The Diarchal Advisor

Arnon, the starving | Canterlot Castle

Ugh.

Being stuck in an arm-sling, treated like a Ceremonial role during a long recovery was one thing. A forced vacation where he just idly wandered these fancy halls, bothering Ponies as he liked? Sure, he could work with that. He basically just got to be usual nosy asswipe, and everyone had to be nice to him, because he was hurt.

The idleness of it was starting to get to him, though. There's only so much royalty-mandated nothing one can do before even that starts to get boring, and Tia was pretty pokey about making sure he actually rested.

Princess Celestia, the benevolent and feeling-guilty Diarch, would check in on him multiple times a day; eerily good at tracking him down, no matter where in the castle he was. Every few hours, poof, there she was, keeping to her promise. Before she went to bed, before she started her morning tasks -- if she had time during Day Court, she'd probably pop by and say hello in between every visitor.

He'd be lying if Arnon said he didn't like the attention.

While Princess Luna didn't seem quite as concerned herself, hearing that her Sister was the one who caused such injury put an oddly bemused look on her face, spurring a giggle-fit from the pony of deep blue.

Luna didn't check on him quite as much -- but his evening hours found themselves beholden to the Sun Princesses blue-flanked counterpart, showing her own measured, muted concern. So that was both surprising, and sweet... though she did demand more 'pets' each time she visited, which kind of defeated the point. Half the time, she'd even demand he come to her quarters for it. Wouldn't hear Arnon complain about it, though. Luna had this incredible softness to her fur. Princess Celestia's fur was more akin to... what you'd imagine the perfect pony fur to be, if absolutely well maintained to the umpteenth degree. Princess Luna's fur was almost otherworldly, and borderline un-pony-like with a unique, plush texture that betrayed her cold outward expression. A thousand years on the moon apparently does wonders for the complexion.

And of course, Arnon didn't hear the end of it from his personal Guards.

Bulwark was, at first, surprised by just how much Princess Celestia came by to check on him, stepping out to give them privacy, and softly ribbed on him for getting his arm broken in such a macho attempt against the princess. He got used to it once it very blatantly became the norm.

Vivid was livid, but not really about anything in particular, considering the situation. Mostly just irritated at him for getting hurt, and not folding before his arm did. Arnon wasn't about to tell her about exactly why he toughed it out though. She didn't quite adapt as quickly to Luna visiting Arnon like Celestia did, and throws him suspicious looks every time.

What really sucked though?

There had been an issue on one of the supply deliveries for the castle. Not the most unusual thing.

Except it was for food.

His food.

Again. He hated when this happened.

This was now a full month, of Arnon being forced to only choke down pony-brand food. He's getting a horrid whiplash of his first time in Equestria, trying to figure what wasn't a Hay-based product, or something that wasn't a salad. Sure, they had fruits, vegetables... potatoes were honestly his lifeblood for a while, before he got this position.

But trying to get said resources provided by a distant nation that actually knows how to process such, consistently, without issue... ugh.

But he wanted meat. Proper, fatty meat. Delicious. Juicy. Dribbling.

It doesn't help there's a particularly meaty off-pink furred flank that keeps visiting him. Repeatedly. Constantly.

By that same flank, or whoever Faust was, or God, if he still had some reach in distant pony land... Arnon was hungry.

He groans, slumping back in his bed, sprawling out, drool down his cheek. He could feel himself wasting away... oh, woe is he... the hunger...

Princess Celestia, Diarch of Equestria | Looking for Arnon

Celestia plods through the castle halls. She'd wrapped up one of her meetings in record time, and had exactly thirteen minutes before her next one, with one of the local business owners.

Which, including the average time it took to cross the castle without blatantly teleporting everywhere... (something she had to stop doing to visit Anon, after nearly scaring one of her poor staff ponies into a coma by repeatedly popping around the castle, searching for him.)

If Arnon was where she thought he was... then Celestia had about ten minutes she could dote on him, before she had to whisk back for the meetings. Delightful, if true.

Her overabundant excitement was suddenly pestered by wayward thoughts, as she trotted down the halls. Was she being a little much? It was her fault. She got competitive, something long since unusual for her. She hadn't been like that since her youth, a thousand years prior.

When was the last time she felt that little spark? Towards anyone that wasn't Luna, anyhow... but even then, they hardly felt like equals anymore. Not to besmirch her sister, but Celestia did have quite a few years on her, now. The older-sister gap was all but titanic.

Celestia couldn't exactly pinpoint what had changed between herself and her Advisor, but... seeing Arnon actually hold his own, even if it went poorly almost instantly... there was a flutter in her chest that their flirting just couldn't quite keep up with. But, that's where her foolishness yet lied, to get over-excited and harm one she grew too close to. Or maybe she simply had fun unabashedly doting on him.

Once she had dropped him at the hospital, she had meant to leave... to give distance out of guilt. But he'd grabbed her side, mumbling and asking her to stay. So she did, bearing the shame... but he bore no upset with her. Easily forgiven, he was even playful as he reminded her of their little bet.

She sighs softly, as his room nears. She easily recognizes his spot in the guest wings, central to the castle, equal to the sisters. Though... she'd be lying if she hadn't thought about moving him into her room.

Such thoughts are quickly tucked away, as her goal comes into view. Brass Bulwark is on duty, stood outside his room. Ever dutiful, that one, and a solid choice to guard her Advisor. He bows when the Princess approaches, well used to her continuous and constant visits at this point. He nudges the door open, letting her through.

"Anon~! How are you feeling? I know it's only been thirty-three minutes since you last saw me, but..." Celestia's sing-song voice trails off. Had she been counting the minutes? Maybe Twilight's habits were starting to become her own. Hrm. She glances around the... empty room?

Celestia pauses, the smile falling from her face. Her big, pointed ears twitch, scanning for any sound as her violet eyes roam the space.

His Alicorn-sized bed, made at request... no Arnon. The sheets were thrown about, the pillows scattered. He was scheduled under her for the week, with Luna for the next, so he wouldn't be sleeping...

His desk, stacked in blank and half-written parchment, messy with numerous ink wells and quills, is also empty, the chair left dragged out. Like he was in the midst of something, and simply... disappeared.

The curtains are half drawn, barely keeping the room lot. Celestia's brow furrows as the spare minutes she held slowly tick away... where could he have gone?

The door clicks shut behind her. Did Bulwark--?

Bulwark, Day-Guard of the Royal Advisor | Outside Arnon's Room

As of recent, the Royal Advisor had been making a bad habit of slipping past Bulwark. He had this annoying capability to get away, despite being as tall as Princess Celestia.

Not today, though. Bulwark stands firm, having been stuck to Arnon like glue. A prompt and slightly out of regulations check on his charge every half an hour confirmed that yes, Arnon was still in his room. Bulwark was done with getting skipped around like some fledgling rookie. He got this position from being one of the best, wily biped be damned.

Though, the rampant attention from the Princesses was new. Bulwark and Vivid were both aware that the Princesses held the Advisor in... a personal regard, but ever since the Hoof-Wrestling competition, they've been visiting him numerous times throughout the day. And night, according to Vivid.

Speaking of, here comes Princess Celestia again. He bows, of course, and opens the door to his room. At this point he knows the routine.

Up until the door suddenly clicks shut. His eyes widen, as a soft, muffled yelp can be heard.

"Everything alright, Princess?" He asks, surprised, turning to face the door.

"O-oh, uh... yes! Everything is--frhh, Fine! Just... the door, closing! Startled me! M-must be, a... whoo. Windy! Wind. Open window." Bulwark hears through the door.

He purses his lips, nodding solemnly.
"Of course, Princess." He affirms, turning to face the hall again. Her secret was safe with him -- it wouldn't do for it to be known than the Princess herself was startled by a closing door, would it?

Bulwark holds pride in his chest, knowing how trusted he is to her.

An entirely false assumption, but Bulwark is none the wiser.

Royal Manchester Arnon, Princess Celestia | Arnon's Bedroom

She's biting her lip hard, back hoof twitching in response.

She certainly wasn't prepared for this, if the surprised noise that escaped her was anything to go by.

She tried reason, but... he was in some sort of fugue state. Arnon had been in the room, after all -- hidden behind the door. And the moment she was inside, he'd shut it, and lunged.

His hand, rough, kneads into the pudgy, meaty folds of her flank. She'd always been proud of that underlayment of muscle... but she hadn't exactly been light on the sweets lately, having never gotten around to that diet she was supposed to put herself on. Ever since that visiting baker, she's kept on a bit more... jiggle.

It's not just his hand, though. He's using his teeth. He's... biting. That little carnivorous side from being an omnivore -- he'd been complaining about the lacking Griffonian imports, lately. Was this --??

She barely stifles a moan, a shiver running through her body. Her stance shudders, faltering, taking difficulty in standing. Why? She wasn't that easy to make fold. But... well, this was something only a hand could do. Her ears are pinned against the side of her head, breath growing heavy.

This was... too much. Too much. Carefully, she puts a back-hoof against him, and pries him off, quickly trotting forward for distance.

Arnon lands on his butt, sat on the floor as Celestia moves deeper into the room. He stares forward, in a daze. Good, a moment to...

... That's not a particularly civilized face he's making at her. Is he... drooling?

Obviously, she's in no real danger. She knows he'd never hurt her -- not to mention the obvious, that very few creatures on this world even could. But... the low, predatory stance he takes as he rises from the floor, the drool he wipes from his mouth.

He growls?

She swallows hard, chest thumping. Oh Faust. Nope, not appropriate, not now, not while he's recovering, not while he's in this... state. Guilt peppers her chest; he wouldn't be going through this if she ensured his diet was being sufficiently met. He'd always made what he needed clear. This was her fault.

"I'm sorry, Arnon. Forgive me -- but please, wait but a moment. I will find you... something." She quickly mutters.

Time to go.

She closes her eyes, quickly willing forward a teleportation spell -- anywhere.

A firm hand suddenly grabs the base of her horn. Her eyes slowly open, widened in shock.

He'd already crossed the room, his hungry face inches from hers.

She could feel her magic being... stifled. Rebuffed, her spell fritzing and turning to errant sparks. His lack-of-magic was working as a ward against her spells. If she pushed, and pushed hard, she could probably force out a spell. But she might hurt him, and the fear of causing him more pain makes her hesitate.

Those aren't Arnon's eyes. Those are the eyes of a hungry beast, a creature on the prowl, driven only by carnal urges.

She knows she's not in any danger. He can't hurt her. Not just that, but... he wouldn't. Right?

His breath is hot on her face, as Celestia stands stock-still. Tense, waiting. Wings partially unfurled, eyes focused -- but entirely unready for this unusual caliber of confrontation.

He slowly licks her snout, all the way along her cheek, tongue tracing over the short fur as another growl slips from his throat. Her back-hoof stamps, tail hiking instinctively in further surprise.

"O-oh." She mutters, watching him.

Even with one arm, the other still in the sling, he's oppressive in this sudden carnal assault, gripping the base of her horn tightly, and using it to lean her head this way and that, breathing in her scent. Inspecting her... sizing her up. Not since her ancient battles with dragons, hundreds of years back into her heyday, has she been sized-up like prey like this.

His breath teases her neck... and he pauses. To slowly, firmly place his teeth against her furred flesh, toying with her. Pressing down, but not hard enough to break skin.

He pulls her head down, lips tracing up... and he bites the tip of her ear. Holding it in his mouth, Celestia can feel his grip loosen on her horn... and slowly trace back along the other side of her neck, down towards her back.

Celestia surprises herself, the way she instinctively arches as his grasp reaches her shoulders, a tremble running through her. Slowly, let's go of her ear, following his hand as it trails along her back, tracing the newfound arch in her spine...

She's free of his firm grasps, for the moment, now assailed only by teasing, soft touch. Celestia knows she could cast her spell now, and be free of this... But a hard, firm squeeze of her flank warns her against it. She bites her lip, a taboo feeling stuck firmly inside.

She can barely keep the gasp that escapes her quiet, eyes flashing wide-open. This time, his mouth finds its way not to her flank, but to her slicked folds instead. She nearly crumbles to the floor, legs shaking as he traces along her nethers with his tongue, hand still gripping, kneading, pulling at her hefty, jiggly flank, digging in with his fingers while he tastes her.

Face pressed into her, his tongue slipping deeper, a breathy moan escapes Celestia as her focus slips, eyelids fluttering. The rampant thought of being caught, the taboo feeling of the situation, and moral worry of what was happening... all culminated to play with her feelings, while waves of pleasure slammed against them, shattering her reason. They'd never gone quite this far before -- and certainly not even close when they had guards stationed right outside the door.

The teasing and often heavy flirting was one thing. Playful, a small relief from the tedium of court decorum and the behavior demanded by her station, with another who could understand. But this...

She... was probably going to be late to the next meeting. Celestia wasn't entirely sure if she could... or even wanted to try and cast her spell again. This was --

"O-Ohahooo..." She suddenly moans, legs buckling. She falls forward, barely catching herself wobbling fore-legs as he goes deeper, with more intensity. Her flank doesn't get the chance to fall, held in place by Arnon's arm.

She's panting, watching him past her own flank. She bites her own lip, letting herself indulge, if just a moment.

Brass Bulwark, Scribble Scrabble | Outside Arnon's Bedroom

Bulwark idly glances down the hall, noting an approaching pony. The Princess had been having one of her longer visits with the Advisor, thus far... she must have found a prudent moment for a visit.

Distantly, a familiar pony to Bulwark comes into view. Scribble Scrabble, one of Raven Inkwells assistants. Often used in her fetch-tasks and minor duties to alleviate her own. A mottled grey and white mare, with a contrasting bright yellow eyes.

"Bulwark -- just the pony I was hoping for!" She calls out, trotting over, her wings flapping excitedly.

"Oh? How so?" Bulwark tilts his head back, sitting on his haunches.

"Raven sent me to find the Princess! She's nearly fifteen minutes late to her next meeting... have you seen her? I heard she's been visiting the Advisor a lot, recently." Scribble cheerfully informs, tapping in place once she reaches him.

"Ah. Yes, let me..." Bulwark nods, standing and pushing open the bedroom door. "Prin..." He starts to call.

His eyes widen, staring into the room.

There's a long silence.

Scribble tilts her head, leaning to look.

Bulwark suddenly slams the door shut, Scribble flinching back.
"I will, uh... inform the Princess right away. Thank you, Scribble. You may go." He stumbles out, clearing his throat.

"Oh? Are you sure? If she's in there, I can --" Scribble starts, stepping forward.

Bulwark slams a hoof down, shaking his head. "Thank you, Scribble. Dismissed." He states firmly.

Scribbles eyes widen, and she quickly nods. Friendliness aside, there was a firm disparity between their ranks, and Bulwark held the power, here.
"S-sorry, Bulwark! T-thanks!" Scribble quickly rambles out, darting back up the hall, getting little air-hops with fluttering wings on her longer strides.

Once she's out of sight, this wing of the castle quiet again, Bulwark lets out a HEAVY breath, his composure dropping entirely.

A body-racking shudder of horror worms through him for a moment.

A lot to process with that little peek inside. And all the visits made... the giggles, the whispers, the candid interactions... made it all make a lot more sense, now.

He saw the Princess. Chest to the floor, flank hiked up on the bed, as Arnon...

Well, Arnon might not need Dinner tonight at the rate that he was going. Honestly, after witnessing that, Bulwark might skip his dinner too.

He had a lot to process tonight. He might actually take a sick day or two. First, however...

Without looking, Bulwark slams the door several times with a hoof.
"PRINCESS! A scribe has informed me that you're fifteen minutes late to your latest meeting!" He calls loudly, aimed at the door.

He waits, ear perked.

"Wu--oh! OH! FAUST, Faust-- lost track of time, I need... hey, you stop that!" The Princess mutters, giggling, before her tone gets firm. "Behave. You had your fun. Now, sit and wait here. I'll get you something to... actually eat."

Bulwark does his best to drone out the muffled voices with a long groan, blinking hard and slowly. Maybe he should retire. He was halfway to retirement age. That was close enough, right?

...

The Princess suddenly emerges from the room after a hefty pause, looking... well, to the untrained eye, regal as always.

As somepony in a constant view of her, however, Bulwark easily notes the flush to her cheeks, the idle biting of her lips, and just how bedraggled she looks.
"...May recommend stopping at your room for a touch-up, Princess." Bulwark idly comments, staring down the hall.

Princess Celestia's face scrunches in realization, looking herself over. She quickly pats Bulwark on the helmeted head with a wing.
"...Thank you, Bulwark. You're appreciated as always. And, er... do not open the door. Advisor Arnon is... in a state. I will have it handled shortly."

"No worries, Princess. Don't think I'll ever open that door again." Bulwark mumbles.

Sheepishly, but with not much time to dilly dally, Princess Celestia disappears in a burst of golden light, leaving Bulwark to his thousand yard stare.

... He needed a raise.

Diarchal Advisor Arnon, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna | Canterlot Castle Dining Hall

Evening light gently soaks into the stone works of the dining room. Three of it's regular visitors are currently within it, 'enjoying' a quiet dinner.

"Well, ist good to see that someone ist feeling better." Princess Luna idly comments, sipping her 'breakfast' coffee.

Celestia tilts her head, torn from her thoughts by the comment.
"Ah, Arnon? Yes, I... 'procured' something to help stem his... ailment, while we review our failing supply lines." Celestia nods with little energy, glancing at Arnon, sat beside her. For once, she didn't seem to have much of an appetite, picking at her own dinner sparsely.

Arnon looked... tired. Better than he did, now that he ripped into that... she didn't know the details. All she did know, is that plate was very empty, and Arnon looked far more content then he did.

He also claims to not remember anything that happened. His general lack of shame and confusion when Celestia tried to bring 'what they had gotten up to', had her believing it was true.

Following Celestia getting wrapped up in back-to-back meetings, Celestia finally found the chance to track down a Griffon she knew, who kept a... supply. She didn't ask what, or where, simply paid the feathered creature, and brought back something made of meat for their dear Advisor.

When she'd returned to provide said meal to the supposedely still-contained Advisor, however, she found Bulwark wrapped and trapped in a blanket, and generally looking quite done with his choice of career.

They managed to track Arnon down through the castle... and into Lunas' wing. Unlike Celestia, however, Luna had him pinned against a wall with various weapons, only a single, large bite-mark on Luna's mottled-black flank. How he got past the guards, none were sure, but the glare she levied at her sister told her plenty.

In the dining room, however, Luna seemed a fair bit more calm. Mostly because she'd spent most of the time ribbing them both about it.

"Delightful. One teeth-mark upon our flank was plenty..." Luna mumbles, throwing Arnon a glare. Looks like whatever he did, he damaged what good will he had built up with the Princess of the Night. Woops.

"Again, Princess. Apologies." Arnon says, lowering his head. Honestly, he was just amazed he wasn't ass-up in the dungeon or something. They must be pretty fond of him, or god-damn forgiving, if he could bite both of their asses and not end up dead.

"I'll, uh... if you'll excuse me, Princesses. I've a days worth of work to catch up on. My, er... sincerest apologies for the trouble I've caused." Arnon pushes back from the table, giving both a short bow. Celestia nods, dismissing him, Arnon quickly exiting the dining hall.

Arnon's still trying to figure out why he tastes... vanilla, as he awkwardly strides towards the exit. It wasn't the food -- that taste was on his lips since before the first bite, he was pretty sure. Plus, who seasons meat with vanilla? There was another taste, too... couldn't put his finger on it, though.

The door slams shut, leaving only the Princesses.

Lips pursed, Celestia pokes at her food, a question clearly forming.
"...Sister. When Arnon... took it upon himself to try and 'eat' you, for lack of a better term... did he do anything else?"

Luna pauses mid-sip, glancing up and raising an eyebrow.
"We're unsure of what you mean, sister... though we may recommend reviewing why we placed a creature that eats meat in the heart of our kingdom, without properly securing our supply lines to keep him sated from repeats if he's going to have these... 'episodes'."

Celestia glances back down to her meal, nodding quietly.

Luna squints, tilting her head ever so slightly, her tone sour.
"Unless... you ask, because there may be a reason? Pray tell, sister... it sounds like your experience was different than ours. Did Arnon do something to thou?"

Celestia coughs, quickly rising from the table.
"What? No, not at all, Luna. Just... concerned, for my sister. If that is all, then I should really head to bed... good night -- er, morning, Luna. Dear sister. Mmhm." Celestia rambles, looking away.

Luna quietly watches judgingly as the blush seeps into her sisters furred cheeks, Celestia obviously faking a yawn, and trotting out of the room. It's hard not to notice the numerous bite-indents on her flank and legs. Was that one on her neck, too?

As the door slams shut again, leaving Princess Luna to her lonesome, she stares into the half-drank cup of coffee.

And a slight blush crosses her cheeks. Taunting her sister was an enjoyable get-back for her siblings usual childishness. A sprinkle of silly, playful revenge... but Luna hadn't been exactly honest.

Perhaps she should continue bribing that one Supply-Master on the coast after all. A surprisingly devious grin forms on the Mare no-longer-in-the Moon. Originally, she'd started interfering with the castle's Supply runs to get back at one of Arnon and Tia's pranks. It was just to mess with him, as she was well aware of his omnivore state, and the 'prank' had left her particularly sour.

But it'd been good to see that Arnon could match the performance she'd witnessed in his Tantabus-altered dreams. An unintended side-effect. Their talk of intentions had gone... interestingly, and while not her original intentions... she could work with this.

For now, she'd probably lighten the bribe, and let things return to normal. But this was a fun little tool to keep in her repertoire.

Luna grins to herself, sipping quietly, her horn glowing as she re-casts the illusion spell hiding her own numerous bite marks.