When Sundancer opened the doors to the Empress bedroom, she was met by a blast of hot and humid air, as if she’d just stepped into a bath house. The atmosphere and the overwhelming scent of frankincense and bergamot that permeated the room made her feel immediately dizzy, though the pale mare playing a harp in the corner of the room seemed entirely unfazed.

The harpist was dressed in a draped and loose-fitting gown, but the Empress, who lounged on a chaise by the roaring fireplace, was dressed in nothing but jewelry. Though to say it was ‘nothing but’ was a disservice to the sheer amount of gold that adorned her body. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and more—many of which were encrusted with gemstones or connected via golden chains—hung off her in such quantities she looked more like a gilded figurine than a real pony.

A tall and enormously powerful figurine, Sundancer thought, reminding herself that whatever otherworldly beauty she may possess, the Empress was, in fact, a tyrannical despot and not a piece of art. She took a cautious step into the room, the doors closing behind her on their own.

Unlike during her trial, when the Empress’ mane had seemed to float, looking almost alive with its dancing hues and constellations, it now hung straight from her head, sheer bangs obscuring flame-circled eyes like the scrim of a shadow play. And just like a shadow puppet, those eyes seemed to Sundancer to contain an endless wealth of malice and secrets.

“Kneel.”

The Empress spoke the word softly, like a gentle request whispered into a lover’s ear, but as soon as the sound left her lips, the air around Sundancer began to shiver, and a great power pressed down on her, forcing her to her knees. The indignation bristled, and she tried her best to push back, to stand up and look the Empress’ in the eyes. But no matter how much Sundancer strained against the unseen weight, she could not overcome it. Her knees began to burn, and her neck grew sore to the point that she began to cry.

The harpist played on, and for several agonizing minutes, the Empress said nothing until, eventually, Sundancer’s strength failed her. She felt her body grow slack, giving in to the Empress’ indomitable will, and the tears—as much from the pain as from embarrassed frustration—continued to fall.

“Good,” the Empress said. “Next time, you will kneel by choice, or I’ll be forced to make you, as I did just now. I will not be as gentle.”

The pressure released, and Sundancer did her best to stand back up on her trembling legs. The Empress, appearing as unconcerned as ever, materialized a gold and diamond-encrusted hookah as if from thin air and levitated a glowing coal from the fireplace onto the bowl, taking a long, deep breath through the amethyst-tipped hose. When she exhaled, the thick smoke sparkled and swirled as if enchanted.

“Do you enjoy music?” the Empress asked. She nodded towards the harpist. “This is Elderflower. Along with her many other skills, she is a most talented singer and musician. I suspect that, aside from performing menial labor, you do not bring nearly as much to the table. Though it would please me to be wrong.”

Sundancer took a deep breath, unclenching her jaw. Her eyes still stung, but at least the tears were drying up. The Empress was right. Sundancer was not particularly well-read, nor did she have any practice with the arts or the sciences. Her parents were farmers, a craft they had passed down to her. She had some talent with the weather, but practice had been hard to come by, seeing as it was illegal for pegasi to manipulate the weather without a permit from the Empress’ Vicar of the Winds.

“I’m a farmer... Your Majesty. I can grow crops. I have some knowledge of weather and can work metal and wood passably. Nothing refined. How to repair a broken plow or build a shed. That kind of thing.”

The Empress looked her over and nodded. “As I feared. You will be taught the things you’ll need to know, and you will learn quickly, lest you wish to be punished. It’s my intention that you partially serve your sentence by assisting my lady’s maid. This job will require you not only to clean, cook, and care for my person but also to assist the both of us in more specialized tasks.”

Sundancer thought back to what the Empress had said about assigning her the most difficult and backbreaking labor, and this seemed like a soft departure from that. She kept her thoughts to herself in case she was proven wrong or gave the Empress any ideas.

“Approach me,” the Empress said, and though Sundancer hesitated for just a moment, her lesson in humility was still fresh in her mind and joints. She stepped closer to the alicorn, trying not to let the Empress’ arcane countenance frighten her and also trying not to cough as the smoke from the hookah enveloped her. It tasted sweet and tingled on her tongue and in her nose.

The Empress levitated a brush over. Unlike everything else in the room, which was gilded with gold or made of dark wood so polished Sundancer could use it as a mirror, the brush was plain. She knew enough to appreciate the craftsmanship, but it lacked polish or flourish and was very old, clearly worn, and having had its bristles replaced many times.

“Take this,” she said, placing the brush in Sundancer’s outstretched wing. “Rest.”

The second was a command for Elderflower, who ceased playing and walked over to the two of them, sitting down with her back to Sundancer and facing the Empress. Without music, the atmosphere in the room felt thick and hostile.

“You will brush Elderflower’s hair. One hundred strokes, and I will... correct your mistakes as you go.”

Sundancer stared down at the brush, flabbergasted. She had expected something like scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush or hauling ingredients to and from the kitchen. Not whatever this was. Elderflower seemed entirely unbothered, but Sundancer’s hooves and wings were not accustomed to delicate things, and she had seldom had occasion to apply a light touch.

The Empress’ face was a study in marble, expressionless and cold, so Sundancer kept her eyes firmly locked on Elderflower’s glossy mane, fighting a growing sense of dread and trying not to think too hard about what she was doing. She had brushed Willow’s hair hundreds of times before, though it was often a quick exercise born of necessity more than a desire for beauty. Matted hair was a fertile breeding ground for lice.

The bristles dug awkwardly into the musician’s purple hair, and though she tried her best to be gentle, to pull down carefully while draping the mane over her other hoof for support, the brush snagged ever so briefly on the first down stroke. Elderflower gasped softly. Certainly, it was an involuntary response and would have been barely perceptible if not for the deafening silence in the Empress’ bed chamber.

A crack like thunder cut through the air as something invisible struck Sundancer on the side of the head with enough force to slam her limp body into the floor, her skull bouncing off the rug like a rubber ball. She had barely enough awareness to notice Elderflower crying out as her head was yanked backward by the brush and that the wetness she felt around her ear was blood.

The last thing she saw was the Empress’ bored, unconcerned eyes. Then, the world disappeared, swallowed by darkness and pain.

-

She awoke in comfort. Groggy, for sure, and uncertain of where she was. But there was no pain, and when she raised a hoof to check the side of her head, there was no wound, just a mild soreness like an old bruise. She was sure the Empress’ blow had left her bleeding profusely.

“She is a very talented healer,” said a voice in the dark, followed by a soft clicking sound as a wall-mounted oil lamp flickered to life. Sundancer sat up in the bed she’d been lying in. It was small and plain, but the mattress was soft, and all the fabric looked to be of a much higher quality than anything she had ever owned herself.

The room she found herself in wasn’t particularly large. Aside from the bed, there was a desk with some writing tools, a large chest—the kind used for clothing and personal items—and a bookshelf with a dozen or so well-kept volumes. They seemed to be mostly dictionaries, history tomes, and a few educational textbooks.

She also noticed with some surprise that the walls, painted white, had beautifully gilded base panels and that the intricately patterned parquet floor was covered in well-woven, multi-colored rugs. So, this was not a dungeon but rather the living quarters of a well-to-do servant.

By the door, on a cushioned white chair, sat a... pony? Sundancer wasn’t sure. Whoever she was, she looked like an unusually tall and slender earth pony, but there was something altogether off-putting about her. She had a dreamy look on her face—as if she wasn’t quite awake—and she was smiling in a way that Sundancer would have described as kind on anypony else, but that currently sent a shiver up her spine.

Like Elderflower had been, this mare was dressed in a diaphanous white gown that seemed in some ways lighter than the air around it, and though she too was adorned in pearls—they hung around her neck, from her ears, and from a rose-gold chain encircling the top of her head—, she had also woven tiny crystal flowers into her long flaxen mane.

Her coat was pale. Not white like Elderflowers, but rather a clean, tannish gray color, like morning fog or the clouds over a rising sun, and her heavily lidded eyes followed suit. She thought they might be blue, but if so, it was such a light shade they might as well have been gray. It made the mare look almost blind. Altogether, she unsettled Sundancer, and she briefly imagined this must be what a ghost would look like.

“Hi...” Sundancer heard herself say awkwardly. The mare by the door giggled, and once again, the sound should have been soothing, the sort of absentminded giggle a silly girl at a midsummer dance might have made at a particularly handsome colt. Instead, it set her teeth on edge. She wanted very much for the strange mare to leave.

“Hi, Sundancer,” the mare said, her voice slow and soft. “I’m Gossamer, the lady’s maid to Mistress Twilight.”

Sundancer nodded. That made sense, though Gossamer’s casual use of the Empress’ first name only increased the unpleasant and esoteric nature of her presence.

She opened her mouth to apologize for taking up space in Gossamer’s room and using her bed, but before she could speak, a whisper seemed to slither across the walls of the room, stalking through the air and burrowing into her ears as if from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

Shhhh, it said. Be still. Sundancer swallowed hard and tried to suppress the shiver of fear that spread through her shoulders and forelegs.

“Sundancer,” Gossamer said, chewing the name over, though clearly speaking only to herself. “What a peculiar name. It’s... a dangerous name.” She giggled again, and though Sundancer couldn’t have said why, she was overcome by a powerful urge to empty her stomach. She also realized she’d broken out in a cold sweat.

“This room is for you,” Gossamer said as if having read Sundancer’s mind. “It’s very kind of her to put you here, so near to her and in such comfortable accommodations. But tsk tsk, you mustn’t anger her so when you’ve only just—” She stopped speaking, tilting her head as if she’d heard a sound, then yawned before finishing. “...arrived.”

Gossamer stood from her chair, and even that seemed not quite real. Each tiny movement was precise and fluid, like water flowing from one place to another. She opened the door and turned her head to Sundancer.

“It’s morning now, but the Mistress has given you the day to rest and recover. Be a good girl, won’t you?”

It wasn’t until she stepped out and closed the door behind her that the unmoored whisper returned, clinging to the air and the walls like grease to a skillet.

Or else.

Sundancer leapt from her bed and rushed to the door, slamming it open and looking up and down the narrow corridor outside. It curved away in both directions, so she could only see a few yards either way. Gossamer was gone, but in an alcove directly across from the door stood a guard. It was the bat pony, Moss.

She looked displeased to see Sundancer up and about.

“Ah,” she said, and Sundancer was certain she’d never heard a more unsure guard. “You’re supposed to be resting. The captain told me you... He said you had an accident.”

Sundancer sneered at Moss. “I’m sure you know it wasn’t an accident. Where did Gossamer go?”

Moss paled at the mention of the lady’s maid and shook her head. “I can’t tell you. Besides,” she repeated, “you should be resting.”

“Why? I just need to know which direction she went.”

Moss sighed and shook her head again.

“Look, I can’t tell you because I don’t know. Miss Gossamer isn’t... she’s not like you and me. It’s hard for most of us to look at her directly, and she kind of folds away out of sight when she’s walking away from you. It messes with your memory. I know she was here, and now she isn’t. That’s it.”

Sundancer chewed on her lip for a moment, thinking, then nodded her head. “So I’m not going crazy, at least. That’s good. I was worried my accident was making me see and hear things.”

The mention of the violence perpetrated against her made Moss look even more uncomfortable, which Sundancer hadn’t thought possible. She sighed and took a moment to collect herself, closing the door behind her and fully stepping into the hallway.

This was her room, which was a surprise in and of itself. She hadn’t expected such fine accommodations, nor had she expected the freedom to come and go, having fully expected to be locked up when not actively working. She’d been told to rest but, aside from that, had been given no further instructions or information.

“Are you under orders to keep me here?” she asked.

“No,” Moss said, “just to stay near you. I’m supposed to make sure you’re safe.” She looked around Sundancer at the closed door and sighed. “You really should stay here and rest, though... please.”

“Can you take me to Willow?” Sundancer asked and felt her heart drop when Moss shook her head.

“You’re not supposed to see her for at least a week, according to the Matron. She said she wants Willow to get used to being away from you. You can see her on Saint Meadow’s Eve, six days from now. All the children in the 7th Ward will be visiting the Chapel of Kindness at the east end of the Palace Grounds. You can see her then.”

Sundancer sat down and took a deep breath. The Matron was right. It would be in Willow’s best interest to get used to her absence, and rushing to her every moment she had free, with no guarantee she’d be able to continue to do so, would hardly help.

She looked up at Moss with a furrowed brow.

“Could you show me the layout of the palace so I can get my bearings?”

Moss’ dark green eyes nervously darted this way and that, and it wasn’t until Sundancer pointed out that she would go exploring regardless that the guard reluctantly agreed.

As it turned out, the quarters set aside for the more important servants and the Empress’ various functionaries took up the entire north section of the palace. Sundancer shared a hallway with three of the palace chefs, the head groundskeeper, the grown son of the Keeper of the Seals, a handful of officers, and surprisingly, because she had not been aware there even was such a thing, the Court Jester.

Imagining the Empress enjoying the buffoonery of a clown was like trying to imagine a rock smiling or a tree dancing. Possible, but fundamentally, a fantasy.

This was all revealed to her by Moss, as the shared corridor and commons her room connected to were empty. The only exception was Andesite, the son of the Keeper of the Seals. He was sitting on a chaise lounge by a large window, reading a book and looking tremendously bored. Everything about his appearance annoyed Sundancer the moment she saw him.

His hooves were immaculate—perfectly glossy and healthy—and he was wearing a loose-fitting white blouse with an old dark stain along the frills of the collar. Spilled wine, no doubt. His dark mane was kept short, tied up in button braids, and his chestnut coat actually seemed to shimmer. Careless, rich, and unaccustomed to work or hardship. It was all she could do not to spit when they came upon him.

“Salutations, Moss,” he said, not looking up from his book. His voice was melodious in a way that made Sundancer think he was a singer or, at the very least, a poet. “And good morning to you too, Miss Murderer. We’re all very delighted to have you in our midst.”

“I’m sure,” she said, infusing her words with as much ice as possible, but if he noticed, he gave no indication.

“Hi, Andy.” Moss’ voice sounded sheepish. Or, well, more sheepish than normal, and Sundancer was surprised to see she was blushing. She rolled her eyes and sighed. What anypony ever saw in stallions like him, she’d never know. She glanced at the book he was reading, but the worn fabric cover was blank.

“My father was quite upset the Empress didn’t throw you in the dungeons for the rest of your life.” He snapped the book shut and tossed it towards the other end of the chaise lounge. It landed on the cushion but slid and fell off onto the floor with a soft slap, which made him sigh, though he left it where it lay.

Sundancer, thinking about her last meeting with the Empress, considered that being tossed in the dungeon might have actually been a less hazardous punishment. If not for the fact that Willow was cared for, she might have even preferred it.

“I can’t imagine a situation in which your father’s opinion would matter even the slightest to me,” she said.

Instead of looking offended, Andesite just chuckled.

“That’s probably for the best. He’s old and full of vinegar and bile. I suppose being cooped up with so many candles, documents, and filing cabinets every day for years on end makes a pony bitter. Gainful employment in exchange for killing a guard does seem an awful light sentence, though. You can’t blame ponies for thinking you got off easy.”

“Who am I to question the Empress’ wisdom?” she said, suddenly tired and unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“Oh?” Andesite said, smiling. “I assumed a hardened criminal such as yourself puts as much stock in the will of the Empress as she does the laws of the land.”

“Not much at all then,” Sundancer muttered.

He raised and waved a conciliatory hoof. “Those are your words, not mine.”

She growled and turned to leave. If everyone she met in the palace was going to be either a nuisance, like Andesite, or a clear danger to her health and well-being, like the Empress and Gossamer, she would need to get a grip on her temper and start practicing some humility.

She felt it would be easy with the Empress, as fear would do the job for her, but she didn’t need the rest of the palace’s residents harboring more animosity towards her than they already did. She felt strangely grateful for Moss in that moment, who was certainly a fool, but seemed to harbor no actual malice for her.

Moss said goodbye to Andesite, who mumbled something in return that Sundancer—who had already turned her back on him—couldn’t hear, then hurried to catch up to her.

“He’s really not all that bad,” the guard said, trying to defend him from whatever she saw in Sundancer’s face.

“He lives here,” Sundancer said. “He was born into nonsensical wealth and has never known want in his life. It matters very little to me if he happens to be nice or not.”

They continued to walk in silence, except for Moss pointing out the locations of various rooms, such as the kitchen and the library. She also showed Sundancer how to find her way back to the stairs leading up to the Empress’ tower.

“I know you were up there yesterday morning,” Moss said, looking with obvious unease at the stairs. “Tomorrow, you’ll probably be accompanied by Gossamer, but you should know the tower changes. Just so you’re not caught off guard.”

“The murals, you mean?” Despite herself, Sundancer couldn’t help but feel a curious excitement. She had been so certain some of those murals moved when she looked at them for more than a few seconds.

“Sure, but everything else too. Like rooms and hallways that weren’t there before.”

Sundancer nodded. For some reason, none of that surprised her. She was starting to think not much in the palace would anymore. There was an oppressive sense of wrongness that hung over everything, a thrum of ambient magic that even a pegasus like herself could feel. Between the Empress, Gossamer, and the murals, it was just as she’d thought the morning prior; the sooner she could get used to the unpredictable, the better.

After that, Moss took her down a hallway into an enclosed courtyard. The grass and bushes here were lush and dark despite the heatwave and the withering of plant life elsewhere. In the center of the courtyard, surrounded by a gravel pathway and rows of lush, dew-kissed roses, stood a one-room stone chapel. A tall steeple straddled the entrance, its lantern closed in by stained glass windows that reflected the morning sun onto the grass in fanciful patterns.

There was such a sense of stillness and serenity in the courtyard that Sundancer couldn’t help but take a deep, relaxing breath as some of the tension in her shoulders eased. Considering the nature of the chapel, this surprised her.

Though Moss had seen her forbidden prayer that first night, she didn’t bother asking if Sundancer wanted to follow her into the chapel, simply walking up to the door, touching her forehead with her hoof, and stepping inside. Sundancer followed suit, but that sense of wrongness she’d been feeling grew stronger, and her traitorous mimicry of Moss’ gesture before entering made her feel sick.

Like every other chapel and house of worship still standing in Equestria, this one was dedicated to the Five Virtues. Everypony knew Equestria was united in one faith: the veneration of the Empress. If you happened to say differently—if you happened to think like Sundancer thought—you were quickly and violently dissuaded of your erroneous opinion. Unless you kept your mouth shut, that is, and whispered your prayers in secret.

She thought about the mural she’d seen of the horned ponies cavorting under an evil red sun and shuddered.

“You must be Sundancer,” a strange deep voice said from the opposite side of the prayer room. Moss flinched, and Sundancer once again wondered how the mare had ever made guard.

The voice came from the black box next to the altar. Not every chapel in Equestria had a black box, only the most important ones. The boxes were always bolted to the floor and had no doors or windows. Their walls—whatever material they were made of—were cut into a tight mesh pattern so the occupants could see out and be heard by others, but it was impossible to see back in. Whether this was by magical means or just clever construction, nopony knew.

The black boxes’ occupants—the Lectors—were a mystery. Aside from the Empress and her ecclesiarchs, nopony knew their identities. The fact that the boxes often weren’t long enough for a pony to stand in and were also unusually tall—even some taller than the Empress—, had most ponies convinced that whoever it was the Empress interred in these black boxes, they certainly weren’t ponies.

“Lector,” Sundancer said, trying to sound respectful and contrite. Religious types always wanted you to sound contrite or miserable. She knew that much, at least. Moss lowered her head as well and repeated Sundancer’s greeting. The Lector chuckled, and the sound of it unsettled her, sounding as if it came from a great distance away, echoing ever so slightly.

“Why do you pretend to reverence?” the Lector asked. “I know well who you are. And you, Child Moss, with your little secrets...” For a while, the Lector said nothing, sounding as if they were struggling to breathe, and then the horrible chuckle came once more. “You know the red fire burns in her still. Why did you bring her here?”

Moss swallowed, then stuttered out her answer. “I... I thought she should know where the closest chapel... I thought...”

“But you already know she will not come on her own. You already know that which I see clearly. Do not bring her here again. Remove her. Cast her from this sacred place.”

Moss hurried to obey, grabbing Sundancer and pulling her out of the chapel. Sundancer followed readily, having no desire to stay where she wasn’t welcome. Though it was curious, she thought, as they walked away from the chapel and back into the palace, Moss muttering apologies beside her. The Lector’s words had been harsh and condemning, but their tone of voice had been sly, as though they were telling a wonderful joke, one that only the Lector, in all the world, understood.

Author's Note

This was a slightly shorter chapter, but I decided to set some self-imposed publishing goals and deadlines (for the first time in my life XD), and I knew I needed a chapter to introduce some characters and ideas. If you notice any spelling or grammar errors, feel free to hit me up, as this chapter is going out sans pre-readers.