Dearest Mother and Father,
You have taught me my whole life that the most important quality a royal can have is a personal connection to their subjects. I have tried my best to apply this lesson to how I conduct myself in court and the Empire as a whole. More and more I find myself blocked by duties of state and the insulation of my position. I want to live according to your precepts, but with my life as it is right now, I’m faced with a choice between them and the reality of noble existence. I choose to believe in your teachings.
I have decided to leave. I’ll go as far as I can away, and I’ll keep going until I can find a place I can connect to ponies on a personal level. I want to live among them, with them, as one of them. I want to learn what their lives are like, so I can know how to improve it. I’ll set aside my title and status and see life through their eyes.
Please do not look for me. I don’t mean this as a sleight or rebuke, and I have nothing but love and appreciation for you both. I’m driven to this by my respect for all you’ve said and done for me. I have to do this to realize what you’ve taught me, and find myself in those lessons. When I think I finally understand, I’ll be back, I promise.
With a lifetime of love, Flurry

* * *

>”And they’re thinkin’ of extendin’ the main street a quarter mile.”
>You snort at the stallion’s comment.
“How, Brass? Stomping the dirt by hoof? It’s not like we pave roads out here.”
>”Naw, I mean fer plannin’. The farm’s’re only growin’, pardon the wordplay. They need more help, that means more housing ‘round here.” The larger stallion on your other side nods. The three of you together pass for a collective town crier, gossiping as stallions are wont to, the metal brothers and token human.
>‘Here’ is a little podunk settlement on the edge of Equestria. The last green you’ll see for miles, the joke went, though that depends on how much rain fell on the xeric regions beyond the town’s extensive-on-paper borders. Farming is tough here, but at least consistent; the town was founded on the most favorable hydrology of a region not quite hopeless, with the closest river springing up not too far away.
>The settlement is laid out according to some old earth pony tradition for small communities, with a central cluster of buildings arranged in a line, with a farm plot on either side. The main street Brass Tacks refers to is the only street, bisecting the settlement. It hosts most of the town’s facilities, including but not limited to one ‘fine dining’ establishment whose alcohol you help supply, a smithy, a post office and trading station, and the general store you run, the porch of which you three are sitting on.
“I just don’t see the point. Start building. Who gives a damn about zoning, out here?”
>”What’s the matter, partner?” Iron Works asks.
>”It’s just some paperwork,” Brass follows.
“If I have to renumber my building again, I’m going to be upset.”
>”You sound upset already,” Brass says with a  flick of an ear.
“What if I am?”
>”You need a mare,” Iron says, then snorts as if it’s some sort of joke.
“We’re not getting into this again. Between the two of you, you have a third of them in this town already claimed.”
>”Farmin’ families’re big, Anon.”
“Bah.”
>You stand and turn for your door inside.
>You have a pretty nice store. As far as one’s life’s work goes, it isn’t much, but it’s yours. Originally just a supply depot annex to the trading station, you’ve slowly grown it into something respectable. You’re a community figure, now.
>You’re about to start fiddling with something meaningless on the counter for the umpteenth time today when you hear Brass’s voice calling you again. “’Ey Anon, c’mere.”
>You sigh and turn back to the door, poking your head through it.
“Are you going to offer me one of your mares?”
>”Somethin’ almost as good. Look what just strolled into town.”
>You step out and drop back into your porch chair again, squinting to peer down the street.
>A pale pink pegasus stands at the end of it, looking around at the town’s humble architecture. Her physique reminds you of some well-bred unicorns back in Canterlot; slightly taller than normal, and quite slender. Her wings look larger than most pegasi, and are a bit more colorful than her coat, though nowhere near as vivid as her mane and tail.
>She looks very lost.
>”What’s she doin’ ‘round here?” Brass asks.
>”Beats me. Cityslicker, I’d say.”
“Oh come off it, I was one once too.”
>”Yeah but you ran from that life. She’s got a look like she’s takin’ it with her.”
>The pegasus trots up to your porch.
>Her eyes sparkle with innocence and naivete.
>The stallions on either side of you look back with guarded contempt.
>You’re not about that.
“What brings you to our little town?”
>She blinks in surprise. “I, uh… I’m looking for a job.”
“You’ve come a long way for one.”
>”Yeah. Uh. I just want a place to lay low for a bit. Do you need any help around here?”
>Both stallions slowly turn their heads to you.
>You glance at both of them in turn.
“What?”
>”Might be some hired help would make ya less cranky, Anon.”
>”You were just complaining how all the strong mares are already busy on the farms.”
>The pegasus shuffles in place.
>You sigh and stand.
“What’s your name?”
>”Uh. Kissy. Kissy Wings.”
“Alright, Kissy. Come on in, lemme show you around. Don’t know how well you’ll do, or if I really need the help this bad, but I’ll give you a shot. We’ll take it month by month.”

* * *

>You shake more dust out of your wing and look at the shelf again.
>You still haven’t gotten it clean.
>It would be so easy to do with magic, but Anon’s standing the counter, and the flash would be visible. That would blow your cover; just keeping your horn hidden is hard enough.
>You run through half a dozen excuses to get him out of the room, but none of them sound plausible.
>Sighing, you start sweeping your wing across the shelf again.
>”Hey, quit it.” You freeze with a jolt, then slowly look over to Anon, who’s walking towards you. “Come on, you look silly.”
>When he reaches you, he pulls a cleaning rag on a stick out of a pocket in the utility skirts over your sides, part of your work uniform along with the apron over your front. He points the end of the stick at you at face level. “Use this.”
>You nod and bite down delicately on the stick, turning back to the shelf and swiping the rag end over it.
>While you work, he pulls the wing you’d been dusting with from your side. “The apron’s to keep dirt off you. We may be a small town, but you still need to look respectable for customers.”
>You suppress a shudder as he marehandles your wing and starts brushing off your feathers, then working between them and resettling them with his fingers.
>You pin your ears, hoping the move vivid colors of your mane might distract from how red they must be getting. Curse your light coat.
>Does this human know how intimate preening is?!
>No, probably not. There’s maybe four other pegasi in the whole town, and he’s not close to any of them.
>You fail to hide your shiver when he finishes and pulls your wing out to full extension. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask about this coloration, if you don’t mind. It’s striking how they get darker towards the tips.”
>You place the cleaning cloth on the shelf and hold back a sneeze, making keeping a lid on your other reactions harder.
“O-oh, It’s… a family thing. G-g-got it from m-my mom.”
>Crystal’s cleave, what if he knows who your mom is? You’ve screwed it now!
>You hastily bite down on the cleaning cloth again and resume work, hoping he doesn’t notice your grimace.
>“They look too nice to get dirty with… poor cleaning technique. Please try to keep your wings neat to present a good image.”
>You shift the rag’s stick in your mouth to speak around it.
“Sorry, sir.”
>”Don’t call me sir. It’s just you and me here, my name’s fine. I don’t know where you’ve worked before, but I don’t run this ship that tight. Save the appearances for the customers, that’s where it all matters.”
“A’right, uh, A’on.”
>“Better. Hold on, I have something for you.”
>He disappears into to the little office and break area behind the store proper.
>You’re tempted to clean these shelves with magic while he’s out of sight.
>No, he was just standing right next to you! He’d get suspicious if it was finished so fast.
>Besides, you’re going to have to learn how do to this properly eventually.
>You sigh and get back to pushing the rag-on-a-stick over the shelves.
>Not like you’ve ever seen anything on these ones in particular.
>Ah well. Appearances and all.
>You’re doing poorly enough with your own to neglect the shop too.
>How have you not been let go yet?
>”Here.”
>You jump at Anon’s voice beside you, then turn to face him.
>He places a heavy envelope in one of your side-skirt pockets. “Your week’s pay. Fourth week. I said we’d take it month by month, and-”
>Here it comes.
>”-I gotta admit, it’s been nice having some help around here. You’re still finding your way around, but I appreciate the effort you’ve been putting in. Got me thinking I could finally start stocking some less common items ponies might want around here, once you’re on your hooves and need less supervision.”
>The rag-stick droops as your jaw drops slightly, and you have to snap down on it when it threatens to fall out of your mouth.
“Than’ya!”
>He chuckles. “You walk around with that thing in your mouth and you’ll be able to sound like the locals soon enough.”
>You place the cleaning rag down, blushing.
“Ah, thank you, Anon. I’m honored.”
>”Honored? It’s a compliment, not a noble title, Kissy.”
>BytheHeartisthatsupposedtobeasublte-
>No, stop that.
“I’m honored that you think so highly of me.”
>”Once you grow into the job, I’ll be happy to give you responsibilities worth feeling honored to have.”
>You only nod in return
>Buck, you just made more work for yourself.
>You’ll never get it at this rate.
>But Anon’s smiling at you. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of anything I throw your way.”
>Just get back to cleaning, mare.

* * *

>Even from your bedroom, you can clearly hear the jangling of the bell over the store’s entrance.
>Even when somepony was apparently trying to be quiet.
>As you leave your bedroom, you spare your crossbow only a moment’s glace. Town’s too close-knit for it to be something threatening.
>Instead you grab a bottle of booze from your private stash. Being a marely male puts you in an interesting position, socially. You’re the second-most popular person for ponies to ask for advice, behind the barkeep. 
>As you make your way down the second floor’s hall, though, you notice Kissy’s door open.
>Ah, this you can handle.
>Sure enough, you find her on the front porch of the shop, looking up at the stars in the night sky.
“Hey.”
>She starts, wings fanning out for the briefest moment before resettling on her back. Her primaries are long enough they cross each other over her rump, grazing the porch where she sits. Remarkable, especially with that coloration.
>When she’s recovered her composure, she turns her head to look at you. ”Oh, Anon. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Nah, you didn’t. Something on your mind?”
>She looks back to the stars. “I’m always amazed how many stars you can see out here.”
“As opposed to the city you came from?”
>She pins her ears, then looks back at you with an embarrassed expression across her lowered head. “I’m that obvious, huh?”
"Iron Works had you pegged as soon as you touched down. Feeling homesick?”
>Kissy grimaces. ”I feel like I should be upset that I’m so easy to read.”
“Practice. Dish it.”
>She sighs and looks to the porch, waving at you with one wing in a gesture you couldn’t read as you assume your usual porch chair. “I’m not sure you want to hear about a city mare’s woes.”
“Please, I used to be an urban transplant myself.”
>This get her attention back on you. There’s something more behind those eyes now. Almost looks like worry. ”Where from?”
“Canterlot.”
>Just like that, the worry’s gone. “Ah. It’s an interesting place. Why’d you come out here?”
“Tired of unicorns harassing me. I don’t exactly have a defense against magic. Then there was the social pressure; I guess I got on a certain side of some nobles. That got the press aflutter and I decided I didn’t want any part of it.”
>”Some nobles? You don’t remember who?”
”Look, I know the names of the people who run this country, but nothing more. I wouldn’t be able to pick one snob elite from a lineup of them even if you gave me a picture. I don’t give a damn about ‘em, and I came out here to be rid of them.”
>Kissy visibly relaxes and smiles at you. “Must be nice. My parents were, uh, always interested in noble affairs.”
“Sounds terrible.”
>”It’s not a life I wanted any part in.”
“Is that why you came out here?”
>You think you see her flinch again, but it’s much subtler. “Part of it. I just wanted to get away from it all.”
“This is pretty ‘away.’ What did your parents think?”
>She looks back up at the stars, and doesn’t respond for a time. You’re about to ask another question when she finally answers, voice quiet. “I didn’t ask them. I wrote them a letter and left on my own.”
“You weren’t fond of them, huh?”
>“No, I left because I love them! I just couldn’t stay trapped in… the kind of life they lead anymore. But it’s been two months out here. I wonder how much I hurt them, even if I told them I didn’t hold anything against them. The longer I’m out here, the less I feel like I can go back, the less I feel like I’m able to face them again.”
“You’ve been making a place for yourself here. Eventually we’ll be like a second family to you. Still, they’re not going to stop being your parents. I hope someday you might reconcile with them, even if you don’t accept their lifestyle.”
>She dips her head again. “Mmm.”
>Instead of asking more of her, you look her up and down. The slender physique – attractive, you’ll admit – makes her a bit taller than the average pegasus. It lends a youthful appearance, but she’s definitely fully grown, and holds herself like she’s had at least a few years of being such.
>You hand her your bottle.
“Might have a use for this.”
>It’s a moment before she looks to the bottle. You shake it gently at her.
>She takes the neck in her teeth with a delicacy almost comical; the bottles were designed for just that after all. She places it on the deck in front of her to get a better grip on it with her lips before finally tilting it to drink.
>She starts coughing almost immediately, but manages to get the bottle back on the deck before she drops it. “Holy… what is this?”
>You take the bottle back to take a swig for yourself.
“Personal recipe.”
>”You brew alcohol?”
“Yep. Love it. It’s a real special artform, and I’m glad I get to live in a place it’s appreciated. I don’t make enough to export, but ponies in town love it, and the few travelers we get usually give it high marks.”
>”I’m guessing that’s what’s behind that one locked door you haven’t given me a key for yet.”
“Got it in one.”
>She’s quiet for a time, then leans her head back towards you. You give her the bottle back.
>She drinks without incident this time, then places it down next to you. “I could get used to it.”
”Think a city mare’s got it in her to drink the real stuff, huh?”
>“I’ve had plenty of alcohol before!”
”Didn’t look it, with how much difficulty you had on your first try there.”
>“I just wasn’t prepared.”
>You take another pass at the bottle yourself.
“Eventually I’d like to be able to set up a brewery as a full-time gig. Pass the store to someone else. I like my job, and I’m proud of what I built here, but it’s not my dream, you know? I’m still pretty young. Not too late for a career change.”
>She looks you up and down, as if re-evaluating her image of you with this new info. “I don’t really know how old you are.”
“Older than I feel, but younger than most assume. I thought you weren’t supposed to ask stallions their age?”
>You meant it as a joke, but that’s a real look of shame. “Sorry.”
“Was kidding. Besides a short stint as a bartender back in Canterlot, this is an evolution of my first job, really.”
>She takes the bottle back from you. When she’s had her turn, “Does that mean I can take the shop from you, when your brewery’s open?”
“Heh, getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”
>She laughs, then looks back to the stars. “You’re not the only one dreaming is all.”
>You grab the bottle, but set it down between you and her without lifting it to your lips. You look up at the stars yourself, remembering your own astonishment when you’d first left the city for this place and saw the night sky.
>It is a nice sky to dream under.

* * *

>“Howdy, Kissy!”
>You turn your attention towards the door, where a gold-coated stallion shoulders the door open. You stand a little straighter behind the counter and don your trademark smile.
“Hello, Brass! Here for the usual?”
>He smiles back, just as warm. “Yes, little miss, I am. Is Anon around?”
“He’s at the post office, looking for a delivery. If you want to go see him, I can have your order ready by the time you’re back.”
>”I’ll do that, thanks a bunch, Kissy.”
>You resume the song you’d been humming before Brass Tacks entered, flipping a basket beside you in the air with a flick of a hoof and holding out a wing for it to land on. Coming around the counter requires you to shift the wing over your back, and you hold it there as you walk the store’s short isles, stepping and swaying in time to the music.
>Where was this song from?
>You ponder the question when you come to a stop, raising a forehoof and balancing the basket on that leg while scooping several rolls of thread into it with the other. It certainly wasn’t anything from your days at court; too jaunty, the underlying tune too simple and forceful.
>You pull the basket forward at the next item’s proper place much more modestly now that the basket has contents, pulling in a box of tacks and some paper. Could it have been some bawdy pub song from your Imperial days? You run through the vocals in your head. Nah, can’t be; too much talk of farming, too little talk of whores.
>In the next aisle you turn down stands Iron Works, contemplating his own collection of items. He looks up when you walk towards him, turning to let you pass.
“Need help with anything, sir?”
>He smiles and shakes his head as you edge past him, your wings again maneuvering – with a bit of effort this time, though no less gracefully – Brass’s basket to your back. “No, thank you Miss Wings.”
>A couple different types of seasoning fall into the basket as you’re running through the song again. Oh, that’s right! It’s a new one of Plucked’s, she was practicing it on the store’s porch yesterday afternoon. Great little tune, you’ll have to compliment her on it when she next stops by.
>You finish out the rest of Brass’s order and are just returning to the counter when he walks back in. “Guess I got good timing.”
“Perfect, in fact. Everything’s here. Is this going on your credit?”
>”Yep.”
>You place the basket on the counter as he reaches it, then pick up a pencil between your lips and record his new balance on the day’s tally sheet. Your penmanship isn’t perfect, but it’s much better than when you first arrived. You’re getting used to this ‘no magic’ thing.
>Anon’s walking in not far behind Brass. “Hey Kissy. Post says we should have the shipment by next week. I can take over again.”
>Your heart leaps when you hear his voice. That reaction stopped being one of fright some time ago. About when you had to learn to hide blushes with the same illusion hiding your horn, in fact.
“Sure thing, boss!”
>Brass starts placing his items in his saddlebag, but hesitates when he opens the first section. “Oh, I brought this over from post for ya. Y’got a letter.” He fishes it out and drops it on the counter.
“Oh, thank you.”
>You don’t pay it any further mind until he’s out the door. Then you flip it over.
>Your blood runs cold when you see the wax seal holding the envelope closed.
>It’s not the Imperial seal, that would be too obvious, too easily recognized. This is more subtle, it’s your parents’ herd arms. That choice is a message of it’s own.
>This is personal.
“Hey, Anon?”
>”Yeah?”He looks at you, a note of concern on his features. He must have heard something in your tone.
>Hold your nerve; speak clearly. Court trained you for this.
>Fighting the encroaching tremble is easier thought than done.
“I need to take care of something, I’ll be back soon.”
>”That’s fine, I said I’ll take over. Take as long as you need.”
>You dart into the back room, envelope in your mouth. You pause at the break room and office in the back, but only briefly. Instead, you continue up the stairs, to your room on the second floor.
>As soon as the door’s closed, the letter’s out of your mouth in your magical grasp. You practically shred the envelope, the paper inside unfolding with a crisp snap. You start scanning quickly.

Dearest Daughter,
If you are reading this, it should be obvious your time in hiding is at an end. I will keep this brief. The degree of distress you have caused those who care about you is unacceptable. I appreciate the sentiment that led you away from us, but you still have much to learn of other lessons if you thought this flight of yours was at all acceptable.
You are to return home at once, without delay. If you do not, we will come to retrieve you, and trust me when I say it will not be quiet. When you arrive, it will be discreet, and we will have a long and in-depth talk about the trouble your absence has caused. If you wish to inconvenience those you’ve surrounded yourself with as little as possible, come sooner rather than later.
This time, when you leave them, make sure you actually tell them personally.
With strained yet enduring love, Cadance.

>It’s over.
>The life you’ve spent three months building and adjusting to ended the moment you accepted this letter from Brass.
>Your chest hurts. Breathing’s suddenly hard, but it’s more than that.
>You can’t control your shaking now, so you sit down on the floor.
>How will you tell Anon?
>Just thinking about the necessity makes your chest tighter.
>You were barely able to talk plainly to him before. You’ll be incapable of speech now.
>You slide out a desk drawer, retrieving paper and a pen from it.
>A few objects need to be removed from your desk to make room to write. They hit the floor in no real order or pattern.
>What will you tell him?
>’I will keep this brief.’
>Yes, Mother. Of course, Mother.
>A tear hits the page as your pen does.

Dear Anon,
I’m sorry this is so abrupt, but something has come up back home. I need to return immediately. I can’t tell you when I can come back. I wish I could. I wish I didn’t have to. These past three months have been some of the best of my life, and I want nothing more than to have more time, but-

>You try to write the next word, but the ink doesn’t hold. You scribble furiously with the pen, but to no avail.
>The effort required you to hold your breath, and only when you release it, do you realize you’ve been sobbing this whole time. It’s why the pen stopped working. It doesn’t work where the paper’s wet.
>You crumple the paper with a cry. The magic you use is so intense that its remaining dry material combusts. You put out the pitiful flame with a single furious stomp of your hoof, hitting the super-compressed ball so fast you barely feel the heat against your frog, let alone get burned.
>Hard enough that it throbs, but you ignore it as you retrieve a new page and start rewriting the last paragraph, then picking up where you left off, ‘-but now I’m out of it.’
I’ll miss this place. I’ll miss these people. I’ll miss this job. But most of all, I’ll miss you. Thank you for giving me a place to stay, and an opportunity to prove myself. I’ll cherish every one of the many memories I’ve made here, and they’re all due to your kindness. You’ve been a wonderful friend, and mean more to me than I can ever tell you.
Forever thankful and always yours, Kissy Wings.
>Good enough.
>This page is acceptably dry. Not perfectly so, but again, good enough.
>You fold it up, then look around your room. You have few belongings, since you came here with nothing, and Anon provided most of your minor necessities as an unusual sign-on bonus. Those items you could claim to own entirely yourself you quickly pack away into a set of spacious and rugged workbags, made for you as a gift when you’d accidentally let your birthday slip.
>Rustic, but your parents obviously know where you’ve been anyway. If they expect you to return looking like the royal you’d left as, they can buck themselves.
>You have them on and are just resuming your hornless illusion when you hear a knock at your door.
>”Is everything okay in there? I head a bang.”
“C-come in.”
>Heavens damn your hitching breath.
>As Anon enters, you snatch your letter off your desk and push it into one of his hands.
>You almost go further, getting your head under those fingers, but resist the urge.
>You’re enough of mess as it is.
>When he unfolds it, you quickly snatch up your mother’s letter and stuff it into your bags.
>”Kissy...”
>No, don’t say your name like that. You need to hold it together.
>When you bring yourself to look up at him, his skin’s a couple shades paler than you’d seen it before. “I… I’m sorry to see you go. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but I can’t dress up the truth. Here.”
>He drops to one knee in front of you, then holds his arms out wide.
>You shove your whole body against him, getting as much of you as close as possible. He wraps his arms around you in return. “You’ve been invaluable help and wonderful company. I’m glad I could help make your stay here so special.”
>Several moments pass in silence, with your chest against his, feeling his breathing through it even as you hear it with your head over his shoulder. When he finally pulls away, you catch the timing and match it. Just a trace of his breath mixes into yours as your heads pass each other, when he pushes you back. Just a trace, just enough.
>He looks into your eyes, like he can see through your soul. You might even be able to see his, if your vision wasn’t so blurry. “I hope you’ll come back some day. I’ll leave this room just as it is, until then.”
>You flash him the weakest smile you’ve ever worn.
“Mighty g-generous.”
>Can’t even get two words out without choking.
>He claps you on your shoulders. “Come on. You’re a mess, but I know you’ve always been stronger than you look. I’ll spare you the indignity of carrying you.”
>That wouldn’t be so bad, no matter how unmarely…
>Fortunately, there’s nopony in the store as you leave; with your wings limp at your sides, your primaries are dragging across the floor. Can’t get them dirty in front of customers.
>”Don’t worry about the others,” he says as you two step outside. “I’ll tell ‘em you didn’t mean anything by it. They’ll understand; you know we get ponies rolling through all the time.”
>You nod, trying to hold a smile. You fail.
>He pulls one of your wings back to him, brushing off the feathers you’d been dragging. “Come on, we talked about this. I hope you’ll take care of yourself while you’re gone.”
>You’re too miserable to feel scandalized, so you simply hang your head and nod.
>Savor this. Remember every detail of his touch. This may be the last time you’ll feel those fingers through those off-colored feathertips he likes so much.
>He finishes his work all too soon, brushing their outer surface and patting both wings back against your side. “Fly on, Kissy. When you’re ready, fly back.”
>You meet his eyes for the last time, and nod.
>Then with a single mighty downbeat of your great wingspan, you leave this all-too-short life behind.

* * *

“Sister.”
>”Yes, Tia?”
“Retirement is boring.”
>”So you’ve said seven times this past hour.”
>You drop your knitting and slump forward in your rocking chair, the chair itself pitching forward until your forehooves against the porch arrest its motion.
“So. Boring.”
>Your sister picks her head up from the swinging bench she’s been trying unsuccessfully – thanks to you – to nap on. “We could go check the mail again!”
“We haven’t gotten any mail for three days.”
>”You’re the one who wanted to hide away from everyone.”
“You could say I was jealous of your natural talent for it.”
>Luna puts her head back down. ”I could, but I won’t.”
“You won’t even give me that bit of excitement.”
>”This whole operation was your idea. I wanted to set up a still.”
“I already regret it.”
>You continue to lie in your precarious position, tail flicking as you ever so slowly slide forward off the rocking chair.
“I wonder how Flurry Heart felt.”
>”She left about the same time we did, huh?”
“Yeah, but she’s been back home about a month now. I bet she hates it.”
>“I bet she was bored, out there.”
>You look over at your sister, frowning.
“If she was bored, she could have gone home at any time. She’s like us, she has no interest in ruling.”
>Luna shakes her head, still laying it across her forelegs. “But she was so far out, right out on the frontier. Don’t know where, but I heard it was a flight and a half.”
>You ponder this for a time. What mischief could you get up to in a town with a two-digit population?
>”Hey, remember Anon?”
“Who?”
>Your sister picks her head back up, looking at you with bright eyes and a playful grin. “Anon!”
“You can’t just repeat the same word twice and expect me to kn-”
>”The alien! He gave you ear-scratches remember? Scandalized the press for a week.”
>You sit back up quickly, pitching the chair far back, leading to a somewhat wild ride for several seconds. The most exciting thing you’ve done all day. File it away for later, you might need it.
“Oh, yeah! Mare, those were the best. I got my wings all up in his face and he didn’t even care.”
>”I’d call him a slut, but I don’t think he knew what you were even doing.”
>An idea strikes you as your chair finally stops rocking.
“So what you're saying is that we could do more to him, and he'd be cool with it?”
>”I'm saying we could get him to touch our tufts or boop our snoots, and he wouldn't even think anything of it.”
“That’s hot. Let’s see what Anon’s up to.”
>”We’ll have to find him first. The newspapers hounded him out of town, remember?”
“It was a pretty impressive vanishing act. I’m still jealous, if I’m being honest. Think he ever learned?”
>”Skies above, no. The fact he never understood why is part of the reason he left.”
>You tilt your head back, as if contemplating your subservient sun through the porch roof. You put enough energy into the motion to fling the rocking chair back, causing another energetic fit of motion.
>Not as impressive as the first time though.
>Even this mild excitement grows dull already.
“Any idea where he went?”
>”Well, Flurry reminded me of him. I’m pretty sure he went to the frontier too.”
>That’s both a lot of ground to cover and not many potential locations at all.
“Wonder how long it took him, bound to two legs.”
>”Those were some good foal-chasing legs, sister. He could go far with them.”
“I’d rather he go far with me, Lulu.”
>Your sister smirks, then drops her head back down to her forelegs once more. “I hear that.”
>You get off your chair when it stops rocking again, shaking out your neck and wings. Your sister fixes you with one curious eye and ear.
“Well! We’re not accomplishing anything sitting here but wasting our infinite time.”
>”Can anything infinite be wasted?”
“I was done playing philosopher when I gave up the throne, Lulu.”
>”I’m still trying to catch up.”
>You eye her sidelong.
“You could catch yourself a stallion, instead.”
>She grins, then stands herself. “Is that a challenge?”
“First one to wrap him ‘round their horn wins.”
>”Too easy, sister. You forget my night moves.”
“You’re right. First to do so without bedding him. Bonus for every lewd act he commits on you beforehand.”
>”Oooh, we’ll keep count?”
“You know it.”
>She walks up to you, nudging your side just enough to put you off balance before continuing towards the porch steps. “I’ll show you how one truly rules a stallion’s world, then.”
“If he can get you off without using his dick, you lose.”
>She turns around, mock shock on her face. “Sister! I know I was without a stallionine touch for a long time, but I can assure you my stamina is better than ever.”
>You walk to her side on the dirt path leading away from your retirement shack, your smile this time genuine.
“We’ll see. Lets find the apelien.”

* * *

>You drop into your customary chair between the metal brothers.
>”What’s wrong?” Iron Works asks.
“Working my ass off, is what.”
>”I told you ya needed the help,” Brass says.
“I realized that once I actually got some, but...”
>You sigh and rest your forehead in your palms.
>”Another pony will come around eventually. Not everyone wants to work the farms, after all.”
“I know, Iron. But I miss her. Yeah her help, but also her. She was a cheerful gal, and it was nice having someone to talk to.”
>”We all miss’er, Anon. She made a place fer herself here mighty quick.”
>Iron nods. “Yup. Had an attitude that could touch the positivity in you.”
“I...”
>When you pick your head back up, both stallions are looking at you. “Unlike you to leave a thought unfinished.”
“Yeah. I never told you guys. It isn’t right really, but, I mean it when I say I missed her. I think, given enough time, I could have seen myself with her.”
>Iron’s expression doesn’t change, and he responds with little more than a thoughtful “Hmmph.”
>Brass, however, looks nakedly sympathetic. “Oh no, I’m sorry. In and outta yer life afore you could catch’er eye.”
“Eh, I don’t know if I’d have gone that far. It wouldn’t have worked either way. Bosses aren’t supposed to date their workers, at least where I’m from.”
>Brass eyes you and flicks an ear. “Who’ye think yer talkin’ to?”
“What do you mean?”
>Iron sighs. “Farming’s a family business, Anon, and that ain’t limited to the ones in the fields. If you’re in the family, you’re in the business. If you’re in the business, you’re in the family. Most of this town works with their spouses, and not all of them were spouses beforehand.”
“Never thought of it like that.”
>You drop your head back to your hands.
“Just makes it feel worse, honestly, knowing that if I decided I wanted to, I could have tried. I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but damn it all.”
>You sit in silence for awhile.
>You didn’t feel quite as strong about her as you’re making it sound, but it’s been bottled up for months and it’s good to get off your chest. Besides, stallions have a thing for melodrama.
>Eventually, Brass clears his throat. “Well ain’t this a familiar sight? Anon, look who touched down.”
“Don’t tell me she’s-”
>”Nah, but somethin’ almost as good. Look what just strolled into town.”
>When you lift your head, there’s two pegasi at the end of the road, not one.
>”Cityslickers,” Iron practically hisses.
“Iron I’m sitting right here, and we were just talking about Kissy.”
>”It’s the shape,” Brass says. “They got that same build.”
“Same as her.”
>”Hope it’s not her family.”
>You finally tear your eyes from the newcomers to look at Brass. “Why not?”
>“If her family’s here and she ain’t, that means bad news.”
>”No good for field work’, at any rate,” Iron grumbles. “Guess these are for you again, Anon.”
>As they get closer, you can make out more detail. One’s white, with a pink mane and tail that reminds you of Kissy’s coat. The other’s a navy blue, with sky blue hair. A pale figure-eight sits inside an orange blotch covering the former’s flank, while the latter’s cutie mark is a white star. In both cases the color seems to roam across their bodies, giving you a strong impression of freckles. They’re both slightly taller than the average pegasus, as Kissy was, but the white-and-orange one holds herself straighter, walks more delicately, as if she’s more aware of that height and tries to emphasize it.
>The stallions to either side of you seem unimpressed as they approach, but how similar their builds are to Kissy just makes it harder to stop thinking about her.
>”Hello, sirs!” the white one exclaims, stopping in front of you. “My sister and I wanted to know if you’ve any room in your town for two hardworking mares.”
>Iron eyes her up and down. “You don’t look any good for plowing or tilling.”
>The blue-and-black one answers, “I assure you, kind sir, we are plenty good for plowing.”
>”Y’aint from Canterlot, are ya?” Brass asks.
>The blue one looks taken aback. “Outside Ponyville. Why do you ask?”
>”Y’got that noble look. My friend here has a problem with nobles.”
>You shrug, but say nothing.
>”A distant relationship to royalty, but no more,” the white one says. “I’m Analemma, and this is my sister Nightcap.”
“Welcome. Sorry for my friends’ unpleasantness, we were just discussing a regretful subject.”
>You stand then, dusting off your pants and gesturing to the door. “Come on in. I might have an opportunity for you two.”

* * *

>Your wings ache and your breath comes ragged.
>You can’t remember how far you’ve flown. How fast. How long it’s been since taking off from the Crystal Empire.
>The rugged saddlebags you wear aren’t helping your aerodynamics any, even if there’s little in them.
>You took them out though, so it’s only fitting you took them back.
>The wind rushes in your ears as you bank out of the air current you’d been following. You fill your wings with a final updraft to get some easy altitude – getting this high would be a struggle in your worn state – and survey the land unfolding beneath you.
>It gets arid out there, to the northwest. That’s a good sign. It means you’re where you need to be.
>You look lower, closer. Something’s down there, little more than two patterns in the ground and a straight line of darker shapes.
>Your heart soars, and you suddenly feel energized.
>You snap your wings closed to dive, then, stretching them again only when you’ve picked up good speed.
>You can spend a little more exertion on maneuvers. You’re almost there.
>Your private frontier salvation is at hand.
>A couple new buildings have gone up, since you were last here, but nothing major. Nothing’s changed, not really.
>You hope he hasn’t.
>You touch down at the end of the main street. Everything’s right where you left it.
>In late morning like this, most ponies will be working hard. The lack of any welcome doesn’t surprise you.
>That’s fine.
>You’re back.
>It took three months, a lot of explanation, and a hard bargain, but you’re finally back.
>Just walking down this dusty street again is enough to bring a thrill to your heart.
>And over there! Anon’s store, just as you remember it.
>You have to hold yourself back from galloping to it, settling for a quick canter.
>As you take a couple steps onto the general store’s creaky porch, you pause.
>Same parts of the stairs make the same groans as when you left. Hearing them broadens your smile.
>A sudden realization, before you step in front of the screen door, before you hit that angle you know will make you visible from the counter.
>While you’re stopped here, you quickly pick through your feathers, preening your wings.
>He won’t appreciate it if they’re mussed.
>You’re just shy of grinning like a madmare when you push the door open and step inside, relishing the jingle of the door’s entry bell.
>Anon’s behind the counter, reading a magazine. He didn’t look up until the bell rang.
>When his eyes meet yours, the world stops.
>”Kissy!” Your name (your name, here!) is followed by a short laugh of disbelief.
>His voice makes you feel like you’re as high as you’d been on your approach.
>He’s around the counter and halfway across the floor in a moment, stopping fast enough that you take a step back, worried he’d fall over you.
>Well, that wouldn’t be so bad.
>”Welcome back! I was worried about you, was waiting on any word.”
>You look to the floor and kick a hoof.
“I would have written you, but there were… complications.”
>”I hope everything’s alright.”
“Yeah. It was rough, but...”
>You spread your wings halfway and grin up at him.
“I’m finally back. No interruptions for at least the rest of the year. So, uh...”
>You fold your wings again and look around the store.
“Would it be too much to ask for my job back?”
>Anon stares at you in disbelief.
>Oh no.
>A bark that almost makes you flinch, like when you’d first arrived.
>Then actual laughter, genuine and warm.
“Of course you can. I could use your help teaching the newbies what’s what.” He turns his head towards the door to the break room, then. “Anna, Night! Get your lazy butts out here and greet our returning employee.” Then he fixes you with that wonderful smile of his again. “Introduce yourself. I’ll go open up your old room.”
>As soon as he disappears up the stairs, two pegasi appear from the door he shouted at.
>What.
>You know these two.
>Oh, their disguises are good. Way better than yours, in fact. They’re not only hiding their horn, they’re disguising their cutie marks. The full-body dappling is a nice touch. Celestia’s even changed her apparent stature, but what else would you expect from one whose former titles included ‘Element of Magic’? 
>But it was the same technique you’re using right now, so you know enough to see through it.  Equestria’s former diarchs are here. Doing the same thing you’re doing. In Anon’s shop.
>How could this get any worse.
>”Sister,” ‘Anna’ is the first to recover, “you never found out which town ‘Kissy’ had fled to and from, did you?”
>”I think the questions rather pointless now. The answer is before us.”
“And what names are you two using?”
>You can’t hide the growl in your tone.
>“Oh, feisty! I’m Analemma, dear, and this is Nightcap. Do remember our names, it wouldn’t do any good to have to correct you.”
“What are you doing here?!”
>Analemma grins. “Sampling the life that had so enamored you.”
>Nightcap follows, “And sampling the man. He’s quite handsy.”
“If you two are making trouble around here I swear I’ll-”
>You stop when you hear the pounding of Anon descending the stairs.
>When he reaches the first floor again, he tosses a key on a ring at you.
>You deftly catch the ring in your mouth, without little more than a lean into its trajectory.
>When you glance at the sisters you can see their wonder, despite their efforts at hiding it.
>You’ve played this game longer than them. You’ll show them more than just how to help around the shop.
>But that can wait. Anon’s walking towards you now.
>He never has to work to get your attention, especially not when he’s kneeling down in front of you, just like that last day. When his arms are around you, just like that moment.
>”Welcome home.”
>Home.
>The sisters’ nonsense?
>That you can take month by month.

* * *

>You can’t say they’re useless, but they sure as hell ain’t efficient.
>”All done, Mister Anon!”
>Nightcap’s standing beside you cute as a pin. Her chest is thrust out at you, like she’s swelling with pride over accomplishing the trivial task you’d assigned her.
“Alright, alright. Go over and help Kissy, I was going to give that job to you in the first place.”
>She nods with enough energy to make you wonder if she’s going to damage her brain.
>You plant your palm against her out-thrust chest, pushing her back onto her hind legs. She flails a bit before turning in place and dropping back to her hooves facing away from you. Resettling her wings and with a flick of her tail at you, she moseys off towards where Kissy is adjusting a display.
>Your two recent hires are very physical, and seem to only respond to similar physicality, like they were still teenage fillies despite looking a couple years older than Kissy.
>What did you do to be cursed with such immature employees?
>Analemma trots in from the storage room, six heavy sacks on her back, large enough you’d be hard-pressed to carry four.
>As you’d previously noted; you can’t say they’re useless.
>Nightcap stops short to let her pass. “You like a heavy load on those flanks, sister?”
>Analemma doesn’t break her stride. “You know it. Colts love the lather!”
>”I know that is not the only kind of load you like back there.” Nightcap continues on towards Kissy’s display, and proceeds to do nothing but cock her head.
>Kissy’s too busy actually working to give her direction.
>With a sigh, you follow Nightcap over to the stand.
>Analemma joins you, tilting her rear down and to the side for the bags to slide off to the floor.
>Then she sidesteps in the opposite direction, wings spreading. You turn to grab her in case she falls, but this just causes one wing to slap you across the face as she backs hard into your midsection.
>Staying there for what feels like a moment longer than necessary, Analemma finally recovers herself. “Oh, my apologies! Lost my balance, there.”
>Shaking your head, you gently push her back the other way.
“I’m fine.”
>Kissy, finished with her work on the other side of the stand, is giving Analemma the stinkeye, but stops as soon as she notices you’re looking at her.
>What are you going to do with these three?
>You point at the sacks and then the display stand Kissy just finished setting up.
“Alright, lets get those bags on the bottom shelf here. The rest is easy enough.”
>As your hand drops back to your side, your palm smacks into Nightcap’s snout.
>You lift your hand and turn to look as she backs away, scrunching her nose.
>How did she get there that quickly?
>These two are always crowding you.
“Er, I didn’t notice you there, sorry.”
>She makes a sound like a sneeze, then smiles at you.
>Almost looks like a grin.
>Weird pony.
>Kissy still doesn’t look happy.
“Anyway… Kissy’s got the rest of the stack over there. She can show you how it should be set up.”
>As Analemma walks by you, one of her loosely-held wings hooks under your hand, dragging as she passes.
>How was that not intentional?
>You close your eyes and throw your head back with a sigh.
“I need to check over something in my office. I trust you all can finish this up.”
>You need some time not being smothered by feathers.

* * *

>“Howdy, Kissy!”
>You turn your attention towards the door, where a gold-coated stallion shoulders the door open.
>You stand a little straighter behind the counter and don your trademark smile.
>The effort’s threatened by the two ‘pegasi’ in the other corner of the store, who had thankfully just halted their extremely inappropriate conversation when Brass Tacks walked in. But appearances matter, and your smile works regardless.
“Hello, Brass! Here for the usual?”
>”Yes I am, and might I say I’m glad t’see y’here right now.”
>You tilt your head.
“Is something the matter?”
>Brass glances back at the two in the corner before replying, “I appreciate Anon’s idea ‘bout extendin’ his hours earlier and later, don’t get me wrong. It’s been mighty useful when the mares can pop in for some supplies before or after workin’. But somethin’ ain’t right ‘bout those two. Oh, they try to hide it, but the blue one’s stuffy as all get out, and the white one’s tryin’ too hard. I know ya gotta give them out’a’towners some room to get used t’the place, but you had it down pat by now, and you felt genuine th’whole time.”
>You flashed Brass an understanding smile, one you didn’t truly feel.
“Maybe they just need some more time.”
>You’re glad the sentence came out smoothly, because you almost choked on giving those two even that.
>Anon would have your hide if you badmouthed your coworkers in front of a customer, though. 
>“We’ll see. ‘Til then, I’m more’n happy ta deal with ya. It’s been good havin’ ya back, Kissy.”
>This time your smile is more genuine.
“I’m glad to hear it, Brass. You need any help getting your things together?”
>”Nah, I got it, but thanks for the offer. Always the sweetest.”
>After grabbing a basket in his teeth, he walks off into the shelves and stands, going through the usual motions.
>It’s easy to slip into patterns in a town like this, where everything’s familiar, when everything’s known but the future.
>Everything’s familiar but those two pegasi, who manage to be strangers after three months of living here.
>You came here before the royal life could become a part of you, you came here to prevent just that. They’ve been in the job so long that life had infused itself into their every move and breath, and despite their efforts – not even wholehearted efforts at that – they couldn’t shake it.
>As if on your thought’s cue, Analemma – you have to avoid their real names even in your head, lest you accidentally say one aloud – walks up to Brass as he’s going through his items. A brief question, maybe if he needs her help. He shakes his head. She responds with some platitude and returns to her earlier position.
>Though he tried to hide it, Brass wasn’t exactly enthusiastic; you could see that even from where you sat behind the counter. You’re sure Analemma could see clearer than you, with her nigh-innumerable years of experience dealing with ponies.
>In a tiny, distant corner of your mind, you could almost feel bad for her.
>If you weren’t so irritated with how they’d been treating the store like their personal playground.
>Brass finishes quickly, and you note his new balance on the credit sheet, wishing him a good day.
>The sisters eye him as he leaves.
>”Nice colt,” Nightcap says, “He has some lucky mares.”
>”We’re not homewreckers, sister.”
>”Of course not. Only got eyes for the boss.”
>Analemma grins. “Shame he isn’t here.”
>”Hate it when he has to leave.”
>”Love watching him go, though.”
>Nightcap rears up a moment, holding the position with some strategic wing positioning, but eventually dropping her forehooves on the table she sits at. “He has such impeccable balance, that perpetual rearing does things to me.”
>”He’s got the foal-chasing legs for it.”
>”Wish he’d chase me around on ‘em.”
>”Come on, Nightcap, we both know he wouldn’t need to chase you long.”
>”Just long enough.”
>Analemma waggles her eyebrows and flicks her tail. “Long enough? Now that’s a different subject entirely.”
>”One I would be happy to discuss at precisely the length-”
“Will you two shut up?!”
>You didn’t shout. You didn’t even need to project your voice, not really. They weren’t being loud, and the shop itself is quiet enough. It wouldn’t do to make a scene.
>You still easily get their attention. Four eyes and ears are now on you.
“You two aren’t even after him! You’re not even treating him like meat, he’s… what is he even to you?”
>Analemma’s first to recover, resuming that damnable grin. “Fun.”
>Is she bucking serious?
>You prop yourself up with your hooves on the counter in front of you just as Nightcap drops to all fours. You hold a deep breath before you could inadvertently shout; remember your volume!
“By the Crystal Heart’s every beat, is that all?”
>”He does certain things without thinking,” Nightcap says, though she doesn’t share Analemma’s defiance. “Amusing things.”
“I can’t believe you two.”
>Nightcap lifts her wings and tilts their leading edges down ever-so-slightly in rather ambivalent acquiescence. “We are just looking for something to liven up a dull time.”
>”It’s not like we’re hurting him. He’s clueless.”
“What if I tell him? Tell him everything, even who you are?”
>Analemma’s expression instantly flattens. “Then you’d have to tell him how you know.”
>Shit.
>And Anon has a thing against magic-users.
>That would probably be the end of everything.
>You drop back to the floor, and look at the counter a moment. Taking in everything on the barely-organized shelves behind and beneath it, the little necessities and notes and knickknacks of the shop’s day-to-day operation that’s become second nature to you. Your life, for hours at a clip, is narrowed down to these few items in this single building. It’s comfortable, comforting.
>Nightcap clears her throat, bringing your attention back up to the sisters. She’s looking at Analemma with a tilted head. “We could stand to reign in our greatest excesses, sister.”
>Yes! A way out, a graceful exit! Court life taught you to take every one offered. It’s always better than getting in too deep, at least with those as experienced as these two are.
“That’s all I ask. Give him some space when he needs it. I can tell it bothers him, and if I can, I’m sure you two can see it earlier.”
>Analemma’s answering smile is more warmer than her sly grins before. “We can keep our fun below his awareness.”
>You nod, then look back to the assortment of items behind the counter.
>You should have mared up.
>You should have been ready to throw it all away for him. Should have accepted that chivalrous sacrifice without hesitation.
>He’s worth everything you can give him. Everything.
>…
>Why couldn’t you make the call?

* * *

>”I shouldn’t have drank anything.”
>You look over to Kissy, lying on the couch to your right, illuminated by the room’s dimmed light on her far side and the TV in front of her.
>She takes up the majority of said couch, in accordance with her physiology; her wings are slumped and loose and one forehoof hangs over the side, despite the fact she has the ‘recliner’ section out to lay on.
>You’re not sure where the other two have gone; they left the second floor’s shared living room shortly before dusk.
“Why not?”
>She raises one of her wings weakly and pulls it close to her body. “Whiskywings.” It slumps back to the couch as soon as she stops putting visible effort into the act.
>You stifle a laugh.
“They look relaxed.”
>She nods, head resting on the fold-out section’s end.
“That’s good! Even I can tell how tense you’ve been lately.”
>She grumbles something inarticulate, then repositions herself on the couch so her body’s facing you, the wing she’d adjusted now pinned between her body and the couch’s back. Her neck’s near your leg, curved away from you so she can still watch the bright display neither of you are really paying any attention to.
>You realize this is the closest she’s been to you in awhile.
>All three of your employees-slash-housemates have been more distant than before, but compared to the sisters, Kissy may as well have been in the next town over, and that’s two days out.
>It hurt, a little bit, especially when you realize it might be the alcohol getting her this close at all. She’d been so comfortable with you before you left, and for a time after her return.
>Maybe that was connected with her tension?
“Hey, can I ask a question?”
>She tilts her head to fix you with her left eye and ear.
“What’s bothering you so bad?”
>She keeps that eye on you for a time, looking over your features, before sighing and closing both. “The other two were treating you poorly.”
“They let up a bit, I’m guessing because you got on their case. What about you? You’ve been just the opposite.”
>She sighs, then works her loose right wing. “I wanted to give you space, since they were crowding you out.”
>The room’s present lighting let you pick out certain details of Kissy’s body more easily than you normally would. Where her back wasn’t covered by the feathers of her wing’s shoulders, you could see telltale shadows, every movement betraying how tight her muscles are.
>Maybe you shouldn’t be examining her this close.
>Or maybe you should be helping her relax.
>You reach a hand out, placing it on her back, feeling her smooth coat and the rock-like muscles beneath it.
>That hand keeps her on the couch when she flinches away, her head snapping up to look at you with wide eyes.
>You give her your gentlest smile.
“I never asked for the space from you. I always appreciated how friendly you were with me.”
>She blinks, but is otherwise perfectly still. “But you’re my landlord, my boss.”
“Didn’t stop you before. I’m also your drinking buddy, and for a long time the only one who shared a history with and distaste of city life. A friend. You’ve been acting like that hasn’t meant much.”
>You hold her gaze awhile longer, before looking away to her back, where your hand rests.
“No wonder you’re feeling so poor. Here I thought you were relaxed. Just the wings?”
>She nods.
“Pegasi are strange creatures.”
>After a moment’s hesitation, she nods again.
“Here, scootch over.”
>You gently push against her chest near your side, back towards the section of couch she was previously laying on.
>This elicits another, lesser flinch, but she gets the idea and complies, once more facing the TV with her side to you.
>After taking her place in the middle, you carefully extend her left wing with your left hand, grasping its shoulder with your right.
>She mumbles something you don’t catch, but doesn’t complain as you slowly move it around.
“It’s kinda crazy how loose this is, compared to how tight your back is.”
>Another mumble.
>She’s usually more talkative than this, when she’s tipsy.
“You mind if I work on this some? Feels like you could use it.”
>Her vigorous shake of her head, once more lying on the cushion, is the most energy you’ve gotten out of her in at least an hour.
>Her back’s really the only part you could get to, but you do the best work you can on it, her wing forgotten across your lap.
>Her other feathers, around her shoulders, back, and chest, share to differing extents her primaries’ gradient pattern, giving an impression of subtle waves of colors across the front of her body. You do your best to work in and around those feathers as you pass over them.
>Kissy adjusts herself under your hands quite a bit, but never away from them entirely. “Anon...”
“Yeah?”
>She heaves a huge sigh under your hands. “I’m sorry I haven’t been as friendly. I thought you were getting sick of all of us.”
“I appreciate all the time I get to spend with you. You have no idea how much I missed you when you were gone, and not just for the help around the store. It was nice having someone who knew what I’d gotten away from.”
>She shifts under your hands again. “I missed you too. You’re so understanding, so quick to give a stranger a chance; I would never have learned to fit in without you. You’re kind, humble, and eager to help.”
>She laughs briefly, then rotates her wings a bit.
>Your work’s paying off; you can feel all the muscles the action takes, how much more fluid they move. “I mean, look at this. You’re a rare bird, Anon.”
>You run a hand under the smaller feathers on her back, then resettle them.
“You’re the bird here, rare or not, and these prove it.”
>You share her answering laugh and resume your work.
>”I’m lucky I ended up here, after I left. I’m lucky I ran into you. I don’t know who else would have taken the risk of hiring me. I didn’t exactly have a lot of skills for this kind of life.”
“Don’t mention it, it paid off for me too.”
>”And, I’m lucky I found…” She pauses, then finally lifts her head from the reclined section to look at you. “Anon, I’m sorry if this is sudden, but-”
>A veritable stampede of hoofbeats sounds from the stairs to the second floor, and soon Analemma and Nightcap pass the open door.
>The former pauses, then turns and pokes her head back in. “Still watching the tube?”
>You feel Kissy go rigid under you again, but she relaxes even as she pushes your hands away from her back with one wing. “Sorta.” Her tone’s returned to being as flat as before you started working on her back.
>Analemma looks down the hall to where Nightcap disappeared, then sticks her head back in. “Right. Well I’m going to bed. I’ll see you two downstairs tomorrow. Good night!”
>More hoofbeats in the hall as you look back at Kissy. “What were you saying?”
>”Nevermind. Doesn’t matter.”
>As soon as she finishes speaking, Nightcap enters, falling into one of the other chairs in the room. “So what’s on tonight?”

* * *

“Stop!”
>The sisters don’t, of course.
>You hurry after them, adding yet another quartet of hooves banging up the noisy wooden stairs to the store’s living area.
>”Please,” Analemma scoffs, “I understand how you’ve felt about out past behavior, but this is a little far. If you’re so worried about it, you’re free to join us and assure yourself personally.”
“No, I mean he doesn’t do this!”
>”Doesn’t do what?” Nightcap asks.
“Humans don’t bathe in groups!”
>The sisters reach the top of the stairs, with you hot on their hocks. “That’s ridiculous,” Analemma says. “Why does he have a big herd tub?”
“That’s what the town had when this place was built! A lot of stuff in here was recycled from older buildings. This isn’t the heartland, where you could just get whatever you need brand new.”
>”I don’t believe you. It’s not like he’s a dragon.”
>With your failure to deter the two, they toss towels out of a hall closet onto their backs and heading off to certain doom.
>You spin in place and hasten to follow, but with both of them across the width of the hall, you’re unable to get ahead of them before that terrible moment they open the bathroom door and happily stroll right in.
>The bathroom’s current occupant does not share said happiness. “What the- hey, what are you doing?!”
>As you clear the doorframe to peer inside at the disaster-in-progress, you’re amazed how fast the sisters can make themselves comfortable. Nightcap’s in the corner, nudging towels with her snout. Analemma’s already prancing towards the tub.
>Anon’s backed into a corner of it, shock and anger warring across his face.
>Anger wins about the time Analemma splashes her first hoof in.
>”Get out!” He roars as he lunges forward.
>He has his arms around Analemma before she can even get her other forehoof wet, her feathers splaying out from his arms comically as he squeezes her wings to her barrel in a bearhug.
>You’re not sure why he’d be hugging a pony he just told to leave, that’s a-
>Then he LIFTS.
>Your jaw drops as Anon hoists the princess of the sky, the biggest pony you’ve ever met, clear over the rim of the tub as he stands.
>Then he THROWS.
>It’s more a heave, really, but you’re already impressed with the act leading up to it.
>Analemma’s tossed halfway across the admittedly small room like a big sac of flour.
>It’s to her credit she manages to half-right herself in that short flight, coming to a not entirely ungraceful landing on her side, instead of on her back or rear.
>Nightcap’s already scurrying past you down the hall as Anon shouts again, “I said get OUT!”
>Analemma takes to her hooves quickly, but ever dignified, she exits at a more measured pace than her sister.
>You glare at her as she passes.
“Now do you believe me?”
>She doesn’t respond but for dipping her head as she continues down the hall.
>You turn back to the room almost out of instinct; the sound of dripping water and Anon’s hard breathing draws your attention automatically.
>he’s still standing in the tub.
>Buck naked.
>Staring at you.
>You flinch from that glare even as you feel a heat creep across your face, and between your hips.
>The latter for his very visible anatomy; like he’s dropped from a sheath that doesn’t exist, even if he isn’t turgid.
“I- uh, I’m… I’ll just-”
>Even as you try to stammer out a simultaneous apology and farewell, his expression softens. “I doubt you had any part of that.”
>You shake your head rapidly.
>He sighs and snatches a nearby towel – one of the ones the sisters brought with them, as it’s closer than his own – and wraps it around himself for modesty.
>Good. Maybe you’ll be able to speak now. Worth a shot at least.
“I… I tried to w-warn them.”
>Close enough.
>He looks back to you, curious “Warn?”
“Yeah. They didn’t believe me when I told them you bathe alone.”
>”Then I guess this isn’t a return of their personal space invasions.” He folds part of the towel in some way that keeps it pinned to his hips as he busies himself righting a few things that got jostled by his princess-tipping maneuver.
>Even then you can see a contour where the cloth passes over his package.
>You desperately try to ignore that fullness at your rear, the twitching of suppressed winking.
“It was unintentional. Honest.”
>”Yeah, fine, I believe you. They’ve been doing better anyway, I can give them one pass. I am living with three mares under one roof, after all. I know the way you ponies do things.” He looks back up at you then. “Yet you’re still here.”
“Y-you didn’t… don’t seem t-to mind…?”
>He laughs at your difficulty speaking. “They put an end to my relaxation anyway. Guess I’m done here.”
>You succeed – barely – at keeping your eyes on his as he walks towards you.
>He pats you on the back as he leaves the bathroom.
>In your ensuing flinch, that damnable wink wins its way through your self-control.
>Fortunately, he’s not behind you to see it; he’s walking the other way, towards his room.
>Whew.
>Now you’ve seen what he’s graced with. Now you know how bothered it can get you.
>The memory of your failed attempt at confessing your feelings several weeks back still haunts you. Even if Nightcap ruined the moment, you still could have found time.
>Look ahead. You’ll have to think of a good moment to try, in the future.
>Who knew he’d be as enticing physically as he is desirable emotionally?
>You have a lot to think about.
>And a little to take care of.

* * *

>”I cannot get enough of this.”
>You look at Nightcap, who’s just cracked a fresh bottle of your homemade whisky.
“How many is this?”
>She looks up at you. “Sixth drink of the night.”
>Her eyes are sharp and clear, despite your subtle attempts to drink her under the table. She’s been keeping pace far better than you expected. Aren’t pegasi literally lightweights?
“Don’t drink me out of the shop, I make good money off this.”
>”From where, besides the saloon?”
“Visitors almost always leave with a bottle or three; they hear about it from surrounding towns I sell to as well. We may be on Equestria’s fringe, but we do a lot of trading between the four or five towns in our little frontier cluster.”
>”Fascinting,” Analemma mumbles into her glass. “You never hear about stuff like that in the capital.”
”I thought you said you two were from Ponyville.”
>”Canterlot’s close, when you have wings.”
“Ah, fair.”
>You shoot a glance at Kissy. She’s wearing a happy smile, nursing her own drink.
>She’s been a lot milder around the sisters lately.
>Could be because those two are finally getting their act together.
>”In fact,” Analemma starts again, “I never suspected there’d be so much to do out here. Whether outposts on arid land like this one, or hamlets against the wilder forests, or tiny villages atop foothills in the shadows of mountains… you always figure frontier towns are quiet.”
“There’s a lot that needs doing to sustain a community with minimal outside support. Not tight enough we don’t get luxuries. My stills work for more than just whisky, though; I make rectified spirit for cleaning and medicinal use for our little corner of the country too.”
>”And this gets you solid profit?” Nightcap asks, eyeing the bottle.
>”During harvest season, we trade on barter,” Kissy says. “This gives Anon something to do with excess grain, and we can make a good bits even if one of the farms needs to settle their credit with their harvest, if their money’s tight.”
“And honestly, I just enjoy it. Small-batch and craft brewing and such was big back home.”
>”I know quite a bit about it,” Nightcap says. “I have run my own fair share of breweries, and I even have the recipes for the original moonshine.”
“We’re off the grid here, isn’t all of this moonshine?”
>Analemma and Kissy both look between you and Nightcap, who’s wearing a confused expression. “What?”
“Moonshine? Illicit alcohol?”
>”Skies above, no. Moonshine is a special type of alcohol, formulated by a princess long ago.”
>Oh, the fucking name. Very funny.”
“Well hey, I’d love the help. Maybe we could end up turning it into a whole operation.”
>”Oh, this is so exciting!” Analemma chirps happily, then downs the rest of the whisky in her glass. “To think I thought life out here would be dull. You’ll have to teach me everything, sister.”
>”I am sure you will prove as quick a study as in everything else.”
>Kissy doesn’t comment. She appears to have lost some of her enthusiasm.
>The store’s her domain, after all, and here everyone is talking about your side gig.
“If I’m stuck in the basement or wherever with these goofs, maybe there’s a promotion in it for you at the front desk.”
>This doesn’t improve her expression, but you reach out to pat her back, and she immediately cheers up at the contact.
>Yeah, that’s it. No room for anyone to be down.
>Life’s looking up.

* * *

>Your desire to connect to your subjects-to-be, back home, had led you to bond with the palace staff, including the kitchen crew. You’d learned how meat was cooked while dignitaries from carnivorously-inclined nations visited.
>It wasn’t a skill you ever thought you’d use, but here you are.
>Now you smell altogether too much like it.
>Cooked meat, now, but you’re not sure if that’s better or worse than the raw meat from earlier.
>Not that it mattered much; Anon can’t smell as well as ponies, you’re aware. 
>But it still made you uncomfortable on a deep, primal level.
>Something you’re going to have to get used to if you want Anon to-
>No, don’t think about that. Not yet.
>Even if you did plan this almost like a date.
>Not that Anon knew.
>You didn’t want to take the risk of him refusing your gesture. He deserved something good, even if he didn’t know why. No matter how colty it made you.
>He was worth it.
>“This explains where you’ve been yesterday and today,” Anon says, entering the kitchen to place his plates with yours near the sink. “If you used some of my stock you’d have ruined the surprise. Didn’t know you had any idea what to look for, though.”
“My parents knew a lot of foreigners. Cooking meat came with that particular territory. I spent enough time in the kitchen to learn the basics.”
>Court lesson: whenever possible, hide deception with the truth.
>”I thought cooking wasn’t a maresculine thing.”
“I wanted to do something special for you.”
>Anon leans an elbow on the counter and looks at you more fully. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s been a year since you took me in. I wanted to thank you, think of it as a little celebration.
>Whenever possible, hide-
>”When you put it that way, it almost sounds like a date.”
>You steal a sidelong glance at him, after his chuckle.
>He may be trying to hide it with that innocent smile, but you’ve spent enough time in court to know all the tells. Your excuse doesn’t fool him. He’d had the idea before he even followed you into the kitchen, before you could even try to convince him otherwise.
>Another court lesson; sometimes remaining silent is less damaging than any possible response.
>You look back to your work of cleaning cookware.
>Eventually, Anon sighs, turning so his butt is against the counter rather than his side. “You can be a tough nut to crack sometimes, Kissy. I meant it when I said it was good. Sure some of that may have been the fact I didn’t have to cook it myself, but do you have any idea how long it’s been since someone else served me a real dinner like that?”
>You shake your head as you put your cannons into scrubbing a particularly stubborn spot.
>”It’s been a while. Especially one cooked just right like that. Your parents should be proud.”
>Yeah, about that.
>You finish the cookware and your plates, then reach over to scoop the first of his.
>He grabs your hoof before you could touch them. “If you wanted this to be a celebration, how about we leave the chores for later? Not much to do in this town, but we could go for a little stroll.”
>You stare at his hand holding your hood.
>Come on, he’s done more intimate things out of innocence and ignorance before. That’s the whole reason you had to deal with those two royal nitwits in the first place.
>It feels different when he’s aware of your intent behind the evening’s event.
>And proposing actions that seem like they’re furthering that intent.
>You suppress a thrill in your breast. Don’t get too hopeful now. Stay cool.
“Uh, yeah. Of course. Just let me get cleaned up a little, the smell’s getting to me.”
>Don’t mention the smell you idiot!
>Crystal’s pulse, he get you so flustered you forget the basics.
>You back away from the counter, flash him a slightly embarrassed smile, then turn to head down the hall to the bathroom.
>You almost run into Analemma, lurking just behind the doorframe.
“How long were you listening in?”
>You don’t stop as you ask the quiet question.
>More nuisances.
>”Long enough to hear your excuse,” she says, turning to follow you, walking in a manner that mutes her hoofbeats. “Did he buy it?”
“No.”
>”Stallions can always sniff it out.”
>You whirl on her as you reach the bathroom. “Will you stop interfering? It’s not like you have any stake in this.”
>She looks hurt. Some of it is even genuine. “Just looking out for family.”
“Sure. I need to freshen up. Good night.”
>She resettles her wings and dips her head just enough to convey acquiescence before walking back the way you had came, towards her room.
>With the bathroom door closed and locked, you let out a sigh.
>You use a hoof to turn the shower on, then chuckle to yourself.
>Been native so long you’re avoiding magic even when you’re clear to use it.
>You gotta make this washing fast. Can’t leave Anon waiting.
>A surge of power flows through you as you unseal your horn.
>Thanks for the neat trick, Twilight.
>Your emotion-sense sparks to life, with your power restored. You’re not nearly as adept as your mother, and these extended periods deafened to it don’t help, but you can at least get a vague sense of the building’s other occupants.
>Anon’s content, optimistic.
>You feel that thrill coming on again when you think of what it could mean.
>Calm yourself, mare!
>You redirect that nervous and hopeful energy into your magical efforts, scrubbing every part of your body at once.
>You’ve become a living ball of suds as you turn your empathic attention to the other side of the building.
>The sisters are… anticipating something.
>You don’t like that one bit.
>What could they be planning?
>This won’t do. It’s going your way for once. They’ve been so quiet, so… well-behaved.
>Had they just been waiting for the right moment?
>You let the water wash away your accumulated suds, hoping your sudden unease would flow down the drain with them as you quickly work through your mane.
>Said unease stubbornly refused to leave.
>You step out, toweling off on top of a quick heating spell, turning the water off at the same time.
>Alright, that’s enough telekinetic indulgence for the night.
>Closing your eyes, you mutter the incantation to seal your magic.
>A quick check in the mirror confirms the seal has hidden your horn. No, not hidden. It’s not there anymore, not really. The thought had made you uneasy at first, but you’d long since adjusted months ago.
>The quick wash and dry flattened your mane’s natural waves considerably, but there’s nothing wrong with air drying.
>Anon’s not the coltiest. He’ll understand it’s not all about fashion.
>Can’t keep him waiting!
>You unlock the door and dart back down the hall, only to find Anon no longer in the kitchen.
>When you pass the stairs again you catch sight of him, looking back up at you. “Hey. Ready for a walk?”
>One last look down the hall.
>Just you, or is that shadow a little too big, a little too dark?
>You look back to Anon and flash the surest smile you can manage, through your sense of impending doom.
>Don’t let them ruin this for you.
“Yeah. Lets head out.”

* * *

>”Oh, excuse me!” Analemma says as she passes by you, lifting her wing over your head as she enters the doorway behind you.
>A bit louder than necessary, really; she got the attention of your other two employees.
>Nightcap snorts and goes back to the shelves she was stocking.
>Kissy, however, looks anxious.
>She’d been weird about these two once in awhile, even after her surprising defense of their ignorance a few months ago.
>During your little date – of course that’s what it was, despite her claims to the contrary – she’d insisted they were following you, though nothing, not even her occasionally odd behavior, ruined the night.
>Maybe she’s just being overprotective of you in her obvious fondness. The sisters had settled down, no longer as obnoxious as when they’d first arrived.
>You turn back to your attempted repairs on the cash register. Third time the stupid thing’s broke in ten weeks. You hope this doesn’t become a once-a-month thing.
>”Pardon me!” Analemma says, returning from her trip with a few items balanced between her back and one wing. She lifts the other over your head again as she passes, the opposite wing from the first time.
>You’re too busy in the register’s guts to acknowledge her this time. The space wasn’t tight enough to really require such maneuvers anyway.
>Damn spring wont stay in its socket. You rap your pliers on the desk and jam them into the depression the spring sits in, then try to close the drawer again.
>”Uh, Anon, c-can I talk to you…?” comes Kissy’s voice beside you.
>You let the drawer slide back open, holding a hand out to catch the spring as it launches from its socket towards your face. Placing it back down on the counter, you stand, brush a hand on your pants, and turn to her.
>She looks even more anxious than before, meeting your eyes only briefly.
>What’s gotten into her?
“Sure, what’s on your mind?”
>She glances upstairs, back to you, then to the floor. “In private. Um, please.”
>You almost hold a hand out to allow her to go first, before you realize how things worked around here.
>Living with three mares really made you confront the nature of gender roles in this place.
>You tromp up the stairs, Kissy right behind. Once the two of you are in the living room, you close the door behind you as she stands in the middle of the room. “Can you, uh, come here, please?”
>This is a lot of conditions for a simple talk.
>Must not be a simple talk.
“Is something wrong?”
>She takes a deep breath, puffing her chest out as you’ve seen mares sometimes do. “Anon, I’ve been meaning to tell you something for awhile now...”
>She deflates when she meets your eyes, however. You try to give her an encouraging gesture, but it turns out more like a shrug.
>”Those sisters, they… well, it’s been bothering me. How they treat you. Er, treated you. Before.”
“I’d gathered.”
>She winces, then extends her wings as if for balance, though you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen a pegasus arch them so high for that job. She’s giving you a clear view of the underside of her unique plumage even as she lowers her body slightly. “I wanted to say this a long time ago, but I couldn’t find the courage, and they always… always bothered me. You deserve better. Than the- then that.”
>She starts moving now, walking around to your right.
>Her hooves fall in a regular pattern, at precise intervals, one-two-space-space, three-four-space-space.
>She’s gotta be really wound up to be pacing. “But whenever I want to say something, something always gets in the way, even if it’s just my own worries.”
>When she’s almost in front of you again, the pattern’s broken.
>She looks down at her hooves as if they betrayed her with their faulty rhythm, and you see her slightly-lifted wings droop a fraction before she recovers herself and looks you in the eyes again. “And every time they do something like… like what Analemma just did, I’m afraid I’m further away from ever being able to say something, so I have to just… just come out and say it. To you. It, uh, that is...”
“What did Analemma do?”
>She freezes, then lifts a wing and turns in place, passing it over your head. “This! And she’s not even-!” 
>She almost trips when she stops her speech, then continues both her full turn and her talking, “It’s a pegasus thing. It’s a sign of like...”
>Once she’s all the way around, she raises her other wing, passing that one over your head as she slowly spins in the opposite direction. “This, it’s a sign of… possession, or something, like I want- I mean, one wants to, you know, to… possess.”
“No, I don’t know. You’re going to have to run that one by me again.”
>She freezes in place, then puffs out her chest again, but she looks like she’s wobbling side to side. Wait, maybe that’s a deliberate motion? “I couldn’t let her, not when… I wanted to tell you that they’re… well they’re just playing! They don’t really mean it, but I’m sure you knew that, colts have a way of knowing these things, and-”
>The wobble’s turned into a regular swaying, like a metronome, though she’s got her wings out at seemingly-fixed points. She looks like her body’s bouncing between them in slow motion. “But I can’t do that, because it’s not meaningless. I mean, not to me! And they know it! At first it was some sort of game to them, and they stopped, but if they’re going to do it all again, then I- then I...”
>Moving like a metronome.
>Metronome...
>Oh, that’s what this is.
>It’s a dance.
>So that’s what ALL this is.
>Kissy freezes in place. Now that she’s not moving, you can see she’s shaking visibly. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. “I’m supposed to be good at this! Like my mom, supposed to be smooth, why can’t I-”
>She stomps a hoof and turns her head down, shouting into the floor. “Why can’t I say it?!”
>You kneel down, wrapping your arms around her neck under her still-half-spread wings.
“You don’t have to.”
>She’s shaking even under your arms. “I can’t even do all the moves right, I didn’t practice, why did she have to- oh, Crystal’s cleave, she did it to get me to say something to you.”
“I said you don’t have to.”
>She starts, jolting under your arms, against your body, as if just realizing you’d hugged her. She slowly wraps her wings around you. “Anon, I...” A sniffle, then a short laugh. “I’m sorry I bungled this so bad.”
“Tough mares don’t cry, you silly featherbrain.”
>Another short laugh. “That’s offensive.”
“I’ll be offended if you get my shirt wet.”
>”Stallions and their clothes.” She pulls her head back, looking you in the eyes. Maybe not crying, but you can see a few tears have made their escape. You reach up and wipe a finger across their trails. “So, do you-”
“Of course I do. Being honest, I was waiting for you to say it. Something of a hangup back home, not supposed to date subordinates, but things are a bit different out here I guess.”
>”Mares are supposed to make the move anyway,” Kissy mutters, looking away.
“You did, and I don’t care how… inexpert it was.”
>She groans and buries her face in one of your elbows. You pull her back close to you in response.
“I’m glad you found your courage. It’s unexplored territory for me, but I’m happy to see where it goes.”
>She nods, then closes her wings around you tighter. “Thank you. For giving me a chance. For everything.”
>She’s still shaking. You start to rock her side to side, slowly. She’s stiff at first, all locked up, but she slowly eases into it.
>First she’s swaying with you, then she’s letting you take her full weight, all but limp on her hooves in your arms, with her wings falling from your back to your sides.
>Her shaking abates, and her breathing slows, dropping into a regular pattern.
>In the ensuing silence, you can hear the sisters muttering to each other, below.
>They can wait.
>You’re going to enjoy staying just like this for awhile, until Kissy’s feeling better.
>Maybe a little longer than that.

* * *

>”Is it just me, or are the stars more vivid tonight?”
>You look up to the sky yourself, but you knew what you’d see.
>Even the smallest stars twinkle bright, a gift of Nightcap’s while you two walked about, after another of your personally cooked meals.
>It’ll only last until you’re back, you know. She has as little access to her magic disguised as you do to yours. She’s unveiled herself now only because you and Anon are out, so she won’t be seen.
>You wanted Anon to have a good memory, you told her. In case tonight doesn’t go according to plan, at least he’ll have enjoyed it.
>You had a lot of reason to think it wouldn’t.
>You have to tell him.
“You know, the first time we spoke under these stars, I was still getting used to the town.”
>Anon looks down from the night sky, back to you. “What do you mean?”
“About a year ago, I was sitting out on the porch, feeling homesick. You came out to comfort me. It was the first time we really just talked, you know. Oh, we had our small talk off-hours, but that’s when I felt it really started. When you became my friend as well as my boss.”
>”Talked a lot about the past.”
>You give him a wry smile.
“Right now we’re talking about the past talking about the past.”
>”Ah, going for a stroll always gets me lost in thoughts and memories anyway, it’s nothing new.”
>The two of you step out of what passes for a forest, locally, where the xeric shrubs are taller and denser than usual. The start, or the end, of the town’s one and only road lays just ahead. You can see the shop even now, with the skeleton of a new addition under construction off one end.
“We’ve run from it, an awful lot. The past.”
>”I like to think I found a nice place. Haven’t run in awhile.”
>You shake your head with a chuckle.
“It’s a place I’ve run to.”
>He wraps an arm around your neck and back, pulling you close. “I’m glad you did.”
>As you take your first steps onto the shop’s porch, you crane your head around to look behind the two of you.
>The stars dim, not fast enough to be noticeable if you didn’t know what to look for.
>But you did.
>”I’d rather do some thinking about the future, tonight.”
>Your head snaps back around to Anon, and you can’t keep your shock off your face.
“Pardon?”
>He’s wearing one of those grins, the same one you find every time he says something just to needle you.
>Well, not just that. There’s always a kernel of truth to it, deep down.
>He waves you inside first. “Just doesn’t feel right when you’ve got one eye behind you the whole time. I appreciate how much you’ve loosened up over the past month.”
“It’s a lot easier knowing, well...”
>”That I’m yours?”
>You look back at him and smile as you take the first couple steps up the stairs to the second floor.
“In so many words, yes.”
>”I love you too, you silly horse.”
>You flick your tail at his face on impulse as you ascend.
>Wait, shit, that was a totally different kind of impulse.
>Does he know what that means, as a human?
>Fuck fuck fuck.
>You quickly back up down the hall when you reach the top, looking at Anon’s expression as he takes the last few steps, but can’t find any indicator he’s freaked out.
>His gaze just lingers on you a bit longer than you’d expect, before he turns for his room.
>If you had your empathic sense…
>When he reaches his door, though, he looks back at you as he opens it. “Don’t just stand there.”
>You take a few hesitant steps forward.
“N-not the living room?”
>”Oh, I’m sure the sisters are watching something.”
>You can’t hear anything from that direction, but that just makes his invitation more enticing.
>He doesn’t bother lighting a lamp, once the two of you are inside, going straight from closing the door behind you to sitting on the side of his bed. 
>You join him, climbing onto the bed to sit at its end.
>It matters little as he pulls you into his side anyway. “As I said, I’ve been thinking a lot about the future, lately. With the place growing like it is, the new business ventures Nightcap wants to get into, the way the town’s getting bigger, well, there’s a lot going on around here.”
>He looks at you, then leans his head against yours. “There’s a lot going on in my life. You’ve made yourself a part of that.”
>You have to tell him.
>Your gaze falls away from his, first to his chest, then to his legs, then the floor.
“What do you mean?”
>A yelp escapes you as he scoops you into his arms and rolls onto his back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. “I mean that you-” he emphasizes that last word with a kiss on the top of your head, right where your horn should be- “have gone and tangled yourself up in whatever I want to do with myself.”
“Yeah, I…”
>You push yourself off his chest, then scoot back, so you’re sitting at his feet.
“I need to talk about that.”
>He props himself up on his elbows. “What’s wrong?”
“Something I need to show you. You might… rethink this. Might decide I don’t have any place being tangled up with you here.”
>He sits up all the way now, looking at you with concern. “I think I’ll be the judge of that. What is it?”
>You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing back tears. You haven’t even gone through with it yet, he hasn’t even said anything. Don’t be such a cock about this.
>Muttering the trigger phase to yourself, you unseal your magic. You feel your power flood back, the slight shift of your head as your horn’s weight returns.
>You hear his sharp intake of breath.
>You can feel, with your returned empathic sense, his demeanor change.
“My name’s Flurry Heart. I ran from more than my home, I ran from… my position. Sealed away my magic to disguise myself. When I got to know you, know why you left Canterlot, I knew I couldn’t show you even in private. I think I never would have, if we didn’t get… involved. I know you have a thing against unicorn magic so… I’ll understand if you want to...”
>Say it.
”If you want to… let me go.”
>His emotions are a complex thing. Before was just bliss and confusion, but the bliss has given way to concern and irritation and more than a little fear, all mixing together in an ugly color-texture. The confusion remains.
>You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, to meet his stare. That would hurt too much.
>You simply hang your head instead.
“I never meant to deceive you personally. I wanted to know how the common pony lived, see life through their eyes. That meant taking… precautions. Ponies know what wings and a horn together mean.”
>”It means you’re a princess.”
>You finally open your eyes, finally look at him.
>His lips are set in a thin line, but he no longer looks tense, now relaxed against the bed’s headboard. “Did you get anyone to take your place? Y’know, prince and the pauper thing.”
>You shake your head, relieved that he seems to have accepted your explanation, that he sees the truth. His fear is fading, but his concern and irritation remain. His trust is damaged but not destroyed.
“No, and my parents called me back anyway. That’s the other thing. I have to go back in a month. Their punishment for me running away from home is that I need to spend three months there every year.”
>Something must have clicked in his mind, because his emotions shift suddenly, a great amusement splitting the mix. “Hah, you know, that makes sense. But of all of them, did it have to be Persephone?”
>Your turn to be confused. “Have to be what?”
>”Alicorns aren’t just princesses, right?” He leans forward suddenly, scooping you up again, pulling you back over him. This time you keep your hooves under you, but he still drags you forward, so you’re standing over him. “I just happened to get an inconvenient goddess.”
“You… you think I-”
>”Yes, and you’re mine.”
“You don’t want to think about-”
>”Oh, I do, but it can wait. You’ve already shown me all I needed to see, before tonight. Besides, I’m not in the mood right now. ” He reaches up again, but this time his hands rest on your flanks. He sits upright, putting his chest against yours, his head just under your ear. “You are my little goddess. Let me worship you.”
>You suddenly feel very, very hot.
>In all the right places.
>You’re too focused on the sensation of his last breath on your ear as he leans back again to notice him lifting one of his hands from your flank.
>At least until it makes itself known again by sending a shock between your legs, his palm sliding across your sensitive teats on their way further back.
>Your rear legs buckle, but his hand supports you, the heel of his palm kneading your teats with firm, even pressure, even as his middle finger hooks around your now very exposed clit.
>The sudden overwhelming sensation pulls your head down as your neck loses strength.
>He moves so your lips fall onto his, catching you with a kiss.
>His other emotions bleed away now, giving way to love and lust.
>You’ve known he’s loved you ever since you confessed. He’s said as much, acted as much.
>It’s different seeing it here and now. He can’t lie to this sense of yours.
>The confirmation is heavenly.
>What a moment for it.
>Seeing it, feeling it, isn’t enough.
>You want to immerse yourself in it, taste it.
>You open yourself up, bringing down your defenses.
>You let his feelings flood you.
>The heat in your nethers flares into a raging fire, even as you let your mind be consumed by your adoration for this man, and his for you.
>You’re no longer accepting his kiss but drawing it from him.
>His finger’s not just stirring inside you, but now hooked hard around your clit as you push your hips back against his hand, adding that extra stimulation to your already tingling marehood.
>Your surge ignites his desire further, and you accept it, feeding your own to heights great enough to wash out almost all other sensation, drown every thought and idea, force distant awareness of anything beyond Anon.
>So lost are you in the grip of your shared passion, letting his feelings fill you, that you almost miss the momentary gap when the base function overrides all reason,.
>That blankness of your first orgasm.
>As your spasms run their course, you’re panting into his mouth, your breath mixing with his.
>You gasp for breath between kisses you’re no longer sure who’s initiating.
>When no longer busy with you, his lips wear a grin.
>You can feel his hand behind you pull away even as your juices run down his wrist.
>His other’s on the back of your head now. Where’s that been?
>Palm once again sliding across teats sends shocks up your spine.
>With nothing supporting your back half, you collapse on top of his body.
>Ah, that’s what his other hand has been doing.
>His pants are gone.
>You laugh a giddy laugh at yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t let yourself get so lost in your shared emotions.
>”That good, huh?”
>Your eyes need a moment to focus on his.
“Do it… do it again.”
>”I’ll do better.”
>His passion flares again, buffeting you, sweeping you away as his hands do something behind your rear.
>He should be sticking some of those fingers inside you again.
>You gather some of the love and lust you feel. You’re not as good at this as your mom, but you desperately want him to feel what you’re feeling.
>You aim it back at him, projecting it outward, letting it amplify his own emotions.
>You feel him tense, feel his mind flare.
>Did you overst- OHHEAVENSYES.
>A sudden fullness penetrates your marehood with a single buck of his hips, long, firm.
>You clamp down hard against him, feeling his heat, his throbbing pulse inside you.
>He pulls back then rams home again, and this time you push back to meet him.
>That jolt spreading through your whole body, every time he thrusts…
>You had to have more.
>You fall into a rhythm matching his, shoving your hips back even as he thrusts his forward.
>You hold onto that rhythm, let it guide you, keep you rooted as your combined passions threaten to wash you away into oblivion.
>During one meeting, your head is jostled from where it lies on his chest. In the next moment your cheek rests against his skin rather than fabric.
>Your eyes are half-lidded, and even then unseeing.
>Your breath falls on his now-bare chest, heavy, ragged.
>You can hear the beating of his heart under your ear, but only when you’re focusing on it.
>So much of what you’re experiencing feels so distant, everything but your coat against his skin, and his member deep inside you.
>All else is lost in the emotional whirlwind as your desire is reflected and amplified between you.
>He clamps his arms over your back, overwhelming force crushing you into his chest.
>You don’t even have to signal any discomfort, not that you were capable. The moment it touches your consciousness it trickles into that bridge connecting your minds, and his pressure lessens until it’s at just the right level.
>One of his hands brushes your cheek, and on your next shove back against his hips, that next stroke filling your marehood end to end, you nuzzle against that hand, feel the back of his fingers caress your face.
>Then he nudges back, pushing your snout back towards his head.
>His lips press into yours again, urgent.
>You can’t resist his tongue’s ingress.
>You don’t want to anyway.
>You’d play with it a bit with your own, but there’s altogether too much going on right now, and too little of you left to attend to it.
>Focus on the rhythm. Simple, biological need. Fore and back. In and out.
>All that matters.
>Every thrust sends you higher, pushes you further into sublime pleasure. Every throb of his is answered by a quiver of your own, every shove into your depths is met with your clenching around him anew.
>Pressure builds behind it, the need’s answer.
>You can feel his throbbing inside you increase too, he feels even harder than before. His member twitches now occasionally, outside of the rhythm you’re trained on.
>But in this moment, with him inside you at each end, it’s his emotion’s penetration of you that draws you now.
>Behind the vast blankness of unconscious necessity is recognition.
>He knows what’s coming. He sees it and affirms it to himself.
>A bright spark of love, a star burning in that vast void of the animal taking over his mind and yours as both of you approach climax.
>A light of want in that dark of need.
>He needs more than your sex, he wants you.
>You answer that call, even as you feel your own body surrendering, losing the rhythm, losing your focus, your tether on sanity.
>In that moment you give him everything; body through your primal connection, feelings through your magic, and just maybe on some higher level, like that of the Crystal Heart itself, maybe your soul.
>The force of your orgasm hitting his mind and body simultaneously sends him over his own edge.
>He erupts inside you, filling every gap and space between the two of you, spilling out, mingling with your own release.
>It’s as if an impossibly powerful blast of wind howls through the void and extinguishes a raging inferno in a single moment. The feedback loop of lusty desire winks out, spinning down and out and away.
>You become aware of the world, your heaving chest against him, his heart thundering in your ear, the smell of your mixed sweat and other fluids.  When you finally open your eyes to look up at him, his head’s turned up to the ceiling, his own eyes closed.
>The sensual bonfire’s extinguished, but left behind are the warm coals and embers of satisfaction and contentment and adoration.
>You bask in that love, take in that heat, and share your own with him.
>You want to warm yourself by this hearth forever.
>You’ve felt love and affection before, but never quite like this.
>”God,” Anon mumbles, “I didn’t know magic could do something like that. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
>You don’t have enough energy to laugh, or even say anything at all.
“Mm-hmmph...”
>He takes a deep breath and sighs it out, and the hand that was against your face starts petting your neck, working through your mane.
>The other arm, so recently clamped across your spine, now idly plays with the base of your tail.
>His hand so close to your sore and throbbing marehood stirs the embers, threatens the ignition of another fire.
>You let that fall from your mind into his.
>“Hah, ah, give me a bit.”
>You nuzzle his chest.
“’S long as you need...”
>”Pretty happy just like this for now.”
“Mmm. Just like this...”
>A new rhythm of opposed motion arises; as he breathes in, you breath out, and then the inverse.
>Focus on the rhythm. In and out.
>All that matters.

* * *

>The campfire crackles and snaps as twilight fades to night, off the trail of packed earth that passes for a road between towns.
>Flurry rests in your arms, over your lap.
>She’s humming a cheerful tune, one you recognize Plucked wrote.
>Love song, actually.
>She wrote it about you two.
>Flurry’s only spent a year total in town, and she already lives like she’s been there all her life.
>Like she belongs there.
>It’ll make these three months coming up awkward.
“Hey...”
>She stops her humming and cranes her head up at you, before rolling over in your arms.
>You’re momentarily unable to continue; the image of her curled up in your lap like that, hooves hanging limp against her barrel, one wing splayed across your legs and the ground in front of you…
>Her eyes twinkling with firelight as she stares into yours, leaning into the hand you bring up to stroke her cheek…
>The gentle waves of affection she sends your way, whenever she’s feeling particularly cuddly…
>It’s too much.
>This mare is too much for you.
“It’s going to be weird, seeing you act all formal when we’re there.”
>She closes her eyes and nuzzles your chest. “I’ll have to put on airs in court, but in private, I’ll be the same as you’ve always known.”
“’Cept the name.”
>”I was thinking about that.”
>You pull your head back in surprise, and the action draws Flurry’s eyes open again.
“Oh?”
>”Kind of. I liked being incognito, in town. I want to keep that life.”
“Like the other two?”
>She nods. “They want to enjoy their time, and they can’t do that if everyone knows who they are. They’re a lot better at slipping their magic in and out of the disguise though. I’m shut out, while wearing it.”
“I’m not a fan of magic, but I definitely make an exception for yours. Being able to feel what you do… it’s pretty wonderful.”
>She smiles and nuzzles your chest again. “I’m glad you think so. I was worried. We’ve still got a few months to think about what’ll happen when we’re back.”
>Her smile slips a bit when she looks you in the eyes again. “I’m still surprised you came.”
“We just got together, and you want to put three months between us? I’ll suffer the nobility’s magic for that long.”
>The next time she speaks is practically a mumble as she looks away. “I’m still surprised you took our disguises so well.”
>You pull her closer to you, hiking her upright against you, one hand guiding her head next to yours and stroking her mane.
“Aw, stop that. For you three to go as long as you did with hardly any magic at all, that was enough for me. I was shocked, yeah, but I felt I got to know you all very well already. I was more surprised I managed to attract the attention of three princesses than the fact you all had magic you were hiding away.”
>”And the love of one.”
>You kiss her cheek, then resume stroking her mane as your other hand plays with one of her wings. “And the love of one wonderful goddess of love.”
>”Heh, that’s my mom, silly.”
“I don’t love your mom though. But fine, Persephone. Goddess of that most romantic season of spring, and agriculture, fitting for a mare who calls a little farming community home.”
>”Home… I don’t consider the Crystal Empire home anymore. Just our town. Just with you.”
“Lucky for you, I’ll be where your parents are for a few months. Should make it a little easier. Uh, you really think they’ll like me?”
>”Of course! They wouldn’t have let me come back if I didn’t convince them. Besides, Mom’s literally the princess of love. If anypony would understand, she will.”
>You continue holding her, stroking her mane and the feathers near her shoulders.
>She wraps her wings around you in turn, warming you further with her feathery embrace.
>Through it all, the constant gentle lapping of those waves of love from her, easing away your worries and doubts.
>You’re just a man who escaped the city for the frontier, living an honest but no-frills life.
>She’s the daughter of royalty, with a list of titles as long as your arm, one of an exceedingly rare kind of super-pony, possessing magic shared by only one other.
>She is, by all accounts, out of your league.
>But she chose you.
>Dream come true? Maybe even a fairytale ending, in this role-reversed world.
>She couldn’t tell what you’re thinking, but she could tell what you’re feeling, the joy you derive from such thoughts.
>She sends a soft pulse of her own happiness with you your way.
“Mmm. I love you, Flurry. No matter how this goes.”
>“’It’s not too long; Luna can work the still, and Celestia can run the shop, until we’re back.
“Nightcap and Analemma.”
>She laughs. “We’ll respect their wishes.”
>She pulls her head back, and you turn to meet her gaze, those tender, sparkling eyes of hers. “And Anon?”
“Yeah?”
>She leans in to kiss you, lingering, letting you feel her love as well as her lips. When she breaks away, it’s halting, reluctant.
>”I love you too.”
>Meeting her parents, her nation, all the nobility… it’s daunting, for a man turned country boy like yourself.
>But by her side?
>Can’t be that bad.
>You’ll take it month by month.