemis complied. He looked at her expectantly as though to say, ‘okay, let’s hear this grand idea of yours’, but he was listening, and that’s what counted.

“Alright, so…”

And in the next few hours, a simple, yet chaotic plan saw its conception. It was daring. It was crazy. It was perfect. Or so Eris proclaimed. Artemis didn’t feel quite the same, but it was more of one than his previous, however much he was sore to admit. He was just happy to have food. She was a surprisingly good cook.