Author's Note

Morning!

First, my editor didn't get a chance to have a crack at this, so there may be a bit of a stealth edit in the future. They're not feeling good so I believed it best to let them rest for the day and not worry about it.

Instead, I worried about it. Joy.

But I did my best, likely missing some stuff. Hope not.

On to more important things. I want to say THANK you to all the new followers and watchers. I just looked at my notifications. 61 reactions! Holy hell, I am not worthy.

569 likes. Holy Shit. I never thought so many would give it such a positive rating. And I know many of you think I deserve it, and I might. But all the same I feel overwhelmed and humbled. Thank you.

Alright, as always, let me know what you think in the comments. Did any of you get to see the Northern Lights this weekend? That was really cool!

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Burying the Hatchet

Grace plucked at the racy bikini she had dared to wear this morning. It was the third style she had tried on and the most revealing yet. More lace and string than covering fabric clung to her hips and breasts in such a way that she felt embarrassed just wearing it in the privacy of her own rooms.

It was like she was naked!

And yet...

“It's a loss.” She muttered sourly, clicking her beak in frustration as she stared out at the beach from the second-story bedroom of her rented chambers.

No matter what she tried, no matter how she debased herself for him, he did not acknowledge her efforts.

“Why am I even trying?!” Her Aunt, and to an extent Orion himself, had made it pretty clear that the black colt wasn't here for a romantic interest. Worse? He acknowledged and even admitted that he found her attractive. However, she was practically throwing her best assets at him to no avail.

“WHY?!”

That wasn't to say he didn't compliment her. But those compliments just sounded as if they were simply platitudes to placate her and ease her feelings on yet another failure. She didn't even want to wear the cursed thing in the first place, as it left far too much of her backside exposed to random passersby's eyes.

“And then there's Roderick.” She practically growled.

The hippogriff drake not only obsessed over her but took each outfit she wore as both his own private showing and intense jealousy for who she was clearly showcasing herself for.

Orion's indifference to his antics only seemed to make the poor merchant son madder.

Though to be fair, she could understand why he was so offended. To Roderick, Orion was dismissing him as a rival. Top that with his far lesser station, and it was no wonder the poor drake was nearly going into apoplexy after every encounter, sputtering and, at one point, hissing as the colt hopped off the pier and into the water.

Any competition he attempted to drag the Equestrian into was met with laughter and outright derision.

“You're gonna challenge me to a surf-off?” The black pony giggled, shoving his wet mane off to one side, giving him a striking look that left her heated.

Bare to the waist, Orion stood knee-deep in the ocean as he just come back from attempting to ride one of the waves in. It had been met with failure as he flipped head over hooves into the surf, his board shooting out from under him and flying off toward the beach.

“Are you afraid?” Roderick said with a sneer. “Can the big bad colt not handle a little challenge?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” He smacked his forehead. “You did just see what everybody saw, right?” The colt deadpanned, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I would think my performance would clearly show I'm very much at the beginner level of surf-a-tude.” He jabbed the index finger at the drake. “You, challenging me? This is more like a forty-year-old veteran of war challenging a toddler to a fistfight. Sure, I can stand up, but my balance is a little wonky.”

Striding past Roderick, he paused.

“You know, I just had a thought.” He mused. A single finger tapping the side of his muzzle. The drake’s eyes slowly tracked over to him, outrage beginning its predictable path onto his face.

“Are you so bad that you need to challenge a gremmie like me in order to feel that much better about your own lack of skill?” The colt pretended to think a little more. “Naaaaahhhh. That can't be it.” He slapped him on the shoulder and proceeded up the beach, his horn alight and water seeming to shed from his fur and clothes as he did so.

Roderick Silktail just stood there as onlookers avoided looking directly at him. Heads were bent, beaks and lips moved, and the subject was very clear. Another spectacle brought on by the scion of Silktail. On one hand, he asked for it time and time again.

On the other hand, her heart had to go out to him, as this hadn't been the first time Orion had dressed him down so publicly.

She giggled a little. Remembering the colt walking away.

“His mane was so poofy! Like a little orange cloud on top of his head!” His tail had looked like a shriveled orange, too. The giggling became a guffaw that she covered her beak to contain.

Grace's mirth, unfortunately, didn't last.

Roderick’s temperament was not fragile by any means, but Orion’s constant verbal barbs could only continue so long before the drake had enough. And when that happened, there was only one option a person of his station would demand.

She sighed and began slipping the beach wear off. The hen lamented that it was another forty-eight bits down the cliff. Tossing it in the wastebasket, she crossed into the bathroom and started the shower. As hot as it was outside she did not need too hot a rinse, just enough to get the salt and whatever sweat she might have accumulated that day.

Her time living in Equestria made her keenly aware that, depending on the activity, a griffon’s natural odor might not be appealing to some. Her brow furrowed.

“Or to most ponies, for that matter.”

Grace couldn't begin to count on her fingers how many times a pony had turned their nose up as she walked by. Getting that explanation from Mrs. Evergarden had been painful, but as awkward as that was to go through, what hurt more was the continued habit they held onto despite how clean she made herself.

Canterlot had really damaged her morale.

Walking by the bathroom mirror, she paused as she stared at her reflection.

Starting with her head and the crown of feathers there, she let her eyes wander over her form. The scarlet red powders she used to highlight her eyes and tips of her ears had been expertly placed if she said so herself. She let her hand caress her belly, noting that while hidden, the abdominal muscles were there and strong—a sign of her bloodline, so her Auntie said.

Her other hand drifted up and cupped her breast, lifting it slightly before letting it fall with a quiet, heavy smack. Her nipples looked to be normal, too, though a tad too large for her liking if she were being honest with herself.

“Still perky. Good.”

Her waist, hips, and rear were more than adequate, in her opinion. She had become aware that she was quite desired from whispers she had overheard from the guards in her Uncle’s castle. But she knew a truth that her fellow countrygriffs did not.

Compare her to any mare in Equestria, and she would not be too far out of place. In fact, she was average. Some of those mares she had remembered and seen were stunning.

However, here and in Griffonia, she was considered the pinnacle of Griffon pedigree. Though, not everyone agreed. Such as her counterparts in court, who held slimmer figures than her own, a sign of more meager portions of food, or so Eberhard had told her.

She wasn't too sure what he meant by food and the logistics of getting said food at the time, but the sum of it was simply that she had more to eat than other griffons. Thus, she was bigger and healthier in most respects than many others. However, that did bring up the quest of her cousin and her Uncle. They were both larger like she was. Perhaps another sign of her blood?

Normally, in an enclosed system such as a court, one would be mocked for looking too different, and she initially received those barbs from the other hens. Then the drakes started to take notice of her as she got older and started to develop, and at first, that only seemed to increase the verbal attacks.

But after the Fallen Leaves Banquet a couple of years back, in which she danced with just about every noble drake from every corner of the kingdom, a new tactic was introduced: ostracization.

They ignored her and didn't invite her to events anymore. Rosebreast's weekend get-together had been the first real social interaction she had in years, and that had been merely to target Orion and cast her further in the shadows.

She remembered the look in the colt's eye when speaking with Palatine, “the harlot!” He had no interest in her. Didn't even really look her over after that first meeting. He seemed to note everything about her, frowned, and shot a subtle glance at Rosebreast.

He may not have known the purpose, but he knew what was going on.

Grace sighed. There was no fault in her looks.

“It's that idiot pony not accepting the fucking invitation!” The mental swear got her to blink, her reflection showing a heated glare. Shaking her head, she spoke out loud. “No, Auntie said it herself. I looked too much into things and got my heart set on something that wasn't there.” A mantra she found herself saying a lot these days.

She just wished her heart got the memo.

Stepping out onto her balcony, Grace let the sea breeze dry her. The towel was good, just not enough, and her rooms had privacy screenings that hid her rooms nicely without obscuring her own view. With the purple flowers blooming in the vines gave a sweet scent that helped calm her.

The royal hen wondered what they were.

Inhaling deeply, she exhaled. It was long and slow, pushing out the day's stress with it. Watching the ocean as the night fell like a blanket over the skies, she sighed again. The moon was only a crescent tonight, but its light sparkled off the slightly turbulent waves, creating its own miniature starfield upon the waters.

“God damn, you're a persistent dumbass, aren't you?”

That sounded very much like the pony that very much was in her, as he would say, “shit-list”.

“How could I not be when your very presence is an affront to her!”

And there was the second one on the same list. Just what she needed, those two jerks fighting about her under her own window.

“You mean to you. She invited me up here. Seriously, what is your damage?” This argument must have been well underway long before it reached her. The two were now heading for the long dock stretched out in front of the inn.

Well, Orion was walking, the set of his shoulders giving him a hunted look. Roderick stalked after him, his hands grasping and releasing the hilt of the long dagger at his waist.

“Fine! Yes. It is me. I am affronted by you!” He seethed. “I could, with some restraint, forgive your brutish nature with me. However! Your tone and manner with Lady Fairheart is far too low!”

“Oh, Christ.” The colt moaned, throwing his head back. “First, if you're gonna use that toothpick, get it over with and try it.”

The drake's hand leaped away from the weapon, shock on his face.

“You got a habit of grabbing onto the damn thing anytime it's on you. I can hear the damn leather creak every time ya do. Knock it the fuck off.” Spinning on his hooves, he glared at the baffled hippogriff. “First, this argument…again. Are you serious?” His hand shot up, forestalling a response. “No, don't answer that because you are a one-track mind bastard that doesn't know when to give up.”

“I know my father! Much can be said about how you do not know yours!”

“He was eaten by a troll.”

The drake paused again, alarmed and confused at the same time.

“That was a joke.” Shaking his head, Orion groaned. “Perhaps this is my fault.” Pinching the bridge of his muzzle, he began. “Do you think she is so soft that she needs to be treated with cotton pillows and soft blankets?”

“Wh…what?”

Pacing back and forth, the pony asked again.

“I said, “Do you think she is someone that is soft?” Gentle. Can't handle the slightest social faux pas?”

Taken aback, Roderick paused. His uncertainty is clear even from her position.

“Well?” Orion snapped.

“Lady Fairheart needs to be treated with the decorum her station deserves.” The answer was slow, hesitant.

“Uh-huh. And have you ever bothered to find out if that's what she wants?”

“What…she wants?”

“I'm starting to wonder if you're half parrot.” Slapping his palms together and keeping them there, he gestured with his hands. “Do you know anything about her?”

“I…uh.”

“I will take that as a no.” Orion sighed, dropping his arms in defeat. “Alright. Listen, peanuthead. You very obviously never got to know her. More than likely, spent all your time writing to her. Sending her heaps of gifts to catch her attention.”

“Where is he going with this?” She thought worriedly as she peeked over the rail. She had ducked down the moment she heard them going at it.

“Yes…”Roderick’s head dipped low.

“That's what I thought.” The colt sagely nodded. “Dad put you up to this?”

“No! Of course not. My father would never dictate terms for the love lives of his hatchlings.” The merchant son stood up ramrod straight, eyes angrily fixed upon Orion’s.

“Huh. Well, that's better than I was expecting.” He paused. “You know, both griffons and hippogriffs give birth to live offspring. Why do you guys use terms for birds so much?” Again, the colt had put the hippogriff on the back paw. “Alright. Forget that.” He waved Roderick’s questioning look away. “How did you two meet? You know my story, orphanage, woopdy freakin’ do. What's yours?”

“I…uh.”

“Nu-uh. You've been harassing me since we got here. You're not backing out of this now. Spill, melonhead.”

“But you just called me peanuthead…” He whines.

“Uh huh, and you're both depending on the situation and my attitude. Don't like the insults, tough shit. Grow a thicker pelt or down, I don't know. Whatever the hell your people call it. Now, no more diverting, spill!”

“I….um…okay.” Taking a deep breath, Roderick thought. Orion took that moment to sit down on a post, waiting with arms crossed. “It was back when her Uncle, King Sigurd Bloodbeak, had come to personally negotiate some trade agreements with the council. She was there, her dress glimmering with the gossamer pearls sewn into-”

“Gonna stop you right there.” The colt interrupted. “Save the poetry for her. Remember, you're dealing with a heathen savage. Spit facts.”

The drake sighed and nodded.

“As I was saying, she had come with her Uncle for the negotiations. That's when I first saw her, and she was like no one I had ever seen.”

“Love at first sight or infatuation?”

“The latter, if I’m truly to be honest, I will admit it was her beauty that had first slain my heart.” Rodrick chuckled. “I know, no flowery words. I’m getting to it.” Coughing, he clapped his hands behind his back and paced. “It wasn't until our correspondences that I felt affection for her grow within.” He confirmed.

Grace shook her head. She had only been nice. All those letters every month had been tedious. The eagerness in those written words made her feel cruel for not responding in kind. Had she made a mistake in that?

“Without too much detail, what were her responses? I imagine your letters were refined and filled with romanticisms.”

“Yes. Of course, anything less would be an affront to her.” Roderick nodded.

“There's that fucking word again.” The colt shook his head. “What were her responses?”

“She spoke of her day-to-day life and her goals. Uh, are you-”

“Yep, totally keyed in on that.” Orion huffed. “Alright, this is too slow, and I haven't got all night. I got a six-pack cooling right now, and it was damn hard to get. Now, I'm gonna ask you some yes or no questions to speed run this thing.”

“I, uh, okay?”

“Good enough. Did she send you anything? From what she tells me, you sent a lot of gifts and poems. Did she send anything back?”

“Uh, no. She did not.”

“Did she ever initiate a letter, or was she always just playing the role of responder? Ask any questions of you?”

“No, I…I just told her about me.” Roderick was starting to look very confused.

“Okay, last one. Are you an idiot sandwich?”

“Uh…what?!”

“Okay, that one was just pulling your leg.” He chuckled. “Alright listen, she was being nice with you. Before you get all huffed up and pissed off, think about it. Only you ever initiated anything. She did not. Also, I'm assuming you never talked to her on that first visit here, and she hasn't been back since.”

Roderick at first seemed to want to berate him. But he paused, and he paced away once more.

“I…I never tried to speak to her then. I was barely coming into my crest. What was I going to say to a hen like her?” He looked back, and Grace found her heart once again going out to him. Finally, after all these years, he was beginning to understand. “She was only ever nice. I…I wrote about my own desires and how she was a part of them…but…”

“But you were never in hers.” Orion finished for him, looking solemn for the drake for the first time. “Yeah, I've seen that a time or two. It happens, man. Nothing you can do about it.”

“What?!”

“But I…”

“But nothing. Dude, she's holding all the cards. You got a three, a six, and an Ace. You spilled out everything and left nothing to play.”

“Uh, what?”

“Card game, poker. Let's just say you fucked up. You don't know anything about her, and you over-shared the hell out of yourself with her without asking if she even wanted to know.” Orion smiled. “Do you know that she is strong as hell and can fight?”

Roderick listlessly wandered over to a post of his own and sat.

“She…is strong?”

“Oh, hell yeah, she's strong as shit. Personally, it scares the absolute crap out of me. I've seen it first hand, though I won't go into the details of what was involved, rest assured, she's legit.” For a moment, neither said anything. Orion had shifted position and was now facing his antagonist, his back to her and the window she hid behind.

“She truly hasn't told me anything, has she.” The drake seemed to sink in on himself as he uttered the words at last.

“Yeah. Hell, I'll be honest with you. I only found out a lot about what's going on with her recently. Let me tell you something, that girl. Is carrying a literal fuck ton of baggage.” Orion shook his head. “But that doesn't mean she isn't worth your time. Just gotta stop this over-sharing nonsense. Oh, and the smothering. You do that hover nonsense anytime she places a paw out the door in your general direction. “ Roderick seemed to only recoil further.

Sighing, the colt got up and walked over. Settling down on his haunches, he placed a hand on the drake’s shoulder.

“Look. I really don't like you. Mostly because you've made yourself an absolute pain in my ass the entire time I've been here. But I'm gonna give a weird amalgamation of advice I think works. They say if you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it was meant to be.” He frowned. “But that is frankly horseshit at worst and circumstantial at best.”

“Then what do I do?”

Orion paused, thoughtfully titled his head, and nodded. “You've got the heart, but you need to understand when to let go. You've tied up your entire life into wooing her, haven't you?” Roderick nodded hesitantly.

“Not all, but a very good deal of it. I even began construction on a home on the central pillar in hopes…” The drake trailed off, eyes slowly tearing up.

“Ya gettin' that is lame as shit and not gonna do anything but wasting cash, aren't ya?” The colt grinned.

“Dammit it all, yes.” He bemoaned, hanging his head and wiping at his eyes. “Is there nothing I can do? Truly?”

“Well, there are a couple of things you can do.”

Roderick looked up, hopeful.

“Support her. Without the expectation that she will return your affections.” He smiled sadly. “Truthfully, that is Simp's behavior, but you are stuck in quite a pickle, and I'm no love doctor. But the best thing is to support her. She is going through some shit right now that would likely leave a lesser griffon molting. But she's tougher than that.”

“And…the other?”

“Cut all contact with her. Leave her the fuck alone. If she seeks you out, then yay. Otherwise, live for yourself. Do things that make you happy.” He paused. “Other things that don't involve over-sharing and smothering someone. Perhaps just try dating others and get some experience in the realm of just talking to other ladies. Trust me, the opposite sex loves confidence, and you need to earn some of that.” He chuckled. “Okay, that might be only strictly for griffons, I wouldn’t go trying that with ponies. They are weird.”

“...I…” Roderick frowned, hesitated, then glared at him as he spoke again. “She's…she's in love with you. You realize that, right?” He sniffed.

“Yeah, I do.”

“And you don't want to return her affections?” The drake’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Orion stood and walked back to his post before sitting again. From the angle, she couldn't see his face, but he looked like he was trying to say something, but he kept pausing before speaking.

A rare moment, Orion Falls being speechless.

“Do you…know what it's like? For stallions in Equestria, I mean.”

“I have heard that stallions are usually not the forefront of the home, that they largely take a more passive role in their community. Is that what you are referring to?”

“Yeah, that. As I have gotten older, my behavior and antics have been looked on with a lot less approval than when I was much younger.” He laughed. “Back then, it was endearing and cute. Now…” He scuffed a hood against a plank. “Now, it's seen as unbecoming. I still get an etiquette class once a month. My therapist says I need to learn to conform to society. She says my experiences in my youth have shaped me into a bitter, angry little colt.” He shook his head. “And she's not entirely wrong on that.”

“Yet, it seems to me you don't agree with her solution.” Roderick was sitting up straighter now, his long coat unbuttoned.

“No. I do not.” Orion sat up with the drake. “The issue is, what went on in my formative years that made me this way has given me a very dark view of the world.”

“I…I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, but if you would like to tell your tale?”

“You know what, what the hell. Why not? But first.” The pony stretched out a hand, and his horn glowed. A small wooden crate appeared, and he caught it. “Want a beer?”

“Alcohol?!” The drake nearly shouted in surprise.

“It's cider, the good stuff, but yes, alcohol.” Placing the case down, he picked a slender glass bottle, popped the cork top, and took a long pull. Exhaling, he sighed. “God, that shit is good.”

With a disapproving frown, Roderick picked up one of his own and took a much more conservative sip of his own, nodding in approval at the taste.

“How did you get these?” He asked, bewildered.

“I got my ways, don't worry about it. Do you wanna hear about why I'm Abby Norma or not?”

“I was led to believe your name is Orion Falls. Is that just a pseudonym?”

“What? No! God, it was a play on words. Abby Norma. Means abnormal. Duh.” Orion sucks the bottle down and pops another one. “You're a sheltered kid, aren't you.”

“I will refrain from answering that.”

“Careful, it's learning.”

“Are you going to tell me or just spend the evening mocking me?!”

“Alright, alright.” He coughed. “My earliest memories are roughly around when I was five years old. Back then, I was homeless and living on the streets eating rats. Though I went hungry more days than I can count.” He paused. “Huh, I should be more stunted than I am. How the hell did that happen?”

“You were…eating rats?”

“Oh yeah, not sure you've been paying attention, but I'm an omnivore. Literally tested.” He waved that conversation aside. “That doesn't matter. What does is I was living on the streets of Stalliongrad, till a prostitute by the name of Stone…Mark? Stone Chisel? Shit, I can't remember. Anyways. Stone took me in. Nice guy. A bit girly in nature. That purple room he had me sleep in. Woof.” Another sip. “Anyways, little did I know that Stone was once a product of a very nasty slaving organization. Some gang that ran a lot of dirty businesses in those walls and likely outside them, too. I'm not too privy to all the details.”

“Those scoundrels!”

“Yep, terrible people, don't disagree with you. Worse, apparently, I had not been as careful as I thought I was. Back then, I was a precocious thing, believing I had it all figured out. The short story is, Moya, one of the slavers, had learned about me. And found out where I was staying. I can only imagine her plan had been to sell my happy ass to the highest bidder.” He waved a now empty bottle at Roderick. “Don't get your panties in a wad, I got out of that shit. But Stone took a beating for me to do it.” The colt shook his head sadly. “Hope he's okay.”

Grace did know of Stone Mark. Once a prostitute, now turned rehabilitator in Stalliongrad. He worked closely with the local rescue groups in the area. He was having a surprising amount of success in getting fillies and colts off the streets and into homes. Better yet, he was being instrumental to battered and broken stallions that fell into his care. A good pony trying to help his fellow stallions find peace and solace.

“Anywho. That incident, plus one a couple of years later that I am not gonna get into, made me really think about my place in society and what I want.” He hummed for a moment. “And I don't want to be in a position where another has power over me in any way. It's a death sentence as far as I'm concerned.” Orion gestured to Roderick, his bottle wavering unsteadily. “I won't do it. And your Lady Fairheart, is in one of the highest positions around in both kingdoms. If this gambit she has cooked up works, she'll be fourth in line for the throne of Griffonia.”

She was amazed that he was somehow keeping up the cover story. The pony was clearly getting drunk, as he had somehow moved on to the fourth bottle.

“You believe she can do it?” The drake asked curiously.

“Oh hell yeah, she's a smart cookie. I would not be surprised in the slightest if she doesn't win outright by the time the summer is over.” Waving both arms, the colt refocused. “The major problem is me. Right now, I have nothing of my own to give. Nothing but ideas in my head and an ass full of dreams. Sure, I'm saving money hand over fist, but it's not enough. I want to be my own ma- stallion. I want to matter more than a trophy for a group of mares, more than something to protect. I got nothing to my name right now.” He laughed bitterly. “Truth is, I never did.”

That quiet comment stuck with her. What did he mean by that? A colt, an offspring of any species, doesn't have much more than its name to begin with. So why did he seem so bitter over it?

“I can't come to any relationship on equal terms.” He continued, angrily waving his arms. “I ain't havin’ that shit. Fuck that. And fuck anyone who thinks it's stupid!”

His tone has a shockingly southern drawl. “Where did that come from?” The thought was fleeting, though. She was much more focused on his rambling words and what they really meant.

Orion Falls, for all his bravado, felt very small. Trapped in a mare's world, his experiences so far had made him hostile to relationships that were unbalanced. Which, for him, was all of them.

“I get it now…oh, Orion, I'm so sorry…” Grace felt stupid. She had all the information. She knew all about his past. How could she not have realized how it affected him? How it still affects him. “And here I am, forcing my attentions on him and forcing him to respond, even when I have said I give up! Grace, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“So a relationship is far and away your least concern.” Roderick frowned. “But what about Lady Fairheart?”

“God. Where to even begin? For one, she's a fucking ten out of ten. So, I get your infatuation with her. I do, dude!” Both shared a rare smile together. “The issue is, she's acting a lot like you with me. And I have my goals firmly in place.” He shook his head. “But fuck me if it's not a temptation. She's smart. Funny when she's not being self-conscious about it all. Tough as nails both inside and out, Rod, she's a total package when it comes down to it.” He chuckled. “But she has one issue that even I won't demand a change of.”

“She's nobility.”

“Bingo. Being next to her would put me in the spotlight for sure. It means I'll have to perform for the circus. Not to mention both national and international stages. With my attitude and the way I regard folks I think are asshats, yourself included, do you really think that would be good for her?”

“No. In fact, your actions would likely reduce her standing, as you say, both local and out in the wider world.”

“Exactly. Plus, I don't like all the eyes on me. Even if I could curb my attitude, it would still be soul-crushing. And I won't ask her to give that all up for me. Roderick, she has worked too fucking hard and too damn long to lose it all over a jackass like myself. Face it, dude, we both fucking it up for her.”

“I…I cannot help but concede to your point.” He looked down and gasped. “My word! You've drunken them all!”

“Huh?” Orion looks down and frowns. “Damn, so I did. Well, good thing I got another case in my room.” He tilted back the bottle and drained the contents. “Fuck it. We've shared enough sappy bullshit. Does this bury the hatchet? Or am I going to have to start punching you tomorrow?”

“No…no, I think I understand you better now. And it has reminded me that not all paths in life beat with the same wings.”

“Good, I'm getting the fuck out of here, and you likely need to get back home. Your guards have got to be bored to death by now.” that last was spoken very loudly.

Roderick’s eyes bulged, and one of the patrons nearby, who had looked to be enjoying a mug of ale, gave a start and glanced over at them.

“Heh, yeah.” He chuckled. “Word of advice: they need to learn to walk like common folk if they want to blend in. Too stiff. They walk like soldiers. Easy to see. It's how I avoided the guard back in Stalliongrad when they played dress-up. Know your marks.” He tapped his head with a grin.

Storing the empty bottles back in the crate, Orion waved.

“Later. Think about what you wanna do with your life outside the family biz and all that.”

With that, he walked off the pier, completely steady on his hooves. For just a moment, she thought he glanced directly at her. But she was certain he could never have known she was there. As soon as she spotted the pair, she had hidden behind the half wall.

Roderick took to the air shortly after, and four hippogriffs took to the sky after him, seeming to bicker at one another as they flew out of sight.

As for Grace, she had a lot to think about. Orion was right about one thing: even if the advice was not meant for her, it certainly still rang true.

She needed to let go. Not just say she would, but actually let go.

“Oh god, cottonmouth.”

Splayed out on his bed, Orion attempted to roll over, but the moment he opened his eyes, pain seared into his very soul.

His rooms faced directly eastward. Most of the inn's rooms were designed to give each guest a view worth coming back for. Unfortunately for him, his eyes cracked open just right to receive the full concentrated power of the sun, which felt like it proceeded to cook him from the inside.

“Uuuuggghhhh….fuck you, you stupid bitch.” He groaned, rubbing at the orbs in his skull.

To top it all off, the sun's rays had the effect of activating the massive headache that was his due for all the cider he had buried in his gullet.

After assuaging his pain, or at least enough that they didn't feel like fire, his hand flopped about, searching for a pillow to cover his face and found feathers. That brought him fully awake and more aware of the pounding his brain was taking between the ears.

“What in the fuck?”

“Relax, idiot. And stop smacking my head.”

“That's Gilda's voice. Why is Gilda in my fucking bed?!”

Cracking an eye open, he peered over and saw the hen sitting in a chair that had been pulled up to the bed. A grin was plastered across her beak as she looked him over.

“We…didn't…” Her laugh interrupted him.

“No, you bird brain, we didn't ”do the deed”.” Gilda air quoted. “I found you here, naked and surrounded by bottles. How in Tartarus did you manage to get three cases of cider in your room without anyone noticing?”

Her voice made him wince, and he closed the eye he had used to survey his surroundings with a groan.

“Can you…like….turn the volume down on your pie hole. It's at an eleven. It needs to be a two.” Fortunately, he had spied a pillow right near his head and quickly placed it over his face, sighing with relief that the sun's assault upon his retinas was over for the time being.

“Orion, I am whispering.” And with a mild start, he realized she was.

“Ah, fuck.” He moaned. “What time is it?”

“About 8 in the morning.” Said the soldier. The smirk could be heard clearly in her tone.

“What in the hell are you doing in my room at 8 in the fuckin’ morning?” Another thought rolled in like a wrecking ball. “Wait. You saw me naked?!” He fairly screeched at her, his own voice causing him to wince and pull the pillow tighter to his head.

“Only those flanks of yours, big colt.” She was giggling now. “I covered you up with a sheet. But I have to say, nice.”

Orion wanted to hit her. He really, really did. But any movement of the cushion would only bring the sun's retribution.

“Fuck you. You realized you were ogling a minor, right.”

“Oh please, it's your fault for sleeping naked. Don't give me that minor crap. I was the one that had to come in here and see it.” There was the sound of clinking that was way too loud and the rush of liquid pouring into what he prayed was a cup. “Here, drink this. It's just water. I won't mess with you in such a state.”

Oh, how he wanted that drink. But the sun.

“Close the blinds. The sun. It burns us.” He would have laughed if he could. That was funny.

“Oh fine, ya big hatchling.” Soon enough, he could feel the heat lessen as the sound of wooden slats clacked into place. “There.”

Slowly removing the pillow, Orion peered at his surroundings. His shirt and pants were somehow hanging from the stained glass light fixture above his bed. The underwear was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

Peering over at his friend, he noticed her in full kit, minus the weapons.

“Uh, what's going on?” He murmured.

“First, drink some water, preferably all of it. I need you alert.” Gilda had come around the side, shoving a ceramic cup into his hand, and encouraged him to drink.

Slowly, he raised himself up enough to lay against the headboard and began taking slow, steady sips of the life-giving liquid.

“You might as well explain it now. I'm not getting over this hangover any time soon.” Holding out the now empty cup, she refilled it.

“Messenger arrived. More by accident than actual intent. Apparently, King Bloodbeak got our message about you and sent an entire platoon of soldiers. They were flying out here to take advantage of the winds to reach Aviary.”

“Wait. What message about me?”

“Back when you got caught by the Diam- Iron Dogs. We sent a flier out to call for reinforcements.” She chuckled. “I guess he was really worried about you.”

“Fucking awesome.” He groaned and stuck out the cup again. “So why the full gear?”

“Ah, Lady Fairheart has taken this as a sign to get our tails back to Aviary.” She frowned. “Plus, another message that was with the first seemed to make her upset. She won't tell us anything.”

“What? Why?! We have, like, another three or four days!” He sat up straighter. He was feeling better, even if his eyes did still want to ooze out of his head.

“I don't know. Maybe…well, you didn't hear this from me, but I personally believe she's had enough of Roderick’s sniffing around. That damn hippogriff is a menace.”

Orion couldn't help but chuckle. “Ah, he's not that bad. Just a lovesick puppy that doesn't know what the hell to do with himself.” He gave her a grin of his own when he noticed her puzzled look. “We kinda buried the hatchet over a drink or two.”

“Oh, okay. Did he supply you with the alcohol?” Her eyebrows rose.

“Naw, I got my ways.” And by ways, he meant outright stealing the cases and depositing the coin for them in their place. The colt had been determined to enjoy at least one night of drunken revelry. Even if it was just by himself. So, the act of purchasing by force had been a necessity.

“Uh-huh.” She muttered with a frown. “Well, get your tailfeathers in gear, colt. You got packing to do, and we need to soar out by noon.” She didn't wait for his response, only spun on her paws and marched out the door. Slamming it a little too hard for his liking.

Muttering curses for the departed griffon, he rose unsteadily to his hooves and stumbled to his bag. Fishing around, he pulled out a ridged leather toolkit. Inside were vials of various colors. The one he was searching for was purple.

Before leaving Equestria, Orion had taken it upon himself to mix up a bunch of cures for ailments he believed he might have encountered. Anti-venom for a Wasp-viper bite, which was a common flying snake in Griffonia, to a potion for simple colds. He hoped he would never have to take the anti-venom.

Also, apparently, Wasp-vipers were both a pest and a delicacy among the locals. Gross.

Finding the vial he was looking for, he popped the wax seal and knocked back the contents quickly. From experience, he knew that the concoction was of the vilest sort, filling the mouth with the taste of ash and compost. Shuddering, he slipped the empty container back into the toolkit and stowed it away. Standing up again, he smiled as the headache almost instantly washed away.

“Nasty shit, but it works pretty damn well.”

Embracing his magic, he cracked the blinds enough to let in some light so he could see what he was doing.

“Alright, much better. Now to get cleaned up.” Walking into his bathroom, he cast another spell that began picking up the various items that belonged to him. The spell, he was sure, was another all of his own making. The idea of sharing would do him no favors at this moment because of the general populaces’ limited understanding of how DNA worked.

“That and Celestia would be very curious as to where that knowledge came from.”

The spell wasn't perfect, however. A major limiting factor is it seemed to only address worn items. An algorithm inside the spell matrix could only identify an object as long as there were enough skin flakes or fur on it. Which left out anything like his aforementioned toolkit. Hardened leather just didn't hold onto skin and fur like more cotton-like articles.

He shrugged.

“Perhaps I can work on that while we head on back. It's gonna be at least two days before we get there.”

Humming, he stepped into the scalding hot water he had started before entering the bathroom and began to get ready.

No one believed Gilda when she told her other fellow soldiers in her detachment how she had found the colt.

So she was shocked when he stepped down into the main hall of the Inn, no worse for wear and carrying his bags in his magic. The poor hen had made a substantial bet with the others that the fool colt would be stumbling down the stairs.

The snickering behind her turned that stunned look to anger, and she strode over to confront him. Stomping all the way.

“Hey, Gilda, what's got your panties in a twist now?” He smiled casually.

Staring into his eyes, she saw none of the bloodshot, heavy-lidded visage of twenty minutes ago. Instead, the damn colt looked to have spent a day in a spa!

“What do you mean?! Why aren't you hungover still?!” She screeched, drawing the attention of more than one customer in this early morning hour.

“What are you talking about? I'm a good boy.” His smile morphed into an insufferable grin. “I did my letters and numbers and went straight to bed.”

Gilda's armor shook, his grin widening.

“Why, whatever is the matter, Sergeant Gilda?”

“I….I walked into your room. You were passed out drunk this morning. Don't mess with me. You couldn't even stand!” Taking a step forward, she glared into his eyes, seeking even a shred, just a remnant of something. Anything!

Orion simply stood there, calmly, with a grin that seemed to spread from one ear to the other.

“RRRRRRAAAAHHHH!”

“Sergeant?” Lady Fairheart’s cool voice broke through her rage. Snapping to attention, she responded to her Lady.

“Apologies, my Lady. I was simply checking on Orion's condition!”

“You were trying to see if he was hungover from last night.” There was a hint of a laugh in her tone. That not only startled Gilda, but she could see the black colt next to her peer at Grace Fairheart with a fair amount of surprise. “ I'd give up on that if I were you. Even if he was, which I'm sure it's true, he likely used some magic to whisk it away.”

“Okay, everyone. We have a pod person.” Orion's eyes narrowed. “Who are you, and where's the real Grace?”

“It is me, you ass.” She chuckled. “Can't go anywhere with you without some antic or trick from you.”

“Hey, I was behaving this whole trip! I didn't ask for anything or do anything to get myself tangled in anything!” The colt protested.

“Really? I remember a certain Roc nest you happened to wander across?” She shook her head. “No, you're right. That was another black pony with an orange-colored mane.”

Orion sighed in defeat.

“Point taken.” Then he cocked his head to the side. “What's with you today? You seem, I don't know, calmer?”

That was what Gilda wanted to know. Lady Grace Fairheart stood from the second to the last step, her hand lightly touching the balustrade. But it wasn't her poise that was the change in her. Looking into those pale green eyes, there was a peace she hadn't ever seen within the young hen.

“I had a lot to think about last night, and this vacation has done what it was supposed to do. Now, I am eager to return and see what fruit our efforts have borne.” She smiled and walked down the last step. “Hauptleute Skewer? Are we already ready to depart?”

Hauptleute was a very old way to address a Captain. It was equivalent to the rank, but such words aren't used much in modern times.

“Well, except for Prince Gerhard's forces.”

There was some contention there. Most great houses were embracing the Equestrian ranking system, but there were still holdouts, such as the Prince's personal guard and some of the older families.

“Come to think of it. Weren't Noble Houses called Tolles Nes’tur?” The term meant Great Nest in the old language.

Gilda's ears perked up at Gordon Skewer’s mention of the carriage.

“Most of the gear has already been packed away. We are going over the final checks. However, we are ready, my Lady!” The normally dour Captain was unusually enthusiastic.

“Then let us depart. We will be intercepted by Kom’andat Thorncrest shortly after we take to the air.” She paused a moment and cocked her head, a clawed finger tracing her beak. “If I'm not mistaken, there are two islands we can make use of on the journey back, correct?”

“Absolutely, my Lady. Hegemon, and Mudspike. I suggest we land on Hegemon. Mudspike unfortunately lives up to its namesake this time of year, and I do not believe we are keen to be entombed in it.”

“See to informing the Kom’andat then when we meet up. Hauptleute, you are clear to resume your duties.”

“At once, my Lady!” Snapping a quick salute, which many of the others mimicked, he turned and marched out the door, his soldiers following suit quickly.

“Huh, the hell is a “Hauptleute”?”

Orion's voice was certainly a spellbreaker. Gilda hadn't even remembered he was there.

“Oh, it means Captain. It's an old Griffaic term. I'm beginning to think my cousin's embracing of old traditions is something to share in.” Lady Fairheart shook her head, a sad smile twisting her beak. “I am also beginning to think we've lost ourselves embracing other cultures as we have.”

The colt's eyes were wide with worry. Was he bothered by her more formal conduct?

“Just let's not get any ideas of heavy nationalism and blaming others, okay?” He joked though the context was lost on the Sergeant and Noble Hen both.

“No.” Grace shook her head. “While I may suspect, like my Uncle, that our downfall was brought by others, we are still responsible for our own destinies.” She paused, smiling. “If nothing else, you have taught me that our futures or our own. We need to seek the wisdom of the past but not allow the chains of it to bind us.”

“When the hell did I teach you that?” Orion’s face quirked into bafflement.

Her Ladyship, Grace Fairheart, just smiled and poked his nose before heading out the door herself.

The colt's nose wiggled, and he rubbed at it, frowning into his hand, and then his eyes snapped to Gilda's.

“The fuck was that about?”

The hen thought for a moment, then nodded.

“I think her Ladyship has grown a little. That's all.”

“”That's all?” Is she drugged or something?” Orion asked, obviously worried. She slugged him in the arm.

“Come on, idiot. Or we will be left behind!” She laughed and bounded out the door after her Lady.

“I think the carriage is fine, Orion. Why are you insisting on checking it over yourself?”

Orion clicked his tongue in response, a habit he had somehow picked up from the locals of Neighbon. He wasn't quite sure, but he believed it was used to delay a response as they thought something over, that’s how he used at least. Kind of like how griffons tapped the side of their beak when thinking, another habit he found himself doing more of late. “Damned impressionable mind.”

Lying prone on his back, he was less looking for damage but feeling it out, running a low-scale magic scan over everything he touched. Fingers that traced the grain of wood and straps of metal acted as a sonar of sorts, penetrating into the material of each as his hands quickly passed over them.

He had not mentioned it to Grace or anyone else, for that matter, but part of his paranoia was the Church of Sol. More accurately, the researchers who had initially seemed to ignore him when he had first stepped hoof in their museum. Yet, as the days wore on, he suddenly began spotting them in his daily life—just one or two at a time, but everywhere he was.

At first, he thought it was quite ridiculous. Daily excursions for them had to be murder. They were dressed in these white habits that covered their entire body, with this red sun blazoned upon the chest—not too subtle of them. But as he thought about it more and more, he began to realize something important. Why did they need to hide? It was their town, after all. They lived here, and he was just a guest.

Given these facts, he tried to shrug it off, yet one night, a mild curiosity took him, and he used his radar enchantment and poked around outside the inn. That's when he knew his paranoia had done a victory lap.

Down alleyways, on side streets, every location in which a dark space could be located, he could find one of them at any given point in time. They were always gazing in the inn's direction. Only a couple here or there, but they were always watching. Since then, he had been on high alert.

The idea of getting drunk last night had been a reckless choice, but if he didn't do something about the stress, he was likely going to explode. In this case, confront them in a very public setting. Which, of course, would have been terrible for Grace, as it would have put even more pressure on her. The risk was made manageable only by the barrier spell he slowly built up in his room using charged crystals. Even if they had come for him, he would have been well alerted to their attempt before the barrier had been broken.

Now, he was worried about sabotage because it was no secret which carriage was theirs. The more refined, slightly gaudy decorations were kind of a dead give-away.

“Ah.”

And there it was, carefully hidden away where the tongue and straps were anchored by a set of steel brackets. The metal of those brackets had been magically altered, and the strength in the bonds between atoms weakened.

If they had broken while in flight, it would have likely meant either death or the very least, a stranding out in the ocean.

“Okay, now that I found the problem, what can be done about it?” Shimming back out, he ignored Grace's unspoken question as he approached one of the platform workers.

“Got a question for ya, bud.” He asked, his tone light and pleasant while his insides roiled.

“Um, can I help you…sir?” Judging by his outfit, the hippogriff was more akin to a repair mechanic than one of the servers. That was perfect for Orion. He needed roadside assistance. As there was no Triple A here, the grease-hippo would have to do.

“Sorry to bother ya. But do you have a spare set of metal brackets for the tongue and line strap?”

“We do…” the mechanic slowly said. “Why?”

“Well, it's the damndest thing,” his country twang, he had found, gave him more leeway with some folks, “I was doing a once over and found the metal brackets to be worse for the wear. Any chance I can get a new set installed?” He flashed three one-hundred-count bits, and the drake's eyes widened in surprise.

“Certainly, sir!” His now more amenable tone spoke wonders. “I can have them replaced within the hour.”

“Excellent!” Orion cheered, stuffing the three fat coins into the mechanic's suit.” That's for the speedy service.” Handing over another two, he said. “And this is for the parts themselves.”

With a beak-stretching grin, the hippogriff nodded eagerly and rushed off to retrieve his tools and the needed parts.

“Care to explain what that was about?” Grace's question nor her sudden appearance did not surprise him. Now, being on high alert, he was aware of everything everyone else was doing around him.

“I'll show you.” His growl. Which caused both of the hen’s eyebrows to rise, but she didn't say anything and followed after him.

Reaching the carriage, he reached under it, his horn glowing a little brighter. He put power into his muscles, limbs, and joints. With a loud screeching sound, he tore one of the straps completely loose. One side of the cart's tongue sagged, and the strapline dropped completely.

“Orion?! What was that?” She demanded.

He shook his head. She hadn't put it together yet.

“I tore that off rather easily.” He looked at the warped metal in his grip, his scan now being more obvious as the band was involved in the gold-black of his magic. Even the screws had been messed with. “Someone, and I can't be certain who, though I have my suspicions, tampered with these not too long ago.” Bouncing the steel in his hand a couple of times, he tossed it at her. “Those would have torn off right in the middle of our flight.”

Grace's eyes widened in alarm before a glare took over.

“Who?” Was all she asked.

“Nu-uh, not till we are in the air and well away from this place. I don't know what the plan might be, but the less they know of who we suspect, the better.”

In truth, he was still trying to puzzle out why. Was there a standing order for him to be arrested by the Church's agents? Who had authorized this idea, and what had they expected to happen? With sinking dread, he wondered if the Church of Sol somehow knew what he was doing up here in the north.

Soon, and quicker than an hour, the mechanic had returned and installed the new brackets, tisking at him over the torn-out chunks when he learned it was Orion’s doing. The new holes were drilled, the bolts anchored, and with a final wave and a smile on his beak, the hippogriff bid them safe travels and booked it back to the far side of the landing pad.

“Grace.” He stopped her from asking the obvious question. “I did go over the whole carriage, the brackets were the only thing they fucked with. Let's get some distance from us and this place.” A mare had been watching them for the better part of an hour, her blonde mane shimmering in the midmorning light. Her lab coat had been replaced with workman's day clothes, but she hadn't bothered to mask herself much further.

Book Heart stood in the shade of one of the supported landing platforms, her eyes locked onto where he, Grace, and her guards milled about, preparing for takeoff.

Their eyes met, and he glared. Hard.

For the mare, her eyes widened in shock. She shuffled quickly back toward the city before much else could be transmitted by looks alone. Her head turned to glance back at him a little too often.

“And here I thought she was a nice girl.”