Dreamwalker's Tale: First (and Last?) Adventure

A sizzle followed by a brief but blinding light announced our arrival over our destination the following morning.

“I honestly didn’t even know you had saddlebags,” I quipped as I was still caught up in our little bout of small talk.

“I had them made in preparation,” she replied, but her voice had changed significantly. It was restrained, cautious. Wary. It finally made me look around — and down. While getting the whole picture was a little bit difficult with me clinging to her back and her wings continuously flapping so she could hover, I saw enough of what troubled her thoughts.

The jungle had been on fire.

There was a blackened mass of once living green down there. Mixed in lanes and patches of ashen gray. The edges of this devastation still seemed to smolder here and there. It was hard to combine what I saw with what I knew. Jungles were some of the densest forests in existence. The most humid as well. Starting a fire in a jungle should have been all but impossible and yet the hill I had marked on my map laid bare, cleared of almost all vegetation, and minor patches in all directions had been cleared by the greedy flame as well.

But the hill was the centerpiece. And that was honestly too much of a coincidence. I considered for a moment if Celestia herself had maybe taken a sneaky peak and prepared the site of our arrival. A focused beam of sunlight would most certainly burn through whatever was in its way. I had seen that. It took a couple of seconds for it to melt stone. What hope of resistance would a jungle have?

But she did look genuinely surprised. Well, as far as she let me see it anyway. And that was the issue, in a way. Despite years of experience with her — if she wanted to keep secrets from me, she would. Simple as that. Whatever I noticed, whatever I thought I had gleaned without her being aware of it, it was all calculated to some degree in the end. Her default state was her ‘Princess persona’, and that princess was nothing but calm and serene and almost frighteningly emotionless in the face of unforeseen developments.

“We should land,” I noted after failing to spot any reason not to.

She agreed by slowly gliding downwards in a large spiral, but she still kept her eyes peeled for anything and everything. But no monsters emerged from the tree lines. No volcano erupted, buried under the ashen remains of the jungle. And no dragons roared overhead.

Dragons. Hm. Their fire might actually be strong and hot enough to cause such devastation.

Her hooves touched the ground with the crunchy sound of crisp twigs breaking. I levitated myself off of her back, stretched my legs for a moment and walked around myself to take a closer look at everything. No threat emerged and while the smoldering parts at the edges continued to fizzle out and dim down, I did note that the ground was still a little warm in places. The fire must have happened recently.

With no source apparent, however, I saw no reason to further riddle around with this. The jungle was gone, for whatever reason, and that was actually a good thing for us. It would make setting up Rarity’s tent so much easier. “Do you think we can already set up camp? It’s still warm in places,” I remarked and dug my hoof into the ground in a circling motion.

Celestia furrowed her brow in though and looked to the sky for a moment before a small smile graced her lips. “I have not done this in ages,” she quietly murmured to herself before lifting herself off once more with a mighty flap of her wings.

I quickly put one and one together and just walked a little to the side to sit down on my haunches and watch her. Seeing Luna fly was a show. She was talking to the wind, playing with it, racing with it. Similar to Rainbow. It was so full of apparent energy and synergy. Vibrant life. Celestia’s flight, on the other hoof, was more inclined towards her reserved, calm presence. Her wingbeats were strong, but less hectic. Controlled. She was not playing with the wind as much as she was using a tool — albeit one she enjoyed using. Her flight exuded power and grace. And I cherished that excited smile on her lips.

She landed on one of the lazily drifting clouds and with a few wingbeats maneuvered it over the hill. A spark of magic puffed it up to thrice its size and changed its coloration from immaculate white to a dark and heavy gray, before she stepped down on it with force. With one hoof at first, just to see if it worked as intended. And indeed, the cloud let go of a little shower, a couple of seconds of rain coming down onto the hill like a blanket.

She looked down towards me and I could not help but laugh. She had not looked like an excited little filly for quite some time and it was so very endearing to see it again. In an admittedly very questionable impression of Applejack, I yelled up to her: “Atta girl!”

As if she needed my permission.

And a moment later, she jumped up and down. For just a second or two, it reminded me of Derpy. Her enthusiasm, her less than ideal coordination. But then it changed, and what had started as simple hopping around became something similar to a dance.

The cloud meanwhile just drowned the hill, gradually shifting back from dark gray to white.

The entire spectacle took less than five minutes and once done, Celestia gave the cloud a little shove and let it lazily drift away again before she swooped down and landed once more. I repeatedly stomped my hooves into the now slightly muddy ground in applause and she played along with a wide grin and bowed a couple of times to her enthusiastic audience. “You might want to close your eyes for the next part,” she warned me. I did as I was told and even with my eyelids closed, I could feel the burning sensation, the brightness intensifying to such a degree that it felt like tiny needles in my eyes. Luckily that only took a couple of seconds too before the light dimmed down again.

And the hill was steaming a little. What had remained of the rainwater and was not immediately soaked up by the ground or had simply run downhill drifted away in small clouds of mist. With the wildfire and the rain and now her attempts at drying the ground off, the entire hill was a mess. It made me chuckle as I sidled up next to her. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Instead of disagreeing with me, she just leaned down and nuzzled me. And I enjoyed that tender moment.

It was time to set up camp. I searched the peak of the hill for a decent place, put down the tent and spoke the command word. We both stepped back and watched the madness literally unfurl itself. A two story ‘camping’ tent, with a potted plant on the upper story balcony. “I thought her camping kit was a little excessive,” I admitted and looked at the monstrosity before us, “but I’m honestly not sure anymore. ‘A little’ just doesn’t seem to cut it.”

Celestia giggled and nodded. “Indeed. Although I do believe that she would huff and insist that a lady has her needs and that there is nothing requiring her to deny herself some small luxuries.”

“Hm. Yeah, that does sound like her,” I replied with a grin. I gave Celestia a little shove to her delightful rump with my magic and greatly enjoyed the surprised gasp I heard while I walked towards the entrance myself. The inside was even more ridiculous, as it quickly turned out. I had expected… well. I was not entirely sure what exactly I had expected. Some kind of stairway to get to the upper floor, sure. Maybe a bedroll or two. A vanity table, obviously, because Rarity. And those expectations were met, to a certain degree. But instead of a bedroll, I saw myself confronted with a king-sized four-poster bed. And some very plush carpets. And a tall standing mirror. This was no mere tent — this was a palace, made out of fabric and magic.

I did not exactly know how to handle this, so I just laughed. “This is just… this is absurd.”

“It is quite cozy,” Celestia added after she had set her saddlebags down near the entrance.

“Cozy… riiight, that’s the perfect description for this.” I chuckled briefly and added my own saddlebags to our pile before I walked over to her. Only when she leaned down and I kissed her did I finally notice something else about the tent.

That kiss sent a shiver down my spine. Just out of pure enjoyment. But it made me realize that, for just a second or two, I felt… cold? As we broke the kiss, I furrowed my brow and stepped over to the entrance. I pushed my outstretched hoof outside. And indeed, the difference in temperature was significant. “Oh wow. We need to be careful not to catch a cold. Or get circulatory issues.” I looked over to her and I mentally corrected myself – I needed to watch out for that. She would be fine either way. Alicorns were quite tough, after all. “The really, really, really good thing about this is: Now I can have all the snuggle time I could ever ask for!“ I grinned excitedly.

Much to my surprise, Celestia lit her horn and extracted something from her saddlebags. A wine bottle. And of course, while I had confirmed my suspicions about the temperature difference, she had rummaged around in Rarity’s cabinets and drawers and found herself two wine glasses. “Canterlot Merlot, six years. A good year. It should be sweet and fruity,” she announced with a playful twinkle in her eyes and set both glasses and the bottle down on the small bedside table.

I smiled like the lovestruck idiot that I was and nodded. I knew full well that she preferred off-dry wine and was going along with this for my sake. It was a little sacrifice, sure, but a sacrifice nonetheless.

Seeing as the sun still spoke about it being the morning hours, it was way too early to open a wine bottle. But I had caught her intention and very much approved of it. I walked over to her and nuzzled her side, kissed a small trail over her wing and grinned up at her. “I can’t wait for it.” She seemed quite satisfied with that, but I was not done just yet. After all, she had been sneaking a wine bottle into our supplies. And who knew what else. I let my muzzle trail along her frame and quickly nipped at her cutie mark, eliciting another surprised gasp. “Cheeky mare,” I ‘chided’ her with a grin.

She giggled and with the best husky voice she could muster, replied “If that is my ‘punishment’, I should have brought the entire wine cellar…”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t mind fooling around with you while you’re drunk. That had been a blast the last time.”

She grimaced slightly, but the underlying smile did not waver and only grew into a bolder grin. “As far as I remember, you had been rather tipsy yourself.”

“Aye,” I agreed with a smirk. “But there’s a huge difference between both.” Without missing a beat, I craned my neck and kissed hers as high up as I could manage while she playfully raised her head even higher, just to escape my attempts at stealing yet another kiss from her. “I think this will be a lot of fun for both of us,” I concluded. “But! It’s still early, and we do have a little something planned. So maybe we can check the first site off the list before retreating for the evening?”

“Gladly. I was just proposing—” she answered, before I ruthlessly cut in.

“Oh I was dying for you to do that! The answer is ‘yes’, obviously, so much yes!”

We both shared a giggle about our silliness while putting our saddlebags back on. Each of us unloaded what we deemed not immediately necessary and left. With the fire having done such a fine job of clearing the hill, and the tent's enchantments keeping insects at bay, I was not in the slightest worried about returning to find some nasty surprises waiting inside for us. But, just to be sure, I closed the zipper on the front anyway.

The way through the jungle was tedious. Progress was slow due to the excessive foliage, and I constantly argued with insects to leave me alone. Sadly, none of them would listen. The jungle itself was very much alive, never granting us a single moment, no matter how brief, of actual silence. Little critters ran around in the underbrush, leaves rustled and twigs snapped, birds of all kinds chirped and sang all around us. It was so very different from other places I knew. The mere thought of comparing this to Whitetail Woods or the Everfree seemed ridiculous. The Everfree Forest might have been able to match its density in places. But what lived in those woods usually tried to remain silent. These oh so colorful birds in here chirped like there was no tomorrow. It was impressive.

The heat was awful of course. As was the extreme humidity. It felt like the heat made all the moisture dissipate into mist, but the canopy of the trees kept it trapped inside. I made a joke about stewing once or twice, early on when I still had a sense of humor about this misery. But as we moved further into the jungle itself, I chose to keep my mouth shut. Kept the suicidal insects from flying right in.

It was the good, the bad and the ugly, so to speak. The beauty of this place, its sheer magnificence, was astounding. I could not keep my eyes focused on one single spot for too long before taking in another sight. At the same time, I had to constantly remind myself that the Neverend bottles were not, in fact, infinite and that I could not constantly douse myself in water, no matter how much I would have liked that. And due to this necessity, I was kind of a mess. A damp, sticky, sweaty mess. I knew that Rarity had one of these funny foldable bathtubs in her tent. I had not seen it on the ground floor and thus presumed it was the central feature of the so far unexplored upper floor. I really hoped she had not taken that thing out, because I craved a bath.

Celestia seemed mostly unaffected of course. As the living embodiment of the sun I had no idea what kind of temperatures would be required to make her pant and sweat half as much as I did. And I envied that. A lot. Her coat caught the moisture in the air as well as mine did, but the heat itself seemed to do absolutely nothing to her. And of course, while I eventually started to ask for little breaks here and there to have a drink or just breathe for a second or two, she showed no traces of fatigue. I silently wondered if, at some point in the coming days, I would begrudge her this.

If so, I was not looking forward to it. It would be petty. But I could not put it past me either. For now, however, I was just glad to see her enjoy the sights and sounds just as much as I did. We had shared the occasional sentiment about how pretty and lively everything in here was, and I even tried to refrain from letting too much sarcasm drip from my tongue, seeing as there was a constant swarm of buzzing around me while barely any insect ever dared to bother her.

After hours of traveling that felt like little progress had been made, we eventually arrived. I still felt like I only had to turn around and would be able to see the tip of Rarity’s tent over yonder, but a quick glance of course showed nothing but a green wall.

In front of us was a temple. Well, it was not necessarily a temple, but the structure had very temple-y vibes going on. A hemispherical mound presented the entrance, fashioned from ancient looking and moss- and lichen-covered stone. A longer tunnel connected the hemisphere to a stepped pyramid. We saw a couple of pedestals with broken off pieces of stone. Whatever statues had been resting on top of those had been long gone as there was not even a trace of the pieces left nearby. Then again, maybe someone had actually taken the entire statue. For whatever reason.

There were no depictions of anything else outside. No writing of hieroglyphs or whatever. No indication what to expect inside. Or any clues as to who might have built this. “Welp. This is as good as any time to head inside, right? Or do you see any point in refraining from that?”

We had walked around the entire complex once, just to take a closer look at the outside structure, and I trusted Celestia's critical eye. She had been The Princess for a thousand years, true — and yet, I still believed that she was more familiar with settings such as this one as I was, or ever would be. She smiled and gave a nod. “I agree. It seems there is little for us to find outside.”

As soon as we took a single step beyond the threshold, something changed. While there was no colored aura of magic visible, I could feel something wrap around my horn. A tingling sensation ran through my skull. I grimaced and rubbed at my horn’s base with a hoof. “Alright… what was that?”

“A dampening field,” Celestia replied with a sigh. I could see her hoof twitch. She was inclined to feel her horn as well. After the tingling receded, it felt strangely numb. Almost as if I had no horn anymore. It was obviously still there. “Apparently, the structure is in good enough shape that its enchantments are still working. I do not think that this field will be enough to fully keep me from using my magic, but it will make it considerably harder.”

I grimaced a little at her explanation and nodded. “Understood.” If she would have trouble casting any spells, that basically meant that I would not even need to bother trying. I sighed. I tried to tell myself that, in a way, this was a good thing. After all, the transcription had been clear on the issue. He who succeeded at the trials would get the precious metals. Not much of a prize to be gained in crumbled ruins and destroyed trials. But at the same time, losing one’s magic never felt good, as all the many, many victims of Tirek’s assault could attest to. “I’m going to try something quickly,” I announced and walked a few steps back. Just outside the entrance, the feeling lifted. I could feel my horn again, feel my magic surge again. I lifted a small pebble nearby, just for testing purposes, before stepping back in and enduring the return of the numbness. “Well. At least it’s localized.”

Celestia had carefully watched my little experiment and acknowledged its result with a nod. Still — I did not like how serious she looked. I was no Pinkie Pie. Pinks would have known what to do. I usually just fumbled around helplessly until someone took pity. And maybe laughed to make it stop. Which was still good enough on occasion. And desperate times called for desperate measures, right? “So, a cake walks into a bar and orders a drink,” I started with the best nonchalance I could muster. “After a while he notices everyone is staring at him ever since he walked in. He asks the barman: What is everyone's problem? And the barman answers: If I were you, I'd get the hell outta here... looks to me like everyone wants a piece of you!” At that point, my love’s eyebrow was slowly rising to indicate her slight bewilderment. Yet I could also see that faint hint of a smile tug at her lips. So, I kept pushing forward. “The cake replies: That's nothing, mate! I have taken on hundreds and thousands before, these guys would be a piece of cake. Their half-baked attempts wouldn't get a rise out of me!” My love cringed a little. And I grinned. “I'm no cupcake, and they'll be in tiers after I batter those fruitcakes.”

She smiled, and shook her head. “This is awful.”

And with a vigorous nod, I continued. “I think it's a trifle rude that you're making cake puns while I'm still here. Call the cops if you like, it'll be the icing on the cake, I've been in custardy before, that's just the way the cookie crumbles.”

Her smile widened to a grin and I could see her trying to remain calm and composed. I was making a fool out of myself and I did not mind all that much. “Please just stop,” she asked.

Yet I did not listen. “Just let me finish my drink, I'll be scone before you know it.”

She only managed to stifle that snort partially and shook her head. “It is not even funny,” she insisted.

“And the barman says: I'm sorry. Thanks for pudding up with me.”

I was delighted at that faint giggle of hers. She took a couple of seconds to recompose herself before lowering her head and giving me a kiss for my troubles. “This was terrible. Absolutely terrible.”

I chuckled a little and nuzzled her cheek. I enjoyed her proximity and warmth for a moment before I let her go again. “I know. I’m not really a funny guy. Are you feeling better?” There was still a spark of mirth dancing in her eyes and the ghost of a smile on her lips. It was enough of an answer, even without her nod.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I try. “Alright. Temple time,” I concluded, and after a brief moment of reorientation, we stepped up to what seemed like the first part of a challenge of sorts. The hemisphere had a diameter of maybe fifty feet on the inside. There was a chasm in the middle, from left to right. We stepped up to it and looked down to see into a twenty foot drop. Luckily, there were no spikes at the bottom. No snake pit, no lava, no visible dangers whatsoever, aside from the drop itself. Falling would not exactly be a painless ordeal and serious wounds were obviously possible, but it could have been a lot worse. Encountering this was a good first indication of what we had to expect, I assumed.

The chasm itself was thirty feet wide. And there were four metal poles spanning across it. They seemed to be paired off, with a larger gap between the pairs. On our side, near the entrance, was a small stone bowl, resting on a pedestal. We had ignored it so far, as it seemed less interesting than the gaping hole in the ground. But now, on closer inspection, we found something inside. An egg. A golden egg, to be precise. It looked like it had the texture of actual eggshells, but it had the metallic sheen of actual gold. I tried to grab it with my telekinesis to lift it up for further inspection, but once that failed to do anything, I remembered the dampening field.

“Do you know what kind of creature lays such eggs?” I asked more out of curiosity than anything else.

She looked at it as well, before shaking her head. “I cannot say that I have ever seen one such as this before. To be honest, I am not entirely sure if this is even an actual egg. It might have been manufactured.”

There was a similar stone pedestal with a similar stone bowl on the other side of the chasm. While I still tried to puzzle around, I noticed that she was waiting. Always patiently waiting. “You have figured it out, haven’t you?” I asked with a chuckle.

“I think I have, yes,” she replied with a smirk.

“And you’re not going to tell me?” I asked.

“I could. Do you want me to?” she asked in reply and something about her teasing tone made me want to tackle and tickle her.

Instead of honoring that with an answer, I raised my muzzle sky-high and tried to simultaneously stare into the bowl and at the egg. Which was probably a weird spectacle to behold and explained that half-stifled snort of hers. “Don’t you dare laugh at me!” I chided her as best as I could while I grinned. “This is serious business! Serious adventure-business!”

“Obviously,” she agreed.

“Obviously!” I insisted.

“…”

“…”

We both giggled a moment later before I finally had an idea. Each pair of metal poles was set into the ground. Far enough apart for both front- and back hooves. It was meant to be crossed sideways. Which explained the larger gap between the pairs — with no magic allowed, the egg had to be carried over to the other side somehow. I was not entirely sure if Celestia could not just swoop it up in her wing and easily fly over there, but maybe the trial would somehow notice that. No, I was relatively sure at this point how this was meant to be done. Which made me grin and shake my head. This was a foal’s game. Literally. Something they did at the Sisterhooves Social. “Muzzle to muzzle, egg in between,” I stated and my love agreed. I sighed. “Well, this is going to be awkward. You do know that I have terrible hoof-eye-coordination, right? There’s a reason I lose every single dart game against Rainbow when she forces me to use my mouth or hooves.”

“I think I might be able to coordinate us,” she replied calmly. “We will test it out here on solid ground, and only once we are ready do we step up onto those poles.”

Sounded reasonable enough. She nosed the egg out of the bowl a moment later. Which already took her two attempts. She maneuvered it onto the edge and I craned my head to put my nose against the other side. “A little bit more pressure,” she instructed, and I pushed harder. Just a smidge. “That is good. Good. Now. We must find a rhythm and synchronize our steps.”

I was just about to nod in confirmation when she raised an eyebrow at me and I quickly realized the mistake in that impulse and refrained from following through. No nodding. Got it.

A few minutes were spent and we quickly learned that our first attempts were doomed to fail. To exact as much caution as possible, we wanted to take it slowly. No reason to rush was apparent. So she instructed me to take a step sideways. Problem was: She said ‘left hoof’. But seeing as we were opposite one another, her left was my right. I knew that, of course. And I tried to keep it in mind. But after a couple of steps, I messed up. It would have been less of a problem were the distance we had to cross shorter. But it was not.

We finally managed to find a solution. Instead of naming any side at all, she just said ‘step’. It still meant coordinating taking a step with my right front and back hoof, and on the next command doing the same with the left side. Which was still confusing to a certain degree. Ponies were meant to walk forward, not sideways. But then again, that was probably the point of this exercise. To coordinate. Yourself as much as with your partner.

“Ready?” she asked. The egg sat snug between our muzzles, we stood on the edge of the chasm and right next to the poles.

There was an uncomfortable flutter in my stomach, followed by a little twist as I dared to look down again — as much as keeping the egg aloft let me. This challenge really did look easy on a superficial level… “As ready as I’m going to get,” I answered with a shaky smile.

She smiled in return. And it was steady. Strong. Reliable. “Focus on me, love. Focus on my eyes, my voice.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and opened them again. There was no chasm. No stupid egg. No slippery metal poles do dance across. There were just these magnificent magenta pools of her beautiful eyes. Just my love, and her soothing voice. I tried to lose myself in her gaze, tried to let her calm wash over me. And to a certain degree, it worked.

“Ready,” I said once more. And this time, I did feel a lot more ‘ready’ than before.

She smiled. Such beautiful lips, curved upwards in a gesture I had come to appreciate a lot. “Step,” she said. Not as a command. Not as a suggestion. There was no urgency in her voice. I could feel the texture change. From rough stone, partially overgrown with mycelium and lichen, to metal, cold and smooth.

“Step,” she continued and I focused on her and her alone. “Step.” I loved those eyes. “Step.” I could drown in them and die happy. “Step.” I loved waking up next to her, even when it was so early in the morning that I had barely slept for four hours yet. She would get up and raise the sun, as was her duty. One of many. And she would glance over her shoulder when exiting the bed. So much love in her eyes. “Step.” She would look at me when she returned from her balcony, her first duty of the day done. “Step.” And even then, she would spare a glance in the direction of her bed. She sometimes caved to her own desires. “Step.” I loved those moments. When she came back to me. Laid down next to me, even if it only was for a couple more minutes. “Step.” Snuggling up to her. Enjoying the return of her warmth. “Step.” We usually did not talk all that much in these morning hours. We did not need to. But we loved to gaze at one another. “Step.” Not dissimilar to what we did now. I would let my hoof trail along her neck lazily. I would lean in on the odd occasion and kiss her nose, just to see her wrinkle her muzzle and smile. “Step.” I would do anything to see her smile. “Step.”

A few more steps and I noticed her smile growing brighter. “We can lower the egg now.”

I blinked and finally escaped my daydreaming. She had managed to get us across. I had not stumbled. I had not messed up and fallen into the pit in an attempt to catch the falling egg. Half a dozen horror scenarios had been pestering me just because I was aware of the situation. Because worrying was something I was really damn bucking good at. And yet somehow, she had managed to get us across.

We put the egg into the stone bowl. It vanished as soon as we let go of it. Probably to reappear in the other bowl at the entrance. But on our side, two heavy stone slabs parted and gave free the way to progress further into the temple.

“You did well,” she said with a proud smile.

And I just lunged at her and hugged her. “And you were awesome.”

She giggled quietly, reciprocating the embrace with equal enthusiasm. “Yes, we were.”

After pulling apart once more, we decided to move on and entered the long hallway. It was a weird one, to say the least. No efforts had been made to conceal the pressure plates. In fact, they were out in the open, almost offensively presenting themselves. Probably because they covered the entire length of the hallway.

“There are little carvings on those pressure plates,” Celestia observed while I noticed the oddly shaped walls and ceiling. Both were curved. Building a flat, vertical wall was usually a lot easier. We had seen the corridor to be round from the outside, sure. But I had suspected that to be a stylistic choice. It just looked better. And maybe it was better to weather rain and wind as well. But to find the same curved architecture inside made me think that maybe, just maybe, this was more than just a design choice meant to look pretty.

There were scones along the walls. They did not look sturdy enough to hold onto and the interval they were placed in was too far apart to use them as climbing aids. But the torches they held magically sprang to life as we entered.

Before further dealing with the strange architecture, I took a glance at the depictions she had mentioned. There was a clear and obvious pattern to them. Ten ‘lanes’ of pressure plates run along the entire length. On the left side, three of these lanes bore carvings of carnivores. A cragadile, a fox, a hydra. In the first row, anyway. The four middle lanes were empty all the way through, as far as I could see. Which already made me suspect that they meant a bad time. And on the right side, herbivores. A rabbit, a cricket and a chicken in the first row.

“Thoughts?” I asked, before answering myself immediately. “I think we’re meant to progress left and right. Those empty middle tiles look suspicious as heck. I don’t see any slits or holes for arrows to be fired from, or gas to seep in. No such openings in the ceiling either. Though I’m not entirely sure why the tunnel is built in this strange way. From the dimensions alone, I would say that this actually is the outer wall. I don’t think there’s much space for any mechanical components. So whatever this trap is, it’s likely underground, under the floor. I think… we don’t want to mess with the predators over there. Let’s stick to the right side.”

While she appeared deep in thought, I knew that she had listened to every word. When she looked up and took in once more the situation as it presented itself, she agreed with a nod. She did look like she had something she wanted to add, but ultimately refrained from doing so. Maybe because she did not want to worry me further? Or it was not all that important right now.

Either way, I took one last look around before I walked over to the right side. Rabbit, cricket, chicken. Wait – crickets eat other insects, don’t they? I suddenly became rather unsure of my initial assessment. But the logic behind my choice still held true. It just meant that cricket was not a viable option. Right? So either rabbit or chicken. Well — given what little we had to puzzle together how this was meant to be understood, I once more wanted to take the safest route. A rabbit could very easily mean that whatever happened would have a very tight timeframe attached. And a chicken could mean falling. Then again, Celestia’s wings had not been affected in any way, so falling was something we could deal with.

“Chicken it is,” I mumbled and raised a hoof. Just before I set it down on the pressure plate, I hesitated one last time and checked my surroundings. Nothing had changed. I looked to my love and she gave me an encouraging nod. She was ready and prepared for whatever might come. So I put my hoof down.

The pressure plate sunk in and just because of that, my stomach twisted into a knot. Even though this was absolutely expected and just what this thing was meant to do.

But the knot got a little worse when I heard that clicking. There was most certainly some kind of mechanism underneath. And every three or four seconds, it clicked. I raised my hoof again, but the pressure plate stayed down, and the clicking continued.

And then the heavy stone slab doors suddenly crashed shut behind us with a loud bang.

“Uh oh.”

Another couple of seconds passed, both of us stood ready to defend ourselves, when another click put the next pieces in motion. Quite literally. The entire wall behind us gave a dull cracking sound before slowly sliding forward, inch by inch. And the floor shifted as well, tilting slightly to the right side. And with every new click it tilted a little bit more. “Wait, wait, wait, what? What’s happening?!” I tried not to yell, but there was a rising panic trying to take over my throat. I looked around the hallway, but saw nothing. Only the floor, on the entire length, slowly tilting to the side. And I could already see below. There was another chasm. Of course there was. And it was deep enough that I could not see the bottom in the flickering torchlight.

“What picture did you press?” Celestia asked while she rushed to the left side.

“Uh… chicken?” I asked more than I stated.

“Make sure!” she commanded and her tone finally made me move.

The wall behind us slowly closed in on us and I looked at the tilting floor. “It’s a chicken!” I confirmed.

She put her hoof down on a pressure plate on the left side. With the next click, the floor turned back and evened out again. She turned to me with a smile while she still stood on the left side. “Fox.”

“Oh,” was the smartest thought I had at that moment and I nodded as I warily eyed the moving wall behind us and then the long hallway before us. If we wanted to stay ahead of this thing, we needed to move quickly. “Sheep, turtle and… ah… I… I don’t know what that is… four legs, really long neck, two strange hornlike protrusions on its head, spotted coat,” I tried to describe my next choices.

“It’s a giraffe,” she replied.

“A what?”

She looked over her shoulder and shook her head. We most certainly did not have enough time for zoological lessons right now. “We need to move, now. Don’t hesitate, make choices, I will follow!”

I tried to swallow the thick lump in my throat and nodded. “Sheep,” I said and stepped forward. I tried to stick to animals I could recognize in hopes that this would make it easier for her.

“Wolf,” she replied and did the same. The floor stayed perfectly balanced.

“Mouse,” followed by “Owl.” Fly, spider. Fish, seagull. Ant, anteater. Whatever that was.

We managed to find a rhythm again. I had a couple of close calls three times where I only knew and recognized one of the three choices, but we managed. Even when the floor tilted because of a less than ideal choice, we managed to rebalance it soon thereafter. And we stayed ahead of the wall, even if our speed was barely above that.

We reached the other side. No more pressure plates. We quickly passed through the doorway and just as I had anticipated, two heavy stone slaps swung shut behind us, closing the hallway off. We could still hear the wall progressing further and we waited with bated breaths until we heard it reach its destination. And then the frequency of the clicking sound rose as the wall was pulled back into its original position.

“Alright,” I breathed in relief as the sounds from beyond finally fell silent, “they took another foal’s game, added a timer and a pit. Very, uh… original. Love the pit-theme. Very consistent.”

I turned halfway and leaned my head against her chest. I knew that I was a bit sweaty, mostly from nerves I assumed, as the heat just did not seem to penetrate these heavy stone walls. But I could not be bothered right now. We would hopefully return to camp soon and we would have a lovely bath. And maybe some wine with the bath, that could be fun.

I heard my love sigh deeply and the way she did it already told me that I would not like what came next. “Well,” she started with a sense of gallows humor, “I am so glad you like the pit theme.”

I dared to raise my head again, turned halfway once more and looked at the room. And it was indeed another pit. “I mean… I do appreciate the consistency. Really, I do. You know what you get, right? But come on. A little bit of originality wouldn’t have hurt either, sheesh.”

We sat on a small protrusion, maybe seven foot in diameter. Another chasm and on the other side, another pedestal with a stone bowl. This one was so flat, however, that we could see a key lying there. Probably the price of this temple. Hopefully.

This gaping maw before us was different from the hemispherical first chamber. It was about sixty-five feet wide. And the torches that once again sprang to life on their own accord could not reach the bottom, just like in the hallway before. I even dared to take one of those torches out and throw it into the abyss, only to see the light eventually vanish. “Ooohhhkay… that’s either one heck of a deep hole or a really, really good illusion. And quite honestly, I’m so hoping for the latter.”

It was once again quite obvious what was meant to be done about this. From the potentially bottomless pit sprang pillars up high. Their height varied, and their diameter was just shy of two feet. Enough to stand on, but quite a small target to jump to.

One of us had to jump across. We tried to mark out the best route and we quickly found one we both felt somewhat confident in. Problem was: Who would make those jumps? Celestia tried to secure our rope on the scone I had emptied of its torch, but that would obviously not hold one second in case my entire weight pulled on it. I flat out refused to tie the rope to her. And we had no other options of securing it.

Which meant that she offered to do it. Problem was, we did not know what exactly would happen if she tried to cheat the system. Her wings getting magically removed or shut down right in the middle of the chasm? That would be bad. Very bad. And those pillars stood too close to each other to allow her flight between those. Her wingspan was too large for that. And jumping was an issue as well. Her considerably larger frame meant that what was a small jumping target for me was miniscule for her.

And there was another factor in play that I assumed we were both aware of, but neither was keen to address. So far, both challenges had made it pretty obvious that this trial was meant to be done as a pair. Get the egg across. Walk across the floor, left and right side. This? This looked like a single-pony-challenge. And that was suspicious. It broke the pattern. Two ponies were required to get in here. What was the other meant to do? Watch the one jumping fall? Try once one failed? We searched, but the walls were nondescript. No illustrations. No hidden levers on those scones we could reach. Nothing that helped us out.

And maybe we had gotten a little… lively in our discussion of our options.

“Okay, listen—“ I started once more, only to be immediately interrupted.

“No, you will not—“

“Love, please, just listen!” I insisted. “I just want to—“

“You could just listen to me when I tell you that—“

We were getting nowhere. So I just kissed her. That usually worked.

And to be fair — it did. I could still see a lingering anger born from frustration in her eyes when I sealed her lips with mine, but this way, we were both happy in one regard, at least: We both shut up. After a moment, I gave her free and despite still feeling frustrated and annoyed with her, I could not help but grin.

She sighed and shook her head. “We are not getting anywhere. Maybe we should turn around. Visit the other places tomorrow. Maybe it could give us an indication of what we are meant to do here.”

“Door’s closed,” I remarked.

But she just raised an eyebrow at me. “You say that as if it is meant to hinder me. If I want to go through that wall, there will be no wall.”

I chuckled a little, even though it maybe should have been troubling to hear her so casually threaten violence. “Right. Fair point. But we’ve gotten so far and we’ve done well, I like to think. I would like to clear this thing out and just forget about it? Well, not everything, just… you know. We’re really close. The damn key is right there. And I think we can do it.”

She sighed and did not seem convinced. So I tried my worst puppy dog eyes. Worst, because I had no ‘best’. It always felt awkward doing that and I was told on multiple occasions that it looked quite ridiculous. So it was a good sign when she failed to deny that smile, and after a moment even quietly snorted, putting a hoof on my muzzle to shove me away. “Stop it,” she pleaded. I tried a little whimper and she giggled. “You will not convince me just by putting on a miserable show. What is your plan?”

Well — she would listen. That was good enough for me. I canceled the show and smiled. “Thank you.” And just to make things crystal clear, I pulled her down and gave her a kiss. “I love you.”

I had to control myself not to snicker as she grumbled something before answering in kind. “I love you too.”

With that small step of reconciliation done, I turned my attention to the pit again. “You tie the rope to me and step on it on your end. I do not want to turn around and see you tie it to yourself, you hear me? Bite down on it. Step on it. I don’t care. But don’t tie it around you. I will make the jumps. And if things go south, you catch me. You said you can still break through the dampening field, right? So it shouldn’t be impossible for you to activate your telekinesis and just… lift me up to a pillar if I mess up my jump.”

“It is hard to gauge just how strong this field is,” she replied with a furrowed brow. “I am sure that I can break through at least once. If you fall, I will not put you back onto a pillar. I will put you right there, over on that side.”

It was as much of a compromise as I would get out of her, I knew that. And really, that was fine by me. I was getting sick and tired of pits. “Deal.”

And so we prepared. A rope tied around my barrel. We went over the exact course I had to jump three more times. My nerves were rising again. Anxiety twisted my stomach into a knot all over again. I was not an adventurer. This feeling was very much uncomfortable for me. I would gladly leave the thrill-seeking to bone-headed daredevils like Rainbow. But doing this… being here, with her… it was an experience, certainly. One I found hard to regret. I did not care much for the adventure, but I did care for the company. Maybe next time, a nice, quiet trip to the Crystal Empire would suffice.

My first jump was carefully measured. I had made a few probably ridiculous looking test jumps on the protrusion we were on, just to make sure I understood what I was doing. And really, perching on this tiny pillar high above the bottomless void was not exactly doing wonders for my confidence. But — the first jump was done. Only nine more to go.

There was no wall chasing me. Despite this being one of my worries, there was no ceiling lowering itself either. So I had once more all the time in the world. And I took my precious time. I felt sweaty and the last thing I liked to imagine — and did anyway, because of course I did — was slipping.

I was two jumps away from the other side when I stopped and blankly stared ahead, both annoyed with what I was seeing, and afraid of it. “I found the catch,” I half-yelled.

“I cannot see anything. What is it?” she asked. And I could hear the worry dripping from her voice.

Two more pillars to jump and I would be done. But all the pillars around me seemed to be glitching in and out of reality. Their contours broke apart, reshaped themselves, they vanished and reappeared a few inches to the left, or the right, or were suddenly a smidge higher, or lower. I could no longer trust my eyes.

My heart was rapidly beating in my chest. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears. I could feel fresh sweat break out and dared not to raise a hoof to wipe at my brow. “I… I don’t see the pillars anymore… they spasm all over the place…”

“Stay calm,” she tried to tell me. Tried to soothe me. But to no avail. I could not tear my eyes away from the visual mess of information my brain tried to make sense of. “Can you turn back?”

I was suddenly very much willing to do just that. But as I turned, I saw the same effect inflicting the pillars behind me. I shook my head and swallowed hard. “N-No.”

“Stay calm,” she repeated. I tried. I really did. She fell silent for a moment. Probably mulling things over. I was almost there. Guiding me back would be a lot more dangerous than guiding me forward. “I will try to describe it. You need to listen carefully, and stay focused. Can you do that?”

“I—… I’ll try?” My voice sounded horribly frail. “I’ll try,” I repeated and mustered some strength from… somewhere.

“Turn around again. Slowly. Stop when I tell you to.” I did. I felt nauseous as my head started to spin in horror with all the imagined scenarios of what might happen next. “Stop. Good. The pillar is… two feet ahead of you. Same level as the one you are standing on.”

I looked ahead. I tried to see it. And at times, I could. It still vanished and reshaped and relocated every second, but sometimes, it was there. I stared at it until the vertigo got worse in an effort to burn this into my memory, hoping it would somehow help me stick the landing.

“Take all the time you need. I have you secured. There is no rush. And love… please remember to breathe…”

Oh. I inhaled deeply, greedily. My head was light, and spun a little but it got better over the next couple of seconds. Until it got worse again and I tried to refrain from hyperventilating. I was just awful at finding a middle ground. As always.

It took several minutes of me standing there. I was not getting any more confident in my jump. But I did notice that the anxiety got to my legs. That slight tremble now and then was a very disturbing warning. My tense muscles would eventually just give up. I had to do it and I had to do it soon.

“I’m going to jump,” I announced.

“I can see you,” she replied.

Stick the landing, I told myself, Just stick the damn landing…

I waited for another moment, waited to see the pillar where she had described it to be. And when I saw it, even for that one second where it remained in place, I jumped.

And it vanished.

“Wha—?” I was not entirely sure if that had been my voice or hers.

I flailed wildly with my legs and I painfully hit the pillar right next to me while I fell.

“No!” I heard her yell in a commanding voice and a blinding light erupted in the chamber, flooding everything with the sun's grace. I felt my descent slow immediately. I felt the soothing warmth of her embrace, even if it was just her magical aura holding me. I dared to open my eyes, and stared into the abyss beneath me while a golden glow was tenderly wrapped around my barrel. I looked over to the other side of the room and saw her standing there. The rope was gone, somehow.

A second passed.

Then another.

And I remained where I was. And it started to dawn on me that something was wrong. Oh so very wrong. Why did she not lift me back up again? “Celestia? Sunny?”

I saw her. How she strained herself. With both front hooves firmly planted on the ground, breathing heavily, teeth gritted, horn aglow. She was suddenly yanked forward. Just a few inches. But it happened. And in that very same moment, I fell again. Just a few inches, but that very much happened.

“Let… go…!” she hissed, but the temple's magic just did what it was designed to do.

Fear gripped me. Another yank. She was pulled closer to the edge. And I was pulled further down.

And I thought, for just a second, that I could see it. Truly see how this would play out. Maybe even how this was meant to play out. Maybe I had failed her. It mattered little now. I was falling. If she wanted it or not. Another yank and I could see that she was mere inches away from the edge herself.

Stop, I begged. I dared not to voice it, but I begged nonetheless.

My mind was ablaze. Panic drenched and painted every thought. So many of those were chasing each other, without rhyme or reason.

“No!” she yelled defiantly. She reared up high and brought her hooves down with force. She tried. She tried to command what was not meant to listen. The sheer force of her display broke apart the stone. The edge crumbled. Little pieces sailed down, deeper than I had fallen already. I did not hear them hit the ground. Maybe because my blood, rushing in my ears, was this loud. Maybe because the ground was so far down.

Stop, I begged once more. Did she not see? Did she not realize? This was not a battle she was meant to win.

Another yank dragged her forward. She had problems finding grip on the protrusion, but she stood firm and tall. For now. The next one would pull her in. I could not allow that.

“Stop!” I yelled. I could barely hear my own voice over the rushing blood, over the cracks of the ice, gripping me with its panic. “Let go!”

It took her a moment to realize that I was addressing her.

And she recoiled from it. Tried to anyway. As if I had hit her. Square in the muzzle, with a hoof. There was so much anger in those eyes, a thin veil for all the fear below it. Oh how I knew that. How I could emphasize. Feel what I saw in her eyes now.

“Please let go!” I begged.

I did not want to die. Despite feeling like this might be it, despite my worries of losing everything I had, a part of me stubbornly clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, this was just an illusion. A hoax. And I would fall and fall and fall and be teleported to safety. Sorry, you messed up, try again tomorrow. That desperate hope was enough to keep yelling at her. “Let go!” I commanded.

She looked me in the eyes. Fierce determination. And so much anger. Defiance. “No,” she replied. Whispered, probably. I saw her mouth it, but could not hear it. And a fraction of a second later, the next yank came and pulled her over the edge. She had expected it. Her fall disturbed her concentration, broke her magic. I started falling again. I saw her open her wings. I saw her grit her teeth against the pain as her wings clipped against the stone pillars, again and again. She angled herself forward and within seconds reached me.

She pulled me tightly against her chest and closed her wings around me. Like a cocoon. There was so much I wanted to say. So much I wanted to yell at her. But whatever would happen next, I did not know. We looked at each other. So much to say. I remained quiet and burrowed my face on her chest. She laid her head atop mine. Every breath was her scent. A memory. A tearful goodbye, as I tried to stem the tide of fear.

A sudden, painful jolt ran through my legs as they made contact with solid ground.

Curious. We had fallen head first.

I dared to open my eyes. We both stood on the other side. The flat stone bowl was nearby, presenting the key to us. There was no resistance to speak of as I let magic flow into my horn, and picked the stupid thing up in my telekinesis. It put it in my saddlebag and looked in her direction. I did not look at her. I did not look her in the eye. Just her direction.

She understood well enough.

A blinding bright light engulfed the two of us, and we reappeared in front of Rarity’s tent in the late afternoon hours. I went inside without caring much for anything. However, I was careful about not dragging too much dust into Rarity’s precious, pompous bed. I laid down, and rested my head. And I felt like crying. Like breaking down. But no tears came. I just laid there, vacantly staring at the backside wall of the tent.

I was still alive. Hooray.

And now the messy part started. Wherein I had to make sense of it all.

My sensible, reasonable love, calm and serene. I had seen so much furious anger distort her beautiful face. She had jumped after me. There were possible explanations. Possible justifications. Maybe she had somehow known? Maybe she had done the math and concluded that this part of hers could not have been the intended second player part. Who would ever make such a jump just by listening to a description? No matter how precise. Was that even possible? Maybe she had known that jumping after me was what she was meant to do.

We got the key, after all. What happened had apparently been the intended solution. Right? Maybe I was reading too much into this. The temple was ancient after all. Did temple magic get dementia? Or maybe it was about the mystery of who had built them in the first place. We did know little, if anything, about the civilization that had lived here. Maybe dragging a servant or slave or even a friend through both challenges only to sacrifice them at the end was part of their culture? I had heard worse about some traditions griffons used to hold dear.

Alicorns were tough. She looked all graceful and even fragile at times. But in the end, her only true vulnerability might very well have been on an emotional level. Weapons rarely cut her. Knives sure did not. Would a direct hit from a spear pierce her skin? Poisons did little. Would falling from such height even give her a headache? Maybe she had just dared to make a bet. Take a chance. Even if, say, her bones would have broken. Would they mend? How quickly? Maybe she really would have been able to keep me safe.

Maybe she did?

After all, I just plopped down onto the ground. With the dampening field already lifted, as far as I could tell. Maybe she had teleported us out of the abyss. Maybe the dampening field did not reach all the way down.

There was a noticeable shift in the bed's weight distribution when Celestia entered the tent and climbed up onto the bed with me.

I was furious. I was so angry that I had no words to describe just how angry I was with her.

And yet I slid over a few inches to make room. And she wordlessly joined me. She did not dare lay right behind me. She did not dare touch me, and a part of me had waited for that. Waited for any reason, no matter how small and stupid and irrational to just explode into her face. But she was Celestia. Thousands of years old. With so much experience that I would never be able to fathom her thought patterns. She probably knew exactly what I was thinking about. What she was able to get away with right now. Calculating. Scheming. Pulling strings on puppets.

No. No, that’s wrong. Wrong direction. And unfair. Don’t go down that road…

It was difficult. Difficult not to go there. Difficult to pull back. Difficult not to fall into a pit of spite and senseless thrashing around. All that anger wanted out. Searched for a vent. Searched for an opportunity to hurt. But I would not let it.

I was not sure how long exactly I laid there. I eventually dared to close the gap between us. I scooched closer to her, pressed my back against her belly and accepted the wing she wordlessly draped over me. And I still boiled internally. There was still so much spite at the tip of my tongue. How could she?

All the explanations were irrelevant. All the justifications were null and void. There were too many variables. Too many ‘maybe’s. Too many risks she should not have taken.

Another while passed. It had been hours since our return to camp. I was somewhat certain of that, at least. Even though I did not know how many hours.

I finally shifted again. And turned around to face her. It felt like a titanic task. To face my love, and to talk to her. I knew that this conversation would be very unpleasant. And had a high likelihood to devolve into a shouting match. Or rather, me shouting at her. Celestia did not shout. Period.

“You jumped,” I said. It was as clear an accusation as I could make it.

She took a deep, steadying breath, fortifying herself for what was to come. “I did.”

Her simple acknowledgement of the facts already made my blood boil again. How dared she be this calm? “You could have died,” I continued and tried to keep my voice steady.

“I know,” she replied.

I tried to swallow that lump in my throat, but it would not be vanquished this easily. “What were you thinking…!” No question this time. Not really. I spoke quietly. Barely audible, to limit how much my volume could spike at the end. She did not answer after a couple of seconds. But I noticed that she stared past me. “Celestia, look at me,” I demanded. And as she did, she seemed… vulnerable. “You could have died!” I repeated. “Don’t you care about that?!”

“I do,” she answered.

“Well, sure as shit didn’t look like it from my perspective!” I burst out. I took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to rein myself in again. “You can’t die. You hear me? You can’t! You’re not allowed! I do not allow you to die! I never did! You can’t just…” I interrupted myself as I noticed my quickly rising volume again. “You are needed, Sunny. Goodness gracious me, you are needed out there! There are thousands of ponies depending on your guidance! There is a little sister that adores you and still needs you to be there for her! There is a ‘faithful student’ of yours seeking your council every so often. There’s an entire nation of your ‘children’ waiting for your return!” I just gave up. With every sentence, my voice grew louder once more and every attempt to keep it firm and steady and in check failed. “You can’t die! You hear me? What the buck were you thinking jumping after me?!”

“I cannot lose you.”

It was a simple statement. Spoken without defiance or conviction, without any inclination whatsoever. As neutral and objective as an observation could be. And it was even more infuriating than her avoiding my gaze again.

“I can’t—… you can’t…? Are you bucking kidding me?! Sunny. Love. Please! You can’t just… do you value your life so little?” My mouth snapped shut only after I had spoken. By that point, of course, it was too late. Her eyes fixed me. Fixed me in place like needles holding down an insect for study. It was as much of a warning as it was a mirror. Had it not been my idea to try the third challenge, after all? But I felt my own anger rise, bubble to the top and bolster my own defiance. And in a rather unwise move, I grimaced and spoke. “I am not worth—“ And that was all. All I managed to get out before I was interrupted.

“I cannot lose you!” she yelled. Getting an earful of the Royal Canterlot Voice in such close proximity had a rather sobering effect. The ringing persisted for a couple of seconds before it finally receded. I just stared at her. It was apparently enough of an invitation to say more. Or maybe she really felt the need to explain. “I am well aware of my responsibilities and commitments. Of all that I have… and all that I stand to lose. I was not sure if—… I did not exactly have a lot of time to—…” Her voice trembled and broke. “I have not dared to let anyone close to me for a thousand years. I had not dared to love for such a long time that I thought I had forgotten how it feels. I had not expected this decision to turn out as it did. But the moment came and the scales tipped and surprise or no, the decision was made. Please… please, love, let me be selfish just this once…”

Taken aback, I was faced with a scenario I had feared for a long, long time.

We had always made it work, somehow. Her long days in court, crowned with a lovely evening in her chambers. A shared bath. An afternoon hour in her study, stolen from her ever rising mountains of paperwork. Sometimes, something as little as what I had just recently offered to Moondancer: Me sneaking into her room late at night, crawling in bed beside her. Sharing a night and a bed. We had taken the scraps at every corner. Enjoyed them. We had wriggled around in an effort to make some more room, somehow. And we had always made it work.

And I had forced her to decide.

I had feared this decision for so long. From the early days of our relationship onwards. We kept things secret for a time. As secret as somepony can keep a relationship with The Princess Celestia while frequently visiting Canterlot Palace. And I had feared the day when she would be forced to decide between Equestria and me. I had always considered that scenario unavoidable. Inevitable. She was the eternal ruler, after all. It would come up eventually.

But not like this. Never like this.

For me, in my head, the decision had always been made. Easy and simple. Equestria was more than just a nation, more than her pet project. It was heaven given form. It was a utopia she was working on. And every pony was as close to a child to her as they could get. And she looked out for them.

She never should have chosen to jump after me.

I sighed. And even though we were lying close already, I scooched closer still and buried my muzzle on her chest, deeply inhaling her scent with every shuddering breath. And it helped. It soothed my nerves. And even if it only lasted for a brief period, it even eased my worries and anxieties. When I pulled back again, my anger was almost completely gone. Spent and drained. How could I ever begrudge her the wish for company? Me. The bottomless hole. It was so easy to feel hollow and empty, and so hard to feel fulfilled. I craved company, craved to love and be loved. To a degree that Applejack called me obsessed. And maybe she was right.

I kissed my love. As if I needed a reminder that yes, I loved her very much. And she loved me. A lot more than I had been aware of, maybe. I could not decide if that was a troubling thing, or a flattering one. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you choose. And for whatever it might be worth… I deeply regret not listening to you and leaving that stupid temple behind.”

There was a lot going on in her head. I could see that. I felt the urge to say more. Explain more. Apologize more. But I kept my mouth shut. It would do little good and knowing myself, I would start rambling from the second sentence onward.

“You are not angry anymore?” she quietly asked. And once again with a vulnerability in her voice that made me carefully consider my steps. Celestia was not built out of glass. She could be as tough as stone if she wanted to be. Which made these moments all the more precious. Few ponies were allowed to see or hear her like this.

I sighed and leaned in to kiss her. It was a tentative kiss at first. Almost like we had never done this before and were cautiously testing the waters. But after a few seconds, the familiarity set in and we both allowed a little bit of our dedication for one another to bleed into the gesture. After we broke apart, I tried a smile and found that it did not feel as forced as I had feared. “I’m not. I could never be angry with you, not for that. It would be horribly hypocritical. I can’t sleep a single night alone without feeling lonely the entire next day. Six years later and I delight in every kiss you give me as if it had been the first of its kind. Some of my memories tell me in fractured pictures and sounds of just what I was willing to do, how far I was willing to go, for those I loved. I feel horrible for ever having thrust that decision upon you. But I’m not angry.”

We both fell silent for a while after that. Lying in a close embrace, we tried to cope. Tried to process what had happened, both in the temple and more recently.

It was a strange discovery. Realizing that I could have died and all the processing of that actually took a backseat to my rage about her decision. When that part came — the ‘almost dying’-part —, she was there for me. I did not say a single word and I did not need to. When a slight tremble ran down my body, her wing gripped me tighter and her feathery blanket pulled me closer to her, pressing me against her. I could feel her heartbeat and that was oh so very comforting.

So many occasions. So many sleepovers. So many get-togethers. They had told me of their adventures time and again, in this life and all the others. Of their defeat of Nightmare Moon. Their quirky battle against Discord — in those cycles where there was a Discord to be battled. The confrontations with Tirek. And Chrysalis. And so many more. And they made for good stories. Funny little tidbits to giggle at when sitting around the campfire. And barely did I ever truly think about how many instances of almost-death they included.

Was this what everypony called an adventure?

A barely survived chain of events, carried by luck and adrenaline?

I was not about to cancel this trip. This was my vacation with my love and come hell or high water, we would have fun. We would enjoy ourselves. We would make it work. We always did.

But goodness gracious me, I looked forward to returning home to my safe and secured indoors-‘adventures’. And we had barely made it through the first day.

“Love?” she asked after what felt like an eternity.

“Hm?”

“Do you happen to know if Rarity had some kind of shower installed in this palace of a tent? I feel a lot grimier than I would like.” Just to make a point, she shifted a little uncomfortably and I could not help but smile. Rarity would probably try to kill us if she could see what we were doing to her bed right now. Not to mention what I intended to do to her bed later on.

“Lucky you. I think there should be a bathtub upstairs.” At this point, I had honestly simply tired myself out. There was only so much existential dread one pony could reasonably have in a certain timeframe. The horror had dulled and the implications elicited mental shrugs. Maybe it was as good of a point as I would get to leave the processing of these events for later. I did however remember that bottle of wine. I was not sure if my previous idea had been such a great one or if the mood was still salvageable enough for it to work. But I was willing to find out. “We could take a look and if it’s large enough, maybe we could… you know… take a bath together? With a bottle of wine?”

She hummed with appreciation for my idea. And a few moments later, we climbed out the bed, she fetched the bottle and the glasses and I took a glance upstairs at what we were working with. Luckily, Rarity’s taste and flair for grandeur was something a pony could depend on. For the two of us, it would be a cuddly affair. But that was quite alright in my books. So we used another of the dozen command words Rarity had given me to fill the tub, and for the next hour or so, we enjoyed both the warm water, the wine, and each other’s company. And with the time passing, breathing became easier again and my heart did not feel quite as heavy. Her occasional giggling surely contributed to that. How was one supposed to keep a serious and sour mood with such a delight of a mare nearby?

We eventually climbed out of the bath and the same command word got rid of the water. Quite a convenient enchantment.

We were still in the middle of drying ourselves off with a bunch of towels when I suddenly felt her magic snake along my back. The sensation made me shiver in delight. “What are you doing?” I asked with a smirk.

“Remember that time we raced to the castle?” she replied with a smile. “You tried so desperately to find some ticklish spots on me… without any regards for decency or politeness.”

I chuckled quietly and nodded. “I remember. I had not been all that successful back then. But I have found some success in the intervening years, so beware!”

There was this mischievous spark dancing in her eyes. Her smile did not change, but in a rare gesture, she subtly bit down on her lower lip. Before letting her magic brush over my collarbone. Just as she had expected, I could not prevent myself from laughing. And I immediately swung around and faced her. She wanted to see that as a challenge? Fine! She could have her challenge! “Oh, you are on!”

I chased her around the room for a spell, with both of us merrily giggling away, before she fled down the stairs with me hot on her heels. I managed to grab her in my telekinesis just long enough as she was passing by the bed to give her a little shove to the side. She lost her balance and with a startled yelp fell right onto it. And before she had regained control, I was looming over her.

Well. Not as much ‘looming over her’ and more like sitting on her chest. With a very smug grin.

“Oh no. It seems I have been caught. Whatever shall I do?” she quipped with a smile, while a certain, familiar fire rose to her eyes and cheeks. “Be careful, though,” she continued with a huskier voice. “You would not want Rarity to hunt you down, would you?”

I leaned in for a passionate kiss. “I’m so going to make this worth being hunted down for,” I let her know and enjoyed seeing her shiver in anticipation. Our giggles and quiet laughter filled the air once more, before quickly changing to heavier breathing and moans.