Convictions of a Goddess

Chapters

The Chapter in Which a Very Fancy Party Goes Mildly Awry
The Chapter in Which a Different Perspective Observes The Princesses Receiving a Very Inappropriate Gift
The Chapter in Which Additional Bodies Both Cold and Warm Complicate Matters Considerably, Probably

The Chapter in Which a Very Fancy Party Goes Mildly Awry

For what was somewhere between the thirteenth and thirtieth time, Twilight Sparkle looked herself up and down in the mirror, searching for any imperfections, anything that might catch the eye. Just like every other time, she was momentarily distracted but how different she was, by what she was becoming. She wasn't as tall as the previous princesses yet, but it was clear she would be in time. It was like going through a second puberty, with growth spurts leaving her awkwardly familiarizing herself with her now longer limbs, as well as the magical outbursts which had a tendency to occur only at the most embarrassing of times. Even her sleeping positions had to be adjusted due to her lengthening horn and growing wingspan. She'd more than once woken up to find she'd gored her pillow.

"Nervous?" The question came from her oldest friend, standing patiently beside her.

Unable to find anything out of place, Twilight readjusted her crown once more for the sake of it. "Of course I am."

Looking at Spike, he was almost as different as she was. No longer did he have to stare up at everypony. Now, it was the other way around, with most ponies eyes at best being barely on level with his chest. He at least had the decency to still be a little shorter than her, though the race was becoming a close one. The dragon had also filled out considerably. Where Twilight felt gangly and thin, Spike's form was practically in a rush to add muscles wherever they could fit. The self-conscious princess knew it was because he'd taken to spending an inordinate amount of time in the barracks gym training with the royal guard, but part of her insisted he was just lucky, if only to excuse herself for her own, less enjoyable transformation.

"You remember when we first moved to Ponyville," Spike began, pulling Twilight back to the moment, "and you got wrapped into dealing with Nightmare Moon?"

"Yes", she answered simply, adjusting her crown again now that her previous adjustment had put it off kilter.

Spike tugged at the waist of his suit, probably stretching the expensive fabric, then flared his wings once to settle them back in. "And you remember when you first met Queen Chrysalis during your brother's wedding fiasco?"

"I do," she replied again, waiting to see where this was going.

"And you remember the time you fought Tirek one on one after he blew up our old house?"

"Sometimes I'd rather not," Twilight admitted, "but yes. Yes, I do."

She gave a sigh as she realized what he was getting at. "And I was a lot more nervous those times. Compared to them, this is nothing."

Spike rested a hand across her withers, bringing to her attention once more that what felt like only a few years ago, he hadn't even been able to reach that high. "Exactly. So, let's get on out there, and get this over with."

"Alright," she squared her shoulders and looked her reflection in the eye, "let's."

Resisting the urge to tweak her crown again, Twilight turned away from the vanity mirror and started towards her bedroom door.

"Who knows, you might even have fun," Spike commented, following after.

"Yeah," she held her head a little higher, her horn glowing as she grasped the door handle. "You're right."

"Just don't trip over your hooves again like you did at last week's ribbon cutting," Spike couldn't help but quip.

Twilight forced a stiff laugh, once again working to bury the memory of her flopping forward while dedicating the new wing on the Upper Canterlot Elementary School's library, dropping the scissors, and tearing the ribbon with her face. With that back in her mental vault, she opened the door and stepped into the palace proper, immediately flanked by the two royal guards waiting for her outside the threshold.

It didn't take long to arrive at the main audience chamber. Most everyone that had been invited was already there, milling and mingling. All the upper crust of Canterlot that had either a reason to be here or enough money to purchase one was present, as well as visiting dignitaries from at least a dozen other nations.

And as one they all looked her way when the pony responsible for announcing anyone's arrival did so with just a tad too much gusto. Not that she could blame him. This party, or rather, event, was all for her, though it felt more about her.

It was, after all, the tenth anniversary of her ascension to the throne. It took Spike softly elbowing her in the ribs to remind her she should probably say something. She was saved from having to when Celestia separated herself from whatever conversation she'd been having with a griffon to trot over.

"Twilight," the retired princess said warmly, "I was beginning to think you might not make it."

An unfortunate impossibility, considering she lived in this castle.

She still hadn't gotten used to not having to look so far up to meet her mentor's eyes. Twilight replied not too dryly. "Yeah...wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Oh, lighten up," Celestia chuckled in an almost motherly fashion. She reached out a hoof and tapped Twilight's crown, knocking it just a couple of degrees out of perfection. "Try and have some fun. It's a party."

Screaming internally, knowing she'd never be able to fix the crown without another mirror, but also knowing she was the only person who would actually notice the misalignment, Twilight tried her best to shuffle that out of her awareness, failed, tried again, and succeeded with marginal success.

"Baron Copperpot, of Smelting Shores!" Twilight almost jumped as the announcer shouted the name and city of residence of the next arrival, with a volume as though he was gunning for a raise.

The crowd's attention suitably distracted onto whoever it was that had arrived. Twilight took the opportunity to do what she was supposed to be doing here. Mingling, and, failing to actually enjoy herself yet, at least appear to be.

In truth, even after ten years, she'd never enjoyed these big events, and usually did her best to find reasons not to be at them, which sadly is a lot harder to do when you're the centerpiece. A party with your friends is always a good time, but a stately event, shaking hooves with a procession of people convinced of their own importance, real or otherwise, building and strengthening connections within the nobility and gentry of Equestria, and forging ties with foreign diplomats, it all felt so much more forced. Fake. Exhausting.

Over time, the two ex-princesses had made their rounds, and Spike had somehow managed to get into what sounded like a spirited conversation with the Secretary of Transportation. More or less alone in the crowd, Twilight tried to follow their examples.

It was an hour in, when she was getting another cup of a fruity drink whose overseas main ingredient she couldn't identify but whose flavour she'd decided to enjoy, when Prince Blueblood of all ponies sidled up beside her. Just what she needed. With him here it made her wonder where the friends she'd actually wanted to see were, and why they were so late.

"Princess," the stallion said in simple greeting, a painted smile on his face. "A wonderful party, isn't this?"

"It really is." It was not.

Suddenly, he took on a much more serious air.

"May I confide a secret to you?" He paused a moment, looking over his shoulder one way and the other, just long enough to arouse her curiosity. When he next spoke, it was in hushed tones "It is of grave importance to the safety of Equestria."

"Absolutely," she replied, automatically taking the same tone.

He leaned in and said, almost in a whisper. "I hate these things, too."

Twilight could only blink. "Really?"

Blueblood broke into a more genuine smile. "Oh, absolutely. I mean, when I was younger I always loved them, but once you grow up and actually have some responsibility to your name, it all just gets so tiring. And the more you have, the worse it gets. I don't envy you today at all."

In all the time she'd barely known Prince Blueblood, those were the last words she'd ever expect him to say. She'd always seen him as that spoiled ponce she'd met at the Grand Galloping Gala what felt like centuries ago. Still, knowing she had a kindred spirit lifted her mood immediately.

The Prince, more perceptive than she'd given him credit for, cocked his head. "Ten years in and you're still new at this game, aren't you?"

Twilight had to admit, "I may be purposefully out of practice."

The Prince's smile broadened as he held out a hoof. "Then please, allow me to show you how to play."

He gave a chuckle. "Or at the very least we can suffer through tonight unalone."

For the first time that day, Twilight found herself smiling without trying to. For the next hour and a half, Prince Blueblood deftly mingled with a dozen other ponies, griffons and assorted other creatures, taking Twilight along. There was an art to it. Spotting which people to speak to in which order, discerning who was here simply to be here, and who was here because they had a purpose, and engaging them in conversation that was, depending on who they were, either productive, or merely pleasant but brief.

In between rubbing shoulders with the hobnobbers they'd managed to start talks about expanding trade routes between Equestria and Griffonstone which ended in the promise to 'have our people talk to your people', a delightful conversation with a Changeling diplomat regarding a possible officers exchange program between their militaries, and a simple, friendly and enjoyable conversation with Fancypants about the party itself.

Despite being engrossed in the somewhat self referential topic, Twilight was still aware of her surroundings enough that a figure in the corner of her vision caught her attention. On more direct inspection, she realized she had no idea who he was or when he'd arrived. The figure was a burgundy dragon that stood a full head and shoulders taller than any pony, dressed in a simple, undecorated grey suit. He was leaning against the wall on the other side of the room near the buffet of snacks, looking entirely bored as his eyes slowly scanned from one side of the room to the next, and back again. His gaze drifted across hers and froze. After a moment, he gave a subtle nod, pulled a morsel of something out of his jacket pocket, and proceeded to ignore her as he returned to surveying the room.

"Word of advice," Prince Blueblood offered, seeing where her attention was pointed, "avoid that one."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"That's Ophidia Redclaw," he answered, as if that explained everything. When it was clear that it didn't, he looked surprised. "Of the Bloodstone Isles. He's their envoy."

Fancypants gave a huff. "He's their spy, is more like it. And a brute. I'm shocked he's even here."

Blueblood nodded. "I wasn't aware we'd lifted the ban on their ambassadors."

Twilight wasn't familiar with the Bloodstone Isles, other than the fact that they were almost on the other side of the world. Truly curious now, she couldn't help but ask "why did we ban them?"

"There was an incident some time ago in Abyssinia. I think it was a trade summit or something, I don't recall," Blueblood explained. "Apparently things got heated enough that the Bloodstone ambassador challenged one of the host's negotiators to a duel. Insulted over tariffs, I believe. Killed the cat right in their palace garden."

Fancypants sent a sneer the dragon's way. "You can imagine that rather soured everyone's view on inviting them to things." The stallion gave a huff. "But that was, what, fifty years ago?"

Twilight was shocked at such a story, but reasoned that half a century was quite a long time, and if Celestia had allowed the invitation, then he must have been vetted or warned against behavior like that, or something. Twilight was also confident that with three alicorns in the building that if the need arose he could be dealt with soundly.

"I've never met a spy before, or at least I don't think I have," Twilight joked. "I should say hi."

"If you must," Blueblood was looking elsewhere, suddenly distracted by something she couldn't see. "I'm sorry, but I won't be tagging along. I promised to meet a dear friend about now."

"It's no problem," Twilight waved a foreleg. "I enjoyed your company."

"And I yours. Just...be careful," he warned, eliciting another nod from Fancypants. Blueblood gave a lopsided smile. "I do hope to see you again later. Perhaps we can share a dance."

The request was given in just such a way that Twilight couldn't be sure if he was being friendly or flirtatious. Either way, she saw no harm in accepting the request, even though she knew Canterlot gossip would be abuzz about every inane detail of the entire party by the morrow's morning, and who she decided to dance with would no doubt be in there somewhere.

"You only say that because you've never seen me dance," she said at her own expense, "but I'd be delighted."

Bowing to Fancypants, she headed over to the mysterious dragon. Spotting her approach almost instantly, he locked his golden eyes onto hers, standing to his full height, but otherwise being content to wait where he was. By the time she got there, she was already a little discomforted by his unwavering stare.

"Good evening, Princess," he nodded, his tone bereft of any real emotion. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I don't believe we've properly met," She decided to inject some levity. "At this point I think you're the only person I haven't met here."

Now that she could see him up close, Twilight was able to get a better picture of him. He was indeed a burgundy dragon. Taller than Spike, but thinner in build, though by no means lanky. His secondary coloured scales under his chin running down under his collar were a slightly brighter shade of red. Most notable was his lack of a frill on top of his head like Spike, it being almost the dragon equivalent of a mane or hair, nor did he have any horns. His head was just smooth scales. This missing feature managed to make him look even more reptilian, almost snakelike.

"Because I'm the only one here not fawning over you, tripping over their appendages for a chance to say they've met the Princess of Friendship. I figured our paths would cross eventually." He shrugged. "Or not. Either way, here we are."

She tried not to be offended at the surprisingly apathetic greeting. The dragon spoke in a peculiar fashion. He had no accent that she could discern, but he enunciated each of his syllables overly clearly, distinctly. Aristocratic without being posh. It was as if every word was rehearsed before it left his lips, while somehow not sounding forced or artificial.

"I didn't hear the announcer," she mentally tripped for a split second, "announce you."

She extended a hoof. "You're from the Bloodstone Isles, right?"

He gave a shallow but formal bow as he made a fist and bumped it gently into her hoof. "Yes, I made sure to slip past him."

His bow deepened. "I am Ophidia Redclaw, though by the sound of it Prince Blueblood already told you that."

"He did," she decided to open things on a somewhat obvious question, "So, are you enjoying the party?"

"Would you prefer the honest answer or the diplomatic one?" He asked.

"I always prefer honesty," though Twilight could guess the answer by the question.

"Not really, no," he confirmed flatly. "To be frank, I much prefer the soirees in Saddle Arabia. At least the horsefolk acknowledge that equine physiology allows you to be opportunistic omnivorous. Their buffets tend to have a little more meat."

Twilight found herself flat footed by such a suggestion. "Equestrians are vegetarians. I'm sorry if our diet doesn't suit your pallet."

"Vegetarians, but not vegans," Redclaw mused aloud. "You still eat eggs and milk. I will concede your people tend to make fantastic omelettes. A waste of good chicken, though."

"We don't eat chicken." Twilight oddly found herself feeling like she was on the defense for something.

"No, you dispose of them," Redclaw countered. "Unless you mean to tell me your chicken farms keep their hens after they run out of eggs."

Twilight had learned enough about farms from Applejack to know that they did not.

Redclaw caught himself as he was about to say something, and bowed again. "I'm sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable. It was not my intention to start a debate."

Accepting the olive branch, Twilight grasped for a small-talk subject to change to. "So, you have red claws?"

The dragon held out his hand and flared his fingers, extending his claws. They were the colour of burnished steel. "Only after I've used them."

Twilight noted the long, old scar that ran from his palm and up into his sleeve. She was beginning to find him insufferable, but tried to be friendly nonetheless. "You're certainly an...odd diplomat, Ophidia."

"Please, call me Redclaw. In my nation we have family and personal names, we don't just pick words from a hat, and family comes first." Redclaw chuckled in a manner that made it clear of the insincerity of his previous apology. "And that's because our lands are far apart enough that neither my masters nor I are much concerned with how well we get along. No, I'm here to see how well you get along with your neighbors near us."

Twilight bristled. "And you're certainly a blunt spy."

Redclaw shrugged. Tugging the hem of his coat, Twilight noticed the border of some newer, larger scar on the side of his neck which descended down past his collar. "If everyone knows you're a spy, why bother being subtle? Besides, I'm just here to take notes, not cause trouble."

He made a slow sweeping gesture over the room. "In fact, I'm rather impressed with the collection of delegates you've managed to gather here over something like a coronation anniversary. You've even got someone from Seaquestria, Zorgarth, Tsarst-"

Redclaw blanched as he started the say the nation of a unicorn that had made a beeline for them without either of them noticing. She had a deep orange coat and a brilliant long mane that was the colour of warm sunlight, possessing a regal beauty and a self-sure step. Twilight would guessed her age at somewhere in the late thirties. Redclaw cleared his throat and quickly hid the sudden discomfort she had caused by the time she'd arrived.

"Princess Twilight," she gave a deep, formal bow, "It is wonderful to finally meet you."

The unicorn glanced out of the corner of her eye at the dragon, as if he wasn't yet worth looking at more directly. "Hello, Redclaw. I wasn't aware they were letting you outside again."

"Morning Glory," Redclaw replied coldly, glaring down at her. "It's been too long."

"How's the wound?" She asked with a smile, sounding as genuine as could be while obviously not being, gesturing a hoof towards his shoulder. "Still healing?"

The corner of Redclaw's mouth twitched downwards. Twilight had not expected their small-talk to start turning into geopolitical posturing.

"How's your son?" He retorted. "Still dead?"

Twilight's jaw dropped at the utter callousness on display. "How dare you?!"

"Redclaw," the next, glacial words, came from Luna, who had somehow managed to appear behind Twilight without any of their realizing it, "remove yourself from this conversation or I will remove you from this palace. Physically."

Silenced and reproached, the dragon gave one last glare at Morning Glory, bowed to the two princesses, and excused himself without comment. Luna exchanged a few more friendly words with Twilight and Morning Glory, and then followed after Redclaw, no doubt to say a few more to him of a decidedly less cordial nature.

Turning back to her, Twilight quickly reviewed all she knew about the unicorn. Princess Morning Glory, but not crown princess: second or third child of Tsar Dawn Thaw and Tsarina Rosethorne. Delegate from Tsarstvo Solnsta, a nation on Griffonstone's northeastern border which extends to the coast. Lies to the west of the Bloodstone Isl-

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Morning Glory said, snapping Twilight out of her internal review. "Old grievances which need not be aired here."

While Redclaw was dressed in a minimalistic suit, Morning Glory's attire was much more attention grabbing. Her dress hugged her form just enough to accentuate its shape without being salacious, and was just long enough to not drag on the floor. It was a deep purple, dark enough that it was almost black, like the last shades of light between dusk and night, and faintly glittered like fresh snow under a full moon. Twilight mused that Rarity would love to see this, if she were here.

"Ladies Rarity and Pinkie Pie of Ponyville," the announcer chose that moment to shout.

Twilight couldn't help but break into a wide smile as she turned towards the main entrance, spotting the two mares as the former was still rubbing her ear at the overloud declaration.

Her excitement at seeing her old friends wasn't lost on Morning Glory. The unicorn gave a warm, understanding smile. "Please, don't let me keep you from your friends. We can chat later."

After exchanging the necessary pleasantries, Twilight wasted no time in trotting over to the only two ponies she'd been waiting to arrive. They were the only two of her old group of friends that were going to be here.

Rarity, of course, loved everything about this sort of event. From the upper class atmosphere, to the rich fashion on display from all over the world. She fit right in effortlessly, and Twilight once again wondered as to why she remained living in Ponyville. Perhaps she only enjoyed this in limited doses, and did not want to tire of it. The unicorn's mane wasn't quite as lustrous as it once was, and was only now taking a touch of grey. Her coat, likewise had darkened just enough to be noticeable. Still, she was beautiful. Her dress was the definition of mature elegance, pitch black, contrasting her coat, with a dark, subtle blue woven throughout it.

As for Pinkie, stuffy as stately gatherings could be, this was technically a party, and as such technically fell under her purview. The energetic pony was a welcome ray of sunshine. She looked like she hadn't aged a day, unless you really squinted closely. A few lines had formed under her eyes, and her mane and knees didn't have quite as much bounce, but other than that she was the same Pinkie. Her pink and white dress could best be described as 'happy', with a young-at-heart floofyness that would be impossible for any other mare her age to pull off.

As for the others, Rainbow Dash hated these events enough that Twilight had promised to never drag her to another one, and Applejack, the farm pony, knew she stuck out like a sore hoof. Fluttershy, for her part, simply hadn't been able to make it. This was fine. They were due to arrive in a couple of days, so that all six of them could catch up without all the pomp and circumstance of the event overshadowing things. Twilight had hoped her brother would have been able to make it, but as his wife had experienced the miracle of childbirth for the third time less than a week ago, she understood his hooves were full.

"Sorry we're so late," Rarity apologized, "the train broke down. We were stuck in the middle of nowhere for hours."

She waved a hoof at her traveling companion. "It took Pinkie, of all ponies, to fix the engine."

Twilight couldn't help but laugh in near disbelief, like she was hearing the setup to a punchline. "You know how to repair a steam engine?"

"Nope," Pinkie answered, as if the bubbly reply needed no explanation. She craned her neck up. "Wow, you're getting tall."

Twilight would never get used to having to look down at them. She hated the reminder of how different things were, and of how...different, she would have to watch them become as the decades drew by.

Still, even an unwanted reminder of her ongoing transformation couldn't sour how happy she was to see the two of them. It had been over a year since she'd had a chance to see any of the old Elements of Harmony, and two since they'd all been in the same place at once. Twilight had made new friends in Canterlot, but being the ruling princess, it would never be the same as when she was just the librarian in ponyville. Part of her would always miss that. The simplicity of it.

Not wanting to dwell on the past too much, Twilight brushed those thoughts aside. In truth, they were not all that late. The event she'd been cursed with was an all day affair, and it was only a little after five. While snacks had been available the entire day, the formal dinner would be served at six, during which at six thirty she would formally open any presents from her guests, followed afterwards at seven thirty when they would begin the very formal dancing.

The middle event was something the alicorn felt was somewhat silly, but it was customary. Several of those present, domestic or foreign, had brought trinkets or gifts for her in celebration, as was customary for them. She would then open them during dinner, so that she could formally appreciate each and every one of them. The trappings of custom and culture. It felt like being the star of a birthday party, except with every gift giver seeing if their present curried any favour, or if it was better than so-and-so's present from whatever other nation. Twilight had been on both sides of this by now and it was tiresome from either direction.

Maybe she just wasn't used to it yet. Maybe she wasn't used to it because she didn't want to be.

With the hour they had before having to take their assigned seats at dinner, Twilight enjoyed every moment she could with two of her best friends. It was wonderful to hear of what she'd missed in her old hometown, of Rarity's still growing chain of stores, and Pinkie's antics wherever she went.

"There certainly are a lot of changelings here," Rarity quietly observed at one point. It wasn't prejudicial, but still delivered once the figure in question was out of earshot.

"It's amazing what can change in ten years," Twilight said, trying not to sound like she was making a pun.

In addition to their delegates, there were also several changelings amongst the castle staff. While the Changeling Kingdom had declined becoming a proper vassal state of Equestria like the Crystal Empire, Twilight was proud of how well they'd integrated into the greater continental community, and she could respect their desire for political independence. Like any friendly nearby kingdom, their populations intermingling was a welcome inevitability, and seeing a changeling in their day to day life had ceased to be so rare for an Equestrian.

Still, with their species being so different, and having been enemies for as long as they had, there was still progress to be made. More than once she'd caught staff eyeing the new additions warily, and the changelings clearly noticed it, too. Spike had actually suggested that they cast a spell to place a magical dispellation field over the castle to keep them from transforming during the event, but Twilight had shot it down.

For his part, Spike had a good argument. This was an event with a lot of very important creatures, and while they had gotten more used to the changelings, the griffons and others had not. That, and it was question of security. Twilight had refused it due to the facts that such a spell would be felt by the changelings. It would be a grevious insult to all of them, and would set their relations back by years.

Showing welcome restraint for the first time, the announcer declared that dinner was to be served. The three of them sat at the head table, joined shortly after by Celestia and Luna, the two retired princesses fitting into the conversation seamlessly. The meal, as expected, was as perfect as could be achieved by mortal pony. One of the benefits of being royalty was you could at least enjoy the food. Surrounded by her friends and mentor, the stress of the day melted away.

As if in counterpoint, all too soon it was announced that she would begin opening gifts. The three alicorns made their way to the three thrones at the head of the chamber, to the right of which was a table with the accumulated offerings of all those present, as well as some sent from absent parties unable to attend. It was thankfully not so substantial a gathering that she would be here the rest of the evening. She found she might actually be looking forward to a dance with Blueblood, if only platonically.

"I'll be right back," Twilight told Celestia. "Need to powder my nose."

If she was going to be the center of attention, Twilight wanted to make sure was presentable. She excused herself, leaving the grand chambers of the party into the castle corridors. Once out of sight she hastened her pace and made her way to her bedroom. Rarity had told her that Princesses do not have 'bedrooms', they have 'personal chambers', but Twilight would always see them as her bedroom, royalty or not.

Brushing past the door, she wasted no time in finding her vanity and fixing once and for all that accursed crown. From there, she gave herself one long inspection up and down. She shined a spot from her shoe, tweaked her dress, fixed her crown. Fixed her crown. Fixed her crown again. Nothing could be out of place, and once she was done, nothing was.

Except there was. Not with her, nor anything she was wearing. It was the room. Something was different. Wrong. It was subtle, whatever it was, but the realization had been sudden. More so, it was worrisome. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she surveyed the room around her through the vanity's mirror, then turned to look deeper into her chambers. The sensation was not unlike reaching for your quill and finding it on the wrong side of the desk, or blinking and seeing someone new hiding in the far corner of your room. Except her quill had not moved, and there was nopony here but-

Twilight?" The question elicited a startled yelp from the alicorn as she jump-spun towards her door, seeing Pinkie Pie just inside. She'd been so intent she hadn't even heard Pinkie open it.

The mare raised an eyebrow. "You okay? Princess Celestia was starting to wonder."

"Yeah," Twilight forced herself to calm down, "yeah, I'm fine."

She followed after her friend, but before closing the door behind her, gave the room one more scan from left to right. "Everything's fine."

While on the way back to the main chamber, Pinkie Pie pranced forward, saying she was going let the others know she was on her way, leaving Twilight alone in the corridor. She tried not to let whatever it was or wasn't in her room bother her, but it was. She had to resist the urge to head right back there and stay there until she discovered the problem. Settling for the next best thing, she stopped by one of the guards station in the halls, instructing him to post two watchponies outside her door until she returned. Satisfied that she could always find it later, she returned to the waiting event.

In their thrones were Celestia and Luna, waiting. Between them was her own. Ascending the three stairs, Twilight's growing limbs chose that moment to take advantage of her lingering distraction and forget how long they were. She stumbled, managing to barely avoid face-planting. Chuckling a little too loudly, the head of state looked over her shoulder to see who all had been watching, and found it was only everyone. With a blush, she took her throne, cleared her throat, and went back on script, thanking everyone for coming, thanking everyone for their generous gifts, and thanking them for their collective nations continued mutual yadda yadda yadda.

A servant unicorn plucked the top box from the squat pyramid and levitated it over. Opening the accompanying card, Twilight read that it was from Prince Blueblood. Inside the box was a beautiful set of stationary. There were two inkwells, made from clear crystal and gilded with gold, which were the perfect size and depth, along with a half dozen quills that were the exact length she preferred. Each quill was a different colour, equally marvelous feather. She smiled, searching around until she found him at his table. He returned the smile from across the room with a rather charming one of his own.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

What followed was a procession of mostly books on ancient lore and history from Equestria and beyond. Twilight's limited hobbies were well known, and she was an easy pony to shop for. In between these, there were occasional gifts for the other two princesses as well. Most notable were the war hammer from Yakyakistan for Celestia, and the bouquet of flowers and a scented letter from a young baron for Luna.

Thankfully, the three of them weren't exactly tethered to their thrones. Between gifts, Celestia had more than once gotten herself a piece of cake, and Luna refills for whatever she was drinking. More than once Twilight had done the same if only for the chance to move her hindlegs.

It was a little more than halfway through when they got a box addressed to all three of them. The card put it as being from Duke Wheatsprout, an earth stallion who owned land in Equestria's breadbasket territories who had not been able to attend. Inside was three identical necklaces and another card.

"To your royal highnesses," Twilight read out loud, "like the magic of friendship, our lights shine brightest whenever together."

Twilight levitated the jewelry so that the others could see them. The three necklaces were made from what looked like polished stephanite, or black silver, for the chain, and had a single inset stone. This was an inch long oval gem that Twilight couldn't identify. It looked like obsidian, but was also translucent, with a pinprick of light glowing at its center like a tiny star. The design was simple, but lovely. The light was obviously not powered by mundane means. Her horn glowed as Twilight probed the items with her magesense, detecting an enchantment on the stones.

Sensing the same, the servant responsible for passing them the gifts quickly hurried over. He scanned the jewelry intently as well. After a very thorough inspection, he returned them to Twilight.

"They are enchanted," he confirmed quietly. "I sense they are actively transmitting to each other and receiving, but they are harmless. Benign."

Twilight had concluded as much before he'd begun his own scan, but thanked him regardless. He was only doing his job. Passing a necklace each over to the other two princesses, who were still on their thrones, Twilight noticed that the stone on her necklace grew slightly dimmer the farther away the others got, and grew a little brighter when closer together.

A relatively simple enchantment, but with a wonderful thought behind it.

The three of them put on their respective necklaces. The black silver went quite well with each of their colours. For Celestia, it was a good contrast. With Luna and Twilight, the shade was a good compliment. It wasn't uncommon for jewelers or mine owners to gift their products to the host at parties like this. It was a great opportunity to showcase their craftsmanship. The host would either like this if the gift was of high enough quality or value, or be annoyed if they got so many shoddy trinkets that they were putting on and taking off one piece after the other. That they had gotten the gift from Wheatsprout made it clear this was not somepony using them as an advertisement.

The next few gifts blurred together until she got to the one from Tsarstvo Solnsta. Opening the box, she was greeted by a trio of broad blades. They were the length of daggers, but had no handles. Odd. In Equestria, even unicorns designed weapons with something to hold them by. Reaching out with her horn, the daggers shuddered. The servant made to come and perform another scan, but Twilight waved him away. When Twilight reached out to them with her magic again, it felt like they were tentatively reaching back.

It took a few seconds to realize they were bonding telekine blades. These were mastercrafted weapons designed specifically for use by unicorns. They had no handles, as they were meant to be used telekinetically. Over time, they would attune to their user, making them easier to manipulate, and resistant to the touch of other unicorns. They were easily the most expensive thing she had opened yet. Telekine blades were prized artifacts often passed down like family swords.

Twilight wasn't sure why anypony would gift her with daggers, but could appreciate their quality. Searching around, it took a moment to find where Morning Glory was sitting, exchanging an obligatory nod in thanks. While trying to find the orange unicorn, Twilight noticed that Redclaw was nowhere to be seen. She thought little of it. Watching her open gifts wasn't mandatory. He could be somewhere outside, or perhaps Luna had seen fit to remove him after all.

After that was a small, square box that was almost weightless. The tag identified it as having come from Filthy Rich, who wasn't present. Opening the card, Twilight could only stare at it for a long few seconds.

"Long live the Queen?" she read loud enough that only the other alicorns could hear, confused. Twilight gave a puzzled glance at the other princesses, who could only shrug in response.

Her horn glowed as she unwrapped the box and lifted the lid. She had just enough time to see the thin metal tripwire inside draw taught and snap. Something inside the box made a pair of quick mechanical clicking sounds, and Twilight sensed a sudden flare of magic at its center. Reacting fast, she sealed the box inside a powerful round forcefield. To his credit, the servant unicorn instantly sensed the same, reinforcing her field with his own.

The top of the box burst in a brilliant display of magical pyrotechnic bolts, which then rebounded repeatedly inside the forcefield, turning it into a harshly glowing ball. It quickly fizzled out, leaving the giftbox briefly burning until it ran out of air in the sealed environment.

That over, Twilight let the protective bubble flicker out of existence, the servant following suit, and inspected the box. By the charred remnants, it had contained a magical firework. It may have produced a beautiful display, but the princess had to wonder what sort of idiot would give somepony a firework with a hidden trigger. Especially when it was to be opened indoors. The only other objects in the box were the tripwire mechanism, ashes, and a hexagonal red stone. This had been the source of the flare of magical energy, and no doubt which had launched the fireworks. As it was, it was an inert, spent object.

"How did something like this get through your screening?" Celestia sternly asked the servant.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, almost at a loss for words. "Even untriggered, we should have detected the enchantment. I'm terribly sorry. I assure you, this will not happen again."

He wore a well deserved, irritated frown as he levitated the box over to the nearest trash bin.

After that unwanted bit of drama, Twilight was downright thankful for the next few gifts being mundane. With the end of them finally in sight, Twilight thought to stretch her legs again. After this was the dancing, and she was getting stiff from sitting so long. Her excuse arrived as the next package was addressed to Celestia. A large, heavy pink box covered in too many bows, which Celestia seemed to be enjoying untying.

"I'm getting a snack," taking to her hooves, Twilight asked the others, "would you like anything while I'm up?"

"No," Luna replied, "thank you."

"I'll have a piece of cake," Celestia added after a second, "a small one."

She could easily have one of the servants fetch these for them, but Twilight needed the movement. Something to get the blood moving in her legs. She was faintly aware of the pendant on her necklace dimming again as she moved away from the other princesses, as it had every other time they'd separated by any distance. Unlike the other times, after about twenty steps, it winked out completely.

It was at this moment that the explosion occurred. A deafening blast. Something solid and unforgiving struck Twilight in the back of her head, and with a spike of pain the world went black.

Author's Note

The chapter in which an explosive detonation rudely ends a very fancy very boring party prematurely in a fashion which those attending would generally consider to be unfavourable.

The Chapter in Which a Different Perspective Observes The Princesses Receiving a Very Inappropriate Gift

For what was somewhere between the thirteenth and thirtieth time, Spike the dragon found himself absent mindedly tugging at the waist of his very new, very expensive and only mildly uncomfortable suit, resisting the urge to flare his wings. It was getting difficult not to get bored. Blinking hard and fighting back a yawn, he forced himself back into vigilance. Presently, he was at the far right side of the main chambers most everyone was gathered in, watching Twilight open her gifts from visiters domestic and foreign in between bites of their dinners.

There was still the quiet murmur of a few dozen little conversations from the collective tables. Nopony had to watch her open all of the presents, or any of them, really, but it would be considered rude not to be present for the opening of the...presents. Everyone was at least interested in seeing Twilight's reaction upon opening what they had brought, and in seeing the reaction to the gifts of anyone else they might care about. Seeing whether the ruling princess liked their gift more than some rivals was just the sort of petty competition the nobility ate right up.

Spike wished this evening would be over. As he had yet to accomplish the feat of time travel through sheer will, he decided to pass the time as best he could. Once again, he slowly dragged his eyes from one side of the massive room to the other, letting them fall on anything that might catch his attention. Not much did. Next, he took stock of all the guards, making sure they were keeping on their toes, or tips of their hooves, whatever those were called. Security was light enough that they could do their jobs while staying out of the way, and largely out of sight if you let yourself forget about them. Unless you knew were all of them were supposed to be.

The guards in full uniform and dress armour were easy enough for anyone to spot. You were supposed to see them. In addition to them, there were about a dozen dressed as part of the wait staff and castle servants. Out of the lot of them, as he was not actually a part of the guard, Spike's role was unique. Those in uniform were posted to specific locations, and the others in disguise had to blend in. He, however, could move freely, as most everyone here assumed him to be one of the guests. Well, this was technically true, but if he had to be here, he might as well do his job in the meantime. Spike had just spotted Clodhopper helping herself to more of those tiny sandwiches at the snack table when a commotion at the thrones snapped his head to, in time to see Twilight seal one of the gift boxes in a forcefield.

The contents of the box then exploded, and the brightly glowing sphere briefly lit up the room. A murmur of concern and confusion passed through the crowd, dying down once the offending object was dumped with open disdain into the nearest bin.

Spike's concern lingered, as well as a kernel of anger. He'd been around enough unicorns in his life to recognize a pyrotechnic prestigitation, and knew that an object bearing an active enchantment like that should have never made it through their screenings. Someone somewhere in the line had mucked up horribly. The dragon flagged down two of the wait staff, who were actually High Tide and Low Blow, two grey coated unicorn stallions. The latter wasn't quite pulling off the disguise of being a waiter, as his uniform was about two sizes too small for his muscular frame. By the glances some of the female servants had thrown his way over the course of the day, he was sure he'd done this on purpose.

"Low Blow, you look ridiculous. High Tide, you go to Celestia, discreetly," Spike commanded quietly, "Tell her we should put things on hold until we can rescreen the rest of the boxes."

Both of the not-waiters nodded, and High Tide moved to make it so. Spike could have done it himself, but as he had said, he wanted it done discreetly, and as large as he'd grown, physical subtlety was getting harder to perform. He made his way back to the nearest wall and watched the thrones, waiting to see their answer. After a minute or so, High Tide politely came around behind Celestia's throne and beckoned at her like an appropriately apologetic servant. He whispered something in her ear. The ex-princess but still current deity said something in response and just as politely waved him away.

Spike could already tell well enough from where he was that the answer was 'no'. It made a measure of sense. She might not have wanted to worry the guests, or ruin the flow of the evening, or insult anycreature by insinuating anything. The prestigitation would have been largely harmless even uncontained. Spike would still have preferred to open and search every package before they'd even gotten to that table, and after that fiery display, do it again right now even if it meant doing it in front of everyone.

Then again, he'd also suggested that they put up a tuned dispellation field around the castle to prevent any of the changelings present from shapeshifting, and that had been shot down, too, so he was getting used to the frustration. At least that one he could agree with, on the grounds that the dispellation was something any changeling would be able to sense, and that its effects of preventing a shift or dispelling them back to their natural forms was highly painful. A few years ago he might have pushed harder for it, the field or the rescreening, even to Celestia, but by this point in his job he was used to making suggestions that nobody liked.

His life had taken an interesting direction once Twilight had taken the throne. She'd ascended to crown princesses of Equestria, and what amounted to burgeoning godhood. He, meanwhile, had followed along as he always had. After seeing just how many threats there could be to her and to the crown during their adventures together, Spike had taken an interest in her safety, and by extension, the security of Equestria. While she had become a princess, once an adult he had taken the title of Lord Protector. It was a somewhat archaic, stuffy sounding title that some ponies still believed he had made up, but in truth it had existed for centuries, but left vacant and forgotten.

In essence, Spike's job was to ensure the safety of whoever was on the thrown. The lord over any resources relevant to the protection of the land's ruler or of the land itself. The Lord Protector. It turned out that the authority it came with was almost comically vast. He might as well be a prince in his own right. Though he was not a member of the castle guard, or the military, and was outside both of their command structures, he could give orders to just about anypony in either one if it pertained to the safety of the princess, or if he believed it might, or if he could convince somepony it might.

If somepony worked for the government, Spike could command them where relevant. He could commission a castle to be built in the middle of the Everfree Forest, if he could come up with a reason for why it made Twilight or Equestria safer. The only other persons with more totalitarian authority in Equestria was the princesses. Actually, thinking about it in those terms made it sound bad. It was true that his position had the potential for massive abuses of power. Probably why the job was left open for so long, come to think of it.

Anyways, what was important to him was that it kept him close to Twilight, as he'd worried they would grow apart as they grew older, and it gave him an important, very well paying job to do, which he felt he was good at, despite still being younger than many of the ponies he could give orders to.

At the end of the day, he still only had as much authority as the princess or princesses allowed. Which was why there was no anti-changeling field, and why they were still opening presents even after one of them had burst into flame.

Thankfully, the next several packages were much less exciting, at least from his distant perspective. Eventually, he was able to convince himself to relax again. That had been the pattern of the day; stretches of boredom broken by spurts of excitement. Another wish that wouldn't be granted was for Gabby to be here. That alone would have made this entire ordeal much more enjoyable. Then again, that was part of why she wasn't. As much as Twilight had asked him to act otherwise, he wasn't here to enjoy himself, and having her around would be a delightful distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. There was also the reason that Gabby simply didn't have a reason to be here, and so she'd gotten no invitation. That was a little bit funny. Well, he'd thought it was, she didn't, but it was objectively funny, probably, considering that she lived in the castle. The areas where the party was being held were just off limits to those uninvited for today.

He gave his watch an impatient glance. At least he'd had more to do earlier in the day, when things were still kicking off. It was kind of a fun job then, too. As a fellow party attendee, he'd made sure he was one of the first creatures that everyone met upon their arrival. It was a chance to size them up and look them over to see if he could identify any weapons or ill intentions they might be hiding. Not that he really had any reason to expect the latter, it was just something to do. He was getting a lot better at sizing people up without their realizing that was what he was doing.

The bodyguard for the Griffonstone envoy who had been doing a downright stellar job of pretending to be a mousy little personal servant was carrying a dagger which he had decided not to call attention to. The earth pony Copperpot had tried to sneak in a neat little stubby device inside his coat called a flintlock. A word to the nearest guard afterwards had seen it confiscated. Princess Morning Glory had what he had determined was probably some kind of blade in a sheath expertly woven inside her dress.

She could keep it, as she would have to split the back of her dress open to draw the thing. Spike was fine with guests having their little blades if it made them feel safe. He had claws longer than some of the knives he'd spotted and could breath fire, so he could hardly blame them. Items like the flintlock, or more fanciful weapons were a no-go. Anything ranged or arcane, really. However, if anyone actually pulled a weapon, he was prepared to very rapidly educate them on the error of their ways.

The only attendee he hadn't been able to get a read on was the other dragon here, the envoy from the Bloodstone Isles. After somehow sneaking past the announcer at the entrance, he'd made a point of avoiding Spike. He was a slippery figure, able to tell that Spike was trying to approach him, and always finding a way to put someone or something in between them. It was only when he'd cornered the burgundy dragon while he was getting a drink that he rather condescendingly stated that he 'wasn't here to associate with the help'. Spike had kept a close eye on him after that, but saw no reason to bother talking him up. It was unfortunate, really. As the only other dragon here, albeit from a place Spike had never heard of, he was hoping he might have been more friendly.

Spike blinked, surprised at a detail he'd missed, and gave the room another once over. Spike had no idea where Redclaw was. His seat at the table where he'd been was empty, and he wasn't anywhere else he could see. A dragon in a room of mostly quadrupeds is usually an easy thing to spot. That bothered Spike. Not wanting to waste time trying to flag down one of the pretend staff, he strode straight towards the nearest uniformed guard, an aqua coloured pegasus mare with an unfortunate name.

"Puddles," Spike addressed her curtly, "did you see where Redclaw went?"

She leaned to one side to look past him. "Which one was Red Claw?"

"Redclaw," he corrected. "The dark red dragon. A bit taller than me."

"Oh, him," Puddles straightened out. "He left a couple minutes ago. Some griffon mare, or....hen? Whatever you call a fe-"

"They're called formels," Spike injected, something of an expert on the subject, "like eagles or hawks. They also accept griffoness. Hen is an insult. Most of the time. Kinda...It's complicated."

"Wait, but they're only half bird," Puddles pointed out, getting completely off topic. "The other half is some kind of cat, right?"

"Half lion," he specified, trying not to get irritated at their digression. "The upper half with the brain is the bird half, so they use bird terms, and that bird most resembles an eagle or hawk. If your butt was a cat's butt, you'd still have a pony brain. Now, what did the griffon look like and where did they go?"

Puddles scratched her chin. "Like a griffon? I dunno, they all kinda look the same to me."

Her eyes shot wide the moment the words left her mouth.

"Sorry," she blurted, as if suddenly remembering who exactly she was talking to. Puddles jabbed a hoof at the doors leading to the gardens. "But they went that way. By the look of him, he was on his way to something important."

Wonder what he's doing out there. Either they were still out in the gardens, or had used the relatively smaller side door to slip away and were intending to leave entirely.

It was by no means unusual for anyone to slip away for a minute for one reason or another, but Spike wanted to check. Something about the dragon sat poorly with him, and he didn't like him being out of sight. Luna had warned him about Redclaw being one of the few creatures here that might make a ruckus, and he wanted to make sure he was never unattended. Not wanting to make a scene out of it like a dragon going straight through a fancy dinner, he made his way around the outer perimeter of the massive room.

Spike was nearly to the doors that would lead to the castle gardens when he spared another glance at the princesses. Twilight stepping away from her throne, by her course he guessed to get something to eat or drink. Celestia and Luna were still sitting, the former the apparent recipient of a large pink box covered in an overabundance of ribbons and complicated bows that was big enough to briefly block her from view until she'd released it from her levitation. The deity was making a small show of trying to figure out which bow to tug on first to begin opening it.

Turning away from the display, Spike reached the threshold of the outer doors. He still didn't see Redclaw. The gardens were vast, but only so much was accessible to the guests tonight, and he couldn't have gotten far unless he was trying to. Spike stepped outside.

It was at this moment that the explosion occurred. A sudden blast. Spike spun towards the princesses as debris was sent scattering across the entire chambers. Something small and metallic bounced off his shoulder and rolled away, skittering across the floor. The spot he'd seen the three princesses just a moment ago was covered in a thick cloud of smoke, which was rapidly expanding into the now panicking crowd.

Without hesitation, Spike flared his wings and took flight, quickly landing at the edge of the cloud of smoke. To their credit, both High Tide and Low Blow were almost right behind him.

"You, with me," Spike commanded, pointing at the former, and to the latter, "evacuate the area!"

Not waiting for the guardspony to follow, Spike strode into the smoke, shouting for any of the princesses. None of them answered. A part of him was still hoping against hope that this was just another moron's idea of a firework's display, but there was no fooling himself. What had started as a dense black veil was already beginning to thin out in the massive room, enough that he could barely see where he was going.

Still, Spike had almost immediately lost sight of High Tide, but could hear him coughing somewhere off to his right. A few good pegasi might be able to clear this out, but doing so without knowing the state of the princesses might be unwise. One voice did answer. A male voice. Changing direction, Spike found the servant who had been attending the princesses during the gift opening, at the end of a slick trail of red. He was dragging himself across the floor, his rear legs hanging limp.

Kneeling down, Spike called out for High Tide as he gave the injured stallion a once over. There was a deep slash across his left rear calve, and a piece of jagged shrapnel lodged in his right, having apparently been sent slicing through one leg before getting stuck in the other. When the guard appeared from the cloud, Spike ordered him to get the servant clear, and he dutifully complied.

Spike was far enough in now that he could see the outline of the thrones. Or what was left of them. He could see no sign of their occupants. Slowly, a mare sized figure lying still appeared in the thinning haze, far off to his right. The figure in the smoke stirred. It shuddered as it was wracked with a wheezing, hacking cough. Spike froze as the mare began to wail. A low, keening moan that rose in pitch and intensity, broken only by gurgling coughs as the mare woke to a pain indescribable.

"G-!" Spike steeled himself as best he could as he moved to close the distance. "Guards! To me!"

Almost immediately, he heard a nearby pony run to his side. Turning to give his orders, Spike was surprised again when he saw who it was.

"Blueblood?!" Spike balked. With every creature in a rush to get away from the blast zone, Blueblood was the absolute last pony he would have expected to find running in the other direction, and getting here faster than some of his guards, no less. "Get out of here! Evacua-"

"I can help!" Blueblood quickly shouted. His jaw dropped when he spotted the wailing mare. "Auntie Luna!"

The prince galloped ahead to her side, crying for any medical staff. The blast had thrown her free of her throne, and she'd landed heavily several meters to the side. The wailing princess, now fully awake, was lying broken in a puddle of her own blood that was spreading at an alarmingly rapid pace. Spike made to help her but stopped, not sure how to even begin moving her.

Her left foreleg hung limply at an odd angle, while her right thrashed about in panic and agony. Her right cheek was a flap. She coughed and retched, and jets of ichor shot from her mouth and a hole in her throat. Worse yet, a massive gash went along her entire barrel, deep and wide enough that Spike could see things one would hope to never see outside an operating theatre.

As she was, the wound at her side was so grievous she looked like she might spill out of herself if she rolled the wrong way. That she was alive at all was a cruel miracle. It was all Blueblood could do just to try and hold her still, to keep her from making it worse.

The prince's horn flashed in a blinding pulse of magic that even Spike could feel, and Luna finally, mercifully fell unconscious. He staggered at the exertion but kept to his hooves.

More guards were joining them now, who brushed past them, quickly wrapped Luna in a formfitting field and lifted her from the floor. The team of six rushed away, levitating her between them and chattering worrisome details of her wounds.

Blueblood was left standing there, shuddering as he rocked back on his haunches and stared blankly at the blood smeared over his hooves. Not wanting to waste precious time feeling bad about leaving him there, Spike turned away and did exactly that. There were still two princesses. There was still no sign of Celestia. Thankfully, Twilight was exactly where Spike had last seen her before the explosion, midway to the snack table. She was lying face down, completely still.

"Twilight!" Spike ran to her, taking a knee and reaching down to her.

"Wait!" The warning came from Blueblood, who had surprisingly broken free of his shellshock and kept pace with him. His pristine white coat and expensive suit were smeared red. He was shaking heavily, but trying to keep his composure. "Don't move her yet."

When Spike was about to ask why, the prince cut him off with his answer. "Her head's been struck. See? There. Be careful you don't harm her."

Blueblood pointed a hoof, and true enough, there was a cut on the back of her head, deep enough that Spike could see bone. While he was no doctor, Spike had learned enough about medicine to understand the royal's meaning. He gently checked for any neck or spinal damage. As far as he could find there was none. She was breathing, but was still knocked out cold. Bleeding, but only from her head wound. Those always bled a lot. What concerned a great deal more than the blood was the smaller amount of clear fluid mixed with it.

Lifting and cradling Twilight into his arms in what a biped would describe as a bridal carry, Spike made ready to rush her to the castle doctor. By now, the smoke had lifted enough that he had a clear view of the entire chamber again. Of the three thrones, Celestia's was completely missing, as was its occupant. Spike tried to see where she might have been thrown to, when he nearly tripped over something. Something metal that gave a dull clatter.

It was one of Celestia's shoes. The limb that was still attached ended at the knee.

His vision unobscured, he was able to quickly find three more, even larger portions of her. Like her throne, Celestia had been blown apart.

Spike stood there, dumbfounded, his brain unable to reconcile the apparent impossibility of an immortal goddess suddenly dying in the blink of an eye. There was a steady ringing in his ears as he struggled to comprehend the scene around him.

Celestia could not be dead. That simply didn't make sense. She'd been alive for somewhere around ten thousand years. Had faced and survived innumerable threats. That she was gone now, and so instantly, was beyond reckoning. She was an immortal, and immortals don't die. They just don't.

And yet here she was, scattered across the floor.

Someone, somewhere far away was calling his name, barely heard over the deafening sound of his own breathing. It was Blueblood, right next to him.

"Spike!" He shouted, snapping his attention to him.

Right. Twilight. Needed to get her to a doctor. Spike dumbly shambled forward. The motion did him good, like each step brought him a little further out of his mental fog. It was something to focus on. They were out of the main room and halfway down one of the corridors when they were intercepted.

"Sir? Sir! There you are," came a small voice from behind.

Spike turned to see one of the guardsmares. A teal earth pony with a close cropped mane a few shades lighter. One of the newer ones he hadn't memorized the names of yet. She was small enough that he didn't believe she should have the job, but that wasn't his call unless he forced it to be. He trusted the captain enough to know what she was doing.

She galloped over to them as quick as she could, skidding to a halt. "Sir, there's been an alarm. One of the vaults has been breached!"

Trained cogs spun into motion in Spike's mind. A single explosion was an attack on individuals. An assassination, most obviously. Now, with a vault broken into, this changed the entire landscape of the situation. They were under attack. They were still under attack.

"Which one?" Spike's mouth asked before his brain could put the question together.

"The Crypt Arcanum!"

That should not be possible. There were several vaults in and under the castle. Some contained historical documents and ancient objects of great value. Things that were worth too much or were to fragile to trust to a museum. Some simply contained precious metals, bonds, and hard money. A few contained weapons. Arcane trinkets of great power that were more often than not unique, only to be taken and used when necessary.

Then, there was the oddly named Crypt Arcanum. This was where only the greatest of items lay. The vault of secrets. Nobody even knew what was in there, save for a select few. Arcane knowledge beyond mortal minds. History long past recorded memory. Powerful items best forgotten. The only ponies that could access it or the list of its contents were the princesses, and the head caretaker, and even the latter was only let in under supervision.

Whatever their attacker was after, it couldn't be good.

Spike was torn. He needed to look after Twilight. Her safety was literally his duty, but he may be able to assist at the vault. His indecision did not go unnoticed.

"I can take her," Blueblood offered, his horn glowing as he prepared to levitate her.

Spike hesitated. He did not know Blueblood, and therefore he certainly didn't trust him with the wellbeing of someone so precious to him. The royal was being so very helpful. More helpful than he would have ever expected, given what he'd heard about the pony's character in the past. Then again, that was long in the past, and it was natural for somepony to want to help where it was needed. At least, that's what Spike thought people should do. On top of that, the only other pony here was a small earth pony, who would be completely incapable of carrying a growing alicorn.

"Alright," Spike relented, allowing the unicorn to levitate her out of his arms. His next command was to the mare. "See Blueblood to the castle hospital, then see that he stays there."

The prince was about to voice some question or protest, but Spike quelled it before it could be given voice.

"Your help is appreciated, but we're still in danger," he explained sternly, making it clear he would not budge. "Stay there, and help keep them safe."

Spike doubted the blueblood would be of any use in a fight, but the comment would no doubt ease his ego. There was also the very real possibility of their attacker targeting the hospital to finish off their victims. He was already regretting passing Twilight off to him.

Leaving them, Spike took off and ran full tilt towards the vault. Anything in his way knew well enough to get out of it. Still, it took over a quarter hour to descend through the multiple levels to where the Crypt Arcanum lie. In fact, there were no levels any further down that this, and it was three stories below anything else, buried under solid rock, a two meter thick steel plate, and a magically inert layer of a material Spike couldn't even pronounce the name of. As far as he was aware, the same layers of materials surrounded the vault on all sides within the walls and floor like a box.

The corridor to the Crypt Arcanum was thirty meters long, and only lead in two directions. To the dedicated elevator which lead straight up to its only other stop, the entrance to which was inside the restricted portion of the castle library. And to the vault entrance. Bisecting the corridor at the halfway point was an intervening wall and door of enchanted clear crystal so that the two guards stationed there could see anything as it approached.

There were always two guards here. Two of the absolute best, most trusted guards in all of Equestria. Unicorns trained in a list of combat arts and lethal spells, and practiced to perfection in every one of them. Only the best for the most important vault in the known world. It was, to be fair, no doubt also one of the most boring jobs in the known world. Still, the two guards here should have been capable of turning this hallway into a veritable kill zone. For any intruder, it would have been like walking into a blender.

Which was why it was incredibly confusing to find that these two guards were the only dead bodies here. There wasn't even any signs of combat on the way, save for some scorch marks on one of the walls nearby. The vault door was wide open.

"Report," Spike commanded as he met the pony in charge.

She was a typically white Canterlot unicorn mare with a greying charcoal mane kept in a simple bun. Her name was Snowpiercer, and she taken the role of captain of the guard about six years ago. She was a cold, no nonsense mare, with steel coloured eyes that always felt like they were looking through you instead of at you. Spike thought she was a perfect fit for the job, and liked her quite a lot, though he sensed the sentiment was entirely one sided. Probably because he was one of the only people in Equestria that could swoop in and give her orders.

"Two casualties. Both dead when we got here," she answered, her voice pure business without a hint of emotion, which one might find worrisomely detached if they didn't know her. She gestured towards the deceased. "Whoever got in only triggered the alarms when they set a fire inside."

That made no sense at all. Getting in should have been impossible without melting a hole through the door, which itself would have set alarms ringing. To attempt to destroy the contents made even less. Except the door was undamaged.

"How did they break in?" Spike looked over the door. A three meter tall slab of enchanted stone rated to deflect blasts from Celestia herself. It was a heavy door, but it would open itself when properly prompted.

"They didn't," she answered. "They used the key."

Disbelieving, Spike walked up to the door and checked the keyhole, or what passed for it. It was in the shape of, and contained a golden bangle. A piece of jewelry that did not look like a key. You can't pick a lock in the mundane sense when it doesn't have any tumblers, and he personally knew nothing of how to pick a magical lock. He assumed the shape of the key was another layer of secrecy. The only easy way in is with the key, and it's hard to fake or steal a key without knowing what it looks like.

But their attackers knew.

He entered the vault. He'd never been in here before. Inside, it was a two story tall square box, around thirty meters by thirty with items in display cases lining the walls with more, larger cases dominating the center of the room. Several of these cases were open. What Spike found strange was how many of them contained books. He'd been expecting it to contain more of things that were more...well, more than books. While there were several trinkets and artefacts that he couldn't identify, the vast majority of the items were ancient looking tomes. It was like a small library where each book deserved its own pedestal.

There was still some wisps of smoke hanging in the otherwise stagnant air.

Snowpiercer followed in after him. "From the remains it looks like they burned more than they took. Mostly old books in here, anyways. Plenty of flammable old parchments, but the automated fire suppression system magically seals any flame larger than a candle inside a bubble until it suffocates. That system is what set off the alarm. Looks like they used a chemical accelerant to set the fires, though. Something that self oxygenates."

Breaking into this vault must have taken a great amount of planning, preparation and expertise. Knowing what was in the vault. Knowing how to access it. Being able to acquire the key. Being able to quickly kill the guards. Doing so while the castle was in a panic over an explosion. There were so many layers to this ordeal. It was bizarre to then undermine it by setting several fires. It couldn't be so simple as a smash and grab. Did they intend to hide what they took, or destroy something that might be used against them? Who alive even knew what was in here to use against a hypothetical foe?

Celestia and Luna did. Twilight might. The only other person was the caretaker.

Whoever they were, they had set the fires knowing that not only were they destroying priceless artefacts, but that doing so would alert the castle to their presence down here. If they hadn't, they could have been in and out without anyone knowing until the next time the guards were due to check in or rotate. In the chaos topside, that was sacrificing precious time they would have otherwise had. This had to be worth the tradeoff.

Was the bomb just a distraction to allow them into the vault? Perhaps they didn't expect a simple explosive to be able to kill a goddess. How valuable were the contents of this vault to do something so beyond the pale just for access to this?

"Far as we can tell by the remains," the mare continued, "they burned a bunch of books and scrolls, and, by the slag, melted down two other objects."

That was borderline suicidal. Depending on what gave them their power, melting down an artefact dangerous enough to be in this vault might very well release all that power at once, killing everyone in who knew what sort of radius. With what might be in this vault, that could have been everyone in the room, maybe the city. They might have opened a portal to some nightmare dimension, for all he knew.

What they took and what they destroyed were problems for later. The vault was deep, and whoever had come down here still had to be in the castle somewhere. There was still a chance they could catch them.

"We need to lock down the castle!" He shouted, exiting the vault. "Nobody leaves!"

He was about to sprint back to the elevator when something about the area near the vault door caught his attention. In a pile next to the wall was a bunch of plates full of food. By their condition it looked like they were dropped there in a hurry. In fact, he recognized some of the finger foods as the same stuff from one of the tables upstairs. The little mound of foodstuffs and shattered fine china were close to one of the corpses. And in his pool of blood, Spike could see two streaks near its edge that left long spots on the floor in regular intervals towards the elevator until they thinned out.

Spike never considered himself a genius detective, but he arrived at the conclusion remarkably quickly.

"They're hiding the artefacts in a food cart!"

Their attackers must have brought down a food trolley stolen from the kitchens. Unless they off loaded their loot into something else in the castle, at least now they had an idea of what they were looking for. It certainly helped explain why they didn't just steal the things they had destroyed. Now they knew they were probably only taking enough items to fill a food cart.

Leaving a few guards to seal the vault, Spike took the captain and the rest of her squad back topside. The ride was unbearably long. Every second was a second lost. An eternity stuck waiting for the doors to open. It was almost long enough for Spike to be reminded of the horror he'd seen in the blast zone. At least the elevator wasn't capable of playing any inappropriately upbeat musak. Silver lining. After three minutes that felt like three hours, the doors finally opened and they poured out, spreading in every direction to relay and carry out his orders.

Sealing off a castle by mundane means would be incredibly difficult, nigh on impossible, when members of a few of the species in attendance could fly. Thankfully, it was only five minutes after he'd gotten off the elevator that Snowpiercer was able to get the cogs in motion to lock the castle down in a more substantial way.

It started with a long, loud alarm, like the sort you'd hear for a storm warning. After half a minute the horn died down. The air around the castle shimmered a deep purple, and with a thunderclap of displaced air, a bubbled forcefield enveloped the entire castle and the surrounding walls.

It was one of the first things Spike had implemented once he'd taken the role of Lord Protector, and one of the few things he'd done that Snowpiercer unambiguously appreciated. He'd gotten the idea from the field Shining Armour had used to protect his city during the changeling invasion, coupled with what he'd learned of electrical circuits from the alternate universe he'd visited a few times. Instead of being powered by a single unicorn like Shining's field, there was a crystalline capacitor the size of a tool shed near the armoury. This fed power to a series of field emitters buried around the perimeter. Any unicorn with the knowledge of how to activate it could trigger the system, almost instantly surrounding the area in a protective barrier capable of repelling attacks, or in this case, sealing everything in.

In theory, so long as it wasn't being drained by bombardment, the capacitor could keep the castle sealed for a month. He made sure the system was charged weekly, which the unicorns commissioned to do complained was an exhausting job. It was hideously expensive to have designed and built, half from the capacitor itself, and half from the feed lines running to all the emitters. He would have had them transmit the magical energy wirelessly, but that lead both to a lot of wasted power, and the problem that this might theoretically generate enough background radiation to give everyone within a couple hundred yards of the transmission tower cancer. Still, he had been proud of it. It's official name was the Ancile System, though most ponies referred to it as 'The Snowglobe'.

The first order of business was to round up all the party guests, servant staff, and anyone else that was supposed to be at the party into the castle's underground safe rooms. Ostensibly this was to keep them all safe, and it would, but it was also to get a head count of who was missing and maybe run across someone who didn't belong. That alone took a few hours, between refusing to shut down the barrier for the ones demanding to be let out, to gently but firmly coaxing out a couple of mewling ponies who believed the castle was under siege that had barricaded themselves in one of the kitchen freezers. It was difficult to convince someone that it was both safe enough to come out of their hiding spot, yet dangerous enough that they had to go into a reinforced bunker.

Confident that Snowpiercer could take command back from here for the larger picture, Spike removed himself from the ongoing top to bottom search of the castle and headed towards the outbuilding hospital. It was the first time in the last couple hours where he'd been alone, without any adrenaline rush or immediate, pressing purpose to busy his mind. Free of distraction, he was finally able to fully process the reality of the situation. To grasp something his mind had been refusing to acknowledge despite having seen with his own eyes. Celestia was dead.

Those three words made him stop in his tracks. He staggered over to the nearest wall, mind numbing with shock, leaned against it and wept. For Twilight, the princess had been a mentor and secondary mother figure. For Spike, she was something like a beloved aunt. Though they shared no blood, this was a death in the family. He'd seen the princesses be endangered several times, but it was always with the belief that everything would be okay. That the villain would just lock them up or give a monologue long enough for them to turn the tables. This was so much more sudden. So much more brutal and straight forward.

He set his jaw and shook his head to keep his brain from shutting down from grief. There was no time for this. Not yet. Twilight and Luna still needed him.

Shoving off from the wall, he resumed his march towards the hospital. He could collapse and cry later. Latching onto that simple concept, he lost track of how long it took to get there, his steps blending together.

The hospital was located well behind the castle and its gardens, within the greater walls. It had its normal above ground entrances, as well as tunnels that lead directly to the main structure itself. Other than for the occasional checkup they took more for the sake of it than any need, the royal sisters had never been admitted to his knowledge. Being immortal god ponies, they never got sick, and bounced back so rapidly from any injury that they were back on their hooves by the time any normal crisis was over that no further medical attention was needed. In what was probably ten thousand years, today was unique.

It came as no surprise that the hospital was one of the first places to be locked down. There were guards at every entrance and pegasi patrolling its aerial perimeter. None of them challenged Spike as he strode straight past them. He was one of the few dragons living in Canterlot and was the Lord Protector. Being able to recognize him was often all the credentials he needed. He only slowed long enough to nod to the sentries at the entrance, stopping at the desk of the receptionist. She was a justifiably nervous looking mare in her mid thirties that appeared near panicking from osmosis. Skipping any pleasantries, he gave a simple command.

"Take me to Twilight." It came out more brusque than he'd intended, and the mare flinched in turn. He added, more softly, "Please."

Coming out from behind her desk, she nervously smoothed out her uniform, a simple off-white one piece outfit, and gestured for him to follow her.

"Right this way," she said. Spike didn't bother reading her name tag as he walked beside her.

It didn't take long for her to start bursting with questions. "I'm sorry, sir, but nopony's telling me anything after they locked us down. Are we still under attack?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"I heard there was an explosion," the mare directed them to take a left. "Who would do something like that?"

The same answer. "I don't know."

"I saw them wheel in Princess Twilight and Luna," she hesitated to ask the next question, nervously looking up at him as they walked. "They're going to be okay, right?"

"I don't know."

They stopped at the door to one of the patient rooms, outside which were four of the same squad of guards that would have been on the rotation for the Crypt Arcanum. Normally that would make him feel secure. They parted, moving with almost mechanical precision, but Spike could still sense their unease.

Giving his thanks to his guide, he made to enter the room, pausing when she spoke up.

"I didn't see them bring in Princess Celestia," the mare hurried the words out, "but I've heard....things. Is she okay?"

Spike had no idea how to answer that. The obvious thing would be the truth, but how do you tell someone that a goddess is dead? She would find out eventually. News like this wouldn't take long to spread across the entire planet. At the moment, he couldn't bear to utter the words to tell her.

"Go back to your post," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder, "everything is going to be-"

He choked on his words, unable to finish the lie. He didn't insult the mare by trying again, leaving her as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

Inside was a typical room like you'd expect to find in just about any hospital, save for it being a touch larger than average. The floor was polished to an antiseptic sheen. The walls and ceiling painted that soullessly calculated shade of not quite pure white. There was a single window opposite the door, closed with the blinds drawn. Beside the single bed was a menagerie of monitors, each giving their own little tone in a steady, reassuring rhythm. Connected to them was the bed's occupant. Twilight was unconscious, her head wrapped in a copious amount of gauze and bandages. Her expression was too serene, almost slack, but her breathing was strong.

Turning to Spike as he entered was the doctor, monitoring his patient. He was a middle-aged unicorn with a neatly trimmed pencil mustache. Near the bed was a chair. Standing beside this was the petite guardsmare that had escorted Blueblood here, and in said seat was said prince.

"What are you doing here?" Spike dumbly asked. He had thought Blueblood would be with the other nobles in one of the bunkers by now.

"Huh?" The prince snapped out of his fugue, looking up from the floor he'd previously been staring at. "You told me to stay here."

Oh, right. Spike gave the prince another once over.

With nothing else to say, Blueblood turned his eyes back to the floor. Somehow, the unicorn looked like the worse off out of the lot of them, save for Twilight. The blood he'd gotten on his hooves from Luna had long since dried, smudged into his coat. By his behavior, Spike guessed he had already gone into shock. There was no need to shake him out of it just yet. Actually, everypony in the room looked beaten down and depressed. Considering the evening, the reason was no mystery.

"Is he alright?" Spike softly asked the guardsmare, who answered with a sidelong glance and a shrug.

Blueblood gave no reply, verbal or otherwise of his own.

"He's in shock," the answer came from the doctor, confirming what Spike had deduced, "but yeah, he'll be ok."

Stepping over to the bed, Spike looked down at it's occupant. Despite her recent growth spurts, she somehow looked...small.

"And Twilight?" The question was asked with unhidden trepidation.

The doctor started to speak, paused, roughly cleared his throat, and tried again. "It's not great. Not horrible, but not great. She has a nasty skull fracture on the back of her head. Bad enough that she lost some cerebral fluid. Not a lot, but more than none. By the fragments it left, I'm guessing she was hit by a stone with some weight to it. Still, it could have been much, much worse."

A chunk of one of the thrones, if Spike was to guess the projectile. "But, how bad is it? Shouldn't she be in surgury or something?"

The doctor waved a hoof in a placating gesture. "She was. We've done what we can to close the wound. She'll take it from here, for the most part. Lucky for her she's an alicorn. They're a lot tougher than we are. Honestly, if she wasn't her head would have been caved in, but she's already recovering, and I expect she'll be right as rain. Eventually."

That was...sort of good news. Somewhat.

"She'll have a scar," he continued, "but with time and magic that can be reduced, or maybe healed entirely. Only ever found a couple scars on Celestia during her check ups and they were from long before my time."

The doctor flinched at saying the princess's name. Apparently he'd already gotten the news.

Spike reached a hand out and placed it against her cheek, gently. The princess didn't react at all. He hadn't been trying to wake her, but he expected at least some response.

He frowned. "How long has she been under? How long until she comes around?"

"Um, sir, she's not sleeping or anesthetized," the doctor shuffled his hooves as he fidgeted, "she's in a coma."

"How is that 'right as rain'?!" Spike snapped.

The pony held out his hooves. "I said she'd be right as rain. It's a minor coma. C-considering th-"

"The hell is a minor coma?!" There was a moment of tense silence, punctuated by the knuckles in Spike's hand cracking from the fist he hadn't realized he was clenching.

"The, uh, kind you wake from?" The doctor took a couple involuntary steps back. The guardsmare was trying her best to appear like she was engrossed in reading the posters on the wall regarding the importance of washing one's hooves. Blueblood just kept staring at the floor.

After spending his entire childhood hanging around ponies older than him, looking up at all of them, a dragon can occasionally forget how much larger they've grown until he's glaring down at one of the little ponies as he tries his best not to shrink away.

"Sorry," Spike deflated, embarrassed, "I'm...sorry."

He took a long, deep breath, taking a moment to finally read the doctor's name tag, which bore the name 'Stitches'. Curiously, his cutie mark was the laughing and frowning theatre masks.

Properly collected, Spike asked, calm as he could, "Okay, how...minor, is her coma?"

Stitches cleared his throat. "Hard to say. Her being an alicorn makes things difficult to predict. She could wake up tomorrow, in a few weeks, a month, or by the end of this sentence."

They both turned to Twilight as he finished speaking, and were immediately disappointed.

Stitches gave a quiet 'huh', like he'd been hoping for her to provide his punchline. "Point is, my prognosis is good. Don't worry about her too much. She just needs time."

Confident that she was as good as she could be, given the circumstances, Spike moved on to the question he'd been dreading.

"Thank you. Okay, then, tell me. How's Luna?" With how bad her injuries had been, Spike was less than hopeful. Alicorns were hardy creatures, but her wounds looked outright crippling at best. "I mean, how bad is she?"

He hadn't thought it possible, but the mood in the room instantly sank even further.

"Luna's dead," Blueblood said, almost too soft to hear, not lifting his gaze from his reflection in the floor tiles.

Spike snapped his head towards the dejected prince, then back to Stitches, hoping against hope that the answer was somehow wrong.

The doctor gave a shallow nod, confirming the grave news. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew. She died a little over an hour ago."

Stitches voice trembled. "Her injuries were too severe, lost too much blood. I'm sorry, but there wasn't anything we could do for her. It's-...she was-...we tried..."

As much as he'd tried to prepare himself for the worst, the news still struck Spike like a punch in the gut. It was all he could do just to stay on his feet. Nobody ever expected to be present for the greatest loss in their civilization's entire history. For a long couple minutes, the only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of medical instruments.

"Who," Blueblood started, "who would do something like this?"

It was a question that had been pressing on Spike's mind whenever he was free enough to dwell on it. Equestria had faced many threats and villains in his life, but nothing like this. To skip straight to murder was unlike anything he'd ever come across. The closest he could think of in terms of outright violence was Lord Ramshackle the Slaver, except he'd been dead for years. True, some of their villains had a tendency of returning, but as Spike had personally seen the old goat's head turn into a pink mist he doubted he was the culprit.

The other question was who could do something like. There were too many moving parts for it to all be the act of a single person, pony or otherwise, but whoever was in charge knew things that nopony should, and have access to places that nopony should. Two exploding gift boxes, one with fireworks, the other with the more deadly explosive, should have never made it through their screening. There had to be somepony on the inside, a traitor or infiltrator.

"I don't know," Spike finally replied, coming to hate those words, "but we will find out."

"You, uh," he addressed the diminutive guardsmare, realizing he still hadn't caught her name, "you..."

"Thimbleskip," she offered.

"Thimbleskip," he resumed, "escort Blueblood to his home. Take a few other guards with you and make sure he's protected."

"Why?" The prince asked flatly.

"Whoever is behind this has attacked our royalty. You're a potential target, prince." Spike saw no need to inform him of the attack in the vault. "You can't stay in the hospital forever. If you have a safehouse you prefer, now is the time to go to it."

Blueblood shook his head, being given direction apparently taking him a little further out of his shock. "Yes. Yes, I do. But, is there not something I can do?"

The look in his eyes was something Spike could sympathize with. He wanted to be useful. Unfortunately, he wasn't. Not here and not now. While Spike was grateful for his assistance thus far, he wasn't about to leave him with Twilight again. The drake didn't suspect him of anything, but at this point he couldn't rule out anyone. The prince picked up on this unspoken insinuation surprisingly quickly.

"You, you don't really think-" Blueblood started, pompous offense creeping into his voice before he stifled it. He broke eye contact and bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I understand. You don't really know me. Best to leave nothing to chance."

The prince stood up, brushing himself off and half heartedly trying to make himself presentable. "I'll go, but please, if I can do anything, do not hesitate to call on me."

That was decidedly more calm, mature and accommodating than one would normally get from most nobles. It was true that Spike had never known Blueblood personally. This was because, despite having lived in Canterlot for the past ten years, he had never made a point of getting to know him. He'd heard enough from Rarity back after the Gala and had made his mind up there. From what little he had bothered to hear about him since third or fourth hand, he had had no reason to reconsider his opinion or seek him out to expand on it.

Spike flinched when he saw just how petty that was, and when he remembered just who the prince was. 'Auntie Luna', he'd called her. For Spike and Twilight, they'd lost what felt like family. Blueblood had lost more literal family, distant though it was.

He placed a hand on the prince's shoulder. "Be ready. I will."

They shared a nod, and the prince dutifully followed Thimbleskip out of the room. Spike went along, stepping outside to address the guards.

"Nobody gets in this room but the hospital staff or myself," he leaned in and spoke in hushed tones. "From here out anypony you let in is to be given a full dispellation scan, illusory and polymorphic. Even myself. Especially myself."

One of the guards replied in the perfect volume to ensure that only the three of them could hear it. "Are we expecting changelings, sir?"

"No," he replied a little too quickly, "but at this point we haven't ruled anything out."

The doctors wouldn't like that. Neither would he, really. Illusory dispellations were harmless. More skillful illusions could be crafted to resist the dispellation, but he was confident that his guards could handle most anything short of a master wizard. A polymorphic dispellation scan was a newer concept, and was decidedly more uncomfortable to endure, changeling or not. He'd had it cast on himself a few times for various reasons, but supposedly Snowpiercer had explained the sensation best. She'd said it was like holding your hoof over a candle flame for a few seconds too long, except it felt like it was burning your skin from the inside, and it felt like that over your entire body. Most creatures found this unpleasant.

From here, Spike wasn't sure what to do with himself. He watched Blueblood a few seconds before reentering the room. Snowpiercer would be capable of coordinating the castle lockdown. He could insert himself into that, but he didn't want to disrupt her chain of command, and he didn't know where she was. Informing her of his movements without disrupting hers could be an issue. More than once, Spike wished Equestrian technology was closer to that of the alternate world he'd visited a few times, where talking to somepony else, no matter where, was just a button press away on a plastic brick.

He couldn't head home, not yet. No, his place was here, with Twilight. As Lord Protector, and as her friend. He wasn't lying when he told Blueblood he might be a target. Having both remaining royals in one place was unwise, and it was possible someone might try and finish the job. If they did, he would be here.

It occurred to Spike that he was still dressed in his party attire. The only weapons he had were the benefits of being a dragon. He thought of the two dead vault guards. Their enemy was not one he wanted to face empty handed.

He opened the door again and poked his head out. "Guard."

"Sir?" They both replied.

"Go to my armoury," he picked the one who spoke faster, fishing a key out of one of his pockets. He gave him this as well as his signet ring. "Fetch me my armour, spear and sword. Bring four more guards, too. Scan each of them before bringing them."

"Sir," he said again, accepted the offered items, and galloped off with appropriate urgency.

With nothing else for the moment, Spike strode across the room, took the too-small-for-him chair, placed it by the bed, and sat down. In all the chaos no doubt still going on in the castle at large, the hospital room was a bubble of relative quiet. She coughed in her slumber, giving him a start. It was such a weak, fragile utterance, so at odds with the Twilight he knew and loved. Soon, there was nothing but the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall, the rhythm of Twilight's pulse, the doctor, until he excused himself with promises that he would be returning soon, and the occasional anxious tapping of Spike's foot.

Author's Note

The chapter in which a pair of immortals abruptly and sequentially experience mortality, much to the surprise and displeasure of most but not all witnesses.

The Chapter in Which Additional Bodies Both Cold and Warm Complicate Matters Considerably, Probably

When creatures discuss the topic of armour, there's a great many aspects they like to talk about. Civilians usually focus on the looks. How shiny or fancy it is. Whether or not its aesthetics puts it into the good guy or bad guy category, and how cool it is. Funny how tyrants and spikey shoulder pauldrons go together about as often as dictators and goosesteps. Of the guardsponies and hoofsoldiers that Spike had spoken with, most of them alternated between complaining that it was either too hot or too heavy or took too much work to maintain. Nopony ever talked about how long it took to put on.

Maybe this was because Equestria's barding was fairly simple. Their body armour pretty much sat on their back like a saddle, held on mostly by gravity and helped with a couple of clasps around the barrel. For Spike, his armour was significantly more complicated, made by craftponies unaccustomed to making gear for a creature his shape. He may have borrowed a book on the subject of bipedal armour from a certain, surprisingly extensive school library only accessible through a certain magical portal to give them some reference material, and he may have done so after being explicitly told by Twilight not to. However, as the object Spike had hypothetically smuggled between dimensions was a book, the talking to he had gotten was not nearly as harsh or as long as the crime might have otherwise merited, so long as he had shared it with one of the only ponies on the planet capable of punishing him.

It had taken Canterlot's best smithies a few tries to get 'humanoid' plate armour right. He'd decided to have them copy the style known as 'milanese' armour, albeit modified a touch for his inhuman shape and proportions. He'd chosen the style mostly because its plates provided almost total coverage and protection over his entire body, save for his wings and tail. For his helmet, he'd used a modified version of a hounskull bascinet, lengthened to accommodate his draconic muzzle, and with taller eye slots so that he could actually see, though he usually left the visor open.

This came at the cost of being heavier than Equestrian armour, weighing in at around seventy pounds all together, though once this was distributed over his body the weight was tolerable, and he was still able to move mostly freely. He'd trained in it, and could run, climb and most importantly, fight, without being hindered. The only things he couldn't do in it were sleep comfortably, swim, or fly too fast or for too long.

He'd also, not that he would admit it, chosen it because he thought it looked cool. The plates were the colour of weathered brass with tarnished silver trim, his indulgences in style without being overly gaudy, pretentious, or annoyingly reflective. It was designed to be effective, function over form. There was no scarlet half cape or horned helm or shoulder spikes, which was a shame because he'd wanted the half cape, but in sparring matches his opponents would always find it an easy grappling target.

The plates could protect him from mundane threats, and the magical wards etched into the inside surface of his breastplate and helmet gave him some protection from magical attacks.

All told, his suit of armour, not accounting for the price of research and development, cost about as much as armouring around three dozen guardsponies. With access to the royal treasury, this work expense was well within his budget. Money can be frightfully easy to spend when it isn't yours, but since it was made to protect his life, he had no intention of skimping. Not again.

The armour was complicated enough that putting it on by himself was a hassle. It was much easier to have an attendant or comrade assist him. One of the unicorn guards that had brought the cart bearing his gear had assisted with most of pieces he had trouble reaching. Spike was just finishing up with tightening the straps on his bracers when he heard a familiar voice outside the hospital room door. He heard her, shocked and offended, try and argue with one of the guards posted outside, to no avail. A couple moments later and he could hear the sounds of a dispellation being cast, and a mare giving some pained utterances, trying hard to sound dignified and failing. Spike started readying his apology. He was flexing his hands in his gauntlets when the door opened and a very unhappy Rarity entered.

"Spike?!" she shouted, apparently not expecting him to be here given her treatment at the door, "Why in Equestria did they have to scan me if you're here?!"

"I'm sorry," he sounded appropriately contrite, "if it makes you feel any better, I'm having them check me every time I come here, too."

"It doesn't," she complained. "Honestly, just ask me something only I would know, or something."

"I can't do that," he said, softly, but clear that there was no wiggle room in the matter. "I can't take any chances, and I can't show favouritism. Not for this."

The regal mare gave an angry Hmmph, but relented.

He took the opportunity to change the subject. "Where's Pinkie?"

That softened her tone considerably. "She's safe, but she's not taking this well. Poor dear's in shock."

A lot of them were.

Calmed down, Rarity crossed the room to Twilight's bed, placing a hoof on her forehead and plaintively asking "How is she?"

"Worse than I'd hoped," he answered, "but better than I'd feared."

He brought her up to speed on Twilight's condition, as well as sadly confirming her concerns about Luna, as she was already well aware of Celestia's passing. Rarity took it about as hard as expected. Nobody really takes the death of a long time friend and deity well, let alone two. From there, they passed the time quietly. There wasn't much to say. At least, not something that he didn't want to rush into prodding. He'd spent a good chunk of their time looking out the room's only window, alternating between staring into the clear night sky and scanning the area outside. It was after Doctor Stitches checked in after another hour or so that Spike worked up the nerve to ask the unpleasant.

"When it happened," he started, looking back over his shoulder and pausing when he saw Rarity blink awake, "when the bomb went off, I was heading outside. I didn't see it."

Turning around, he continued. "Please, tell me what happened."

She and Pinkie Pie had been sharing a dinner table with the three princesses, closest to the elevated section where the thrones and gifts had been. Considering how close they'd been, it was remarkable they hadn't been hurt at all. The worst they had to show for it was the soot in their manes.

Rarity stifled a yawn. The night had indeed gone overlong. According to the clock on the wall, it had ended some time ago, and had passed into early morning. "I'd rather not think about it, but truth be told I didn't see anything. I was looking the other way at...I don't remember, and suddenly my ears were ringing and we were surrounded by smoke and dust. Before I knew what was happening the guards were ushering us away. Pinkie saw more than I did, and from how she described it I wish she hadn't."

Spike let the comment hang, waiting for her to elaborate.

Clearly not wanting to, Rarity nonetheless continued. "She said that Celestia started opening one of the boxes, and in a flash, she was gone, except she...I'm sorry, but I can't."

"No," he shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry."

Taking the escape, she asked, "Are you looking for changelings? I mean, with the scans you're running."

"I don't know," Spike was quick to say. "We don't know much of anything yet."

Rarity raised an eyebrow. "Well, then why are we scanning for them?"

"Because there's a strong chance this is an inside job," he explained. It was an unpleasant theory, that not only could someone perform such an assassination, but that it could be someone within the castle. It made more sense to assume an outsider that had wormed their way in. This was he more comfortable, less disturbing theory. "or at least it is in part. Some kind of infiltrator."

"Not really their style, though, is it."

She was right. Changeling tactics were remarkably formulaic. As befitting their insectoid countenance, they favoured swarm tactics. After they'd properly infiltrated a target, once the attack was sprung, they would do so en masse. Almost ironically, once the actual fighting started, they didn't really do subtlety, and their tactics did not tend to adapt much. Their combat doctrine relied heavily on causing as much initial widespread confusion as possible, and then capitalizing on that immediately. It made sense. Every infiltrator unmasking at once caused maximum confusion while avoiding friendly fire that might result from soldiers trying to blend in mid battle. It's hard enough to defend against an infantry charge when the enemy is behind and among you without complicating things for yourselves. However, other than the few conflicts back when Chrysalis was their queen, they had not had to fight them in a proper war, or see how they might operate in smaller operations. Despite having never seen them do something like this, there was no reason not to think that it would be entirely within their abilities.

Was he leaping to conclusions? Probably. Was it worth making people uncomfortable to rule out one of the most dangerous possibilities? Also probably.

Before the discussion could flounder any further, there was the sound of a dispellation being cast outside, followed by a knock at the door.

"Enter," Spike called to them.

The door cracked open, and a male guardspony pensively poked his head, as if waiting for permission to fully enter. "Sir, I have your update."

Impatient, Spike waved him in. He'd given orders to have somepony periodically update him over the course of the night, though none of them had brought news of much import. It was eerie how little had happened since the initial explosion. The more nothing kept happening, the more tense they became, waiting for the other shoe to fall. By this pony's demeanor, he could already tell that this report was different.

"They found blood in the garden," the guard relayed. "Not a lot. Enough to stumble across, I guess."

Spike was torn. His duty was to Twilight. Above all else he had to keep her safe. If their attacker made their way here, he needed to be able to protect her. However, his instincts told him to pursue this. He was accomplishing little sitting here. It would be better if he could deal with the threat somewhere other than this room.

"Go," said Rarity, reading him like a book. "You practically have an army surrounding this place at this point. She'll be okay."

He weighed things over a moment longer, then nodded. His sword in its sheath, Spike grabbed his spear and turned back to the guard. "Take me there."

The two of them were about to leave when Rarity gave them pause. "Wait."

Already at the door, Spike obliged. "Yes?"

"There not much I can do here," she began. "Where do you need me?"

Not happening. He made to leave again. "Stay here."

"Spike!" She spoke firmly, stopping him in his tracks as he was about to pull the door closed behind him. "Before you tell me how dangerous it might be out there kindly remember who you're talking to. I can take care of myself, and I can help."

He wanted to tell her that she was wrong. This was a manner of danger which they had never before encountered. That they were in uncharted waters and out of their depth. That her best place was here, as safe as possible and out of harm's way. She wasn't the first person this night to offer their help. Unlike Blueblood, however, he trusted her, knew what she was capable of, and, though he had long moved past his childhood crush on her, there remained a soft spot that made it damnably hard to say no to her.

Giving her offer consideration, he tried to think of something safe, but useful. That's when the detail of where he was about to go niggled at his mind. The gardens. He was on his way there when all this began in the first place.

"Okay," he drummed his fingers on the doorknob still in his grasp, thinking. "Okay. Go to the bunkers where we're keeping all the attendees and civilian staff. Get me a list of any creature that's not there or missing. When you have that, send it to me."

She nodded, resolute, grabbing some nearby stationary with her magic. Rarity was one of the few people whom he'd allowed to learn the spell to send him written messages. It was a useful skill, but he'd made sure the list of those that could do it was a short one, lest he be constantly pestered by any number of people, and a degree of familiarity with him made the process easier on both ends.

"Anypony in particular I should be looking for?" She asked, perceptive.

"Not a pony. A dragon named Redclaw," he answered. "He might have been in the gardens when this all started. It might be nothing, but be careful. Don't approach him if he's there. Just see who's there and who isn't."

With that, they went their separate ways. For his own piece of mind he spared a guard to escort Rarity wherever she went, a hulking, muscular unicorn stallion by the name of Granite Slab. Slab was an imposing figure for a pony, larger than most earth ponies despite being a unicorn. His coat was the standard pristine white of many Canterlot natives. His mane and tail were the same colour, with the former kept in a short flat top military cut. With just about every pony having at least two distinct colours, having a pony that was one shade from coat to tail was unusual. More important than all of that, however, was that Slab was a veteran since back when Shining Armour was their captain, and he trusted him and his skills implicitly.

It took some time getting back to the gardens. It felt like he'd somehow made a long, convoluted circle getting back there from the past evening. He and his escort arrived from the outside this time. The doors to the main audience chambers where the party had been taking place were still open, though he couldn't make himself look inside. Moving far deeper into the gardens, he was taken to a spot under some fruit bearing trees that were still in bloom, where a small party were milling about. The trees were tall enough and spaced out enough for ponies to walk under comfortably, though Spike found himself ducking under the occasional low hanging branch. This part of the gardens was pretty far from the palace entrance, and was something of a small orchard, good for pleasant walks in the shade.

Spike wasted no time in approaching them, calling out to them as he got close. "What have you found?"

There were five ponies in the area he could see. Two pegasi flew in low circles above them, a tan coated earth mare was staring at the ground intently in one spot, and High Tide and Low Blow had split off from her to meet him. The earth pony held a lantern, while the two unicorns illuminated the tips of their horns with a soft glow of magic.

"Not much," the former answered. "Bit of blood. Found it more by chance than anything. No body."

He could believe it. In the present night, the shade under the trees became starkly contrasted patches of darkness. The pair led him to a spot midway between two cherry trees. There, on the ground, was indeed a very small patch of blood, long dried. It wasn't much. Easy to pass up in the night. What he noticed more was the state of the grass around it, stamped down in several spots. Low Blow helpfully directed the glow of his magic his way.

"There was a fight here," Spike said to himself, aware he was stating the obvious.

But it was a fight, or at least a scuffle. Probably a brief one. There wasn't nearly enough blood to kill anypony, at least not by bleeding out. The flattened and torn spots of grass were of the right size to suggest figures struggling against each other, feet digging into the ground, but if a body had dropped here, it didn't leave a mark he could see.

Taking a knee, he inspected the blood more closely. There was a small pool, and then a disconnected, messy arc. Flexing his practice at investigation, Spike tried to piece something together. Someone had been stabbed or cut. Perhaps their attacker then held the blade, let it drip, then waved it off. A dramatic flourish? A lazy way to clean the blade? Either way, it suggested finality. Standing still long enough to dribble blood in one spot, and only one spot, did not suggest they were in any rush at the time. One and done. But again, a stab that would produce this much blood hardly seemed fatal.

Spike cast his eyes skyward, gesturing to the pegasi. "They see anything up there?"

"No," answered Low Blow, "too many trees, too close together. Too dark."

Plucking a blade of bloodied grass, Spike held it to his nose, resisting the unexpected, instinctual urge to taste it. Standing back up to his full height, he closed his eyes. "Douse your horns. The lantern, too."

"Sir?"

"Your auras are teal and magenta. Add the lantern to the mix and you've got a mess of competing colour filters. Nothing here looks right," He explained. He jabbed the pommel of his spear into the ground. "Do it."

Through his eyelids he could sense their lights winking out. Slowly, Spike reopened his eyes, letting them adjust. It didn't take long. He was, after all, a dragon. His kind spent as much time in caves as they did in the air.

Draconic night vision was...different, but effective. Something hard to explain to those of other species. Sight is one of those senses that is so integral to perception that, when one spends their entire life with it working one way, they forget that others may not see things the same way. How does one perceive the objective scale of differing visions or understand their place on it when they cannot experience the sight of others? How do you explain all the subtle hues in a rose to someone that is colour blind?

This was a lot of words to say that Spike could see quite well with just the starlight filtering through the trees, albeit not the same as he normally would. It was as though everything was greyscale, yet contained splashes of colour where sufficient light poked through the canopy. Where it was dark, more than colours, he could discern textures. Reflective surfaces practically glinted, like gems under ground, the grass was like a carpet, tussled here and there, and his companions coats stuck out as out of place, too smooth and too soft, like prey he could spot from far above. Not that he would ever think of them like that, nor tell them such a disquieting thing.

Letting go of his spear and leaving it to stand upright out of the dirt, he glanced at his watch. It was a bit after four in the morning.

Instructing the others to stay where they were, he gave the area another once over. The grass was intentionally allowed to grow long here, giving the orchard a more natural feel, and now that he knew what to look for he could see more signs of movement, though he had no idea whose prints were their subjects and which were from his comrades. He needed perspective. Finding the depressions near the little pool of blood, he stepped into them and tried again. It bothered him how well his feet fit. Their original maker was a biped.

"Boss?" The prompt came from Low Blow.

"Hold on," he said, placating. He was aware that most ponies were not nearly as comfortable in the dark as his kind. Old animal instincts.

He took a few steps back and surveyed the area again. Nothing. He was about to give up and try something else when he spotted something on one of trees. A patch of its trunk was wrong. Its barky texture was less...barky, and more...not.

He took long strides straight over to it, running his thumb over the thin, barely perceptible, almost horizontal stripe across the tree trunk.

"Boss?" Low Blow repeated. "You find something?"

He nodded, despite knowing they couldn't see it. "More blood."

He could also see a few much large flat patches in the grass. Somebody had fallen, or been thrown around.

"I can't see a thi-" High Tide started to complain as he moved to try and follow, but stopped. "Hold up, I think I stepped on something."

"I'll get it." Spike could see the pony try not to shrink back as his larger figure loomed out of the darkness in front of him like what must have been an intimidating silhouette. Reaching down, he plucked it from the ground.

"What is it?" Spike could see him squinting.

It was a piece of torn cloth. Probably high quality but hard to tell. By the feel of it he would have put odds on it being from outerwear like a suit jacket. He'd learned enough about fabrics from Rarity. Once again, he instructed them to stay put, but to be ready to come when he called. He didn't need them ruining his night vision by trying their best to help. Draconic night vision is effective, but sensitive. The last thing he needed was them blinding him.

Connecting the spot he was at with the spot he had just come from, he made a line, and kept going, wandering back and forth as he went. Underneath a copse of trees close enough together to block out the stars, he found another, much more obvious scene of violence. It might be harder to see with normal vision relying on colours and absent lighting, but with his eyes he could see several scattered spatterings of blood. Individually, they might have passed his notice, but together, the area might as well have glittered to him. There was something else, too.

"Mind filling us in, sir?" called High Tide, farther away than he'd realized he'd gone.

"Come this way," Spike responded. He raised his eyebrow as he looked over one of the trees. It's bark was wrong. Hairy. As he got closer he recognized there was torn fur and some fabric stuck in the bark, which was itself scuffed unusually. Somepony had struck this tree at an angle with great force. Except the markings were about five feet off the ground. Somepony had been thrown into the tree. Hard. No, the fur didn't smell like pony. Something else.

The area began to softly light up as his comrades arrived, their horns dimly glowing, just enough to see where they were going.

"What did you fin-" Low Blow began, "Oh, shit!"

"What?" Spike asked, instantly alert and snapping his head back and forth, looking for threats. He stopped when Low Blow brightened his horn and pointed it at the tree. There was someone sitting on the other side, leaning against the trunk. Spike could only see one of their legs from his angle, but it wasn't moving. Indeed, "Shit!"

Circling around the tree, they found a slack, bloodied figured. One of the cat folk. Spike recognized her from the party as the Abyssinnian diplomat's hanger on. Her fur was orange like a tabby, matted with a lot of dried red. Her frilly servant's clothing had been soaked through as she'd bled out. Half lidded eyes stared at nothing, as still as the rest of her.

"Is it-" Low Blow started, immediately attempting a politically correct verbal backspace, "Is she dead?"

"Looks like." Spike took a knee in front of the corpse under the copse and got a better look at her.

"What is that?" High Tide pointed at a strap of something tied around her torso.

"It's a belt," Spike answered. A closer inspection revealed it was made out of leather, not a material used in Equestria, on account of it being illegal. The belt was being used to hold a blood soaked cloth under her left pectoral, behind which appeared to be a deep, wide stab wound. He gave the end of the cloth a gentle tug. "And a...a tie, maybe. Someone tried to dress her wound."

"Didn't work," Low Blow observed, dryly. He mused, "Never seen a dead cat before. Figured they'd be harder to off, what with the nine lives and all."

"Shut it," growled High Tide. "Have some respect."

Spike didn't reply, instead placing a finger to her neck to check for a pulse he didn't expect to find.

The corpse apparently disagreed with their assessment. The cat shuddered, coughing out a glob of blood and drawing in a long, ragged breath. Her eyes lolled this way and that, but failed to focus on any of them. The servant cat wasn't dead yet, but she wasn't far from.

Spike shot to his feet. "Hospital! Get her there! Now!"

Both unicorns wrapped the abysinnian in a bubble of magic and gently lifted her, then moved with all haste to follow the order, the earth pony running in front of them with the lantern. This was progress. So long as the girl didn't die, they had a witness. Someone to question, though obviously she wouldn't be fit for that for a while.

Left alone in the crime scene, Spike gave the area another once over, starting with where she'd been sitting. It was about twenty feet away in another patch of darkness that he found the other previously unnoticed body, belonging to the diplomat himself. Scratch Postings. Spike checked for a pulse again, but it was obvious that the body was far beyond saving. Postings was exceptionally dead.

The diplomat was lying on his back, spread eagle. His fur was mostly charcoal, with a white muzzle, now red. His very fancy clothes had been torn apart, revealing several grievous lacerations as well as stabs similar to his servant's wound. More than that, his face been beaten more bluntly, brutally enough that it was a misshapen, sunken mess.

The pattern of one of Posting's slashing wounds caught Spike's attention. Four semi parallel cuts. He held his hand near the wounds, finding them spaced like his fingers. Finally, it clicked. These two weren't attacked with a knife, but claws. It also occurred to Spike that he was an idiot. The cats' attacker was a biped. Redclaw had been in the gardens when everything starting going off. Redclaw was a biped. Red. Claw. There was a literally a hint in his bloody name. He had sent Rarity to, among other things, look for Redclaw. Rarity in danger. This bad.

A stubby pencil and small square of paper were pulled from his breast pocket. As one capable of sending letters magically, these were things he always had on him. It wasn't much paper to write on, so he kept the message concise. He couldn't just send messages anywhere. There were a few close ponies and other creatures he was 'linked' with. He concentrated on Rarity, and blew on the little letter like he was blowing out a candle. With a whisper of flame, it was off.

Sprinting back to his spear, he plucked it from the ground. Spike flared his wings and crouched. With a leap and a powerful beat, he shot skyward, straight through the foliage above. Like his letter, he too rushed to the same destination.

It didn't take long for Rarity and Granite Slab to arrive at the bunkers. In actuality it took about five minutes to get somewhat near them, one of which was spent convincing Slab that their method of getting there wasn't going to kill them both. To explain, while most all unicorns were capable of magic, this was not to say that all were skilled at it, nor had the natural talents for anything more than the basics. The vast majority of unicorns could not teleport, either by lack of skill, intellect to grasp the complexities of it, or simple lack of the raw power needed. Most of those that could required line of sight to their target, otherwise running the risk of catastrophic transposition. Of the few that could actually teleport long distances, either by mental calculations of distance or familiarity with the target area, even fewer could master the failsafe spells to make sure their teleport was accurate enough to arrive where they wanted, yet simultaneously vague enough to allow them to be diverted into unoccupied space only.

Flexibly vague, imprecise accuracy was a difficult concept to apply to anything, let alone magic, more so when it involved teleportation of yourself. Having an alicorn princess for a close friend meant that Rarity had a very skilled teacher, and was among the exceptionally few that could teleport distances measured in kilometers, though it took a few minutes to prepare herself, the spells, and her fuzzy math.

The most difficult part was convincing her guard that she wasn't about to deposit both of them into a wall. This was more difficult once she'd admitted that she couldn't teleport other ponies or things that were not in contact with her person. When he'd relented, he'd placed a hoof around her shoulders, set his jaw and braced.

The two of them arrived in a hallway somewhere approximately near the bunkers, about a foot and a half in the air. After a technically successful teleport once left half of Rarity's tail merged into a wall and the soles of her shoes likewise melded to the floor, she was very generous with her failsafe spells. Some would call this overreacting and being paranoid. She called it a desire to live.

They dropped the short distance to the floor. Not expecting this, and with a foreleg already around Rarity, Slab stumbled heavily into her. The much larger unicorn hastily apologized, separating himself from her and surveying their destination. In better circumstances, the slight blush he wore would have been a welcome swell to the mare's ego.

Slab snapped to, pointing a hoof down the hall, somehow already divining their location in this corridor from countless other, no doubt identical corridors. "That way."

As they went, they passed by a large grandfather clock. Rarity absent mindedly noted that it was around three thirty in the morning. She yawned at the reminder, thinking about how if they kept this up she'd still be awake when the sun rose.

When the sun rose.

Rarity stopped in her tracks. She choked on her next breath. When she did breath again it was in short, rapid fits. Alert, Granite Slab immediately came to a halt and scanned behind them.

"Ma'am?" Despite having a voice like gravel, he managed to speak softly.

"Exc-" she croaked, then cleared her throat with a forcibly dainty ahem. She tried her best to calm her trembling voice as her eyes watered. "Excuse me, darling. I just...a moment please?"

He turned his back to her, staring down the hall to give her some privacy. As alone as she could be, Rarity tried her best not to collapse as she suppressed her tears. She had never been as close to the royal siblings as Twilight, but they still were friends of more than a decade.

A life as a friend of Twilight had been an adventurous one, fraught with danger and peril. The lot of them had plenty of experience with almost all manner of crisis. None like this. Still, Rarity was adept enough at getting ahold of herself and presenting strength whether she had any or not.

A long, deep breath was forced in and out of her lungs. Then another. "I'm okay."

Slab looked over his shoulder, his expression comforting yet inquisitive.

"I'm okay," she repeated more firmly. "Please, lead the way."

Slab nodded, apparently satisfied. "We're not far."

True to his word, it was only a few minutes later that they arrived at the entrance to the bunker. There were several safe rooms and little bunkers spread throughout and under the castle. After all, it wasn't like you could expect all the castle's civilian population to be able to make it to the same place from everywhere in an emergency. There was also the issue of putting all your eggs in one basket. The bunker they were checking was one built specifically for visiting dignitaries, and was furnished accordingly. There were chambers further underground, but like the vaults, the bunkers were armoured on all sides.

There were a dozen guards outside the double doors to the bunker. Slab called out a greeting, and the lot of them turned on the spot and pointed their spears their way. The tips were shaking. Even Rarity could see they weren't just alert. They were jumpy. Worse, they were skittish, though they calmed considerably once they saw it was only them. Slab they knew as a comrade, or at least as a coworker, and Rarity was recognizable as one of the ponies responsible for helping to save Equestria several times.

The two of them were allowed into the bunker without even the mention of a scan, for which Rarity was thankful. The inside of the bunker was quiet, but full of small, hushed conversations. As this bunker was designed for visiting nobility, it was given certain luxuries that almost mocked its purpose. It was somewhat like a smaller version of a banquet hall, or an overly large lounge. There was a scattering of small round tables, a bar on the far wall, a collection of bookshelves, and a few other diversions out of place in a bunker. Like the billiard tables that nobody was insensitive enough to be using.

Reading the room was easy by the tone of the nearby conversations, and the quick glances her way as they entered. There was a somber atmosphere, mixed with fear and a twinge of irritation. Four of the nearest occupants were already heading her way before she'd even started taking note of who they were. Visibly bristling, Slab moved to step between them, stopped when Rarity cleared her throat and stepped forward herself. She was already preparing answers to their obvious questions before they'd begun to ask them.

"What's going on out there?" came from Stones Throw, a little lordling colt from somewhere she couldn't remember.

"Are we under attack?" was from a duchess who was either Tulip Blossom or Sandy Shore. By the colour of her coat Rarity assumed the latter. "They won't tell us!"

"How long are you going to keep us here?" was from Lord Gaetan de Malin, the envoy from Griffonstone, impatiently, his accent thick as his eyebrows.

The fourth person said nothing, waiting behind the rest and giving an understanding nod, as if to say 'I can wait, take your time.'

She plastered on her best smile and answered each in turn, her tone soothing yet not coddling. "The situation is still developing. We're maintaining a high alert for the foreseeable future. And we ask you to remain here for your safety. Rest assured we will let you know more as we can."

The griffon grumbled, about to press forward and press the issue when the fourth figure reigned him in with a hand on his withers.

"Give it a rest, Gaetan," he said. "We're here while we're here. Stop badgering everyone."

"I am n-" Gaetan began to shout, stopped, and started again more restrained , "I am not badgering!"

"You'll grey your feathers worrying so much," the other noble quipped, then took on a more serious tone. "You shouldn't stray too far from your retainer, monsieur. She looks so nervous without you."

By the bar, the griffon lord's diminutive servant was indeed looking antsy, staring intently at her employer. Surrendering with a huff, Gaetan obliged and retreated. The others wandered off as well, seeing there were no more answers for them here.

When the fourth figure remained, Rarity gave him another once over. He was one of the cat folk from Abyssinia. His fur was mostly charcoal, save for his white muzzle.

"Thank you," Rarity held out a hoof when it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere, "Sir Scratch Postings, right?"

He reached down to softly cradle her hoof in his hand and bowed low, thankfully stopping short of kissing it. "The one and only, milady."

Author's Note

The chapter in which a dragon meets a cat who is apparently dead but isn't quite, and another who very much is, while a pony meets the latter who apparently isn't.