by Drakkanien
edited by a friend

Lieutenant Gale was having a very bad day.

Not that it was uncommon - bad days came with the job when you were an officer in the Royal Guard. Long hours, fried nerves, and endless responsibility were the norm. She was on duty twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, with barely enough time to catch her breath, let alone properly rest. Overseeing her troops, managing the labyrinthine bureaucracy of Canterlot Castle, and fulfilling even the strangest orders of her superiors meant there was always a new fire to put out. No pony had ever promised it would be easy, but Gale sometimes wondered if the benefits, the prestige, and the polished armor were worth the toll it took on her body and mind.

Today, however, was shaping up to be a particularly dreadful one.

Her morning had started long before Celestia’s sun rose above the horizon. The faint blush of dawn had barely touched the sky when Gale was already at her desk, quill in hoof, slogging through paperwork that had multiplied overnight like parasprites in an unguarded pantry. Reports, rosters, incident logs - her desk groaned under the weight of it all. Just as she finished organizing one stack of documents, a courier barged in, dropping what felt like half the castle's archives onto her already cluttered desk.

“Here are your reports, ma’am.” The courier’s tone was polite, but the apologetic flick of his ears betrayed the fact that he knew what he was about to unleash.

Gale stared at the new mountain of paperwork, her left eye twitching involuntarily. The courier, a wiry stallion wearing the Royal Courier insignia, was now rifling through his clipboard, double-checking his list of deliveries.

“Ugh…” Gale groaned, pressing a hoof to her forehead as a lone slip of paper detached itself from the pile and floated lazily to the floor. “At ease. Please tell me this isn’t about…”

“It is.” The courier winced, offering her a sympathetic look. His eyes darted between his clipboard and the frazzled lieutenant. “That storm anomaly over the Diplomatic Wing caused quite the ruckus. Nopony seems to know how or why it happened, so now every department and their granddam want an explanation.”

“Of course they do.” Gale muttered darkly, slumping back in her chair. Her gaze shifted from the paperwork to her much-abused coffee mug, which sat buried somewhere beneath the pile. The mug was stained to the point where it could probably qualify as a hazardous artifact, but cleaning it would mean setting aside precious time she didn’t have. She blinked blearily at it, then at the courier.

“I’ll need more coffee.” She mumbled, more to herself than to him.

“Already got you covered, ma’am!” The courier chirped, producing a thermos with a triumphant grin. He poured her a steaming cup of mocha, the rich aroma cutting through her mental fog.

“It’s not black.” Gale said, taking the cup anyway. “But it’ll do.”

“You’re welcome.” The courier grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Anything else you need, ma’am?”

“Short of a time-spell and a clone of myself? No.” Gale gave him a faint smile, the kind that only came from pure exhaustion.

As the courier left her to her mountain of duties, Gale stared at the mess on her desk, sighed heavily, and took a long, fortifying sip of her coffee. It was going to be a very, very long day.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Celestia’s sun was nearing its zenith by the time Gale finally managed to emerge from her cramped office. The bulk of her paperwork had been resolved - or at least kicked far enough down the road that she could afford to leave it for another day. It was a small triumph, but one she savored. Stretching her stiff legs and wings, she jumped at the chance to escape the endless tedium of forms, checklists, and incident reports.

The guardhouse was oddly quiet at this hour, as it often was when the patrols were out. Most of the guards under her command were scattered across the castle grounds, walking their routes or stationed at key checkpoints, leaving only a handful of ponies behind to keep things running smoothly. The rare sound of a hoofstep echoed faintly from the corridor behind her as a messenger trotted by, but otherwise, the place felt eerily still.

Once outside, Gale paused to let the warm rays of the midday sun soak into her grey coat and feathers. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, releasing a long, strained sigh. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. The open air called to her like an old friend, tempting her to take flight and leave the castle behind, if only for a little while.

Perhaps a quick inspection of the outer checkpoints was in order? It would give her an excuse to stretch her wings, and she could still claim she was being productive.

Before she could decide, something unusual caught her eye - a glint of green reflecting brightly against the polished cobblestones. Gale frowned. It wasn’t the familiar hue of grass or the shimmer of tree leaves. This was sharper, more striking, like the light dancing on the surface of a gemstone.

Her curiosity piqued, Gale turned toward the source of the reflection.

Lying sprawled on a patch of sunlit grass, her crystalline form gleaming brilliantly in the midday light, was the culprit: Malachite. Or “Molly,” as she’d insisted everypony call her. The Crystal Pony was one of their newest recruits, one that came with a letter of commendation, though Gale privately wondered how much the mare understood about the intricacies of guard duty in Equestria.

Molly had been assigned to shadow the Saddle Arabian envoy - a task of great importance, given the political delicacy of their guest. And yet here she was, lounging in the sun like a cat without a care in the world.

Gale’s temples throbbed as she processed the scene. Of all the days to slack off…

With purposeful, heavy hoofsteps, Gale approached the Crystal Pony, her iron-shod hooves thudding against the cobblestones with just enough force to make her irritation known. She stopped a few paces away, her shadow falling over the shimmering green pony.

“Molly.” Gale’s voice was cool, but the underlying hint of command was impossible to miss.

The Crystal Pony blinked lazily, tilting her head to look up at the lieutenant. “Oh, Lieutenant Gale! Fancy seeing you here.” Molly’s voice was light and cheerful, a stark contrast to Gale’s steely demeanor.

Gale’s eye twitched. This was going to be a conversation.

“I distinctly recall giving you a very important assignment.” Gale began, her voice carrying the tone of an officer who was rapidly losing patience. Her hoof rapped against the cobblestone pavement, her glare fixed on the Crystal Pony lounging in the sunlight. “You were to keep that Saddle Arabian envoy under constant watch. Not let her out of your sight for even a moment.”

“Her name is Ahrisham.” Molly corrected cheerfully as she rolled onto her stocky legs, standing with a faint groan. The sunlight caught her crystalline body, sending a brief cascade of shimmering green light across the ground.

“You were to not let Ahrisham out of your sight.” Gale repeated, her wingtip pressing against her temple as though massaging away an incoming headache.

“And I didn’t!” Molly chirped, standing tall with a smile that bordered on smug. Even as she stood at attention, her sheer size made Gale painfully aware of how much taller and bulkier the Crystal Pony was compared to the average Equestrian. “I swear on the Crystal Heart, I’ve been her shadow. Literally! To Ahrisham’s great amusement.” She giggled, then raised a foreleg to reveal a colorful bracelet dangling from her hoof. “See? We even made these friendship bracelets!”

The bracelet was an eclectic mix of strings and polished crystal shards, including a prominent piece of malachite that matched Molly’s body so perfectly it almost seemed like it had been chipped off her.

“If you’re such good friends…” Gale swatted Molly’s hoof aside with her wing. “... then what in Tartarus are you doing here? You’re clearly not being a ‘shadow’ for this Ahrisham now.”

“I was getting to that.” Molly moaned, her tone suggesting she thought Gale was overreacting. She puffed out her chest, which only served to draw attention to the ornate gilded armor strapped to her barrel. “It’s just that recently, Ahrisham’s been spending a lot of time with that fancy colt. You know, the one with the mane that’s always too perfect? Whenever he’s around, he tells me off.”

The lack of a grin on Molly’s face told Gale this wasn’t some trivial excuse.

“What do you mean, ‘tells you off’?” Gale’s eyes narrowed. “No ordinary pony would dare give such an order to a guard on duty.”

“Well…” Molly hesitated, her ears flattening slightly as she pawed at the ground. “Do you remember that whole ‘An Imperial FU’ thing? When that important-looking Unicorn stallion moved me around like a piece of furniture, ducking behind me whenever the lightning struck nearby?”

“You mean Prince Blueblood?” Gale’s mouth twitched as she tried to suppress a grin as the vivid memory flooded her mind.

“Yeah, that one.” Molly’s crystalline cheeks flushed faintly, though her posture remained steady. “Turns out he’s been seeing Lady Ahrisham regularly now. And whenever he’s around, he makes a point of telling me to stay out of the way.”

At that, Gale let out the first genuine laugh she’d had all day. “How could I forget? The entire unit was making jokes about it for an entire week - right up until you tossed one of them out a window!”

“I don’t regret earning that detention.” Molly grumbled, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward in a sheepish grin.

Gale’s chuckle lingered as she straightened her posture, her keen eyes studying the Crystal Pony. “But hold on a moment… are you saying Prince Blueblood has been spending time with the Saddle Arabian envoy?” Her tone betrayed her smile, and her wings gave a slight flutter of interest. “Now that’s some juicy gossip.”

“Mhm!” Molly nodded rapidly, her crystalline mane shimmering faintly in the sunlight. “I don’t want to imply anything, but…”

Before the two mares could spice up the story with their own dramatic and completely unnecessary - details, a series of sharp, if distant, gasps followed by an unfamiliar warbling language stole their attention. The sound was accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of armored hooves against cobblestone and the distinct chime of metal brushing against metal. Gale’s ears perked up, her gaze sweeping the street.

The cadence of the approaching steps was unfamiliar. Gale had memorized the gait of nearly everypony in her unit; whoever was approaching was not one of her soldiers.

What appeared around the bend, however, was far from what Gale expected. Two imposing figures trotted through the street toward them, their polished, scale-like armor gleaming under Celestia’s sun. Each of their steps was heavy and deliberate, yet almost unnervingly graceful. Gale’s held in her breath. These weren’t just any Saddle Arabians, these were Immortals - their lady’s personal guard.

Molly was an imposing figure herself, with her large frame and crystalline physique. But standing beside these towering, masked warriors clad in ornate yet battle-worn armor, even she appeared diminutive.

Gale instinctively shrank back, her wings twitching nervously at her sides. For a brief moment, she considered stepping behind Molly, but her pride refused to let her retreat so easily. She squared her shoulders instead, silently hoping her armor’s shine didn’t betray the growing unease crawling under her fur.

The Immortals’ presence was intimidating. Their armor bore marks of battle - scratches, dents, and faded smears of what could only be dried blood. Each scarred scale was like a grim badge, a testament to blows endured that would have been fatal to an unarmored pony. These weren’t ceremonial guards; these were warriors who had seen - and survived - combat.

Gale’s thoughts spiraled briefly, her imagination conjuring unsettling images of the kind of battles these soldiers might have faced. But before she could dwell on it further, one of the Immortals stepped forward, drawing her full attention.

This stallion’s helmet was adorned with a striking plume of peacock feathers that swayed elegantly with his movements. He reached up and lifted the metal mask shielding his face, revealing a roguishly handsome visage. His grin was wide, almost boyish, but there was something undeniably sly behind his green eyes.

His gaze flicked between Molly and Gale, lingering longer on Gale. She felt her feathers ruffle involuntarily under his scrutiny, her hooves itching to take a step back. But she held her ground, sucking in a steadying breath.

The Peacock-Helm Stallion spoke in his flowery, lyrical tongue, his words rolling off his tongue in a cadence that sounded almost musical. His eyes roamed over Gale’s face, her wings, then back to her eyes, his curiosity practically tangible.

Whatever he said caused his companion, still masked, to let out a long, muffled groan. Without hesitation, the second Immortal raised a hoof and smacked Peacock-Helm firmly on the shoulder. The roguish stallion stumbled slightly but erupted into boisterous laughter, clearly unfazed by his companion’s disapproval.

“Uhm, what…?” Gale stammered, utterly lost. She blinked at the Saddle Arabians, unable to understand even a single syllable.

“I’m not sure…” Molly chimed in, her muzzle scrunched up in concentration. “But I think I caught a word for ‘feather’ in there…?” Her tone wavered, betraying her uncertainty.

“Feather?” Gale’s voice rose slightly as she unconsciously spread her wings ever so slightly, her feathers catching the sunlight. She regretted the motion instantly, as Peacock-Helm’s eyes lit up like a colt on Hearth’s Warming morning.

Peacock-Helm repeated the phrase again, his green eyes locked on Gale’s trembling wings with uncanny intensity. His gestures became even more animated, his hooves moving through the air in energetic arcs as he closed the gap between himself and the two mares. Personal space, it seemed, was a completely alien concept to him.

“There it is again - feather!” Molly exclaimed triumphantly, her crystalline ears perking up as she caught the familiar word in the Immortal’s speech. “I think he wants something to do with your wings…?”

Gale’s feathers bristled as she tucked her wings tightly against her sides, her discomfort plain as day. “Since when can you understand what they’re saying?” She grumbled, her tone irritated.

“I don’t.” Molly admitted with a casual shrug, her crystalline body shimmering slightly as she moved. “I just know a few basic words that Ahrisham taught me.”

“Very helpful.” Gale muttered through clenched teeth, casting a sharp glare at Peacock-Helm, who was now performing what could only be described as a melodramatic wail of disappointment.

Undeterred by Gale’s reaction, the Saddle Arabian soldier switched tactics. He began to speak more slowly, emphasizing each word as though sheer repetition might bridge the language barrier. At the same time, his hooves mimicked a plucking motion, followed by a gesture toward the plume of peacock feathers atop his helmet. He repeated the sequence several times, his movements becoming increasingly exaggerated as if the meaning would somehow become clearer through sheer force of enthusiasm.

Molly squinted at him, her crystalline features contorting with concentration as she tried to piece together his meaning. “I think he wants…?”

“Yes… but why…?” Gale interrupted, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“I don’t know. Can’t you just give him one?”

“No!” Gale snapped, perhaps a bit louder than she intended. Her outburst startled both Molly and the Saddle Arabians, the latter exchanging curious glances before Peacock-Helm broke into a wide grin.

“Uhm, why not?” Molly asked, her crystalline ears tilting slightly as she regarded Gale with genuine confusion.

Gale’s face flushed as she glanced between Molly and the eagerly gesturing Immortal. She suddenly realized the cultural gap between her and the others was wider than she’d anticipated. Neither Molly, a Crystal Pony from the far north, nor the Saddle Arabians would have any understanding of the subtle customs and cues that defined Pegasi culture.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Gale decided to explain. Her voice dropped, and she shifted uncomfortably on her hooves. “Uhm… tell him that gifting somepony one of your feathers can be… well, it’s considered a very intimate gesture among Pegasi.”

Molly’s crystalline ears flicked as she processed Gale’s words. “Intimate how?”

“Like…” Gale hesitated, searching for the least awkward way to phrase it. “Like a… a form of courtship.” She muttered, her usual confident tone completely absent. Right now, she wasn’t Lieutenant Gale, the composed and commanding officer of the Royal Guard. She was just Gale - flustered, cornered, and mortified by the absurdity of the situation.

Peacock-Helm, oblivious to the tension his request had caused, tilted his head curiously as he waited for some sort of response. His grin grew wider, clearly taking Gale’s hesitation as a sign of encouragement.

Hearing Gale’s words, Molly just stared at her Lieutenant, the corners of her mouth twitching as she valiantly fought to suppress a laugh. After a moment of intense struggle, she let out a long exhale, managing to force her features into something resembling seriousness. “Fine…” She finally said, her voice tinted with barely contained mirth.

Turning toward Peacock-Helm, Molly attempted to use the meager hoofful of Saddle Arabian words she had picked up from Ahrisham to relay the message. What followed could only be described as a chaotic garble of exaggerated gestures, fragmented phrases, and expressions, as Molly struggled to string together anything resembling a coherent sentence.

The Immortal’s reaction was one of confusion and concentration, his eyes narrowing as he tried to guess the meaning from her disjointed attempts. At one point, Molly resorted to flapping her forelegs in a crude imitation of wings, causing the Peacock-Helm to tilt his head like a curious bird.

The exchange dragged on much longer than it should have, with both participants clearly enjoying the bizarre challenge. Their shared enthusiasm seemed to transcend the language barrier, and Gale found herself marveling at their persistence.

Each time it seemed like progress was being made, however, the two would veer off into a completely unrelated tangent, picking up new words and teaching each other gestures that seemed entirely unrelated to the topic at hoof.

Gale did her best to maintain her composure, but it was clear that her earlier outburst had left cracks in her usually composed demeanor. Her wings remained tucked tightly against her sides, though every so often, a feather would twitch involuntarily, betraying her mounting frustration.

Her gaze shifted to the other Saddle Arabian, who had remained notably silent throughout the ordeal. The second Immortal stood a few paces away, observing the scene with an air of detached amusement. His mask obscured most of his features, but his posture - relaxed, yet attentive - spoke volumes.

Sensing Gale’s eyes on him, the other Immortal turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the language barrier forming an invisible wall between them. Then, with a subtle motion, he jerked his chin toward Peacock-Helm, who was still deeply engrossed in his lively ‘conversation’ with Molly.

Gale arched an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line as she let out a long, tired exhale. “Your friend is very… particular.” She said, her tone neutral. Her eyes flicked back to Peacock-Helm, who was now miming the act of plucking a feather from an imaginary wing, much to Molly’s apparent delight.

The other Immortal responded with a single dip of his head, his voice carrying the faintest hint of resignation as he spoke in his native tongue. Whatever he said was delivered with the calm indifference of someone used to apologizing for the antics of a friend.

Of course, Gale understood none of it. “Yeah, me too.” She muttered under her breath, her tone half sympathetic and half exasperated.

The other Immortal’s head tilted slightly, as though considering her words. For a brief, fleeting moment, Gale wondered if he might have understood her after all. But then he gave a small shrug, his body language an inscrutable mix of agreement and dismissal.

Gale sighed, dragging a hoof down her face. “I swear, this day can’t get any stranger.” She muttered, though she knew better than to tempt fate.

After Molly and Peacock-Helm exchange a few more exaggerated gestures and words, Molly finally claps her hooves together, exclaiming, “Oh, I get it now!” She turns to Gale with a grin far too wide for comfort. “He says he really wants one of your feathers.”

Gale, who had just begun to relax her tense wings, stiffens all over again. “He what?”

Before Gale can properly react, Peacock-Helm takes a bold step forward, puffing out his chest and dipping his head ever so slightly in a gesture that might have been an attempt at a bow. The roguish grin plastered across his face leaves no doubt that he understands exactly what his request implies.

The other Immortal groans audibly, muttering something in their shared language before giving Peacock-Helm another solid whack on the back of the head. The offending stallion winces but doesn’t lose his grin. Instead, he sidesteps just out of swatting range, avoiding any subsequent strikes coming his way. He was still looking at Gale with an expectant expression.

“I can’t believe this…” Gale mumbles, dragging a hoof down her face. “He’s not serious, is he?”

“He’s absolutely serious,” Molly chimes in, barely stifling a giggle. “And I think he knows what it means now, too.”

“I’ll bet he does…” Gale mutters darkly, her feathers fluffing involuntarily. “What in Equestria makes him think I’d even consider—”

Peacock-Helm, sensing her hesitation, takes a daring gamble. He places a hoof over his heart and says something in a tone so melodramatic that it would tug on heartstrings of the dead. Then, as if to make his point, he mimics plucking a feather from an imaginary wing and holds it up as though it were a priceless treasure.

Molly, who has been watching the whole exchange with barely contained glee, finally chips in. “Lieutenant, you’ve got to admit, this is kind of adorable.”

“Adorable?” Gale snaps, though the blush creeping into her cheeks betrays her embarrassment. “This is insane!”

The other Immortal, clearly fed up with his companion’s antics, mutters something sharp and pulls Peacock-Helm back by the scruff of his armor. With a final, apologetic glance toward Gale, he drags his friend away, the latter still grinning, knee-deep in his theatrics as though he hadn’t just caused an incident.

Gale watches them go, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. “I don’t even… What just happened?”

Molly shrugs, her crystalline coat glinting in the sunlight. “I think you’ve got an admirer, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, don’t even start.” Gale groans, her wings ruffling as she turns away.

But as the two mares start walking back toward the guardhouse, Molly leans in with a conspiratorial grin. “You know, Lieutenant, if you ever did decide to give him a feather, imagine the look on his face. Or the look on his friend’s face!” She bursts into laughter at the thought.

Gale rolls her eyes but can’t suppress the tiniest of smirks. “Molly, I swear, you’re impossible.”

Author's Note

My first attempt at intermission!

I have few more ideas for them, including those between already established chapters following misadventures of other side and background characters to breathe-in some life into them.