Sunsparkle woke early the next morning, as she always did, although there was never any need to. Despite the rigors of self-sufficiency, the herd was so small that there was always plenty of time to do nothing productive, or nothing at all. But she was, after all, the Queen and she felt she should set a good example. Not that there was usually anyone else up to set an example for, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered more than anything.
In any case she sat up, stretching, letting the blue silk of her coverlet pool around her hooves as she slid off her plush and cushioned pallet and shook off the sleep clinging fuzzily in the corners of her mind. Shafts of sunlight poured into the room, the golden glow spilling onto the floor as it mimicked the intricate designs gridded into the window. There were three windows on the east side of the room, one on the left with a rearing unicorn, one on the right with a rearing earthen, and the center window displaying a pegasus from the front, its majestic glass wings spread in glory.
But dark shapes flitted outside, breaking the bars of sunlight as they swirled and beat against the glass, rattling the windowpanes. Sunsparkle sighed and pushed open the middle window, sending the flight of songbirds whirling around her head, shrilly scolding her before they flitted back to land on the stone ledge running the length of the window. Without looking, they rearranged their wings on their backs in neat little shuffles, first crossing right over left, then left over right, all the while tilting their heads to regard her expectantly.
"You are spoiled," she told them as she tipped a cup of various sized seeds (kept in a tin under her desk) onto the ledge. The blue jays and magpies greedily pushed and pecked the smaller birds out of the way in their haste to be first, still failing to realize that there was enough for everyone . . . and that their wingbeats and the steps of their scaly feet scattered the seed to the ground, where the sparrows and chickadees dove to retrieve them.
"There's no sense fighting. You're all in it together," Sunsparkle told the blue jay, but he just chattered cockily at her and raised his blue crest before stealing a sunflower seed out from under the cardinal's beak.
Sunsparkle shook her head at their antics, closing the window slowly, being careful not to catch any stray feathers in it. She couldn't stop thinking about it. It. That stone.
She didn't know why she couldn't get it out of her head. After all, it was just a rock, unpretentious and ordinary aside from the markings on it, undoubtedly carved on there by some bored elf with the luxury of hands and too much time on them. It wasn't even a pretty color; it was grey, dull grey. Now if it had been a diamond that size, or a ruby, that would have been something special. Or even if it had been a regular rock with an interesting shade like pearl-white or jade-green. But no, it was grey. It was a rock.
And she was still thinking about it.
She flicked her multi-colored tail in annoyance and stepped into the hall. Unusually, someone was up at this hour, coming down the hallway towards her.
"'Lo, Sunsparkle," the pale blue pony greeted her.
"Good morning, Moonlight," Sunsparkle said, squashing a very unqueenly urge to add 'Good morning, sunshine!', just for contrast. "Up late?"
She nodded, hiding a yawn behind her blue hoof. From what Sunsparkle had gathered, even before the plague Moonlight had been nocturnal, staring alone at the stars while other ponies were nestled in their dreams. Sunsparkle remembered being at the age where adults still towered above her and hearing her mother say, in passing, that Moonlight was "moon-kissed." She had never been able to dredge up the nerve to mention the exchange to Moonlight, or to ask her what it meant.
"I was up on the north tower last night, reading the stars," Moonlight said, shaking the purple-pink pony out of her reverie. "Something is set to happen, but I don't know what."
"Something good?" the young queen asked cautiously. "Or something bad?"
"I couldn't tell," answered Moonlight, cheerful and matter-of-fact. "Anyway, everything's good for someone. And bad. Well, I'm off to bed."
"See you at supper then," Sunsparkle said. (Supper would serve as Moonlight's breakfast.)
"Supper," the yellow-maned pony agreed, her head nodding as she trotted towards her room.
Sunsparkle mulled over Moonlight's words as she walked down the hall, her hooves clipping against the stone. In her youth she had seen the mystic ponies of her mother's court, pretentious and self-important and always making vague, mysterious passes at the future, while skillfully dodging specific questions, lest "fate be thrown off balance." But Moonlight was practical and friendly and had told the other survivors what most of them had suspected; astrology was inexact at the best of times. Wars didn't depend on which constellation Mars was in and fate, if there was such a thing, didn't give a flying clod of manure whether Mercury was rising or not.
"It's not like reading a book," the blue mare had explained. "It's sort of like . . . you're galloping really fast and you catch sight of something out of the corner of your eye, you might get an impression of what it looks like, what it is. But you aren't going to know every little detail of it. And who knows, maybe your impression was all wrong!"
Such talk might not have been reassuring but it was honest, and Sunsparkle was grateful for that. She knew Moonlight was being honest about "something happening" too, and it worried her.
Pushing aside her forebodings, Sunsparkle went outside for a walk, breathing in the cleansing freshness of morning as the tense clipping of her hooves slowed to a more leisurely pace. As she moved over the mossy cobblestones she glanced around, searching for the wishing well, but she never came across the flower-wreathed alcove that held it. But then, the gardens were large and unkempt and she didn't know her way around them nearly so well as, say, Wysteria or Rainbow Dash. Still, it was a bit odd . . .
As she approached the castle again, all thoughts of the gardens were swept away by the marvelous smell of maple syrup and pancakes. Suddenly starving, Sunsparkle all but galloped to the dining room. She drew herself up to a hasty, skidding halt just before the oaken double-doors, pausing to push her mane into place before striding majestically into the dining room.
Cotton Candy hummed and bustled over a stack of pancakes as Sunsparkle entered and Kimono and Minty sauntered in from another entrance to the room, one that led to the hall leading in turn to the private quarters. Kimono had apparently just finished a shower, as his deep purple hair was slicked back and dripping in straggles and strands, leaving dark blue trails down his blue bathrobe. Or maybe it counted as a kimono, Sunsparkle reflected, since it was worn by a pony with that name.
"Good morning, Kimmy--KIMONO!" she hastily corrected. Honestly, why were Minty's nicknames so addictive? She would probably be calling Razzaroo "Roo" next. (Actually, Roo sounded . . . kind of cute. But no! Mustn't give in to the nickname side! Bad!)
"Good morning, Sunsparkle," Kimono returned cordially, with no sign of ire. Nevertheless, Sunsparkle was somewhat confused when Kimono turned to his green-skinned companion and innocently inquired, "Isn't it, 'Int?"
"Intelligent!" Minty said immediately, leaving Sunsparkle with the distinct feeling that she'd missed something.
As she looked at the grinning stallion, she leaned closer, noticing something different about him. "Minty, your hair seems . . . lighter?"
He paused to look over his shoulder, swishing his tail (which was definitely not as pink as it had been) with a pleased expression on his face. "I knew it would work," he said proudly.
"Oh, your lovely hair," Cotton Candy clucked. "Ah well, it will grow back pink." She either didn't notice or simply ignored Minty's sudden frown as she continued, gaze fondly at all three of them. "Now sit down and I'll serve you up." She bustled them into chairs. Well, Cotton Candy bustled Sunsparkle and Minty anyway, but she only bustled at and around Kimono, unable to penetrate the stallion's air of quiet dignity.
Sunsparkle was about to ask the purple-haired pony if he had ever come across a wishing well in the gardens when she was distracted by something on the table, something even more mystifying than Sunny Daze's rock.
"Cotton Candy," the young queen said, staring at the narrow objects lined neatly by each plate, "why the forks?"
Minty and Kimono, noting that they too had silver utensils as part of their place setting, joined Sunsparkle in staring at Cotton Candy, who gazed back, unperturbed.
"That's silverware, dear."
"I know what it is," replied Sunsparkle. "But why are they here? We're not elves."
"No, dear. You're little ponies," Cotton Candy said, smiling in her kind, maddening way.
"What I mean is . . . the only reason there are forks in the castle is in case something with . . . with FINGERS visits. We can't even pick them up!" She pawed awkwardly at the fork with one hoof to illustrate her point.
"Oh goodness no, sweetie, ponies don't have fingers--"
"I think I'm getting sucrose poisoning from here," Minty whispered to Kimono in a mock-sotto voice.
"--we pick up things with our mouths!"
"Cotton Candy. That's my point," Sunsparkle gritted, tamping down her frustration. "To use this fork, I'd have to pick it up in my mouth, stab the pancake with it, and then . . . I wouldn't be able to put the pancake in my mouth because the OTHER end of the fork would already BE in my mouth, you see?"
"That's nice, dear," Cotton Candy said vaguely, turning back towards the flat heated stone she was using as a griddle. "Now who wants BLUEBERRY pancakes?"
"Why's Sunsparkle beating her head against the table?" Rainbow Dash asked in concern when he entered a moment later. He cocked his head towards the table with a puzzled frown. "And why the . . . the . . . "
"Forks," Minty said through a mouth of richly buttered pancake. "Long story. Sit down." He pushed out a chair, which Rainbow Dash accepted, though he still cast a sidelong look of concern towards Sunsparkle.
Sweetberry soon arrived, looking at the forks in askance but making no remark. Sunny Daze followed a few minutes later, throwing herself into her seat with such enthusiasm that she nearly knocked over the syrup as her chair jolted against the table. And a few minutes after that . . .
"Good morning, everyone!" Wysteria cooed as she and Sparkleworks breezed in, side by side with their necks intertwined to the extent that they practically qualified as a seaman's knot. "And what a BEAUTIFUL morning it is . . . isn't it, Sparkle my love?"
"It is," he said, gazing at her tenderly. "The sun is shining . . ."
"The birds are singing . . ." She stared breathlessly up at him.
"The flowers are blooming . . ." He leaned closer.
"Everything is so beautiful," Wysteria said, fluttering her eyes.
"It is, my little flowerbud," Sparkleworks said tenderly. "But not as beautiful as you." They paused for a passionate kiss in the middle of the room.
Sunny Daze raised an eyebrow, flipped her tail, and went back to her pancakes. Sunsparkle subtly rolled her eyes at the display. Rainbow Dash simply blinked. But Minty gave Kimono a significant glance.
"I told you they wouldn't even make it to the table," the green pony whispered. "Pay up, purple pinto!"
"Later," Kimono returned, helping himself to more syrup. "And you know very well I'm not a pinto."
"Close enough."
"EwwWWWWwww!" Everyone turned to see Pinkie Pie standing in the entrance to the dining room, staring at the lip-locked lovebirds in disbelief. "I can't BELIEVE you're making out in the middle of the DINING ROOM!"
Wysteria's dazzling green eyes narrowed from wide-eyed sappiness to a death-glare as she swiveled towards Pinkie Pie. "EXCUSE ME?"
"Wysteria, darling, it doesn't matter what she thinks. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks. All that matters," Sparkleworks said huskily, "is US!"
"Oh, Sparkleworks!"
"Oh, Wysteria!"
"Oh, gag me." Pinkie Pie made a face.
"Out of the mouths of babes," Sunny Daze smiled. "'Berry? More butter please?"
The rest of the meal proceeded in relative calm, at least until Minty playfully tried to feed Kimono a forkful of pancakes but ended up jabbing the purple pony in the eye instead. Kimono took it stoically, rubbing the syrup out of his eye as Minty dropped the fork with a clatter and gasped out an apology.
Of course the mishap pulled Cotton Candy to his side, much as a moth is attracted to a flame. Kimono probably would have staved off her motherly concern successfully had he not been simultaneously beset by anxious questions from Minty ("Are you okay? Are you SURE you're okay? How many hooves am I holding up?") who was also motivated by concern, although not of the motherly variety.
In the end, the purple-haired stallion surrendered to their demand that he put something cold over his eye. Even then, he wouldn't have agreed if he'd known the cold object they would dig out was a chilled orange.
Sunsparkle was focusing on the last crumbs on her plate, because she knew that if she looked up and saw the dignified purple stallion holding an orange over his eye with his hoof, she would burst out laughing. As it was, Sunny Daze kept pretending to cough to hide her own giggles and even Sweetberry made a noise suspiciously close to a snicker at one point.
Sparkleworks and Wysteria, however, were too wrapped up in their kissing session (still in the middle of the room) to notice Kimono or anyone else. Later they would undoubtedly be irritated to find that they'd missed the pancakes completely, but as Sweetberry pointed out, "It's their own fault."
As Sunsparkle moved around the lip-locked pair to take her dishes to the kitchen, she realized with a twinge of guilt that she was truly looking forward to the point when Sparkleworks and Wysteria came down from their euphoria and settled into their normal routine of nagging, fighting, and petty jealousy. They were just so much more . . . tolerable that way. Once they had been passionate and tender towards each other for almost a week and they had driven the other ponies up the wall with their constant adulation of each other and their maddening tendency to begin kissing in doorways and continue kissing while other ponies glared at them and tried to shove past. "I guess that's why it's called lovesick," Moonlight had commented that time, as Sparkleworks told Wysteria that her eyes were like the sun and Pinkie Pie leaned over a flower pot and pretended to vomit . . .
Having put her dishes in the ceramic sink in the kitchen, Sunsparkle turned to exit and suddenly jumped as Moonlight unexpectedly skidded through the doorway in front of her, as though summoned by her part in the memory.
"Moonlight! You're awake?" Sunsparkle exclaimed in surprise. "What's wrong?" she added, taking in the peculiar, drawn expression on the blue pony's face.
"Nothing. Something. I don't know." Moonlight lowered her neck and took a breath. When she raised her head again, she seemed more composed. "Something's happening. Outside. No, no, not that something," she added, seeing Sunsparkle's expression. "At least . . . I don't think so. But . . . well . . . see for yourself."
She gestured towards a window with lacy white curtains. Sunsparkle set her front hooves on the sill as she pushed it open, letting in a burst of fresh breeze and birdsong. There were two small shadows dancing, circling around the majestic marble steps leading up to the palace. Sunsparkle stared dumbly at the ground for a moment before staring wildly skyward, hardly daring to think what might cast such shadows.
The sun haloed the two pegasi gliding high above the castle on massive feathered wings.