For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and was probably well into double digits without exaggeration, Luke had a door slammed in his face.

“A simple ‘no’ would have been fine!” he yelled through the polished wood, but the haughty head chef of Ristorante Canterlot wouldn’t hear another word. Like so many other business owners, she no doubt assumed the ‘alien’ from another world would scare off all of her customers. To employ the services of such a beast would be business suicide, no matter how harmless the Princesses claimed he was.

With a glare that could cut steel, Luke spun on his heels, stomping away from the restaurant along Canterlot’s Mane Street. The spacious lime-tinted cobble pathway was positively packed with the proudest of posh ponies going about their daily business, many of which made no small show of giving him the widest of berths. Honestly, you’d think he had leprosy from the way they turned their muzzles up at him.

The nobles were the worst. They often regarded him as if he were a cancerous tumour that had sprouted legs and started walking about, lording it over the poor ponies with his humongous lanky frame and flappy minotaur limbs. Of course, Luke did nothing of the sort, but prejudice was rife within the well-to-do districts of Canterlot.

The miffed human pushed the uppity aristocracy from his thoughts, stopping to hold the now slightly crumpled copy of his resume in front of his nose. There had to be something he was missing. Something he hadn’t thought of…

Luke Nona

• A punctual, reliable individual, with an excellent work ethic, scrupulous attention to detail, and a passionate sense of pride over a job well done.
• Doesn’t eat ponies! Princess Celestia can confirm this.
• Will only distract you from your working day with the freshest, most dankest of memes.

Nah. As resumes go, this was Grade-A material. Who needs actual experience when you have the power of long and interesting adjectives on your side, right?

So, why the hell was he still claiming welfare?

He’d been religiously attending these blasted ‘appointments’ every two weeks for almost a whole year now, and he was still just as unemployed as the day he’d descended from the Crystal Mountains.

Yes, Luke was an anomaly to ponykind. It turned out that an ill-conceived solo hiking trip to the Austrian Alps in the dead of winter hadn’t been the brightest of ideas, especially considering his abysmal navigation skills. He’d gotten so lost, he’d wandered into a city made of crystal, and inhabited by sapient ponies, of all things.

With a dejected sigh, he resigned himself to plodding along the beaten track to the Canterlot Employment Reassignment Centre. It was a route that had long since been burned into muscle memory over the past few months. His legs could no doubt take him there without the aid of his eyes, at this point.

The government-ran building was situated on the outskirts of the west end of Canterlot. It was a wonder the nobles hadn’t started a petition to have the establishment moved, considering the “riff-raff” that flocked to the building on their assigned weekdays to collect welfare payments and prove their efforts to find a job.

Sure enough, Luke was only a couple of gleaming white marble, gold accented streets away when he spotted a few ponies that stood out like mules amongst racehorses. A young pegasus mare, her mane tatty and barely kept, a couple of laughing foals trailing behind her. A frail, old stallion with a limp, his impressive white beard becoming trapped under his forehooves every couple of paces.

“Sundance, Moonbeam, come on! We’re going to be late,” cried the mare. She sounded about as tired as she looked, whipping her head back to the frolicing foals. They fluttered up to her back, still giggling away.

Luke smiled, following the mare around the corner into a street that was home to a few smaller, but still pretty extravagant establishments. You had Van Cloven Hoof, a designer jewellry store, its inch-thick glass window panes showcasing the finest diamonds and gems in Canterlot. Bon Voyage, a travel agent, boasting airship cruises to various sun-drenched destinations all over Equador. Canterlot Carousel, a high end clothing outlet ran by one of the Elements of Harmony, no less. What really stood out though, was the huge cylindrical white tower looming over all of the other buildings— the Canterlot Employment Reassignment Centre.

Or, the pony dole-house, as Luke liked to call it.

Following the mare and her foals inside, Luke paused for a moment, holding the glass door open and waiting for the elderly stallion to make his way up the small flight of marble steps to the entrance. Dude looked about ready to keel over by the time he reached the top, poor thing.

“Thank you, big feller,” the stallion croaked, hobbling his way inside.

“Don’t mention it, Sir,” Luke chirped, surprised. He honestly hadn’t expected gratitude, and even more honestly, he knew that he really shouldn’t be making such assumptions. Maybe the nobles were just painting ponies in a bad light.

Meandering past several rows of wooden chairs that were hopelessly too low for him, Luke claimed his favourite position—a casual lean against one of five marble pillars that rose all the way up to the white domed ceiling of the lobby—to wait for his name to be called. And so, the biweekly ritual began. Sometimes, he’d pick a different pillar each visit, just to liven things up a bit. It never really worked. The interior of the lobby was just as white and uninteresting as the outside, no matter where one decided to stand.

Ponies came and went as their names were called, the majority of them of the earth and pegasi variant. The locals claimed equality, but it was easy to see that Canterlot was a unicorn’s city. Luke had only ever seen around one or two unicorns coming in to sign their names.

“Luke Nona,” called a beige bespectacled unicorn mare, the name rolling off her tongue not unlike a refrigerator would down a flight of stairs.

Luke made his way past several cubicles, eventually reaching one near the back row, where the bored looking unicorn sat with her muzzle buried in a piece of parchment. She looked up at him as he nudged the wooden chair aside with his foot, opting instead to kneel down in front of the low desk.

Gilded Scroll had been getting ponies back into full time employment for over twenty five years. Never in all her time as a Vocational Advisor had she come across a case as difficult as the creature that now knelt before her. She’d tried just about everything. He had neither wings, nor magic, so that alone wiped out a large chunk of the opportunities that could have suited him. This, coupled with the fact he wasn’t even remotely equine, made it damn near impossible to put him in a job.

“Gilda! What you got for me this week?” Luke asked hopefully. He had a good feeling about this week. This was the week things would finally start looking up for him. “Did you speak to the manager at the Canterlot Shipping Company?” He could already picture it: soaring through the skies on a large freight airship, getting to visit some of the famous Equestrian cities he’d heard about. And the job itself? Stock picking. How hard could that be?

Gilded sighed. “Yes.”

“Great!” Luke exclaimed, throwing his small stack of crumpled resumes into the air in triumph. “When do I start?”

Another, longer sigh. “You don’t.”

Luke’s face fell, just as one of the crumpled resumes landed pitifully on his shoulder. He felt rather silly. “Oh.”

“I tried my best for you, dear, I really did. But she said the position had already been filled,” Gilded explained, her voice as soft and comforting as she could make it.

Luke gave a sigh of his own as he gathered up his resumes. Every visit to this place yielded nothing but disappointment. He should have known not to get his hopes up. “Is there anything else?” he muttered.

“Well, I’ve been inquiring with a few of our agricultural clients, and some of them have shown an interest. Can you pull a plow?”

Wait. What? Was she talking about those huge wooden things dragged through fields by roided out earth stallions? “Can you pull a plow?”

“Well, no, but I’m not an earth pony,” Gilded retorted.

“Well, neither am I, fuzzy cheeks,” Luke countered. Pulling a plow, indeed. Those things probably weighed as much as a small car.

It seemed Gilded Scroll’s patience had ultimately ran out, judging by the way she huffily slid the signing clipboard over the desk. “Sign here. Your bits will be paid into your account, as usual. Keep handing out those resumes.”

Luke did as he was asked, his mind already wandering to the businesses in Canterlot he hadn’t yet approached. There was that little bakery up on fifth street. It wasn’t too far from his apartment, either. Only, the mare running it was a tiny little pegasus. Luke hadn’t the heart to approach her for fear of scaring the feathers off of her.

He had already tried near enough all of the other small businesses, with pretty much the same result: rejection. Maybe he should try the larger corporations? Admittedly, wandering in off the street to the huge fancy reception of some multi-million bit gleaming corporate tower was not a prospect he found all that appealing.

But then again, living like the lowliest of lowly peasants was even less appealing.

Hastily restacked resumes in hand, Luke strutted from the dole-house with his head held high. He was only a stone’s throw away from Mane Street, where some of the larger businesses had their corporate headquarters.

He’d never get a job at the Crown Bank, perhaps one of the larger buildings on the illustrious street. That place required all sorts of fancy qualifications, some of which could only be awarded by Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Since Luke was neither gifted, nor a unicorn, that was out.

There was Rosewood Entertainment, the famous theatre company. Luke paused in front of the gargantuan cuboid-shaped building, with its gleaming windows and shiny polished marble walls and pillars glinting in the sunlight. Maybe he could apply for a ticket handler position? Or a stage hand? All he had to do was go in and hand the receptionist a resume. It was simple. Right?

He made to go and do just that, but his feet chose that moment to ignore his commands, and he ended walking right on past the building. What if the pony on the desk just laughed at him? Told him he was mad to think he could ever get a job at Rosewood?

Luke trudged on, aimlessly kicking a pebble along the ground as ponies continued to trot around him. Another building caught his attention, perhaps the biggest and most impressive of the lot. There’s no way in hell I’m walking in there, he thought, gazing up at the skyscraper.

This gleaming marble structure made the dole house look like a small-town church bell tower in comparison. It was shaped almost like a designer vase, gracefully curving outwards around the middle, then narrowing again, before curving outwards to a lesser degree at the top. Floor after floor of polished windows ran all the way up to an airship dock at the very top.

Whoever owned this place was rich. Extremely rich.

A large sparkling logo consisting of magically glowing letters set below a set of purple and gold stylised lilies adorned the glass covering the huge open-plan lobby. In fact, to call it a mere lobby was an understatement. It must have ran all the way up to at least the fiftieth floor, its ring-like balconies tapering off to a point the higher you looked. The solid gold spiral snaking its way up the balconies in a helix kind of made the whole thing look like a huge unicorn horn.

Luke shook his head. This place looked like a noble’s wet dream. He’d never fit in.

As if on cue, a whole bunch of them spilled out from the building’s multiple magically revolving doors.

Quickly averting his gaze, he shuffled back towards the bank. The question of how attractive ponies appeared to him hadn’t really crossed his mind in the past year, but some of the mares accompanying this party were quite clearly supermodels. He certainly had no intentions of being caught ogling them.

Giving up the pointless endeavour as a lost cause, he headed home. Maybe he’d come back and try again another day. Probably… not.

The buildings quickly went from flashy glass and marble to faded white stone and old wooden doors as Luke made his way back to the dingy little apartment complex he called home. The only good thing about this place was that the ponies were a lot friendlier, but that was about as extensive as the ‘pros’ list got.

He wrestled with the lock for a good thirty seconds before the stupid thing yielded, allowing him access to his apartment.

It was the most humble of humble abodes, what with its cracked and peeling, thoroughly outdated wallpaper. He gave the place a gloomy once over. His couch was a sorry looking thing, sporting several holes, many of which exposed the springs. A dented old ice box sat just behind it, next to a small stove. You knew you were poor when your living room was also your kitchen.

Luke threw the pile of un-handed-out resumes onto a spindly old side table that was missing a leg. The only reason the thing stayed upright was because it was leaning against the wall, its ragged old tablecloth covering an ugly crack in the plaster.

Throwing himself down on the couch, he rested one leg on the coffee table, his eyes glazing over. His gaze eventually ended up settling on a life-sized alicorn lamp, complete with multi-hued flowing mane and tail, and a long spiralling white horn poking out from the top of the shade.

Wait… He didn’t have an alicorn lamp. Anything related to alicorns was often expensive.

Striding over to the corner, he plucked the dusty old lampshade from Celestia’s head. “For God’s sake, what are you doing here?”

The alicorn demi-god pursed her lips, as though she hadn’t just been caught in the act of pretending to be an inanimate object. “Luke, Canterlot is such a great city, yet you choose to live in the part of it that showcases my greatest failure. Why?” she inquired, her tone suggesting she was admonishing a small foal.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Oh, get over yourself. Every city has people living on the breadline. The fact that everypony in Canterlot has a home and no one is starving is an achievement in and of itself,” he muttered, throwing the lampshade aside and plonking himself back down on the couch.

Celestia raised herself to her fullest height, which was just a bit too tall for the small apartment.

SCRAPE.

Her horn left quite a sizeable hole in the ceiling, bits of plaster raining down on her mane. “Please. Reconsider my offer,” she implored regardless, throwing a perfunctory glance up to the mess she’d made. “My offer for the role of Administrative Assistant to the Crown still stands.” Her horn flashed, prompting the ceiling to instantly repair itself.

“I already told you—I don’t want handouts. Besides, that job sounds made up,” Luke challenged.

Celestia had taken it upon herself to make a fuss over Luke from the moment he’d turned up in the Crystal Empire, quickly whisking him off to a rather sheltered life at Canterlot Castle. He’d ended up staying there for a couple of weeks, but being in close proximity to the nobles had swiftly become very tiresome.

“Technically, welfare counts as a handout,” Celestia huffed, if only to prove a point.

“Yes, but it’s the same handout everypony gets. Plus, I’m expected to look for a job, just like everypony else.”

Celestia stomped a forehoof. “I just offered you a job!”

“A fake job.”

Celestia frowned. “Fine. I didn’t want to have to resort to this…” She paused, letting out a tiresome sigh. “An old friend of mine owes me a favour,” she began, her royal ears drooping. It really did look as though it pained her to say it. “I was hoping to hold it over her head for a few more decades, but it upsets me seeing you live like this,” she said, waving a hoof around with an ugly grimace on her muzzle. “It’s the same with all of my subjects. If an easy solution existed, I’d have found it years ago.”

“Hey! It’s not that bad,” Luke lied. His place was a shithole and he lived like a bum. He was well aware of that fact.

“Do you want the job, or not? And yes, a real job. You won’t be working for me, either.”

Luke gave her a deadpan stare. “Look at this place! Of course I do,” he muttered.

Celestia grinned. Her ears perked right up, and the sun streaming through the murky windows seemed to shine just that little bit brighter. “Good. Make sure you’re at the J’adore headquarters on Mane Street tomorrow morning. O’eight hundred hours sharp.”

Luke felt the colour instantly drain from his face. “Wait, that’s…” The huge magically glowing logo flashed through his mind, along with the gorgeous supermodels, and the fifty storey unicorn horn.

Celestia didn’t appear to have heard him. “I don’t know what you’ll be doing yet, but you’ll definitely be on the payroll. Don’t be late.”

With a loud CRACK that nearly caused Luke to fall off his tatty couch, Celestia disappeared in a flash of bright white light.

Early morning sunlight bathed Canterlot’s Mane Street, which was already beginning to fill with bright and chipper morning ponies, ready to seize the day.

Luke wished he had even half their enthusiasm. As if the daunting prospect of starting a new job in a big shiny tower full of ponies that probably weren’t going to like him very much wasn’t enough, he also had to face this day having had only three hours sleep.

He’d already contemplated just staying home about three or four times whilst getting ready that morning, and as he stood staring up at the huge marble structure, he couldn’t help but consider bailing out once more.

The only thing that stopped him was the thought of Celestia’s smug face when she found out. And she would find out. He’d never hear the end of it, and he’d more than likely end up working as her ‘royal pet’ out of pure shame.

No. It was time to grow some balls and go to work, whatever that work may be…

A quick perusal through a couple of fashion magazines Luke had hastily bought after Celestia had left was enough to tell him that J’adore was the leading modelling company, not just in Canterlot, but all of Equestria. Its founder, some old mare named Fleur de Lis, was a rich Prench supermodel, and pretty much everything she and her company did influenced the fashion industry in some way.

The magazines hadn’t mentioned much more than that, and with the severe lack of an internet-like system in Equestria, Luke felt as though he was walking into this job mostly blind. He trudged up the stairs regardless, feigning a confidence he didn’t feel.

The heat of the sun was chased away by a magically generated air conditioning field as he passed through one of the five revolving doors built in to the vast front of the building. The white marble balconies looming overhead looked even more impressive from the inside, the golden helix glinting in the light shining from the vast wall of glass panes. A long marble reception desk shaped like a giant horseshoe dominated the lobby. It ran most of the way around a raised platform bearing a large statue of a very pretty unicorn mare reared up on her hind legs.

The statue looked friendly enough, but the actual unicorn sitting behind the desk was looking at him as though he had gotten lost. “Can I help you?” she squeaked, the barest hint of terror in her voice.

Luke cleared his throat, the confident-sounding line of relevant questioning he’d rehearsed in his head as he’d laid awake in bed last night promptly vanishing from his mind in an instant. “Well… uh-I… Celestia… said there was a job for me here… somewhere,” he stuttered, quite pathetically.

The mare blinked, her maw slightly open and one of her fuzzy little ears flicking against her mane. Her horn flared, a silvery sliver of magic fumbling around in the breast-pocket of her tiny black uniform and pulling out a quill and a small bottle of ink.

Luke gave her an apologetic look, wondering if he could get away with just turning around and walking back out of the place, but a second receptionist that he hadn’t noticed sidled into view. “Forgive me, but it sounded like you said Princess Celestia told you to come here?” she said, her cute little voice ever rising with an upward inflection.

Luke cleared his throat again, seeing as it hadn’t really worked the first time. “Yes. She did,” he muttered, already beginning to regret embarking on this pointless endeavor.

In fact, it wouldn’t have been that much of a surprise if the Princess had just made this whole ‘job offer’ up as some sort of joke… Well, actually, it would. That would be incredibly mean. Celestia liked to joke, but she wouldn’t go that far. Would she?

“What’s your name?” asked the first mare, having fished out a fresh scroll of parchment from a drawer in the desk. She looked at him expectantly, her pretty eyes unblinking.

“Luke Nona. Look, the Princess said there’d be a job for me here. She didn’t say what it is, but she told me to be here at eight ‘o clock,” he explained, trying to ignore the two mares looking at him as though he was an escaped mental patient. He failed. “...you know what? You obviously had no idea I was going to show up, so I’m just gonna go ahead and get out of here,” and shove my foot so far up Celestia’s plot hole that I kick her teeth out.

“Oh, you’re the new trainee airship pilot!” the first mare suddenly exclaimed, looking down at the post it note now stuck to her hoof. “Look, it says here, ‘Luke Nona will be starting his flight training today. Send him up to the dock as soon as he arrives.’”

Luke blinked. “I’m the what now?” he muttered. Did she just say airship pilot?

“Sorry,” the second mare said with a sheepish grin, “I guess we were expecting a pony.”

“Yes, please—forgive us. The dock is at the top of the tower. You have to take the first elevator up as far as it will go, then you need to get out and head along the corridor about sixty hooves, take a left, then a right, then another left, and along to the last door on your left. That’s the the main shoot studio, you can’t miss it. Head through there to the express elevator on the far side, and that will take you up to the dock,” she nattered off, pointing a fuzzy hoof to the first elevator. “Sompony will meet you up there and let you know what to do next,” she smiled.

“I… what?” Was she seriously expecting him to remember all of that? He had a hard enough time remembering what day of the week it was, nevermind a labyrinth of directions.

The other receptionist gave him a big happy grin as well. “Elevator, sixty hooves straight ahead as you get out, then left, right, left, last door on your left. Go through the studio to the second elevator, and that will take you up to the dock,”

Luke took a deep breath. “Okay. I think I’ve got it.”

He hadn’t got it. In fact, he was nowhere near.

The elevator was easy enough, but how far was sixty hooves, exactly? He made a fist, which was about the size of a hoof, right? There was probably around three fists to a foot, so… twenty feet?

That could’ve been one of two different red-carpeted corridors on the left, which led away in slightly different directions. Only one of them had an immediate right, however, so that was the one Luke chose.

Who in their right mind would make him a trainee pilot anyway? Was this old friend of Celestia’s crazy? Perhaps it was even Fleur herself? Had old age driven the mare mad? He hadn’t a clue how to fly an airship. Hell, he could barely fly a kite.

Grumbling inaudibly to himself, Luke reached a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. He blinked. “Shit.” … It was left, then right… He threw a glance back down the empty corridor. I should have taken a left on this one at some point, he pondered, but not for long.

The double doors sprang open in a blue glow, and Luke found himself looking down at a young blue unicorn with a bleach-white mane. She was very pretty, probably a model, by the look of her perfectly styled mane and tail. She took one look at him, threw back her head and screamed.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA! GUARDS!”

Two burly unicorn stallions, one silver and the other grey, appeared behind her, but even they paused at the sight of him. Luke panicked. Somehow, he got the feeling it would be a bad idea to stop and ask these ponies for directions.

He bolted back down the corridor, taking the first right he found, then a left, then another right, and sprinted… and sprinted… Crap. There were no more branching corridors, just a dead end up ahead.

“Halt!” boomed one of the stallions, but Luke had just spotted a plaque on the door to his left that read ‘STUDIO’. Hoping it was the studio with the second elevator he was supposed to take, he tumbled through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

This was a mistake.

The studio was packed with supermodels, near enough all of which snapped their gazes to him when the door slammed. The walls were covered with heavy black curtains that hung from a rail that ran the entire circumference of the room, save for a large green screen on the back wall. A multitude of lights hung from specialised racks on the ceiling, and a quick glance revealed four expensive looking cameras on thick metal tripods dotted about the room.

“Hi!” Luke croaked, tottering away from the door. He could see it. Right there. The elevator. All he had to do was reach it. “D-Dont mind me. I’m just gonna…” he pointed feebly at the lift. “Yeah… Sorry… S’cuse me,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper as he carefully shimmied around the pretty mares. At least they weren’t screaming at him.

One of them in particular caught his eye, and Luke had to stop for a double take. Damn, that’s a good looking horse… Her coat—partly covered by a short blue dress with white pleats that hugged her barrel in all of the right places—was a purer shade of white than that of freshly fallen snow. It was perhaps whiter even than Celestia’s, if such a thing were possible. She looked barely a day over twenty two, around a foot taller than any of the ponies occupying the room, and her perfectly spiralled white horn seemed to be proportionally longer than any other unicorn’s as a result. The silkiest of pale pink and white locks cascaded from her head and rump in the kind of lengthy graceful curls that were guaranteed to get any red-blooded male’s attention, whatever species they happened to be.

The only other article of clothing she wore—if one could even call it that—struck Luke as a little out of place. It was the dark leather collar fastened around her neck, studded with what looked to be sharp platinum spikes, of all things. But that wasn’t the most alarming thing about it. What really sent a shiver down his spine was the bright, elongated hexagonal sapphire embedded in the center. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but it made him feel a little uneasy. The gem was so bright that it almost appeared to be glowing.

The mare’s pale violet eyes regarded Luke with mild curiosity, as opposed to the fearful glances thrown by the other models. He could almost feel her gaze, and it seemed to excite the butterflies in his stomach to the point of making him feel a little giddy. He was suddenly aware he’d been staring at her inanimately for the better part of fifteen seconds. Even then, he couldn’t quite will his feet to just take him to the elevator. Maybe he was imagining things, but he thought he caught perhaps the barest hint of a smile from the supermodel. The fleeting moment was broken however, when the door suddenly crashed open.

BANG.

“Stop right there, criminal scum!” yelled the silver stallion, who had finally caught up. The look of glee on his face suggested he was very happy to have discovered Luke in a room full of supermodels.

Luke rolled his eyes. Perhaps it had been a stupid idea to run. “Look, I think there’s been a misund-” he began, but his words were cut short by the door of the studio banging open once more. Several of the models gave looks of exasperation, but quickly adopted a more neutral expression when they spotted who had entered.

A roughly middle-aged looking earth pony came striding in, her pale blue coat covered in a stylish black dress and a rather expensive looking camera lens clasped between her teeth. A pair of black rimmed, pink designer shades obscured her eyes, and her mane and tail were shoulder and hind-hoof length masses of neatly-cropped white. She waltzed past Luke as though he was nothing more extraordinary than a coat rack and carefully screwed the delicate bit of kit onto one of the cameras.

“Ausgezeichnet. Now, where were we?” she glanced around the studio, spotting the unicorn bodyguard in an instant. “Silver Shield? What are you doing here? Sky Swan is not due her shoot for another hour, at ze very least.”

The aptly named Silver Shield appeared a little taken aback at the earth mare’s nonchalance, but raised his hoof to point at Luke regardless. “This… monster managed to sneak into the building to harass the models!” he blindly accused.

Luke scowled, just as the mare finally seemed to notice he was standing in the middle of her studio. She gave him a brief glance, her rolling eyes finding the stallion once more. “He’s supposed to be here, you blithering brute! Zis is ze new trainee pilot for Fleur’s ship. A company newsletter was sent out to everypony zis morning, but obviously nopony bothered to read it. Again. Der Sonne zuliebe!”

“Oh,” muttered the stallion, glancing from her to Luke, disbelief evident in his eyes. He looked almost afraid to contradict her. “Are you sure?” he finally asked, in a voice that would be more suited to a pony a third his size.

“Out! Get out of mein studio!” snapped the mare, her nostrils flaring with rage. The stallion didn’t have to be told twice. He scarpered as fast as his burly legs would carry him. A smirk curled Luke’s lips as the door slammed, but it fell right off his face when the mare rounded on him instead. “What are you waiting for, Luke? Get up to the dock. I have thirty photo shoots to complete by ze end of the week, and you’re distracting my models.” With that, the mare turned back to her camera. “Come now, Fraulein, give me ze magics!”

She wasn’t wrong. Their fear of him was gradually dissipating, much of it being replaced with the same idle curiosity afforded to him by the extremely pretty mare with the choker collar. Hopelessly enthralled, his eyes found her again. There was something about this pony, and it wasn’t just the fact that she made every other mare in the room look like a pack mule in comparison. It was almost as if something deep in her eyes… deep in that gem of hers, in fact, was calling to him.

The smile on her face faltered, her eyes flicking to the bossy earth pony behind the camera. Apparently she had caught wind of the model still observing Luke. The earth mare turned. “Why are you still here?” she snapped.

“Sorry!” Luke muttered, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the unicorn. He gave the earth pony what he hoped was an apologetic look and covered the rest of the room in long strides, stooping low to jab a fist to the hoof-sized call button next to the elevator.

The doors slid open, and Luke quickly stepped inside and jabbed at the button labelled ‘Sky Dock’ several times. The pretty mare’s eyes flashed over him once more before the doors closed, the lift jolting into motion. No pony had ever had such an effect on him. Hell, he was certain he wouldn’t become so flustered if he ever met a human supermodel.

Luke knew one thing for certain, though. He’d have to rein in his wandering eyes. Fleur de Lis probably wouldn’t want a pilot that lusted after her models. As the lift ascended the tower, he wondered if he would get to meet the famous old mare.

Click. “Ooh, ja, ja.Das ist gut.” Click. Click.

Viola Terracotta, a blood red unicorn of Saddle Arabian descent, flicked her long flowing mane over her back, striking a practised pose that she knew would please Photo Finish.

Photo Finish was indeed pleased, happily snapping more and more photos, but Fleur de Lis was much too caught up in an increasingly irksome internal battle with her darker half to notice.

Le suivre.

Her eyes narrowed. And do what, exactly? Such a suggestion was ludicrous for a mare of her stature. A quick swipe of her tongue over her her teeth confirmed an alarming suspicion: she had fangs. Small, half extended fangs, but fangs nonetheless.

This was not ideal.

Normally, her dark counterpart lay dormant in the back of her mind, a docile beast that cared very little about Fleur’s hectic schedule. Through seemingly countless restaurant openings, theatre premieres and art exhibits, she was barely noticeable to Fleur, and completely imperceptible to anypony else. She just fed silently and sparingly on their admiration and unwavering attention, and nopony was any the wiser. Sometimes, Fleur would sing, if the beast was feeling particularly hungry. But most of the time, idle interest was sufficient.

That was, of course, up until about five minutes ago, when a tall, rugged looking creature from another world had entered the studio.

Some seventy years previously, give or take, Princess Celestia had covered up a highly embarrassing incident involving an aggressively amorous warlock, that had quickly progressed to being an unmistakably dead warlock by the time Fleur had lost her temper with him.

As repayment, Fleur had agreed to give this young ‘man’ a job. Had she known her unruly counterpart was going to develop such an inexplicable interest in him, however, she might never have agreed to take him on.

After all, it was not the nature of a siren to covet an individual more than the attention that could be gained from said individual—they just didn’t work that way… unless… Fleur barely suppressed a shudder.

She’d lived over a thousand years without running into that particular kettle of fish… No, it couldn’t be that. It just couldn’t. He wasn’t even a pony, for Celestia’s sake…

Le suivre!

Fleur exhaled through her nose. Non!

Click. Click. “Ja, just like that, Fraulein!”

Nous devons parler avec lui.

Fleur felt a sigh escape her. A foreboding sigh that she hadn’t even known she’d been holding. No amount of ignoring the situation was going to make this go away. She would probably just end up destroying the studio, and scaring the living daylights out of everypony. No, it was best to just go and see why her darker half was suddenly craving his company.

All she had to do was make a discreet exit…

“Ja, das ist gut. Vork it, Viola, ja, like zat-Fraulein—where are you going?”

Fleur had barely taken three paces towards the lift. She froze, eyes wide and thoughts scrambling. “I left an important memo from Princess Celestia in my office on Le Tesson, mon amie, I fear I may need it,” Fleur lied, keeping her eyes glued to the lift.

Photo paused, probably shooting Fleur a look dripping with skepticism. Fleur didn’t look. “Well, if you must, Fraulein,” Photo said, amidst the sound of more photos being taken.

Instead of going for the lift, Fleur burned away some of her anxiety, allowing her magical ember to flare through her horn. With a loud CRACK and a bright flash of pink, she teleported.

That had been way too easy. In all the years Photo had been her manager, Fleur had usually had to resort to reminding the earth pony who was in charge in order to get five minutes to herself. She couldn’t help suspecting Photo’s apparent nonchalance was perhaps a facade of sorts.

No matter, the thought was quickly pushed from her mind, rather forcibly, by her siren, who had just spotted the human up on the quarterdeck of the airship she’d just teleported to.

Upon exiting the lift, Luke was greeted with a sight that finally managed to drive thoughts of the gorgeous unicorn from his mind. He had emerged in a large domed lobby at the very top of the tower, its curved ceiling painted red and detailed with gold patterns depicting several stylised unicorns. He followed the red carpet out onto a large balcony, next to which a huge airship loomed, its vast white gas bag adorned with the three stylised liles blocking out the morning sun.

“Woah…”

Who in their right mind would put me in charge of that? It was as if someone had taken an eighteenth century warship, removed the sails, and replaced them with a giant helium chamber. It even had gun ports, though they all appeared to be closed off.

Like the domed ceiling of the sky-lobby, the ship was painted red, with a plethora of gold trim lining the gun ports and long railings. Even the rigging bore traces of gold, as well as its three large masts rising up to the helium chamber. Large silver lettering that spelled out ‘Le Tesson’ was painted on the side of the hull, where a scaled down, carved and polished wood version of the unicorn statue in the building’s main lobby had been fitted as a figurehead.

“Like what you see, lad?” croaked a gravelly voice.

Luke gave a start, spotting an elderly pegasus stallion hobbling past him. He’d been too busy admiring the ship to notice he was no longer alone. “It’s amazing,” he muttered.

“You must be Luke, eh? I’m the Captain of this here floating mansion. Captain Vertical Strike, but everyone just calls me Vert. Come on, I’ll show you the ropes. She has a lot of ropes, after all,” the stallion barked, voracious laughter following his words.

Vertical Strike shuffled up to a rope lined gangway leading to the ship. His pale blue coat was faded in places, and his mane and tail were the kind of washed out white of a stallion a few decades past his prime. His great age hardly appeared to hinder him at all, however.

“This is Fleur’s ship,” he began, making his way up the few steps to the polished quarterdeck. Luke followed, his eyes still wandering over the immaculate craft. “She’s a fiery mare, once she gets familiar with ya. I suspect it’s the Prench in her. I’ve been working for her for fifty years now, and she hasn’t changed much in that time. Not much at all.”

“How old is she?” Luke asked, running a palm over the golden wheel of the ship. He’d expected paint, but it became quickly apparent that the entire wheel was plated in gold.

Vertical Strike snorted, his bark-like laughter returning. “Nopony knows her exact age, she doesn’t discuss it with mere mortals like you and I. All I can say is she’s a damn sight older than the rest of us.”

Luke pictured a venerable old noblemare, with a muzzle bearing the stress lines brought on by a long career of hard work. Priceless pearls encompass her neck, and she no doubt had more riches and exuberant wealth than she knew what to do with. He knew the type. Canterlot was full of them. Why would somepony like that hire him? Celestia’s influence was the only thing that sprang to mind. Was that really all it took?

“Will I be meeting her?” he asked. It would probably be best to avoid such an acquaintance, lest Fleur did turn out to be a stereotypically vain Canterlot elitist. They usually didn’t approve of anything too out of the ordinary, and Luke was as far from ordinary as it was possible to be in a land inhabited by magical ponies.

Vert grinned. “Oh, I suspect you will, at some point or ano-”

CRACK.

Luke whipped around so fast he nearly cracked his neck. It sounded as though someone had just fired a gun. He didn’t see anyone brandishing a weapon, but what he found instead was perhaps more surprising. The pretty unicorn from the studio was now stood in the middle of the main deck. Had she just teleported? Such an ability was not very common at all. In fact, the only ponies Luke had met thus far who were capable of such a feat had all been alicorns.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Vert chuckled, but Luke was barely listening, his eyes glued to the pretty mare now trotting towards him with that same curiosity in her eyes from earlier. “Listen, I’ll leave you two to chat, I have to go and do a routine checkup on the old Star Drives. The unicorn adaptation unit has been acting up, and with me being the only pegasus aboard most of the time, the ship won't move without it.”

With that, the old Captain opened a hatch in the deck, slipping out of sight.

“Oh… Um… Okay,” Luke muttered, but Vert had already left him. Alone. To talk to the extremely pretty mare now just a few feet away.

Don’t fuck up.

It took a moment, but Luke just about managed to pull his attention away from the supermodel to listen to the panicked voice in the back of his mind. Speak of the devil, Vert had said. Did that mean… Was Fleur coming up to the dock? All he could see was the pretty young mare still wearing her blue dress, those curious eyes wandering over his form as her gait slowed with each carefully measured step. A quick scan failed to reveal any potentially frail old noble mares on or around the ship.

“Jees… I thought the boss was coming,” he half laughed, leaning against the ship’s wheel and letting out an explosive sigh.

“Oh, did you?” the mare countered, her face lighting up in amusement. Her voice was silky smooth, the thick Prench accent something akin to a layer of icing on a particularly exquisite cake. Maybe this was Fleur’s granddaughter, or something? He quickly stood upright and tried to act like he had at least a small modicum of professionalism. If she really was a relative of the rich boss-mare then his ass might already be on the proverbial chopping block.

“Yeah,” he began, his eyes half-reverting back to searching for any sign of elderly mares. “I don’t know if Fleur has met a human before. I reckon the sight might startle her. Wouldn’t want to go and do that now, would I?” he chuckled. It would be just his luck if he ended up terrorising the CEO on his first day. Hell, he might just give the mare a heart attack. The tabloids would have a fucking field day: ‘GENETICALLY ENGINEERED GIBBON MAULS J’ADORE BOSS’ would be plastered all over the front page of tomorrow’s Herald.

The pretty mare’s lip trembled, and one of her ears flicked rather adorably. She grinned. “Tell me, mon cher—’ave you seen any photographs of Fleur, no?”

Luke faltered somewhat. Of course, she’d hit him with the one question to which a truthful answer would expose his half-assed approach. He’d hoped his woefully incompetent research of the company wouldn’t come to light this quickly. “Well, no. But, I did read up a little on J’adore last night,” he calmly argued, but stopped there, as he didn’t really have much more to add after that other than what was already common knowledge.

The mare gave him a slightly amused look, tilting her head so that her wavy pink mane partly obscured a pale violet eye. Damn, she’s just so pretty. Luke could probably look at her all day and not get bored.

“So, you ‘ave no idea what she looks like?”

“Well, an old noblemare, I’d imagine?” Luke reluctantly admitted. She had to be old, right? Vert said he’d worked for her for fifty years, and his face was already beginning to resemble an elephant scrotum. Fleur’s probably looked like the tired old leather backseat of a nineteen-eighties BMW.

The mare’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. She let out a sort of strangled laugh that made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

A pause. “You really ‘ave no idea. ‘Ow… refreshing,” she mused, her pretty eyes surveying him with renewed interest.

Luke stared right back with a slightly puzzled expression. “Who are you?” he slowly asked. She was a model, that much he knew, but why exactly had she followed him up here? Come to think of it—he should have been asking himself that from the start. Pretty mares didn’t usually make a habit of following him around—especially pretty mares that required a whole other level of definition for the word ‘pretty’.

The mare didn’t answer. Instead, she flashed him a smile that made his heart do a sort of belly flop in his chest, running her tongue along a set of perfectly white teeth.

The trapdoor through which Vert had disappeared opened once again, the elderly stallion slowly clambering back out of it. His eyes found the mysterious mare and his face lit up. “It’s a good thing you’re here. I reckon I’ve fixed the old adaptation unit. Loose auxiliary crystal, it was,” he muttered, placing a forehoof on the wheel and the other on one of the golden control levers sitting beside it. “Couldn’t give her a quick whirl, could yeh?”

The mare gave a slight nod, her horn instantly flaring with an unmistakably powerful pink aura. A loud hum of energy rent the air surrounding the ship, the deck vibrating as though something big and heavy had just awoken in the depths below. “Ahh, perfect,” Vert cried, gently nudging the lever with his hoof. Luke felt the entire airship sway with each point of contact, as though it were suddenly fighting to break free from the thick mooring lines securing it to the dock. “Excellent, Fleur,” Vert jovially commended, beaming at the unicorn.

Every hair on Luke’s body seemed to stand on end. He’d like to think he’d gotten used to magic, having lived in Equestria for over a year now, but holy shit… She’d just made an entire airship move all by herself! That wasn’t normal. Wait… what was that he’d just called her?

Vert appeared oblivious. “Good thing I spotted that gem, or you might have had to wait weeks to start your training, not to mention all the location shoots that would’ve been delayed,” he chuckled heartily.

Luke stared at the mare in horror, quickly coming to realise just why she had followed him. He should have known there’d be a catch. She didn’t say anything, but her horn flared again. The pretty blue dress she was wearing gracefully fell away like the petals of a flower before his eyes, revealing her perfectly sculpted barrel and hindquarters. On those hindquarters, was the trio of stylised lilies that were her namesake. The same trio of stylised lilies that were plastered to the front of the building, the side of the airship gas bag, the uniform of nearly every employee at the company, and dozens of billboards throughout the damned city.

Vert finally noticed that all the colour had drained from Luke’s face. “You okay, lad? If that’s airsickness, then you’re in the wrong job.” He barked out a laugh.

Luke choked. He did indeed feel a barely repressed sickness well up in his stomach, but it had nothing to do with flying. Well, an old noblemare, I’d imagine? The words kept running through his head, over and over. “You… You’re F-Fleur?” he gasped. They were swiftly joined by Vert’s. Mere mortals like you and I… He was being literal. Well, shit. That meant she was... “Y-You’re immortal?”

That killer smile hit him again, and just like that, he was thirstier than a Tinder-bro after a month long fapstinence. This shit was unfair. Ponies weren’t supposed to be sexy, dammit! Multiple centuries of eternal youth in a heavily matriarchal society had evidently given her one hell of an advantage when it came to getting a guy hooked. Fuck.

“Oui, mon cher,” Fleur de Lis chuckled, her glittery laughter flowing over his ears like a fine silk.

She sounded like she had the holy grail of feminine treasures tucked away under that lovely tail of hers. Not that he wanted to find out… except he kind of did. Fuck. No. She was a horse.

A ridiculously good-looking horse, but still a damned horse. With hooves. And anime eyes. And crotch tits.

Fucking crotch tits.

Vert’s eyes widened, comprehension dawning on his lined muzzle. “You turn up for a job at J’adore, and you don’t recognise Fleur de Lis?” he asked, incredulous.

Luke tried to pull himself together, but couldn’t quite manage it. How the hell was he supposed to know? He hardly made a habit of keeping up with the pony fashion industry. He wasn’t a pony!

Fleur came to the rescue with another flash of those pearly whites. “I don’t mind. ‘Ee can ‘ardly be expected to know, when ‘ee is from anozzer world.”

Another cardiac spaz-attack. Shit… This was quickly getting out of hand. A quick clearing of the throat put him back on track. Kind of. “Ahem… Yes, um… my apologies, Lady Fleur. Princess Celestia failed to mention that you were…” he began, but immediately foundered when his carefully planned, face-saving meticulous oration was met with a very un-noble-ish snort.

Fleur de Lis brought a dainty white hoof to her muzzle, barely holding back a fit of giggles. What the hell? Was this a joke to her? Was she just playing with him before she fired his ass? Even Vert looked as though he was failing to hold back a smirk.

Fleur’s demeanour took on that of a poorly conceived facade, and she lifted her muzzle as though she was trying to scratch her back with the tip of her horn. “See to eet that you do not fail to acknowledge my most venerable excellency in the future, young colt! ‘Lady’ Fleur de Lis does not tolerate ignorance from anypony! Not even uneducated peasants such as yourself!”

Vert fell over, his forehooves clutching his sides. He may as well have been having a heart attack from the way he writhed around on the deck—he was at that age—but the uncontrollable laughter certainly suggested otherwise.

A glance back to Fleur revealed a smug grin on her flawlessly pretty face. It was pretty obvious that this pony did not require a filter. “Hilarious,” Luke deadpanned, throwing all caution over the side of the building.

She ran her tongue over her teeth again—aww, fuck—her eyelids lowering to very unbusinesslike levels. Now, Luke wasn’t overly perspicacious when it came to judging character, but she was either fucking with him, or she wanted to fuck him. Or both.

The possibility that the latter theory may have held some truth was positively terrifying… but most unlikely. Though she clearly didn’t act like one, Fleur was still a noble.

“I think you will fit right in here, mon cher,” she purred.

The sunlight caught the sapphire in her collar, and the flash of dazzling blue was mimicked in her eyes for just the briefest of moments as she licked her lips. Once again, the same feeling of curious unease struck him, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. In fact, he wasn’t even sure ‘unease’ was an adequate description.

“Fleur!” called a voice, promptly shattering the gathering tension like a bowling ball through a mirror. Luke could’ve sworn he’d heard Fleur emit a small nicker from her muzzle, but it may have just been the creaking of the ship.

A strikingly red, long-legged mare with a wispy white mane and tail was cantering across the dock, her eyes brimming with curiosity. Her muzzle was a slightly different shape to that of the average Equestrian mare. It could be argued that she was perhaps the Equadorian counterpart of “Arabian” horses back on Earth, but Luke wasn’t too keen on querying such a presumption.

“Photo says she needs you back down in the studio for group shots,” the mare said, her middle eastern accent confirming Luke’s suspicions. Her eyes swept over him, and she gave him a smile not unlike the one Fleur had given him not a moment ago.

Luke returned a smile of his own, out of politeness more than anything, something Fleur silently observed with an odd, if not blank stare. A second glance revealed nothing out the ordinary, however, as did a third, more in-depth look at the boss-mare’s face.

“Ah, Viola! Yes, of course. I am sure Vert and Luc will manage without me for now,” Fleur replied, flashing Luke a glance. He quickly stopped staring.

“Don’t be gone for too long, now. Can’t teach him how to fly with the ship stuck at the dock all day,” Vert chuckled, who had barely paid any attention to the exchange and was busy fiddling with the assortment of levers next to the ship’s wheel.

“Au revoir!” Fleur chirped, springing over the gangway like a frolicing foal. “Come, Viola. We mustn't be late!”

The Arabian mare was quickly encompassed in a pink aura, picked right up off the dock, spun one-eighty degrees and popped back down again, all in the blink of an eye. She was afforded one dizzy glance back at the ship before she was swiftly herded into the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Luke turned to face the pegasus at his side. A barrage of snorts escaped Vert’s muzzle, despite the hoof held up to his face.

“What?” Luke muttered, summoning all mental restraint to keep from rolling his eyes. It wouldn’t be wise to piss of his mentor on his first day, no matter how much of an ass he was currently being.

“Have yeh been living under a rock?” Vert wheezed, slapping a forehoof to the wheel and panting between laughs like a grizzly bear with a chest infection. “Ah get that yer different and all, but how can yeh live in the city of Canterlot and not know who Fleur de Lis is?”

Luke scowled, feeling more and more stupid by the minute. “I thought she’d be… well, old!” he argued. Was it too much to assume that old meant a face full of wrinkles, tins of Werther's Originals and pony Alzheimer’s? Well, maybe that was exaggerating a little, but still...

Vert laughed even harder. “My dear colt—she is old!”

“No, I mean… I thought she’d look old… But, she looks…” Several words came to mind, absolutely none of which a human should ever use to describe a quadruped. That didn’t stop Luke, though. He cursed under his breath.

Vert’s snorts died down a little, the stallion levelling Luke with a knowing look. “Don’t be getting any ideas, colt. You’d have to have angels flying out of yer arse to get with the likes of Fleur.”

“Yeah—I wasn’t getting any ideas,” Luke hastily countered, trying his best to ignore the veritable swarm of ideas bouncing around his mind.

Vert snickered. “Hey, yeh don’t need to lie. Ah don’t blame yeh. Hell, ah’ve tried a few times myself, over the years,” he admitted. “O’ course, she never really took anypony seriously, perhaps least of all the rich noblestallions. She don’t need their bits, that’s fer sure,” he chuckled.

“So, she’s single?” Damn it. Luke coughed, bringing a fist to his mouth, but that just made him look like even more of an idiot.

Vert’s resultant, overly-smug smile made his skin crawl. “She don’t do relationships, but yer welcome to try. Just promise me you’ll let me know in advance. Ah love watching her reject folk.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Luke muttered. He had no trouble picturing what Fleur’s reaction would no-doubt be if he was actually stupid enough to try and make a move on her. Any icy shudder ran the full length of his spine at the implication.

“Oh, it’s practically an art form. She’s very good at it. Real polite and gentle like, but you can tell the guy’s heart still shatters into a thousand pieces. She doesn’t much care for that part, but ah don’t think she can help it all that much.”

“Can we just get to the learning now?” Luke snapped, perhaps a tad too ferociously.

Vert didn’t appear to be remotely offended. “Alright, alright—I’m just messin’ with yeh,” he chuckled. “Happens to all the new guys at the firm after they meet the boss. Just take note of the warnin’, though, and there is an actual warnin’ in there besides the teasin’. Don’t go barking up Fleur’s tailpipe, ‘cause there ain’t no guy—be it you, me, or even fancy folks like Prince Blueballs and his ilk that’re gettin’ a crack at what’s under there.”

Fleur was not the best company for her noble peers at Hoity Toity’s luncheon later that day, though only Photo Finish knew her well enough to realise that something was playing on the mare’s mind. In a word, it was annoying.

“What is bothering you, Fraulein? You’re eating even less than you normally would.”

“Nothing, mon amie,” Fleur persisted for the third time in around half an hour. She idly watched a waiter trot by, a platter of hors d'oeuvres expertly balanced on his back, but she was in no mood for pretentious food.

Ever since Fleur had laid eyes on Luke, the siren seemed to want nothing more than to follow him around like a lost puppy, and resorted to rattling around the inside of Fleur’s mind whenever he wasn’t in her direct line of sight. Three photoshoots of trouve Luc... parle lui... fait le sourrire, was enough to make anypony lose focus. Sure, the human was pleasant enough, and ended up being quite a pleasure to converse with after he’d figured out she wasn’t going to fire him for not recognising her. But she just didn’t understand the obsession. Even now, the siren was muttering in the back of her mind.

Veux Luc.

Fleur was evidently too slow to disguise her look of exasperation, as Photo Finish, annoyingly knowledgeable as always, called her out. “Is it ze pilot?”

“Non!” Fleur snapped. Several ponies, Hoity Toity among them, glanced around at her outburst. She quickly grabbed a nearby copy of the Canterlot Herald. “Fleetfoot did not win ze Wonderbolts’ derby.”

Veux Luc.

“Blast! Such a shame, I myself had high hopes for that mare,” Hoity added, before turning back to the one of the delegates from Saddle Arabia he was currently chatting to.

Photo leaned in, lowering her voice so none of the party guests could hear her. “It’s her, isn’t it? She’s pining for him, ja?”

“Non, she’s just…” But Fleur hadn’t the foggiest idea just exactly what her siren was up to. For all of the years she had lived, through wartime, famine, peace and windigo ice age, the ancient water demon had never shown the slightest bit of emotion towards another living being that hadn’t been rage. That was an emotion that had been all too common in the first few centuries of their shared eternal existence. But wanting to talk… to make somepony smile? It was practically unheard of for a siren.

Veux Luc.

Mais pourquoi, ma vielle amie?

The siren did not answer, choosing instead to claw restlessly at the inside of Fleur’s mind. Fleur let out a dejected sigh. This was becoming tiresome.

She knew hardly anything about him, but her dark counterpart was adamant that they should be spending all of their time with him, despite that being practically impossible to justify. Ponies would start to talk, and Fleur knew from experience that ponies talking often twisted the truth to extreme proportions. The only viable option she had was to fast-track his practical flight training. Of course, that would mean altering her schedule—something she probably couldn't get away with for very long, if at all…

“Come. Ve go!” Photo suddenly announced, grabbing Fleur around the midsection and practically hauling her away. Pulled from her thoughts, Fleur allowed herself to be whisked from the party, the siren still prowling restlessly in her head.

Luke’s first week at J’adore was quite possibly the most eventful of his life. Learning how to maneuver a three hundred tonne airship over a densely packed highrise city was not something one could achieve in a few days, though he’d been giving it a damn good attempt. It was a task made more difficult due to the fact that without the stunningly pretty, and therefore highly distracting Fleur de Lis aboard, the ship was nothing more than an oversized helium balloon.

“So, you’re saying Fleur herself powers the ship?”

“Eeyup,” croaked Vert. “These old warships usually work off of pegasi power, but as I said—I’m the only pegasus here. I could pull these here levers for three days straight, and the ship wouldn’t move an inch.”

“Why not?”

Vert snorted. “Dear colt—I’m an old stallion. Even thirty years ago, I’d never have had enough power to get her moving by myself. It usually takes a team of at least thirty pegasi to crew a ship of this size.”

Luke frowned. “But, Fleur can power it herself?”

“Well, yes. Fleur is anything but the dainty noblemare the fashion industry has painted her. She’s lived long enough to attain a level of magical ability that most unicorns will never see in their lifetimes. Of course, to her, one of their lifetimes is nothing more than a flash in the pan.”

By the end of Luke’s second week, he’d gotten the hang of it a bit better, Vert only having to intervene once or twice each day. Even Fleur’s ever increasing presence failed to put him off as he slid the ship into port so they could go to lunch, the pretty unicorn beaming by his side.

“We make a good team, you and I, no?” she quipped, deftly brushing a few stray locks from her face as her horn light faded, the hum of the Star Drive engines winding down.

“Now, hey. Don’t go replacing me with a newer model just yet,” Vert croaked, waving his hoof at Fleur. “Ah may not have eternal youth, but I’ve still got a few years left in me.”

Fleur shook her head. “I could never replace you, mon ami,” she said sweetly.

This seemed to mollify the stallion somewhat, and he practically floated along towards that sky lobby with a big dopey smile on his face. Luke followed, his barely repressed snort forgotten in an instant, driven away by Fleur’s sudden proximity to his side.

She’d been doing this a lot, lately—hovering around him like a moth to a flame. It wouldn’t have been that much of a problem if he hadn’t had to keep stopping himself from reaching over to scratch her ear, or give her mane a stroke. She was just so damned cute, it was hard not to. But given the fact she was his boss, it wasn’t really the smartest thing to be doing.

“Why don’t we go out for lunch, no? A friend of mine ‘as just opened up a new restaurant in ze Equinox district,” Fleur said, now trotting slightly ahead of him toward the sky dock elevator.

Luke’s gaze idly followed the gentle swishing of her silky tail, a silky pendulum cascading over her lovely rump, before the realisation of just what she had suggested hit him. “Wait… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He had many memories of the Equinox district, and none of them were particularly pleasant. It was effectively a large gated community where the royal castle was situated, and home to quite a few of the higher-end establishments of Canterlot that weren’t situated on and around Mane Street.

‘Common’ ponies weren’t allowed in without invitation or appointment, something the nobles took great pride in reminding everyone that was stupid enough to hang around and listen to their entitled drawling. Luke hadn’t set foot in the place since he’d lived in the castle, despite having Princess Celestia’s assurances he could return anytime he liked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Fleur probed with a look of bewilderment. The elevator doors opened in front of her, despite no one hitting the call button.

Luke frowned, stepping into the lift after her and making room for Vert to follow. Surely she could put two and two together? “I’m not exactly popular in that place. The nobles hate me.”

The revelation was met with a pout, to which Vert raised a questioning eyebrow. Luke was too busy to notice, suddenly very aware how large Fleur’s pretty eyes were. “I don’t hate you, mon cher,” she softly reassured.

Luke shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “Yes, well, you’re the odd one out. The rest of them were glad to see the back of me when I moved,” he muttered as Vert stepped into the lift. The doors closed, and they began to descend.

“‘Ow about you, Vert? Would you like to join us, no?”

Vert snorted. “I’d sooner have my wings plucked bare with a pair of rusty fire tongs than set hoof into that place,” he chuckled heartily.

Luke raised his eyebrows, throwing a glance to Fleur. That was… blunt, even for Vert, but the supermodel just rolled her eyes. She gently pressed a hoof to Luke’s leg. “You will come, though, Luc, yes?”

A small shiver ran through him at the way she said his name. That accent certainly wouldn’t be getting old anytime soon. “Yeah, alright,” he muttered, his cheeks reddening.

A small ding signalled the lift had reached the studio, and the doors slid open, revealing-

“Where have you been, Fraulein?” a formidable looking Photo Finish shot at Fleur, before her gaze snapped to Luke. “Ah, of course. I should have known!”

Fleur’s eyes were quick to roll, but she met her manager with a smile regardless. Everypony else had already left for lunch break, it seemed. “Luc and I were just going for a spot of lunch, mon amie. Would you care to join us?”

Photo dismissively waved a hoof. “Nein, I have a mountain of new recruit portfolios to sort, but never mind that—Coloratura vants you to make an appearance at her party tonight, seeing as you didn’t bother to turn up at her Castle Grounds Unplugged event on Tuesday.”

“That was this week?” Fleur squeaked, her cheeks reddening. Her ears flopped somewhat, and Luke had to rather forcefully remind himself it would be highly inappropriate for him to play with them.

“Ja! I told you three times Monday afternoon, but you were too busy playing airtours with your little boy-toy to listen.”

If Fleur gave any indication she’d heard what Photo had said, she hid it quite well, which was considerably more than could be said for Luke. His cheeks suddenly felt as though they were going to ignite. He positively glared at Photo Finish with the intensity of a thousand superheated knives, but she wasn’t even bothering to look at him. How she even got away with half the stuff she said was beyond him.

“Send ‘er my apologies, won’t you? And of course, I will attend ‘er party. Now if you will excuse us, Luc and I ‘ave-”

“Yes, yes, go have your little dinner date. Just remember to show your face at Rara’s mansion tonight. Ve don’t want to upset her. You know how she gets,” Photo said dismissively. She almost sounded like a mother admonishing her child.

Fleur gave a curt nod. “As you wish,” she smiled, trotting through the empty studio without another word. Luke followed, throwing a scathing glance to Photo Finish, who had already busied herself with rearranging a platter of silverware into the shape of a spork.

“Sometimes, I think she forgets ‘ow much older I am than ‘er,” Fleur chuckled, once they were halfway out of earshot.

Luke bit his tongue, the question burning on the tip of it threatening to escape. It was pointless. He knew she wouldn’t tell him. Instead, he compromised: “How come you’re immortal? I thought it was exclusively an alicorn thing?”

Fleur didn’t answer immediately, but her gait slowed a little as she turned to look up at him. Luke spotted a glint in her eyes, mimicked by that gem of hers, the platinum spikes of her collar making it seem all the more menacing. It would have been quite alarming if she wasn’t smiling.

“A lot of ponies over the years ‘ave asked me the very same thing, mon cher. Normally, I would lie to them in an ‘eartbeat,” she claimed, mystically.

Luke waited for her to elaborate as they approached the main lift that would take them to the lobby, but Fleur seemed perfectly content to leave him hanging.

“Sooo?” Luke pressed further. He knew he should probably quit pushing his luck, but curiosity demanded an explanation.

The lift doors sprang open for the supermodel, and she stepped inside, turning on the spot and sitting delicately on her haunches. An ear flicked, and she blew a stray lock of mane out of her face. Her sapphire was glowing. Luke followed her in, the doors snapping shut behind him.

“I do not wish to lie to you, Luc,” she began, her voice suddenly shaky, and laced with a subtle undertone that Luke had never heard before. “Maybe one day you will know the truth, maybe not. But… until then-” she faltered.

Without so much as a scrap of warning, Fleur turned, rearing up on her hind legs to quite a formidable height. Deceptively strong forelegs pinned Luke’s shoulders to the polished metal wall of the elevator, and Fleur’s pretty face was suddenly inches from his own. Holy crap.

Luke’s heart leapt to his throat, his hands shooting to her sides to help steady her—she looked about ready to fall. He watched in silent intrigue as her eyes, wide and piercing, slowly morphed from their usual pale violet to a stunningly deep sapphire blue, the very same shade as the gem in her collar. Only when the whites of her eyes were completely engulfed did he manage to speak.

“Um… What is happening here?” he muttered, his voice quick and shaky, but Fleur didn’t appear to acknowledge a word. She just leaned in closer, her barrel pressing against his chest, her maw slightly open… Wait… Were those fangs?

Holy shit. She had fangs. Ponies weren’t supposed to have fangs! The fuck...

DING.

A blink, and sapphire eyes were pale violet once more.

Fleur was already trotting—firmly planted back on all fours—through the elevator doors before Luke had even realised they’d opened. He attempted to catch his breath, his heart pounding the inside of his ribcage as he scrambled out of the lift after her. Just what the hell had all that been about?

“Ah, Fleur! I was just about to come find you,” said a cheery voice.

Luke recognised it as belonging to Sunfire, the pretty mare that had believed him lost on his first day. “The post arrived,” she said, passing over a small stack of letters addressed directly to the CEO.

“Merci, mon amie,” Fleur said, capturing the letters with her pink aura and idly sorting through them. Some, she made disappear with her magic as soon as she’d opened them. Others, she set on fire with a roll of her pretty eyes. One of them had her smiling as she read it, and another appeared to be a rolled up copy of a newspaper - “Sacrebleu!” With a louder than usual pop, that too disappeared in a flash.

“And, Luke, your identification badge arrived,” Sunny continued, disregarding Fleur’s pyrotechnics entirely and holding up a laminated pink card.

“Sweet! Thanks, Sunny,” Luke exclaimed, taking the badge, which had a picture of his face alongside a hologram of the company logo on it. The company logo, of course, being Fleur’s cutie mark. He barely refrained from holding the card against Fleur’s flank and comparing the two. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d find it funny.

“Come, Luc. We do not ‘ave much time,” Fleur announced, suddenly sounding a tad more annoyed than she had before receiving the post. She trotted for the doors, her long legs carrying her at a fair pace.

Luke had to resort to a half-jog to keep up. Just what the hell had gotten into her? Other than the demon that had presented itself in the lift, that is. He still needed to ask her about that, though it may not have been the best time. Someone, or something had evidently pissed in her cornflakes.

A wave of hot air blasted Luke—the air-conditioning of the lobby becoming quite apparent with its sudden absence. Canterlot was thousands of feet above sea level, but still managed to be swelteringly hot in summertime. Would it kill the pegasi to maybe whip up a small breeze once in a while?

“Er… Is something wrong?” Luke cautiously asked, when Fleur didn’t lessen her breakneck pace. The ponies on the street barely had any time at all to be starstruck by the supermodel before she cantered past them, mane and tail swishing with each graceful step.

The idly muttered question brought her to a stop so quickly Luke had to do a sort of tiptoed off-balance side step in order to avoid pelvis-smashing her rump. That would have been a great way to start lunch. Fleur barely seemed to notice how close she’d come to being involuntarily violated, however. Her anger morphed into concern when her eyes found him, something Luke couldn’t help noticing the locals were paying a rather uncomfortable amount of attention to for his liking.

“It’s… nothing,” was her tepid reply.

There comes a point in every relationship when two acquaintances make the transition to becoming friends, and therefore get to call each other out on their respective bullshit.

Because, this was definitely bullshit.

The only problem was, Luke wasn’t sure if this highly successful, drop-dead gorgeous social butterfly of an uncharacteristically kind and considerate, most-wealthy benevolent noblemare actually considered him a friend.

Did she?

Because, if she did, then he could tell her she was full of it, and get away with it. But if she didn’t, he could potentially be walking his sorry ass back to Gilded Scroll and her often condescending conjectures about his current state of employability.

And seriously, fuck that.

“Um… Are you sure?” he countered, perhaps more tepidly.

Ears at half mast—he was in the clear, for now. “Luc, you do not ‘ave to tip-hoof around me… It is just, ugh. Zese ponies, zey go too far!” she nickered, drawing the attention of a group of passing mares.

All of them stopped dead in their tracks, gawking at Fleur as though she were the pony-Jesus. A thought occurred to Luke. “Uh… Do you usually walk to lunch?” he interjected, hoping the subject change wouldn’t be too glaringly obvious.

“What?” Fleur muttered, apparently lost in her own thoughts. “Oh, no. I usually teleport, but I didn’t know if you would like zat or not.”

“Wait, you can teleport others?” Luke asked, several other questions forming in his mind. Could she teleport humans? What was it like? Before he could get any of them out, however, a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Luke?”

Beige coat, grey mane tied up in a bun, large frame spectacles and a jaw that was practically on the floor in present company. The brown paper bag she’d been levitating fell haphazardly out of her telekinetic grip at the sight of Fleur.

“Gilda! Fancy seeing you here,” Luke greeted, not even trying to keep the smug look off his face. Not so unemployable now, am I? “Fleur and I were just heading out for a spot of lunch,” he added with a grin the size of a bicycle wheel, a hand subconsciously making its way to her withers.

Fleur twitched at the contact, her eyes widening. Shit. Maybe touching her was going a bit too far? She hadn’t minded in the lift, but then again, she hadn’t been herself, had she? Either way, he discreetly withdrew his hand, hoping it didn’t look too awkward.

“You… missed your appointment earlier today,” Gilded Scroll managed to croak, evidently still trying to figure out how one of her job-seeking clients was casually strolling through Canterlot with arguably the most elite of Canterlot’s elite that ever did elite.

“Did I?” Luke chuckled, blissfully aware that he no longer needed to go to the dole house for handouts. “My apologies,” he uttered, holding a hand to his heart.

The look on her face was gold.

Still, he supposed he should have told them. But with everything that had been going on, it had completely slipped his mind to let them know he’d found a job. Well, no time like the present. “I suppose I should have said—I got a job at J’adore,” he boasted, patting the image of Fleur’s cutie mark embroidered into his uniform.

Gilded’s mouth opened and closed a few times, her eyes eventually falling on Fleur as though awaiting confirmation. The supermodel did not disappoint.

“‘Luc is ze new trainee pilot of Le Tesson,” Fleur purred, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes. “‘Ee is very talented. I only wish I could ‘ave found ‘im sooner.”

Damn… She was laying it on a little thick there. It’s not that Luke didn’t appreciate her efforts to ‘big him up’, as it were, it was just… those eyes—Fuck… I can’t have a crush on my boss. I don’t wanna be that guy! She was his damned boss! Not to mention a different species, and so far out of his league that they were playing entirely different games altogether.

“He flies your… your ship?” The mares accompanying Gilded now switched their attentions to Luke, it seemed, each eyeing him with renewed curiosity. Some of them even took a step or two closer, their inquisitive muzzles quickly gaining proximity.

“Yes, ‘ee does,” Fleur replied shortly, her tone suddenly a lot less accommodating. She turned to Luke, a few her wavy locks whipping with the motion. Her eyes fixed onto him with a resolute finality. “And yes, I can teleport others,” she said with a smile, raising a dainty hoof to wave at Gilded Scroll and her friends. “Au revoir!” she sang.

Three syllables, and it felt like someone had took a taser to the butterflies in Luke’s stomach. Not that he was given much time to think about just why the hell that would happen. Fleur’s horn ignited, and in the blink of an eye, her magical ember had intertwined itself around every fiber of his being and pulled him through a fleeting rip in spacetime. It happened so quickly that he barely had time to even feel the discomfort. It felt as though he'd been plunged into the bottom of a lukewarm lake for a fraction of a second, and then he was suddenly standing, just like that, warm and dry at the large wrought-iron gates of the Equinox district.

“Woah…” Luke muttered, almost losing his balance. So that’s what teleportation feels like. Neat.

The entrance was flanked by a couple of stoic looking guard-mares, their coats as white as the marble pillars in front of which they stood and their golden armour gleaming in the sun. They took one look at Fleur and the gates were swung open so fast Luke barely managed to stumble out of the way before he was punted halfway down the street.

They gave a hasty salute, to which Fleur just smiled and shook her head. “Come, Luc. I ‘ave an errand to run before we go to lunch, if you would be kind enough to accompany me, no?”

Shooting a scathing glance to the two unicorn guards, not that they bothered to acknowledge him, Luke smoothed the creases out of his shirt. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered. Fleur could lead him through the gates of hell and he’d probably still be inclined to follow her.

If the J’adore headquarters was a noble’s wet dream, then the Equinox district could perhaps be considered their veritable utopia.

Everypony who stepped hoof in this place was a somepony. Be it famous theater stars, musicians, supermodels, notorious high-rollers who made their fortune in Las Pegasus, or just plain old nobles who wore their disposable income over their perfectly maintained coats in the form of expensive clothes and jewellery. It was this exclusivity that really got a noble’s ego-juice flowing.

Because of this, Fleur got considerably more attention here than in any other part of the city. If there was one thing nobles loved, it was to be associated with immensely more successful nobles.

“Ah, Fleur de Lis! How are you this fine day?” projected a haughty-looking beige-coated mare with a golden horseshoe for a cutie mark. Her horn was poking through a hat of the same colour with several large black feathers sticking out if it, her white mane tied up in a tight bun. It kind of looked like a crow had started building a nest on the top of her head, then realised it was a really shit place to build a nest.

Fleur merely smiled and gave the pony a nod. She opened her mouth to say something, but four more ponies had already materialised from the outdoor seating area of a nearby cafe, one of them wasting no time in whipping out a camera.

“Excusez-moi, we are just passing through, thank you,” Fleur politely informed them, but she would have had more luck trying to convince a bugbear to play the trombone.

A few of them finally noticed she wasn’t alone, their gleeful expressions swiftly being replaced with the look a pony might’ve got when discovering a fresh dog-turd on the underside of their hoof.

“Um… Fleur, the alien is following you,” the beige mare crudely whisper-shouted, pointing a golden-horseshoe clad hoof at Luke. Here we go…

Luke was about to fire a well-deserved dig at the travesty on her head, but Fleur had already taken a step closer to the mare, their difference in height glaringly apparent. “Golden Shoe, am I correct?” Fleur barked, glaring down at the shorter unicorn.

“You know my name?” the mare squeaked, a rather stupid grin chasing away the worry that had crept onto her face in an instant.

Fleur’s voice gained a sickeningly sweet quality to it that gave Luke the same feeling of unease he sometimes got when he looked at her sapphire. “Oh, I know who you are, ma chère. I ‘ave ‘eard the tale of ‘ow you sent your subordinates to sabotage nearly every other farrier in this city for your own personal gain. Now you can charge everypony your ridiculous prices for their shoes—after all, why wouldn’t you? Now that they have no alternative.”

Much to Luke’s immense satisfaction, Golden Shoe’s face deflated like a collapsed souffle. Fleur hadn’t lifted a hoof, or cast an aura. She simply hadn’t needed to. The disapproving, judging expressions of her peers were the ultimate bitch-slap for a status-seeking pony such as this.

“As for your jibe at my colleague, are you really suggesting that I lack the perception to notice that there is a man accompanying me?” Fleur continued, her eyes piercing. “I, witness of over ten thousand moons, target of several assassination attempts, fail to realise I am being followed by a being as tall as Celestia herself?" Fleur took a step back, and Luke nearly had a mini heart attack when she reached up and gently touched a hoof to his chest. "Do you not perhaps see my cutie mark upon 'is chest?" She took a step towards Golden once more, lowering her voice to a whisper that could barely be heard over the idle chatter of the street. “Did you not perhaps think to put two and two togezzer, and come to the conclusion that ‘ee is my friend?”

Golden Shoe cowered under Fleur’s gaze, her head whipping to the curious looks of several more bystanders that had noticed the juicy scene unfolding before their eyes. Nobles did love their gossip, after all.

“Eheh… Excuse me, I have to go…” Golden Shoe squeaked, the solid-gold horseshoes the were her namesake clip-clopping on cobbled lime as she trotted away, slowly at first, but soon breaking out into a canter as ponies continued to nudge each other’s shoulders, point, and whisper.

“Nice hat,” Luke called after her, but she didn’t look back.

“Come, Luc,” Fleur sighed, striding by the the group of ponies still trying to get her attention. A few more cameras had joined the first, and her tail was perhaps slightly lower than usual. “Once upon a time, being a noble used to mean something. It saddens me that our once great aristocracy has devolved into nothing more than a group of mindless socialites,” she muttered, but Luke was too busy giving himself a mental bitch-slap for noticing the precise angle of her fucking tail. Seriously? “Of course, we are not all zis way. There are still some true ‘noble’ ponies.”

Taking a few longer than usual strides, he caught up. There was something she’d said earlier that had struck him as a little odd. “Have ponies really tried to kill you?”

They rounded a corner onto the gleaming white-paved street leading up to the castle gates. Luke had plenty of memories of this place. None of them were particularly pleasant. Though, it didn’t seem quite as bad with Fleur by his side.

“It ‘appens, from time to time,” Fleur replied, though she seemed a little… distracted. Her tongue flicked over her lips, almost too quickly to see, and her eyes appeared fixed on a small group of street performers playing a jazzy-sounding number. One of them—a cute little yellow pegasus playing a tambourine—shot Luke a smile. That was all the warning he got before Fleur started to sing.

The performers didn’t miss a beat, not that anypony would have noticed if they’d stopped playing. The rapt, undivided attention of every soul in the busy street was suddenly glued to the Prench supermodel as though their continued existence depended on it.

Holy shit. Luke felt his jaw practically drop to the floor. If an orgasm could be conveyed as a collection of soundwaves, then it would surely take the form of the heavenly tones gracefully slipping from her lips. He had no idea what she was singing—it was all in Prench—but it didn’t matter. Every fibre of his being was instantly, irrevocably enthralled.

Her sapphire glinted at him in the sunlight as she deftly stepped around him, her eyes mimicking the beautiful deep blue hue of the gem as her serenade twined itself around his heart. There was no escape. He didn’t want to escape. His only desire was to hold her. He felt his knees impact the ground, his arms reached out. He needed to feel that beautiful coat pressed against his bare skin, needed to sate himself inside her—wait… what?

Where the fuck did that come from?

Luke was suddenly aware Fleur was no longer singing, and that he was kneeling in front of her with his arms outstretched like some sort of weirdo. He grimaced, dropping them to his sides. Fleur looked… unstable. Yeah, unstable was probably the best word to describe her. Her mane was whipping back and forth in a non-existent whirlwind, her eyes were glowing like high-powered xenon spotlights and she was surrounded by a subtle blue haze that was slowly but surely being consumed by the gem in her collar. Her expression was strained, almost as if she was having an internal battle with herself over what she was supposed to be doing.

A blink, and with a grimace that mirrored his own, she appeared to remember.

“Merde.”

CRACK.

The street imploded in a haze of colour and pressure. Not a split second later, Luke’s feet slammed down to the floor quite a bit harder than they had after the first teleport. He promptly lost his balance, and fell right over onto a middle aged unicorn that had been wafting herself with a paper fan.

She screamed, as did several other ponies occupying the courtroom Fleur had just teleported them to. Celestia was sat behind a large judge box-thingy, or whatever the hell it was called, watching the scene unfold with a slightly puzzled expression.

“I must speak with you at once, mon amie. Zis cannot wait!” Fleur demanded, with a look that suggested it would be very unwise for the Princess to refuse.

“Order, order,” Celestia began, the room full of nobles screaming curses at Luke as though he had just murdered several of their children. “Such language, Mrs Constance—he barely touched you. Calm down, for pony’s sake.”

When the nobles continued to scream regardless, Celestia simply let out a sigh. “Court is temporarily adjourned,” she muttered, though no pony seemed to hear her. “Follow me please,” she added to Fleur and Luke with a wave of a large, perfectly preened white wing.

Celestia led them out of the courtroom and along a myriad of corridors until they reached a familiar royal dining hall. Luke had spent many a meal time in this room, mainly because it was one of those blessed areas of Canterlot Castle that was off limits to non-royal nobles. A long dining table sat in the center of the room, most of the chairs accompanying it tucked neatly underneath, bar the one at the very end, where there was a rolled up newspaper sitting on the table next to a half-drank cup of coffee.

“I see my sister had another late morning,” Celestia commented. The hopeful attempt at lightening the mood was not lost on Fleur, it seemed.

“I need to speak with you,” she insisted, throwing a worried glance at Luke. “Alone.”

Luke scowled. Yeah, she was his boss and everything, but she damn well owed him an explanation for dragging him back to the castle. “Hold on a second, Fleur. I have several questions,” Luke began, torn between getting his point across and wanting to keep his job. Just what the hell had that impromptu sing-song in the street been about?

Fleur gave him a wide-eyed forlorn look. For a split second, she was a mere shadow of the mare he’d first met in the studio, looking more like a little lost filly than the big, important CEO of a fashion empire. “Luc, I…” she whispered, and her horn gained a familiar glow. “I shall explain… later.”

CRACK.

Luke twitched, bracing for yet another impact with the ground, but it never came. He was still in the dining hall.

Alone.

He scowled. “Oh, I’ll just wait here then, shall I?” he yelled, his voice echoing around the empty hall.

Thirty seconds of silence passed. A minute. Two.

“She isn’t coming back,” he muttered, resigning himself to sitting in Luna’s abandoned chair, his elbows on the table. Just what the hell was her problem, anyway? The day had started off great. But then she’d started acting all weird. Ponies weren’t supposed to have god damned fangs, or glowing eyes. Or even be able to sing like… Hell, there wasn’t an adjective adequate enough to describe what had went on in that street. It was almost as if she had opened a gateway to his soul with nothing but her voice. And he hadn’t even tried to resist. Shit was fucked.

With a long, drawn out sigh, he cracked his knuckles, half wondering if he still had a job or not. These thoughts were forcefully punted out of his mind, however, when he caught a glimpse of his own face staring up at him from the news paper. “...The fuck?”

Quickly grabbing it, he unrolled it to find a photograph of himself, Vert and Fleur talking on top of the skydock. He wasn’t wearing his uniform. This must have been taken on his first day. Just above the photograph was a headline that read:

J’ADORE TAKING EQUAL OPPORTUNITIES TOO FAR?

Modeling empire J’adore, considered by many to be the ultimate in photography and fashion consultancy, wowed the city of Canterlot last week by being the first company worldwide to hire an alien being. Yes, that’s right folks, you heard it here first at the Canterlot Herald. Some say this is yet another attempt by their notorious Pony Resources department to convince everypony that their Equal Opportunities policy is unmatched.

While this certainly fits their profile, I can in fact reveal that in this case it was not the griffin, zebra and hippogriff-loving fanatics of that department that facilitated this particular appointment. No, it was none other than Fleur de Lis herself that hired the alien—to be the new pilot of her private airship, no less. Several city officials have already condemned the move, voicing their legitimate concern that it is perhaps unwise to allow an as-yet completely unknown entity control of a decommissioned warship that is cleared to fly in close proximity to the city, given the location of the company’s dock.

We took to the streets of the illustrious Equinox district to try and gain some insight into this creature. Acclaimed noblestallion Top Hat Tootington the Third, had this to say: ‘I have no idea why Princess Celestia even let it within a thousand hooves of the Equinox district, let alone give it room and board in the royal castle! The way that thing strut around acting like we ponies owed it something was simply abhorrent. Not that I’m doubting her methods, mind you. Sometimes I just think she’s too generous for her own good.’

It appears the Princess’ hospitality eventually did run out, as the creature, ‘Look Nona’ moved out of the Castle and began claiming welfare some time ago, up until his recent employment at J’adore.

“Fucking liar!” Luke yelled to the empty dining hall, holding the paper at arm’s length as though he might catch tabloiditis. As if he needed more reason for ponies to hate him—now there was the Shitrag Herald just plain making up lies.

And Top Hat! Fucking Top Hat Tootingington the Turd. Luke knew this pony on a first name basis, having had a couple of run-ins with the wealthy stallion the few times he had ventured outside of the castle.

You could call the guy a slimeball, but that would be an insult to slimeballs. Top Hat was one of the few ponies that had went as far as to sign the ‘Evict the Alien’ petition that had been making the rounds amongst the hardcore elitist in the Equinox district. Thankfully, Celestia put her hoof down on that one pretty quickly. Like, literally stomped on it outside of the Castle gates and told everypony to stop being bigoted assholes.

She hadn’t used that exact phrasing, but most ponies got the message. Things had actually been a bit better since then. Luke didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have Celestia on his side.

Throwing the paper back on the table, Luke resigned himself to dreading the bi-weekly meetings with Gilded Scroll he was probably going to be having again very shortly. After all—Fleur would have to be crazy to keep him on the payroll after this.

CRACK.

The soft, spongy texture of the lone midday Canterlot cloud met Fleur’s hooves, courtesy of the cloudwalk spell that was all but second nature to her at this point. Fleur loved walking the clouds—the great blue yonder resembled the sea enough to placate her darker half.

Alas, that wasn’t the case this time.

VEUX LUC!

“-never thought anypony would be quite so bold as to teleport me from my Castle against my will, but I suppose you certainly fit the bill,” Celestia chuckled, letting her wings fan out in the slight breeze.

Well, she’s not angry. Let’s see how long that lasts. “I should 'ave never done zis favour for you!” Fleur growled, taking several hoofsteps toward the sun goddess, the siren still wailing in her head.

Annoyingly, Celestia’s cheery expression remained. Fleur may well have complemented her regalia for all the reaction she got. She snapped her jaws, pointing an accusatory forehoof as her fangs snipped together like razor blades. “You… You, with your knowledge and power and unfathomable foresight. You knew zis would 'appen. You got to know ‘im, seen ‘ow wonderful ‘ee was and you knew.”

Celestia lounged on the cloud as though it were a duvet made of the finest fabrics money could buy. She still had that stupid grin on her face. “Do you not like him? I can find him another place of work if need be-”

“You know that eez no longer an option!” Fleur growled, the whining, pining siren in her head demanding she teleport back to Luke at once. “I… I ‘ave lived for so long, in peace-”

“Peace,” Celestia chuckled, smiling fondly at a sparrow that had just alighted on her hoof. “Is that what you’re calling it?” The bitter derision in her tone was subtle, but Fleur didn’t miss it.

Some of the venom escaped Fleur, but she still stared the Princess down with a slightly blue-tinted, steely gaze. “Yes, peace, and more importantly—control. Isn’t zat what you want? A tame beast, living peacefully amongst your unknowing subjects?”

“What I want, is for you to be happy,” Celestia sighed, casting a forlorn look at the sparrow being carried away by the breeze. “I’d give up the crown to be a siren... to have a chance to spend the rest of eternity with someone to call my own. Here you are, with the opportunity of your endless life, and you’re just too scared to admit you’ve found your consort.”

Fleur flinched as though somepony had just hit her with a shock spell. “Do not use that word.”

Ears flat to her mane and her tail between her legs—the dreaded confirmation coursed through her with every beat of her heart. It was irrefutable. Every siren found her consort eventually. All it took, was time—a resource that was of course, an inexhaustible commodity.

Ruthless inevitability would of course dictate that she pursue Luke with an irrational determination. What if he rejected her? Would she end up enslaving him, as others of her kind have done in the past? The thought made her sick to her stomach. And that wasn’t even the worst possibility…

“Bit for your thoughts, my old friend?”

Celestia had barely spoke, but Fleur still nearly jumped out of her coat. She cleared her throat. “Everything… eez going to change now, wezzer I like eet or not.”

Celestia smiled, a true smile this time, not a smirk. Her horn began to glow. “Now, that’s a healthy mindset. If I were you, I’d be doing everything in my power to guarantee a favourable outcome for everypony.”

With a flash of dazzling sunlight, the cloud was empty once more.

The short walk from the Royal Castle to Restaurant Row was completed in near silence, bar the distant rush of the city’s waterfalls and the idle chatter of the nobles. Luke still had no idea if he even had a job anymore, and the uncertainty was effectively thwarting his attempts to strike up a conversation. He lagged behind Fleur a couple of paces or so, hands in his pockets and a perpetual scowl darkening his features.

She still hadn’t explained shit, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask. For now, at least. After her little private chat with Celestia, she’d barely even spoken to him, other than to ask if he liked spicy food. In all honesty, he hated the silence.

“We’re supposed to be back at work in like, five minutes,” he muttered, glancing at a nearby clocktower.

One of Fleur’s ears flicked, her beautiful blue eyes flashing to the clock. “Work can wait. I… ‘ave things to discuss with you,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

Great. She was probably going to fire his ass. Well, it was good while it lasted. He was going to miss flying an airship. It was by far the coolest thing he’d ever done… “You’re gonna fire me, aren’t you?”

Fuck. The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Fleur stopped in her tracks, her head whipping back so fast her mane flew all over the place for a second. Her face was a picture of utter bewilderment. “What? … What gave you zat idea?” she quickly shot back at him, the words flying from her muzzle so fast he barely caught them.

The interrogative, slightly blue tinted stare he got from her was enough to make him wholly regret even opening his mouth. “I, uh… I just thought with you going to talk to Celestia-”

“I ‘ave no plans to fire you, Luke,” she firmly stated, her tail flicking in agitation. It almost sounded as though she was trying to reassure herself, more than anyone else. “But I do believe I owe you an explanation for some of my recent… be’aviours, toward you.”

“Oh, really?” Luke muttered. About damn time. “Are we finally going to talk about what happened in the lift? Or the little singsong in the street?” he challenged. It was good to finally get the words off his chest, even if Fleur was looking more and more ashamed with each question. “Why do your eyes change colour? And what the hell is with the fangs? Are they real?”

“Yes, zey are real,” Fleur sighed, “I shall explain inside. We do not want to be over’eard.”

They rounded a corner into an alcove between two large high-class restaurants. A smaller establishment was nestled between the two, its styling clearly more ethnic in comparison. A large sign depicting a bull elephant holding a wooden ladle in its trunk was fixed above an empty plaque over the doorway, which sat between two large golden framed bay windows. The place had a decidedly ‘Indian food’ vibe to it, backed up by something that smelled suspiciously similar to the south-Asian cuisine.

The whole building looked blatantly out of place in the Equinox district, especially on a street like Restaurant Row. Most of the “Restaurants” here only sold the same crappy, pretentious food, that was often not much more than a few mouthfuls of overpriced tofu.

“Huh. I’ve never noticed this place before,” Luke pondered aloud. He’d thought he knew of every small business in this city, having tried to get a job at just about all of them. This one seemed to have slipped under the radar.

“Zis eez ze Tasty Treat. A friend of mine works here,” Fleur said, the door swinging open in her telekinesis.

The interior followed more or less the same theme as the exterior, utilising warm colours for the walls and the ceiling drapes. Small round wooden tables and stools with satin cushions on them gave the place a homey feel, something that was rare in the city of Canterlot. A small number of booths lined the rear corner, next to a minibar which sat just in front of the bull elephant logo fixed to the back wall.

“Could we have a private booth, if it eez not too much trouble, ma chere?” Fleur asked, her tone slightly hushed.

Luke pulled his eyes away from examining the elaborate gold stitching of the ceiling drapes, his gaze landing on the pretty mare Fleur had spoken to. It was fairly obvious, even to him, that this pony perhaps originated from a different part of Equador. Her muzzle was a different shape, as were her eyes. She wore a gold headband behind her horn, and her ears were adorned with blue-topaz studded earrings.

“A booth again?” the pony asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, at least you brought company this time,” she jibed, flashing Luke a grin that showed off a set of pearly white teeth. Her accent was way too similar to Indian to ignore, prompting a bout of internal facepalming.

Fleur huffed, blowing a few strands of mane from her face and levelling the mare with a mock glare. “Is zis ‘ow you treat all of your customers?”

“Only our disgruntled investors,” she fired back, quick as a whip, before turning to Luke. “I’m Saffron Masala, seeing as Little-Miss-Live-Forever hasn’t bothered to introduce us.”

“I was getting to zat,” Fleur interjected, already trotting to the corner booth.

“Luke,” Luke replied, thoughtlessly holding out a hand like a fucking moron.

Saffron’s lack of hands was of no concern to her, it seemed, as she just nuzzled his palm instead. Her fur was almost as soft as Fleur’s. Almost. “Well, Luke, why don’t you go and sit down with your marefriend and I’ll get the two of you a couple of menus?”

Luke nodded, and even took two whole steps toward the booth before his brain finally caught up with what she’d said. “Woah, woah, wait a minute!” he shot at the exotic mare, but she’d already disappeared like a fart in the wind. He was left holding up an index finger to an empty room, bar the small number of customers enjoying their lunch in between stealing not-so-subtle glances at him.

“She eez messing with you, Luc. Come and sit down,” Fleur called from the booth. She even said it with a straight face. Hell, she was smiling for the first time in hours, in fact.

Luke grit his teeth, already beginning to feel his stupid face reddening. Like nearly everything in Equestria, the table was hopelessly too low for any human that wasn’t accustomed to traditional Japanese dining furniture. As a result, his shin had a thorough disagreement with its edge as he shuffled his lanky frame into the booth.

“Ow,” he gasped, eyes watering through either pain or embarrassment. He wasn’t even sure which anymore.

Eventually managing to sit down on the small bench, Luke crossed his legs. It was just about the only way he could sit, as there was practically no room beneath the table. This place really wasn’t designed with humans in mind.

“Are you okay, mon cher?” Fleur asked. She only moved an inch or two closer, but that was more than enough to close the gap.

“M’fine,” Luke muttered, suddenly mindful of the proximity. Hell, her cutie mark was near enough pressed to the side of his leg. Talk about close quarters. The booth wasn’t large, not by any means, but there was a whole other bench on the adjacent wall she could utilise if she wanted. And her scent… holy hell… Luke had no idea what perfume she was wearing, but it was making him want to cuddle her like a fucking waifu pillow.

Such desires were wholly inappropriate for an employee to have towards his boss… His devastatingly pretty, immortal equine boss… Fuck. The silence between them had officially transitioned to the “awkward” phase. He had to say something. Anything.

“I can’t believe she said you were my… my-” Oh, god—not that!

Thankfully, Fleur just smiled, and Luke found the effect was even more pronounced up close. He suddenly had to stamp on the urge to put an arm around her. "Why do you think I usually come ‘ere alone?"

Saffron Masala—Master Troll-Horse Extraordinaire—sidled up to the booth flashing those pearly whites again in a triumphant smile. “Here are your menus, my dears!”

Luke took one with a disapproving glance, but didn’t say anything other than “thanks.”

Once she had disappeared again, Fleur closed the curtain over the booth entrance with her magic, blocking out the rest of the restaurant. Another flash of her horn, and the idle conversation of the other patrons, the clatter of pots and pans and sizzle of cooking food from the kitchen, all of it was snuffed out so quickly Luke thought his eardrums had burst.

“Woah…” he muttered, his voice completely devoid of reverb. It was if he’d stepped into the most overdesigned recording studio ever conceived. “This is freaky.”

“I cannot risk anypony overhearing us, Luc,” Fleur began, her impeccable diction even more pronounced in the deathly silence. She placed a hoof in his hand. His fingers reacted instinctively; wrapping around her fetlock before he’d even considered if such an action was a good idea or not. “What I am about to tell you ‘as been a state secret for over three thousand years.”

A state secret? Was he going to be getting a visit from the pony feds if he listened to her explanation? And three thousand years… Was that how old she was? The questions were already piling up, yet she’d barely even told him anything yet.

“You ‘ave already figured out zat I am not a normal pony. I am immortal, but not an alicorn, and sometimes I ‘ave fangs, and luminous eyes. Not many ponies know about zose last two, but you alone ‘ave have seen more of zose traits than all of the ponies I ‘ave met in the last century combined. Zis, and only zis, eez why we are ‘aving zis conversation right now.”

A pause, during which Fleur slowly closed her eyes. She seemed to be steeling herself. “I am both possessed by, and a part of an ancient race of water demons known as sirens,” Fleur whispered, her eyes, unmistakably lilac at the present moment, searching his face for a reaction.

All Luke could do was blink stupidly a couple of times. It sounded like she was trying to tell him she was possessed by a fucking demon. Flashbacks of the movie The Exorcist played over in his mind. Was she going to start speaking in a demon voice and pissing everywhere?

“I… I don’t know what to say to that,” he said, half wondering if she was just pulling his leg. He kind of hoped she was, actually. “You’re… possessed?”

“In laymare’s terms—yes. She and I are like two ‘alves of an ‘ole. Normally she eez content to stay in the confines of my mind, but she eez drawn to you for some reason, I… I do not know why. She… She likes you a lot,” Fleur finished, her ears flattening against her mane, her eyes breaking contact. An unmistakable blush formed on her cheeks as soon as she got the words out, and Luke got the impression it had taken her a fair bit of courage to admit it.

“She… likes me?” Luke repeated. He was starting to sound like a parrot, but the things she was saying were flying so far out of left field that he couldn’t help it.

Fleur nodded, and Luke didn’t miss her eyes over analyzing his reaction again. “Sometimes, she can take control. Zat eez when ze fangs come out, and my eyes glow.”

“Okay…” Luke trailed off, placing his free palm flat on the table. Coolness invaded his skin. The amount of sweat that accumulated on it in the five minutes or so they’d been talking was quite alarming. “What about the singing? Why did it make me feel like…” he began, but ended up stopping himself. Why did it make me feel like I had just tripped and fell in love with you? He finished in his head. That was probably the best way to describe how it had felt, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say it out loud.

Fleur’s ears flattened even further, pressing into her silky mane. Luke felt the tiniest little tremor through the fetlock still grasped in his hand. Her eyes were as huge as grapefruits, and she gave him the same look she had before she had teleported in the royal dining hall. “There eez a reason my true race eez a state secret, mon cher. Sirens ‘ave a bad reputation for two reasons. The first eez because of what we must do to survive,” she explained, her voice gaining an uncharacteristic tremor to it that Luke didn’t recognise. He gave her fetlock a little squeeze without any thought.

“Sirens depend on the attention of others. If we do not feed upon zem, we grow weak, and fade away to something unrecognisable.” She gave a shudder, her ears flicking for a second. “Abstinence will not kill us, but we become shadows of our former selves. Of course, many ponies interpret our need of attention as vanity, which eez why we ‘ide our true identities. What you saw earlier was a breakdown of control on my part.”

“So… You were… feeding on me?” Luke began, unsure of whether or not he should feel violated somehow. It certainly shed some light on the sudden infatuation… Then again, blaming his whole underlying attraction to Fleur on some freaky ‘siren’ effect seemed kind of cheap. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t enjoying just sitting close to her, talking to her, and this ‘siren’ was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

Fleur slowly nodded. Her ears were still flat, eyes still scanning his face. It was like she expected him to be mad, or something. “Are there, like… any negative effects to this ‘feeding’?”

“Non, but… some ponies have labelled it ‘brainwashing’ in the past. It eez not, but misinformation—especially negative misinformation—spreads like wildfire in Equestria,” she added, subconsciously massaging his palm with her fetlock.

“Ze second reason sirens ‘ave a bad reputation eez because of an event zat ‘appened a little over a thousand years ago. As you ‘ave rightly guessed, sirens use zeir voice to placate zeir prey in order to feed. Well, back in ze age of ze Pillars, three sirens that ‘ad an un’ealthy thirst for power took zis ability one step further, and attempted to enslave ze ponies of Equestria. Zey even tried to recruit other sirens in zeir betrayal, myself included. I, of course, never strayed from Celestia, but I believe zey managed to rally a small number of followers before zey were ultimately banished by ze Pillars. Ever since zen, ze ponies of Equestria ‘ave ‘ad an in’erited distrust of sirens.”

Luke had thought the prejudice the nobles had shown themselves capable of was bad, but he quickly came to realise it probably paled in comparison to the shit Fleur had probably dealt with over the years… all one thousand-plus of them… hell, maybe even more than that. “What are these ‘Pillars’?”

Fleur's face took on a slightly forlorn look, and she closed her eyes, dipping her muzzle somewhat. After a moment of two, she gave Luke a bittersweet smile. “Ze Pillars of Equestria were a group of remarkable ponies zat lived all zose years ago. Zey protected Equestria in times of need, proving themselves time and time again,” she added, her voice a lot quieter than usual. Luke was already wishing he’d kept his stupid mouth shut.

“Forgive me. One of zem was ze best friend I ever ‘ad. She was the sweetest pegasus you would ever meet, and a fiercely loyal friend. Above all else, she gave ponies ‘ope, ‘ope for a brighter future. I… I ‘ave not thought of ‘er in quite some time,” she trailed off.

“Fleur, forget I said anything, really,” Luke muttered, gently squeezing her fetlock. He felt like an idiot for asking, even though he couldn’t have known. Being immortal probably got old real fast after watching a few dozen friends die.

The sapphire gem in her collar chose that moment to softly illuminate. Luke threw it a glance, but paid it no mind… for a few seconds, that is. After about ten, the impulse to reach out and touch it grew too powerful to ignore. The fact that he was supposedly fearful of it never even crossed his mind. He caved, his hand lifting from the cool wood of the desk, tracked by violet eyes as it made its way closer and closer to the titanium spiked collar. A faint afterthought pointed out that this was probably a stupid idea and could potentially result in a pair of fangs being embedded into his flesh, but Luke barely heard it over the soothing sound of waves that had inexplicably filled his mind as he stared into the gem. He didn’t even question the auditory hallucination, if that’s even what it was. Likewise, Fleur appeared to be a passenger in her own body. Whilst her eyes were violet, she made no move to stop him, instead watching with idle curiosity.

After a perceived age, his fingers made contact with the sapphire. It was cold. Like, ice cold. A sharp intake of breath cut through the silence like a knife, and Luke’s gaze flicked up to witness Fleur’s eyes rolling up toward her horn, which had began to glow of its own accord.

The aura, though still pink, managed to knock some sense back into Luke. He was being a fucking idiot messing around with a demon. It was a wonder she was letting him get away with it. He quickly broke the contact, squeezing his damn-near frozen fingertips in attempt to chase away the numbness.

It took a moment or two for Fleur to regain her composure, during which Luke began to regret touching her. What if that gem was a huge no-go area? He’d never seen her not wearing it, so it was obviously very important to her. Christ, he was a fucking moron. He may well have just casually laid his sweaty fingers all over something that was precious to her. Yeah, she hadn’t stopped him, but maybe she was just too polite to say?

Fleur’s eyes were fixed to Luke as though he was the most interesting thing in the world to her. “Not a soul ‘as touched my sapphire in over seventy three years,” she said, a look of mild bewilderment on her face.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Luke began, once again cursing his stupid curiosity.

Fleur didn’t even appear to be listening to him. “The last being to do so was a warlock by the name of Gronag…”

Luke blinked. “A warlock? Wait… those are a thing here?”

“... She killed ‘im for ‘is boldness.”

Luke opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. Did she just say that this “siren” killed what was presumably a sapient being? Or were warlocks just like animals in Equestria? Either way, a sense of dread was slowly beginning to build up in Luke’s chest. Was Fleur a psychopath? Because it was sure as hell starting to look that way.

Fleur smiled, chasing away some of the panic. “Luc… You ‘ave nothing to fear from ‘er,” she reassured. Fuck. Was it that obvious he was a little freaked out?

“What? I’m not scared,” he blurted out, his free palm now back on the desk. It was perhaps even sweatier than before at this point… “I just… you… she killed… Wait, are you winding me up?” he stuttered, half hoping this was some ill-conceived joke.

Fleur’s smile faded, and she shook her head. “I am not proud of what ‘append, mon cher. I fear that if Celestia ‘ad not stepped in to smooth things over, I would ‘ave been driven out of ze city for good,” she sighed, adjusting her collar with a forehoof. “Every siren ‘as a collar or a chain about ‘er neck, with a gemstone attached to it. Zey can take the form of either a ruby, an emerald, or a sapphire, like my own, but zey hold a momentous power within zem in comparison to a common Equestrian gemstone. A siren cannot feed without ‘er gem, so she will not take it very lightly when others interfere with it.”

A deathly chill travelled the length of Luke’s spine. There it was: proof that he had pretty much been unknowingly prodding a dangerous beast with a stick.

Fleur’s grin returned, along with a short snippet of musical laughter. “Luc, you look like you ‘ave just seen a ghost,” she chuckled, gently running her fuzzy fetlock over his hand. “Think of it like zis: if she ‘ad taken offence to it, you would ‘ave ‘ad no idea.”

Luke grimaced. “Because I’d be dead?”

Instead of answering, Fleur leaned in close, brushing the soft hairs of her cheek against his. The heavenly scent of her mane permeated his nostrils. Strawberries and cream. He was too mesmerised by her forwardness to even consider how ridiculous that was. She was sweet enough without clichéd hair products, that was for sure.

“She could never ‘urt you,” Fleur whispered, and Luke felt a soft forehoof brush over his chest. “Now, let us order. I’m sure Saffron will be growing tired of waiting,” she happily chirped, her horn flaring with the pink aura and levitating a menu in front of them.

Luke blinked, his own menu lay on the desk, forgotten. Maybe Fleur was aware of what she was doing, maybe not, but she was practically sitting in his lap… Not that he minded, of course… He should mind, though. She was his boss, and a unicorn, not to mention she was harbouring a fucking she-demon inside of her.

POP.

Sound burst back into life, bringing with it the background conversation of ponies having their lunch, the clatter of cutlery on pottery, and the occasional bang of a pot or pan from the kitchen, all of which now seemed about five times louder seeing as they had been absent for the past however long… Luke wasn’t even sure how long he and Fleur had talked.

“Luc?”

Oh… she asked a question. “Yes, my dear?” He grinned, perhaps emphasising the last two words.

Fleur raised an eyebrow. “Pensez-vous que vous êtes drôle, mon amour?”

Luke mimicked her, raising one of his own eyebrows. He’d picked up a little Prench from her, but not that much. “Umm… What?”

“I said, ‘ave you decided what to order, no?” she asked, flashing those pearly whites.

Luke frowned. “No you didn’t.”

Fleur smiled. “You accuse moi of dishonesty?”

The curtain glowed for a second, before sweeping back to reveal Saffron Masala, who had an even larger grin on her face than usual. “Have you two made up your minds, then?”

“I’ll have the usual, please, mon amie,” Fleur replied.

Luke studied her face, still half-trying to figure out what she had said in Prench. She usually said ‘mon ami’ or ‘mon cher.’ ‘Mon amour’ was a new one, and he wasn’t sure what it meant. He hadn’t heard her use it when talking to anyone else, that much was certain.

“The house special soup, of course. And for your strapping young stallion?” Saffron prompted.

Luke rolled his eyes. “The same, if you don’t mind.”

Saffron gave a nod, bowing out with a grin.

The food arrived surprisingly quick, Luke putting it down to Fleur being a high profile regular of the restaurant. Saffron Masala was never too far away, it seemed, always popping over and offering to refill the wine glasses and bread plate, or otherwise finding some excuse to linger. The soup was delicious, and not quite as spicy as he was expecting, which was a bonus. He’d rather not have the shits at work… Oh, shit… work. Luke wasn’t sure if he’d be able to fly the ship after three glasses of wine.

His boss was a bad influence. She had drank four glasses.

Once the empty bowls and glasses had been taken away, Luke requested the bill from Saffron, if only to get her to go away and stop cracking jokes about the ‘date’ they were having. It wasn’t a date, it was just lunch.

“So, you like ze food here, no?” Fleur asked, her lithe frame still practically pressed against his side.

“Yeah. The food, the company. It’s all good,” Luke chuckled, before realising what he’d said. That had been a flirt, sort of. With his boss… That third glass of wine was really proving to be a mistake.

Fleur didn’t seem to mind. Hell, he wasn’t sure if she even noticed. “I know, right? Zesty Gourmand can go and shove ‘er three hooves up ‘er tailhole! Zis place does not need zem,” she chuckled, loud enough to draw the attention of some of the other patrons. They glanced through into the booth, eyes peeled and ears stood to attention.

“You’re damn right we don’t need them,” Saffron piled on, seemingly appearing from thin air once again. The waitress set down a small tray with a piece of parchment and a couple of mints on it, before flashing a smile and disappearing again.

Luke glanced at the bill. Just under seventy bits. Not bad for two mains, a side, and a decent sized bottle of wine. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out the coin pouch he always carried around. Wallets weren’t a thing in Equestria—neither were credit cards, for that matter. It taken quite a while to get used to this method of carrying cash.

It was only after he’d fished out four twenty-bit coins that he noticed Fleur had went deadly silent.

“Luc… What are you doing?” she asked, in a tone that suggested he’d just pulled an AR-15 out of his trousers.

“Paying the bill. What else?”

“Put zat away!” she whisper shouted, glancing at the other ponies in the restaurant. They had long since lost interest, but Fleur had apparently become super self-conscious all of a sudden.

“I get that you own shares in this place, but I’m pretty sure we still have to pay,” he chuckled, dropping the coins onto the parchment.

“Ze newspapers will tear me a new tailhole if they find out I let a stallion pay a bill!”

Luke blinked, shooting her an incredulous look. “That’s ridiculous, besides—I’m not a stallion,” he quipped. These ponies and their matriarchal tendencies, man.

Fleur’s horn flared, the deposited coins and the coin pouch disappearing with a flash. Luke felt them instantly rematerialise in his pocket. He sighed. “Fleur, come on-”

“I am ze third oldest pony in this city, and zat damn well earns me ze right to be old fashioned. An honourable mare never allows a stallion to hoof ze bill,” she harrumphed, turning up her muzzle like the true noblemare she was. Another flash of her horn left a shiny one hundred bit coin sitting on the parchment instead.

“Way to one up me,” Luke muttered.

Fleur shook her head, her beautiful pink locks falling about her face. “Ugh… You don’t know Saffron like I do. I would never ‘ear ze end of it if I did not overtip,” she sighed.

“It’s funny you should mention the papers, though. Y’know they’re already ‘tearing you a new tailhole’ just for hiring me, right?”

Fleur, who had been halfway through finishing off her fifth glass of wine, almost did a spit take. “You know about ze article?” she squeaked, after swallowing so fast her cheeks turned a rosy colour. “‘Ow did you find out?”

“Luna left a copy of the Herald on the dining table in the Castle.”

Fleur let slip a long, drawn out sigh. “She ‘ates zat paper, as does Celestia. Zey only read it to check if zose parasitic ‘journalists’ have written anything about zem. If Celestia ‘ad not sent a copy to me zis morning, I would not ‘ave even known myself that zey ‘ad mentioned you.” A soft white hoof landed on his chest again. “Luc, please do not take anything zey say to ‘eart. Ponies like Top 'At are ze scourge of ze nobility.”

Luke snorted. “You don’t have to tell me that. I’ve been itching to lay a beat down on ol’ Turd-face since I arrived in Canterlot.”

The corners of Fleur’s mouth twitched, but only for a second. “Now now, it eez not proper be’aviour for stallions to fight. It eez better to leave any disagreements for ze mares to deal with.”

Another snort. “You really are old fashioned,” Luke chuckled, just as a cuckoo clock on the wall announced it was two o’ clock. “Anyway, we’re now over an hour late… Why are you still sitting in a restaurant with the hired help?”

Fleur scoffed somewhat, shifting a little against his side. Once again, Luke had to bat down the urge to put an arm around her… he really had to watch that. “Luc, you are ‘ardly just ze ‘ired help. You are ze First Officer of Le Tesson, and… dare I say, my friend?”

She smiled, her tongue running over her teeth again and her eyes glimmering like huge violet supernovas. Luke cleared his throat. Damn, those eyes. She really knew how to turn on that pretty pony charm. “Oh, I don’t know about all that. Wouldn’t want to get a reputation for brown nosing the boss now, would I?” he teased, cracking a grin.

That earned him a nicker and a small hip check. “Ugh… Typical stallion. Come, mon cher, Photo Finish will ‘ave my ‘ead impaled on a spork if we turn up much later zan zis.” With that, Fleur rose up from the bench, leaving a noticeable emptiness at Luke’s side. Her long legs gracefully navigated around the table with ease. You certainly wouldn’t believe she’d just drank nearly half a bottle of wine.

Luke got up himself, with quite a bit less finesse than Fleur had. It was hard to ignore the playful flicking of her tail, which was near enough at eye height as he clambered out of the booth. She was probably doing it on purpose. Well, either her, or the she-demon riding shotgun in her mind that had apparently taken a liking to him.

Either way, that shit was distracting.

Fleur let slip a tepid yawn, the half drank espresso sitting on her desk still yet to have any effect on her immortal body. Be it caffeine, alcohol, or whatever else, she usually had to consume twice as much as the average pony to feel any benefit. It was either a blessing or a curse, depending which way one looked at it. Being able to drink a minotaur under the table was quite the perk, but the amount of coffee she had to drink just to get through the average morning was perhaps higher than she’d like to disclose.

Still, at least it was Friday. Like most mornings in Canterlot, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The nobles weren’t all that fond of rain, after all. The view from her office window focused on the ice-capped peaks of the Unicorn Range, and was just as breathtaking as the first time she had laid eyes on it.

Well, to call it a mere window was perhaps putting it lightly. It was more like a wall of glass, spanning all the way from floor to ceiling, and about a hundred hooves across. Thick curtains the colour of Princess Luna’s coat hung either side, but Fleur had never used them. The deep blue wilderness of the sky was much too beautiful to hide away, and with the room being situated on the one hundred and seventy-third floor, privacy wasn’t an issue, bar the odd pegasus or two.

The other three walls of the office were actually one—a vast plane of purple and gold that curved around to meet both of the window’s edges. Yes, the room was intended to resemble the shape of a horseshoe—Photo Finish had all but insisted at the most recent renovation.

Fleur let slip another yawn. It wasn’t like her to be this tired in the morning. It probably had something to do with the fact she had spent most of the previous night lying awake in bed, contemplating the best way to invite Luke to the Wonderbolts’ Derby she had agreed to host later that evening. As it was an out-of-hours event he had no knowledge of, he might’ve made other plans, something she was feeling perhaps more anxious about than she cared to admit. So what if he said no? He had no obligation to accompany her.

A soft mewling rang rather pathetically through her mind, and Fleur chuckled softly to herself. Her darker half really was quite smitten with the human.

After the working lunch she had shared with Luke, Fleur had tried in vain to allocate time out of her schedule for him. Not just so he could learn to fly Le Tesson, either. If she was honest with herself, she enjoyed spending time with him. The quiet in her mind every time he was around was becoming more of a perk than the main reason for pursuing his company. Of course, such times had been difficult to come by, mainly because of one persistent pony.

Knock knock.

Speak of the devil. Two knocks. That’s all the warning Fleur ever got these days before her office door was thrown wide.

“Good morning, fraulein,” Photo Finish barked, cantering into the office fresher than a pillow with a mint on it. Fleur was only a little bit jealous her manager could find it in herself to be quite so woke in the morning.

“Bonjour, mon amie,” Fleur replied, stifling yet another yawn. It was probably best to get the most pertinent order of business out of the way first. “What is on the agenda today?”

Photo didn’t miss a beat. “You have the second quarter board meeting to attend in ten minutes, Sapphire Shores’ consultancy appointment after zat-don’t give me zat look,” Photo interrupted herself, already hoofing through the overflowing ‘in’ tray on Fleur’s desk. “You know she vill take it as a personal insult if ve give her anypony but you.” Sapphire Shores was quite possibly the sassiest diva Fleur had ever met. Even the latest efforts from the top clothing designers from all over Equador often failed to satisfy her tastes. “Some of the new recruits have booked a three hour shoot with you zis afternoon, and you vill be expected to arrive at least an hour before the Vonderbolts Derby opens later zis evening for the audio check,” Photo continued, before suddenly remembering something. “Oh, and Prince Blueblood invited you to his suite at the castle for a private dinner after the derby.”

Fleur almost choked on her espresso. Non! Snarled the siren, and for once, Fleur had no trouble agreeing. She would rather dine with a rabid diamond dog than give Prince Blueblood the chance to brag to his ostentatious little ‘holier-than-thou’ friends that he had… she shivered. According to Blueblood, they had been out on three dates already. Celestia only knew what rubbish he would dream up if she was to take him up on his offer.

She still quite clearly remembered the time he developed the unfortunate habit of playing with the contents of his diaper. Granted, he was two years old at the time, but the sight alone was enough that she wasn’t going to be forgetting it any time soon.

Either way, never in the millions of years she could potentially live would she ever go on a date with him.

Photo Finish cracked a rare smile. “I thought you might not be a fan of the idea. I took the liberty of declining on your behalf.”

“Merci, mon amie,” Fleur sighed, taking another sip of her coffee.

She had a feeling this day was going to be a long one, and it didn’t take long for her to realise that laying eyes on a certain someone could perhaps make it a little more bearable.

Almost inaudibly, the ancient water demon prowling around her mind crooned in agreement.

The summer heat had stubbornly refused to relent over the next few weeks, Luke having to take shelter in the vast shadow of the helium chamber as it slowly but surely crept across the scorched deck each day.

Due to Fleur’s schedule becoming busier than a Chinese fish market ever since their lunch at the Tasty Treat, there hadn’t been much for him to do other than listen to Vert waffle on about wind patterns, the many ways to tie a docking rope, and the easiest way to navigate by night. Apparently Luna always put certain stars in the exact same place, so that ponies could find their way in the darkness.

“Fleur said she might have a spare hour before lunch today, so we best use it wisely,” Vert said, bundling the spare ‘demonstration’ rope back into a wooden barrel near the stern of the ship.

“Photo already cancelled that. Some big board meeting, or something,” Luke muttered gloomily. Not only was he not going to be doing any flying today, he wouldn’t have a chance to steal glances at his smoking-hot boss. The fact she was a unicorn was of little concern, at this point.

Vert squinted through the sunlight, his whole face practically scrunching. “Did she? Never tells me nothin’, that mare. Well, we might as well scrub the deck, instead.”

“We did that yesterday!” Luke protested. He’d spent more time on his hands and knees than a hooker with pink-eye as of late.

Thankfully, a pink pegasus pony Luke didn’t recognise alighted on deck before Vert could complain that his reflection in the wood wasn’t quite sharp enough. “Ahem… umm, Loook? Um… Miss Fleur would like to see you in her office,” the mare squeaked, gazing up at him as though he were the living embodiment of the Warsaw radio mast.

“Thank you,” Luke said, with perhaps more than a little smugness. “I’ll head there right away.” He made sure to crack an equally smug grin at the Captain as he marched off the ship and down onto the dock. Even the butterflies that had flared to life in his stomach upon hearing Fleur’s name failed to ruin the moment.

Strolling into the sky lobby and past the express elevator, Luke hit the call button for one of the four main communal elevators. He’d never been to Fleur’s office, but he knew it was on floor one-seven-three, only two down from the dock. Not a minute later, he was stood outside of a deep purple door bearing gold lettering: Fleur de Lis, CEO, J’adore Inc.

Steeling himself, he knocked thrice, or, he would have… The door swung open rather ominously after the second knock, revealing… Oh dear.

Fleur was stood in the middle of the room. Her eyes, bereft of irises or pupils, shone like two piercing blue beacons along with the sapphire in her collar. Her mouth was slightly open, and Luke had no trouble at all spotting the two sharp fangs descending from behind her upper lip.

A closer look at her sapphire revealed the blurry image of a trident shining within it, something Luke had never noticed before. She took a step toward him, and an icy blade swept down the full length of his spine, yet he couldn’t move. She wont hurt me, she wont hurt me, she said it herself, he chanted, over and over inside his head, but the words weren’t really doing all that much to convince him.

Another step, and Luke’s heart was hammering against his ribcage like the abused bass drum of a thrash-metal band. Another step. And another. Those eyes… he couldn’t tear his gaze away from them. A potent concoction of beauty lurked in their depths… Beauty, and death.

Then, she stopped.

At some point, Luke forgot to breathe, judging by the fact he let out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. Fleur blinked, and as often was the case with her little ‘episodes’, all traces of the water demon harbouring within her suddenly disappeared in less than a split second.

“Forgive me, I… I just needed to see you,” she whispered, her face emotionless in the wake of the siren’s possession.

“Holy crap, Fleur,” Luke croaked, the use of his voice finally coming back to him. “You’ll end up being the death of me, one day,” he chuckled, but the words came out with a lot less humour behind them than he’d intended.

Fleur’s ears dropped a shade, her eyes seeming to swell. “What do you mean, mon cher?”

Luke faltered, unsure how she might take it if he dared voice his fears of her deadly little secret he’d been hiding from her the past few weeks. “It’s kinda hard to explain.”

“‘Ave a seat, and tell me, zen,” Fleur said, giving a small nod to a modernesque swivel chair sitting in front of her long marble desk.

Luke did as she asked, perching conservatively on the edge as he watched her canter around the desk and claim her own seat on the other side. She motioned with a forehoof for him to continue.

Luke let out a sigh, doing his best to ignore the sense of foreboding clouding his thoughts. “It’s like… there’s been this little voice inside my head these past few weeks telling me that I should be very worried there’s a siren interested in me. I mean, she scares the crap out of me every time I see her. What if she wants to eat me, or something?”

Fleur gave him a look that suggested he had temporarily grown a second head. “Eat you?” she repeated, incredulous. “Luc, did you per’aps ‘it your ‘ead on the way to my office? Because zat is quite possibly the dumbest thing I ‘ave ever ‘eard in my entire life.”

“W-Well… Uh,” Luke stuttered, feeling immensely stupid all of a sudden. If Fleur wanted to fucking eat him, she probably would have done it weeks ago. “The thing is, sirens are known to humans as merciless killers back on Earth,” he added, conveniently leaving out the ‘Greek mythology,’ and ‘portrayed in works of fiction’ parts. Somehow, he didn’t think they’d help his argument.

“And why should zat be the case here? Do you ‘onestly think Celestia of all ponies would send you to me if she thought I was just going to gobble you up?” she snapped, her logic slamming into his apprehension not unlike a bowling ball would through a mirror.

He was beginning to wholly regret opening his stupid mouth, and it wasn’t like he could blame her anger on the siren either. No, all of Fleur’s ire was her own. That much was certain. “Well, I…” he muttered, but he didn’t really have an end to the pathetic sentence. Fleur wasted no time in jumping on the offensive.

“Do you even know ‘ow much zat pony cares for you? She cancelled a state visit to Yakyakistan to go and collect you from the Crystal Mountains, something zat zey are still in an uproar about even today!” Fleur cried, her violet gaze almost deadly. “The yaks are notorious for being offended at the tiniest things when it comes to international politics, yet Celestia still dropped zem in favour of you. She ‘adn’t even met you at the time, but she gave you the benefit of the doubt.”

Luke swallowed, guilt already clawing at his insides. He hadn’t really expected her to yell at him, and thus, was wholly unprepared for it. His stupid mouth had got him into this mess, so he quietly elected to keep it closed and just let her get on with it.

Fleur didn’t really show any sign of slowing down, unfortunately. “She all but begged me—the ruler of Equestria and deity of the sun—begged me to take you on,” she cried, slamming a hoof down to the marble desk. A small crack split the surface. “You know what I did? I turned her down, until she called in zat blasted favour.”

Luke blinked, doing his best to ignore the emotional kick in the gut that accompanied her words. Truth be told, he just wanted to go back to his shitty apartment and forget this day had ever happened.

Fleur got to her hooves and slowly walked around her desk, getting an closer and closer to him with each step, her gaze piercing. Only when she was inches away did she stop. “Is that what is worrying you, mon cher? The fact I killed a warlock seventy years ago?”

She waited. Five seconds passed Ten. Luke cleared his throat. “Yes,” he admitted. She would probably see right through a lie, anyway.

Fleur tilted her head, and Luke could almost hear the cogs turning inside. Even angry, she was still devastatingly pretty. “Luc… you are so naive. I am a siren. I ‘ave killed thousands in my lifetime, not just one grabby warlock.” He blinked, his eyes finding hers. She was telling the truth, there was no doubt about it. “Of course, the vast majority of zat number was tallied during the many wars I ‘ave fought in. I do not kill indiscriminately.”

“Just… forget I said anything,” he murmured, wanting nothing more than to get out of her office as fast as possible. Hell, he’d take scrubbing the ship’s deck with nothing but a toothbrush and an old bar of soap over this shit.

“‘Ow can I forget?” Fleur suddenly snapped, and Luke nearly fell off the edge of his seat. “In all of my years on Equador, I ‘ave never witnessed my darker ‘alf weep over anything—the conquering of peaceful nations by the ancient dragon order, the despicable apartheid rule of the old kingdom, young fillies and colts lying dead in the streets of Babylon during the great plague—anything,” she added, her voice lowering. “Yet ‘ere she is, crying silently in my ‘ead over a man that thinks she wants to kill ‘im.”

A long silence followed her words, a silence that morphed into a deafening crescendo, but it still wasn’t enough to drown out Luke’s thoughts. His mind should have been awash with sympathy for the horrors she had witnessed throughout her lifetime, but all he could think about was the fact she had turned Celestia down, had only accepted when Celestia had reminded her of the cover up. “Do you…” he began, but paused, wondering if it was worth adding fuel to the fire. Fuck it. He had to know. “Do you wish Celestia hadn’t called in that favour?” he quietly asked, cursing his selfishness.

Fleur paused, but only for a second. “At first, yes. From a business standpoint, ‘iring you was a terrible idea,” she said, deftly sitting on her haunches, her eyes wandering to the view of the mountains through the window. “Four different advisers told me to ignore Celestia’s request, an of course, zey were right. You remember the article? J’adore stock took a small ‘it the day after it was published.”

“Oh…” Luke muttered. What the hell was he even supposed to say to that? “Well… If the company is losing money, maybe it’d be best if I left?” he added, perhaps feeling a bit more sorry for himself than he had any right to. Even as the suggestion left his mouth, he felt stupid for saying it. J’adore wasn’t losing money. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

Fleur lowered her brow, and it was clear she wasn’t going to dignify such petty nonsense with a response. “I gladly ‘old up my ‘oof and confess that I am a killer, but it ‘urts me greatly zat you think I would ever ‘arm you,” she shot at him, but her voice had definitely lost some of its edge. “I… I care about you more than you realise, Luc,” she whispered. The sapphire in her collar pulsed with each passing heartbeat, and Luke was once again met with a strong urge to touch it, but he refrained, for the moment.

His elbows found his knees, and he held his face in his palms. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I doubted you, Fleur,” he began, lifting his head to gaze at her. She had every right to be angry, especially after everything she had done for him. But, there was still one pressing issue he couldn’t quite make heads or tails of. “But, I have to know… Why do you care about me so much?”

Luke was the first to admit he wasn’t special. He had no experience of flying an airship, so it sure as hell wasn’t talent at his job that was causing her to keep him around. The only other explanation he might’ve had thus far was the fact he was human, but seeing as that wasn’t exactly seen as a positive by the business world of Canterlot, he was coming up empty.

Fleur gazed up at him, those pale violet eyes large and inviting once again. In fact, all of her ire seemed to have faded away as though it had never been, and she was looking a little lost. “I… I do not know, Luc,” she whispered, a few stray locks of her mane partly obscuring her gaze.

Luke knew she was lying. She had to be. Celestia’s favour was to give him a job, but it didn’t extend to keeping a job. Any other employer would’ve got rid of him by now to save themselves the hassle, equal opportunities be damned.

“I care about you, too,” he said, giving her a warm smile. Maybe she would tell him, one day, maybe not. Either way, it was of little concern to him at the moment.

Fleur studied him for a long time, and Luke could only speculate what she was thinking. After a few moments, she spoke. “Luc… Zis is per’aps a little unprofessional of me, and it is a little short notice, but… would you mind accompanying me to the Wonderbolts Derby at the amphitheater tonight? I am ‘osting the race, but I would very much like it if you were there with me.”

“You want me to go and see the Wonderbolts with you?” Luke repeated, incase he had somehow misheard. “Hell yeah!”

Shit, he probably owed her a night in an opera house full of snobby nobles that hated his guts for all the pain he’d caused her. Getting to see a Wonderbolts Derby was more than he deserved.

Fleur’s face lit up like a candle, something that never failed to make Luke smile when he witnessed it. “Merci, mon cher,” she practically squeed, getting to her hooves and catching him off guard with a surprise nuzzle. The heavenly strawberries and cream scent hit him again, and his hands flew to the back of her neck of their own accord, it seemed, his fingers slipping into her mane. Before he could even remind himself that he was probably crossing some pretty major boundaries, Fleur took it one step further, throwing her forelegs over his shoulders.

Luke snorted out a chuckle at her enthusiasm, the mare practically pressing him back into the chair. Unfortunately, the base, whilst stylish, was perhaps designed with a more ‘form over function’ approach. It promptly toppled over, and both Luke and Fleur were sent rolling over the carpet.

“Woah, haha,” Luke gasped, coming to a stop on his back. A soft warm lump lay on his chest, her long pink curls splayed out everywhere and her legs wrapped around him.

“Pardon, mon amour. I did not think zat one through,” she laughed, and Luke felt the sweet vibrations through his chest. That wasn’t the only thing, though—the ice-cold sapphire in her collar made short work of his shirt. The frigid coolness could be felt seeping into the skin beneath, but it was a lot less unpleasant than he thought it would have been. Likewise, the spikes in her collar appeared sharp when he looked at them, but they were also digging into his shirt without too much discomfort.

Luke sighed. As if he needed more proof that the siren had no interest in hurting him. Fleur still hadn’t bothered getting to her hooves, despite the chair falling a good thirty seconds ago, so he wrapped her in his arms, cradling the mare to his chest with little thought.

Fleur answered his move by adjusting her hind legs, shifting one of them over to partially straddle his waist. A glance down at her face revealed her ears were lying flat, and she was looking at him with devious, blue-tinted eyes and a peculiar little smile… She also had fangs again.

A wave of shock rolled over Luke, but it was decidedly more muted than the last time the water demon had made an appearance. He couldn’t even tell if she had fully taken control. It was more a case of both Fleur and her deadly little friend snuggling into his chest. All things considered, it was kinda nice.

Not that he was given much time to savour the moment.

BANG.

CRACK.

Fleur’s office door flew open with all the apparent force of a small bomb, just as a flash of pink light damn near blinded Luke. “Shit!” he hissed, rubbing his eyes. His chest was now noticably siren-free.

A light-gold coated earth mare with a cobalt blue mane and tail had just waltzed into the room like she owned the place. The short, flashy white and gold dress she was wearing probably would have looked a little slutty on another pony, but this mare managed to make it look the epitome of sheer class. Luke found himself peering up at her as he clumsily struggled to get to his feet. She was almost as tall as Fleur.

“Well, hello, honey! I do hope Rarity sent over her latest line. I’ve been diggin’ that pony’s style lately-” the newcomer began, but then she spotted Luke tripping over his own feet next to the toppled over chair. “Oh, am I interrupting something?” the mare asked, her light-amber eyes seemingly swelling to the size of grapefruits and her smile suggesting she had just discovered a rather juicy little secret to gossip about later.

“Oh, not at all, mon cherie, I was just ‘aving an ‘end of probationary period’ meeting with my newest pilot when his chair broke. It must only be designed for ponies,” Fleur wildly bullshitted. For a story she had just come up with on the fly, it was pretty damn convincing. “I must make a note to get the building fitted with human compatible chairs,” she added as an afterthought.

The extravagant mare observed Fleur for a good few seconds, and Luke got the feeling she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Ah, but of course. I read about your recruiting exploits a few weeks back.” She eyed Luke sympathetically. “The press don’t very much care for you, do they?”

Luke slowly shook his head, still trying to figure out if she was going to start telling anypony that would listen that Fleur had been dry-humping an alien in her office, or something.

“Take their opinions with a pinch of salt, honey. They write that old rag to sell, and it really shows,” Sapphire said, turning to Fleur. “Now, have my dresses arrived?”

“I believe Rarity sent zem over yesterday afternoon,” Fleur replied, conjuring a gem-encrusted chaise lounge out of thin air and motioning to it with a forehoof. The earth mare hopped onto it in an instant. “Luc, I will see you tonight, yes?”

Luke smiled, his mind already wandering to the memory of how good it had felt with Fleur snuggled against his chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Luke asked, after finally managing to pick his jaw up off the lime tinted cobble lining Mane Street.

There weren’t really words in his vocabulary adequate enough to describe just how beautiful Fleur looked. Yeah, she was a supermodel. It was to be expected, right? But holy crap. At this moment in time, she was making every other supermodel look like a mountain troll with lyme disease.

“Do you not like it?” she asked, examining the short little number she was sporting—a deep purple, deliciously fur-tight one piece with the tiniest pleated skirt. In fact, it was perhaps the tiniest dress Luke had ever seen a pony wear—the perfect balance of slutty and sophisticated. The whole ensemble appeared to be fashioned out of a fine silk, and was accented with gold, including the large purple bow tied at the top of her mane.

“Do I like it?” Luke repeated, dumbfounded. That bow made her look freakin’ adorable. “Fleur, you look… amazing. I…” he faltered, grimacing down at his own attire, which paled in comparison. “Are we going to a high-society place, or something? I’m starting to feel a little underdressed.” Very underdressed. Like, shorts and a T-shirt underdressed, to be precise.

“Nonsense, you look positively dashing, mon cher,” Fleur replied, looking a little pleased with herself as she trotted a few paces down the street. She didn’t make it very far before stopping to glance back over her withers at him, those long black eyelashes fluttering so blatantly on purpose. “Come, mon cher. We mustn’t be late.”

Luke swallowed, taking a few steps towards his date. Wait, was this a date? It kinda felt like one. Fuck. He didn’t really know.

The working day had just drawn to a close, although Luke had gone home hours ago. Fleur had instructed a rather surprised-looking Vert to allow him to leave early in order to change for the Wonderbolts Derby. If only he’d done a bit more research, he might’ve returned wearing something that didn’t suggest he was going to a fucking beach party.

The stream of ponies spilling out from the five revolving doors of the J’adore tower was already starting to become a torrent. It was fairly evident by the all of the raised brows, shoulder bumping and hoof pointing that Fleur’s employees were perhaps not accustomed to seeing her casually standing just outside the building at kicking-out time looking like sex on a stick. In fact, many of them were throwing confused glances to Luke himself, probably because she was still beaming at him expectantly with those beautiful eyes of hers.

Fuck. Why did he agree to meet her right outside the building at five O'clock? There were bound be some rumours making the rounds after this. Knowing nobles and their love of gossip, some pretty huge rumours. Hell, even Vert was already beginning to notice that Fleur had been spending more time up at the dock than she used to, even with her busy schedule.

“Maybe I should go home and change?” Luke muttered, second guessing his attire once more as they strolled past Rosewood Entertainment.

“Zere is no time for zat, Luc. Stop stressing,” Fleur admonished, turning to glance up at him. “You look very handsome.”

Luke barely held back a snort. “Yeah, sure I do. Y’know, I’m starting to think you see me through rose tinted glasses, ‘cause I don’t think many ponies would agree with you on that one,” he chuckled, before realising just what he’d implied.

She’s your boss, dumbass!

Instead of the scathing look he’d expected, Fleur just laughed, and it was hard not to smile at the way her face seemed to light up. “Per’aps you are right, mon amour, but ask yourself zis—do you really care what a bunch of old nobles think?”

“Well, I care what one noble thinks, and she’s pretty damn old.”

Fleur’s eyes widened in mock disgrace. Totally worth it. “Were you never taught to respect your elders? I am over one ‘undred times your age, after all.”

Luke blinked, completely thrown. Holy shit… Was that true? “You’re over two and a half thousand years old?”

Fleur merely gave him a wry smile as she trotted straight through a group of photographers that were in the process of papping her. “It is not polite to ask a lady ‘er age, mon cher,” she purred, the camera wielding vultures scrambling out of her way like rats running from a wildcat. Fleur might’ve trampled them flat had they stayed put. Such deliberate ignorance was actually quite impressive.

Made sense. She was probably used to their shit by now.

After fifteen minutes of walking, the paparazzi having been finally chased away by a couple of pegasi mares from the royal guard, Fleur took a left onto the large boulevard where the Canterlot amphitheatre was situated. The building gave off the impression of being extremely old, and where most of the city’s palette was comprised of white marble and gold accents, this structure was made almost entirely of stone. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the Colosseum of Rome, back on Earth. Four storeys of meticulously detailed arches made up the outer shell of its slightly elliptical shape, each running the entire circumference.

“I’ve always wanted to see what’s inside this place,” Luke admitted. Being previously poorer than the lowliest peasant, he’d never had the bits to attend any of the events that had taken place at this particular venue. “This place, and that bathhouse across the street,” he added, nodding to a sprawling complex of beautiful flora and gleaming marble opposite the amphitheatre. Part manicured garden, part ionic temple, the place was huge, and looked rather inviting, to say the least.

“Non, Luc! Don’t you ever go in there!” Fleur snapped, spinning on her hooves to face him with a torrent of blue fire in her eyes. As if that wasn’t alarming enough, her fangs shot out, two gleaming white shards glinting in the afternoon sun.

Luke nearly jumped out of his shorts. “What? Why?” he half yelled back, eyes darting up and down to the street as though someone was about to jump out and murder him. When no one did, he levelled Fleur with a look of utter confusion.

“That’s the ‘Ouse of the Rising Sun, Luc,” Fleur explained, flicking her tongue over her fangs, which disappeared with the contact.

Luke blinked. “I don’t follow.”

“It’s a whorehouse,” she deadpanned.

“Oh…” he murmured, her reaction finally starting to make sense. “Wait, you honestly think I’d go to a whorehouse?”

Fleur gave him a pitiful look, and it worried him perhaps even more than her little demonic flare up. “Oh, Luc… The whores aren’t mares. Zey’re stallions.”

“Huh?”

“If you went in there, zey would snap you up quicker than Celestia swipes the last piece of cake.”

“Wait… Are you saying?” Luke trailed off, the colour draining from his face. The only reason he hadn’t went in there looking for a job was because he’d thought it was a bathhouse, and he wouldn’t have liked the humidity. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d have signed up to be a prostitute.

“Zey are always looking for exotic species to ‘ire. The mares that frequent zat place like a bit of variety, so I’m told.”

“I can’t believe Celestia lets this happen,” Luke pondered aloud, glancing at the tall marble pillars and perfectly trimmed rose bushes. The place looked like a national heritage site. Never in a million years would he have guessed it was actually a brothel.

Fleur let out a snort that quickly turned into a fully fledged laugh. “Oh, Luc… Celestia owns the place—it’s hers!”

“Celestia owns the place?” Luke repeated, incredulous. The tea drinking, cake loving, beloved ruler of Equestria and sole matriarch of the sun owned a fucking stallion whorehouse? “Holy shit, really?”

“It was built for ‘er as a gift, to ‘ouse the ‘arem of stallions she used to keep, back in the day,” Fleur explained, turning her back on the place. “I don’t think she visits much nowadays, if at all.” She looked up at Luke with wide eyes. “Promise me you will never go in zere, Luc.”

Luke met her concern with a reassuring grin. He didn’t need convincing to not step foot in the place. He already had a job he enjoyed immensely, at a company he was beginning to adore. “I promise,” he said, and before he knew what he was doing, his fingers had found the base of her ear.

Almost instantaneously, Fleur’s eyes were blue again, and she gently leaned into the contact, the furry appendage atop her head flicking uncontrollably. A feminine moan slipped from her lips, accompanied by a low purr that created an odd unison effect. Luke faltered, the eerie sound making him lose his nerve a bit. If he’d needed any more proof she was harbouring a demon inside her, there it was, clear as day.

“Uhh… Fleur? Are you okay?” Luke muttered, trying to ignore the ungodly racket his heart was making in his chest. She’d already stated on several occasions he had nothing to fear from her—and he believed her—but holy shit, did that sound creepy as fuck.

Fleur blinked, her eyes violet again. She looked flustered, and a little lost. After a short pause, she spoke. “I’m not saying I didn’t like zat, but I’d rather you didn’t touch me like zat in the middle of Starswirl Boulevard,” she flatly stated, her eyes worriedly darting around at the ponies passing by… ponies, Luke realised, that were looking at them with wide-eyed expressions of shock.

“Did I just do something stupid?” Luke slowly said, his eyes scanning the onlookers with steadily rising panic. Pretty much all of them were looking at him like… Oh, shit. An excerpt from a book on pony social behaviours came back to him with all the force of a speeding truck. Pony ears! Ponies don’t like their ears touched by strangers because… they’re a sensitive area. Fuck!

“Shit… Fleur, I forgot about… Ears aren’t sensitive on humans, I just assumed…” Wait… Luke’s thoughts caught up with him. Did she just say she wouldn’t have minded, otherwise?

“It is okay, Luc,” she quietly reassured, the fine fur of her cheeks reddening adorably. Her eyes flicked to the majestic arches of the amphitheatre lobby. “Just… wait until we are alone next time,” she added, her voice barely audible.

Next time?

So, there was going to be a next time. A wave of anxiety hit Luke like a battering ram. If he wasn’t mistaken, he had just been given permission to ‘pet’ his siren-harbouring, ancient-unicorn boss on her ears—which were supposedly an erogenous zone for a pony. Well, that’s what the book had said, anyway. Up until this point, he’d kinda figured Fleur was just being friendly, but even he couldn’t write this off as anything other than an obvious green light.

Was she actually interested in him?

She had been upfront about the fact her little dark counterpart had taken a liking to him, but as far as he could recall, Fleur herself hadn’t really discussed her personal feelings in great detail. Maybe they weren’t all that different from the siren’s?

“Ahh, Fleur! I was wondering when you were going to turn up,” said a familiar voice from inside the building reception, a familiar voice that positively wrenched Luke from his thoughts in an instant.

Glossy white coat, dirty blond mane with way too much product, and a look on his stupid face like butter wouldn’t melt in his stupid mouth. Of all the nobles in Canterlot, this asshat was amongst Luke’s least favourite.

“Good afternoon, Blueblood,” Fleur said, her voice perhaps a little colder than it usually was. Luke followed her into the reception area, trying to keep his eyes from straying down to her flanks. Even though her tail was maintaining her modesty like it always did, he still kinda felt like a bit of a creep eyeing up her rear end when it was sticking out of that tiny little skirt.

“All set for our dinner at the castle later this evening?” Blueblood asked, leaning against the long wooden lobby reception desk like he fucking owned the thing.

“Say what?” Luke blurted out, before he could stop himself. Were they going to dinner later on? It probably wasn’t any of his business if they were, but after everything that had happened, it sure as hell felt like it should be.

Fleur flashed Luke a bemused look, and he could have sworn it had morphed into a smile before she turned back to Blueblood. “Sorry, mon ami, but Photo Finish meant what she said when she told you I couldn’t make it.”

The prince stopped leaning, slowly raising himself up to his fullest height, which was rather sadly still a good three inches shorter than Fleur. Half a foot if you took horns into consideration. He flicked his mane out behind himself, and Luke was surprised it was even able to move with the amount of wax caked in it. Levelling her with a slightly overconfident look, he launched into what sounded like a rather rehearsed argument. “The derby only lasts two hours, I’m sure you’ll have everything wrapped up here by about nine PM. That leaves us plenty of time to have a wonderful meal, and perhaps a few drinks afterward?” He wiggled his eyebrows, and the sight quite forcefully reminded Luke of a fedora-tipping Nice Guy™. Hell, all he needed was a neckbeard and he’d be set.

Fleur visibly cringed, taking a step backwards. “Maybe some other time,” she said, though her tone wasn’t particularly convincing.

Luke contemplated just telling the prince to shove his offer up his plot hole, but he doubted Fleur would appreciate him trying to butt in and fight her battles for her. She was probably older than the ancient-looking amphitheatre they were currently stood in, after all.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the golden-coated unicorn receptionist mare began, her magenta eyes flicking between Fleur and Blueblood. “But, you’re needed up on the production stage for sound check,” she addressed Fleur. “Your friend has a seat in the Somnambula box, as you requested.

“Merci, mon cherie,” Fleur quickly replied, looking quite relieved. She gave Luke a nudge with her flank, before quickly rearing up on her hind legs and following up with a stealthy nuzzle to his cheek. “I ‘ave to go. I will probably ‘ave to stay on the production stage during the show, but I will meet up with you as soon as it ends, mon cher,” she whispered, her forhooves draped over his shoulders.

“Oh… Okay,” Luke muttered, caught completely off guard by the contact. His palms instinctively flew to her sides to help steady her, and Blueblood adopted the expression a bulldog might have when chewing on a wasp. “I’ll be waiting in the… Um…” Luke glanced at the receptionist.

“Somnambula box,” she repeated, her eyes wandering to Blueblood, who was now looking like he might have an aneurysm.

“Do you want me to take you zere?” Fleur asked, her large violet eyes mere inches from his own, full of concern.

“No, no… I’ll find it.”

The soft fur of her cheek nuzzled against his skin again, and Luke felt his heart flutter in his chest as Fleur dropped back down to her hooves. “Thank you for accompanying me, Luc. Au revoir!.”

CRACK.

A flash of pink light, and she was gone.

“Since when did you start hanging about with Fleur de Lis!? Have you put some sort of alien monkey spell on her so she’ll like you? I simply cannot believe that she would ever have anything to do with you otherwise-”

Luke sighed, slapping a palm to his forehead and resting his elbows on his knees. He’d found the Somnambula box, but unfortunately, so had Prince Blueblood.

The room was unlike any other he’d ever set foot in. It was located dead center, right at the top level of the ampitheatre. The large panoramic window offered a magnificent view of the cloud-comprised floating raceway below, where some of the Wonderbolts could be seen starting their warm up routines. A quick scan of the production stage down at ground level revealed Fleur, easy to spot as she was the tallest pony there, chatting to a couple of mares, one of them wearing a flight suit.

There were only eight seats in the box, all on one row, each constructed of solid gold and red velvet. Shit, they looked more like thrones than event seating. Luke felt ridiculously out of place. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a crappy T-Shirt for fuck’s sake. Just about everywhere you looked, there was a hoof-carved sculpture or a priceless painting depicting some famous mare or stallion from throughout pony history. Even the artex pattern on the ceiling looked like a fucking masterpiece.

But all of it paled in comparison to the larger-than-life painted statue of a beautiful pegasus, by far the biggest art exhibit in the room. Clearly the centrepiece of the box, she sat on her haunches between the fourth and fifth seat like a stoney sentinel, her wings neatly folded against her sides. Her coat was pale scarlet in colour, her mane and tail dual-tone dark blue and turquoise. The golden diadem of ancient Egyptian styling she was wearing gave her a distinct Cleopatra vibe. Just the sight of her was making him feel better. He had no idea why. All he knew about her was her name.

Somnambula.

He was half tempted to ask the mare and stallion sitting on the other side of the box for more info on the mysterious pegasus, but they seemed to be doing their best to ignore his existence. If only Blueblood would do the same…

“-how? Just how is this even possible? Why, Fleur de Lis is practically a nonpareil among the nobility. What on Equador would she be doing entertaining the likes of you?”

“Would you just be quiet, already?” Luke muttered, gazing out of the window again.

“How? You were always such an oddball when you lived in the castle. How did you gain Fleur’s approval? She has never invited anypony to attend a prestigious event with her before. What makes you so special?”

“I dunno. You’d have to ask her,” Luke lazily replied, leaning back on his throne and placing a hand on the pegasus statue. The sound of stone shifting met his ears as she suddenly turned to peer down at him, her eyes glowing yellow.

Luke’s jaw dropped, and he was suddenly smacked in the gut with that feeling you get when you miss a step going down a staircase… multiplied by about a thousand. “FACKING HELL!”

Blueblood promptly fell off his seat. Good thing, too, as he would have been wiped out by Luke scrambling arse over bollock toward the door if he’d stayed put.

A fleeting glance over his shoulder upon reaching the door revealed the statue’s forlorn expression; her ears, once alert, now hanging limply against her mane. “What… What the flying fuck?” Luke panted, doubled over and gasping for breath, one hand on the golden door handle. He still had half a mind to run screaming from the room like a mental case.

Blueblood picked himself up off the floor, his face the picture of irritability. The mare and stallion on the other side of the room were also silently making their outrage known through the use of some pretty interesting facial expressions. Luke may well have found them hilarious, but he was a bit preoccupied with the apparently very much alive stone pegasus statue in the middle of the room.

“It’s enchanted, you moron,” Blueblood cried, conjuring a paper fan out of the air to wafting himself with it.

“Well, no one told me! Jesus!” Sometimes, it was easy to forget there was a lot more to magic than glowing horns and bangs and smoke.

“Look—you’ve upset her, now,” the prince accosted, reclaiming his seat. “Just wait till I tell Fleur.”

“Why would Fleur care?” Luke shot back at him, gingerly sitting down next to the statue again. All of the other seats were reserved, and Fleur hadn’t bothered keeping one for herself, seeing as she was hosting the derby. The pegasus continued to gaze at him dolefully. Ugh… as if he was actually freakin’ guilt tripping over a statue. She just looked so sad. He kind of wanted to pet her, but he kept his hands to himself, for now.

“Don’t you know anything? Somnambula was one of the Pillars of Equestria back in the day. She lived over a thousand years ago, and was Fleur’s closest friend,” Blueblood explained, as though such a tidbit should be common knowledge.

“Oh,” Luke muttered, looking at the pegasus in a whole new light. So, this was Fleur’s old friend. Great. Now he felt even worse. Holding out a palm, he slowly ran it over one of her wings. I’m sorry.

As though she had heard his thoughts, a small smile split the mare’s muzzle, and she closed her eyes, her ears perking up once again.

“Hanging about with Fleur like the two of you are best pals… You don’t even know anything about her,” Blueblood huffed, glaring out of the window with a face like a smacked flank.

“Why do you even want Fleur? You’re a Prince, you could probably have just about anyone else,” Luke argued, rounding on the stallion. “You had all those mares fighting over you at the castle—good looking mares, too, I might add, yet you’re sitting here in Fleur’s favourite box just hoping she’ll come up here.”

Blueblood scowled. “I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. The prince was still ridiculously easy to read. “Is it ‘cause she’s immortal and she’ll stay ‘young’ and hot forever?”

Blueblood didn’t answer, instead crossing his forehooves and avoiding Luke’s gaze. Thank Celestia for small miracles, the silence was golden, but Luke wasn’t about to waste an opportunity. “Don’t you think you’re maybe… ehh, reaching, a bit?”

That got his attention. “I do not reach for anypony!” he bit, his waxed up mane practically vibrating with butthurt. “If either of us are reaching, it would be you!”

Luke leaned back in his seat once again, his fingertips still stroking Somnambula’s wing. The stoney mare was mute, presumably, but her face suggested she’d be purring like a kitten if she had vocal chords. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Fleur is just my boss, and she asked me here as a friend. You’re reading all kinds of crazy things outta nothin’, if you ask me,” he replied, with a wide grin.

“Oh, whatever. It matters not. She will soon realise that I am a much more superior suitor than you could ever hope to be,” Blueblood said, with an air of haughty finality.

Luke snorted.

“Fillies and gentlecolts!” Fleur’s magically amplified voice rang through the whole amphitheatre, breaking up the tension that had accumulated. “Welcome to the Wonderbolts’ Derby. The competitors are taking zeir place at the starting line, and our race will begin momentarily.”

No sooner had she finished making the announcement, four ponies spilled into the room looking like they’d just ran a small marathon—another middle-aged noble couple, who quickly trotted past Luke with their muzzles upturned, and two younger stallions wearing top hats that hailed Prince Blueblood as soon as they spotted him.

Thankfully, they acted as though Luke was an inanimate fixture to the room—something that suited him just fine, truth be told. He had all the company he needed in Somnambula, anyway.

Grinning at the stoic mare’s contented expression, he settled in to watch the race, with hope, in the archaic sense of the word, filling his heart.

The distinct rush of pegasi flight blasted through the amphitheatre. Subsonic, although only just, six Wonderbolt competitors raced toward the finish like feathery bullets, but only two had any real chance of claiming the top spot on the podium.

“Well, I am sure zis comes as a surprise to nopony who ‘asnt ‘ad zeir ‘ead stuck under a rock for the last few weeks,” Fleur announced, her magically amplified voice ringing loud and clear from the production stage, “but ‘ere we are again with a two pony showdown. Who is your money on—the veteran, or the new filly?”

The crowd roared, row after row of ponies stomping their hooves so hard, it shook the building’s foundations. Of course, it still wasn’t enough to drown out the growling inside Fleur’s head.

Veux Luc!

Due to the hustle and bustle of the crowd, the dazzling arena lighting, and Fleur’s outright refusal to blast those pesky pegasi whizzing past every six seconds or so with a thaumic radiation beam, the siren was in a bit of a foul mood.

“Risky move by Rainbow Dash,” Fleur noted, just as the prismatic pegasus squeezed between a stone pillar and a rather annoyed-looking Fleetfoot. “It is clear zis pony is keen to prove she isn’t as green as the ozzers would ‘ave you believe. Rounding the final corner now, and it looks as though it’s going to be ‘er second Derby win in two months-oh dear,” Fleur trailed off.

Pushing her luck yet again, Rainbow Dash had shot into the final bend carrying way too much speed, and had ended up smashing through the window of the Starswirl box as a result.

The crowd erupted, this time with a collective “OOOOOOOF!” as a flurry of blue feathers fluttered down from the pegasus-shaped hole in the glass.

“Well, zere you ‘ave it, mares and gentlecolts, experience wins zis round,” Fleur cried, just as Fleetfoot soared through the finish line in a flourish of barrel rolls. “Back on form for zis mare, zis is Fleetfoot’s third win of the season, Spitfire claiming a ‘ard-fought second, and Misty Fly having to settle for the final podium spot.” A flash of her horn, and the amplification enchantment lifted. “Better get somepony up zeir to check if Rainbow is still in one piece, no?” Fleur addressed to the stage manager, who looked as though he was about to faint.

Rainbow Dash, it transpired, was perfectly fine, the mare having ricocheted off of Starswirl the Bearded’s stoney head and punted Top-Hat Tootington the Third from his jewel-encrusted throne like a pseudo pony-pinball. She had an uncanny knack for emerging unscathed from situations that would probably earn any other pony a lengthy stint in hospital for weeks, this incident being merely the most recent in a string of minor catastrophes.

“I’ll have your wings for this!” screeched Top Hat, his voice breaking like a pre-pubescent colt’s might. In the span of five minutes, he’d managed to blow the whole thing out of proportion, and was now convinced that Rainbow Dash had actually been plotting to murder him all along.

“Top ‘At! Be mindful of your words!” Fleur admonished, levelling him with a look of mild exasperation. So flamboyant was his tantrum, the nurses tending to Rainbow had taken the precaution of calling her up to the box to keep the stallion in check.

Fleur had half a mind to tell them to call the guards. She had neither the time, nor patience to deal with Top Hat, especially when she could be meeting up with Luke.

Luc…

Bientôt, mon amie.

“She nearly killed me!”

“Zeir is not a mark on you—you are well aware of zis, Top ‘At. Now, I do not want anozzer peep out of you, or the staff will be forced to inform the guards of your misbe’aviours,” Fleur countered, keeping her voice calm and treating the situation as though it were nothing more exciting than a mundane business deal.

Top Hat scoffed, an ugly grimace claiming his muzzle. “Shouldn’t you be on some dinner date with that lanky alien cretin by now-EEUURRGGHH!”

Just like that, several thousand years worth of discipline training and restraint conditioning measures were thrown from the metaphorical window by… a few petty words? Fleur was so utterly surprised it had taken such a paltry amount of provocation that she simply stared at the stallion—a passenger in her own body. Top Hat lay pinned, suspended five hooves above the floor, his body pressed against the polished wood of the box wall. His fur was bathed in the deathly blue glow of the siren’s gaze, his limbs unmoving and his breath quick and shallow.

“Veux-tu mourir ce soir?” the beast hissed, a duality of vocal tones ringing through the room.

Top Hat could only stare into the dark abyss of his fate. The true blast of a siren’s gaze was, after all, unrelenting. It was only the terrified, motionless stares of the nurses and nobles alike, along with a very confused-looking Rainbow Dash that spurred Fleur back into action.

Non!

Three seconds of brute force later, and the worthless pig was spared. For now, at least. He fell to the floor with a moderate thump. He didn’t get up again.

Il est toujours en vie! Screeched the siren, clawing at Fleur’s mind like a raging tigress.

Are you trying to get us banished? We do not attack stallions—no matter how abhorrent they are! Grabby warlocks notwithstanding, Fleur was not a coltbeater.

“Forgive me, but I ‘ave someplace to be,” she announced to no one in particular, her voice uncharacteristically shaky for somepony who had just commentated on a sporting event. Without even bothering to bid any of the ponies staring at her farewell, she teleported away without a thought.

“You’re just like a big stoney kitten, aren’t you?” Luke chuckled.

Whoever had enchanted this statue was an absolute legend. Stonenambula had perhaps been more entertaining than the derby, not to mention she’d kept Prince Tryhard and his dumbass friends from throwing snide ‘monkey’ related comments at him.

Yep, it turns out that a clip around the ear from the rock-hard wing of a seven foot stone pegasus really drops the arse out from a snarky noble. Luke had laughed so hard, he’d fallen off his throne. Blueblood’s friend had probably lost what little IQ points he’d had from such a wallop, judging by the way he’d cradled his battered head in his hooves for the rest of the race.

The three of them had scarpered not long after, the two noble couples on the other side of the box eventually following suit after Rainbow Dash had tried to one up Fleetfoot and got a faceful of glass for her efforts.

Now, it was just Luke and his new best friend.

“I could just take you home. I probably would, if I had somewhere to put you.”

The thought of the statue sitting next to his beat up old couch, preening her stoney wings in the middle of his sitting room brought a smile to his face. She’d no doubt take up most of the space, but that kind of felt like a fair compromise. It would be worth it for the company alone.

“Of course, the guards might have a thing or two to say to me if I just lead you out of here, wouldn’t they?” he added, running his palm over her wing again.

Stonenambula closed her eyes, her grin almost as wide as the box window. She shifted, detaching her hooves from her plinth completely and rolling onto her back with an almighty thud that rattled a set of expensive looking china in a nearby display case. There she lay, her legs sticking up in the air like some sort of monstrously-sized house cat.

“Oh, you want to me to rub your belly, do you now?” Luke chuckled, raising his eyebrows at the extent of the enchantment. This was some OP as fuck magic. Damn.

The underside of her barrell was smoother than her wings. Luke scratched away, chuckling at the increasingly hilarious satisfied-stone-horse faces she was making.

CRACK.

A flash of pink briefly illuminated the box. Even though Luke had been expecting it this time, Fleur’s freaky teleportation skills still managed to scare the crap out of him. “I really wish you’d send a warning first, or something,” he muttered, picking himself up off the floor for the second time that evening.

The stone pegasus, clearly displeased with the lack of attention, leaned up to nudge his arm with her muzzle, nearly knocking him out of his seat again. “Woah, okay, okay,” Luke chuckled, giving her a good scratch under the chin for her efforts. “Don’t know your own strength, do you?”

“I see you ‘ave made a new friend,” Fleur observed, a forlorn look darkening her features.

Stonenambula turned at the sound of Fleur’s voice, those big yellow eyes falling on the unicorn, and her demeanour changed, quite considerably. Luke was forgotten like last night’s leftovers, and she got to her hooves, centering herself on her plinth and laying down on her barrel.

Neither of them were smiling.

Luke waited with bated breath, but neither of them said anything, either. Made sense for Somnambula, he guessed. The statue was mute. But, he’d have thought Fleur might’ve said something. Anything.

“What was she like?” he asked, after a few moments.

Fleur shifted her gaze to Luke. Her eyes, always so full of vitality, whatever colour they happened to be at the time, now appeared dim, and lifeless. “Somnambula was the best friend I ever ‘ad, but zat alone is not what was so special about ‘er,” she lamented, raising a hoof to gently brush the statue’s cheek. “Zis mare… zis remarkable pony managed to do something zat I ‘ave never witnessed in all of my years.”

“What?” Luke prompted, when Fleur paused, dropping her hoof back to the floor and simply observing the statue with sorrow in her eyes.

“She befriended a siren. My siren,” Fleur finally answered, the sapphire in her spiked collar emitting a dim glow with her softly spoken words. “It is not in the nature of a siren to make a friend. Some barely tolerate zeir ‘osts, let alone others. Most see the general population as nothing more than a source of sustenance.”

The stone statue stared, unblinking, unknowing. It was beginning to make sense to Luke why Fleur was perhaps a little unenthusiastic with her interactions. Granted, the enchantment was clever, but to her, it was probably nothing more than a pale imitation of the mare she once knew.

“Somnambula was the pony that pulled me from my darker days during the age of the pillars. I was never a true renegade, but I was per’aps ‘eading in zat direction. Even Celestia ‘ad given me multiple warnings. Singing in the streets every ozzer week? Spreading just the tiniest slivers of strife through the city for my own amusement? I ‘ad done it, and I ‘ad felt no remorse. That all changed when I met Somnambula.”

Luke kept his silence. He was all ears, perched right on the edge of his seat. Fleur probably hadn’t spoke of this for hundreds of years, to anypony. A historian would probably kill for this level of insight into the past. The fact that she trusted him enough to share it with him made his insides feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Zis mare changed me. Made me realise I was being a terrible pony… Made me realise I was giving in to the darker path that ‘ad claimed many a siren before me,” Fleur said, her sapphire glowing a little brighter. “Our race was more despised zan ever, back then. She would ‘ave been completely justified in rounding up the pillars and banishing me like Starswirl ‘ad done to Adagio, Aria and Sonata, but she saw fit to spare me.” A solitary drop accumulated in the corner of one of her pretty violet eyes. Violet eyes, Luke realised, that had a soft blue shade hiding in their depths. “Starswirl was all for getting rid of me, but Somnambula put ‘er ‘oof down,” Fleur cried, visibly shaking with… hell, Luke had no idea. Regret, perhaps?

It seemed like something much more than that. “The years zat followed our meeting were the ‘appiest of my life. I ‘ad a true friend… We ‘ad a true friend,” Fleur said, glaring at the unblinking, expressionless statue laid before her with something akin to malice. “But like everything in zis endless existence, she was taken from us, way too soon!” The blue shade in her eyes grew steadily brighter, along with the glow from her sapphire. A second later, those eyes were staring Luke down. He gulped, gripping the arm of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. “And you know what the worst thing about it is? We cannot even mourn ‘er because we do not truly know zat she is dead!”

Silence cut through the chamber like a blade, despite the distant sounds of the crowd dispersing from the amphitheatre. Ponies laughing, foals crying, the general babble of conversation, all of it may as well have been a million miles away as far as Luke was concerned.

“What… What do you mean?”

Fleur didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze was set upon the statue of her old friend once more, which was acting more and more like it had been completely untouched by magic. Even the yellow glow had vanished from its eyes. “At the base of Foal Mountain lies a temple. A temple that ‘as been untouched by pony ‘ooves for over a thousand years. It ‘as become a monument to the Pillars of Equestria, as it is the place where zey sacrificed themselves, Somnambula among them, in an effort to contain a considerable threat to Equestria.”

A short silence followed her words, during which Luke could only sit and stare at the statue of Somnambula with a slightly wistful expression. This pony and her friends had given their lives to save Equestria, presumably. It was acts such as this that portrayed true nobility. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he acknowledged. “What were they fighting?”

“A stallion calling ‘imself the Pony of Shadows.”

Luke frowned. “The Pony of Shadows? Isn’t that… like, a ghost story? I’m sure I heard a foal talking about it when I used to wait in line at the dole house,” he nervously pondered. The little filly’s mother had even scolded her for trying to scare her brother with an ‘old pony’s tale’, if he remembered correctly.

“‘Ee was as real as you or I, believe me. An old friend of the pillars. A unicorn, named Stygian,” she growled, the demonic undertone of the siren sending a rather unpleasant shiver rattling down Luke’s spine as the name passed her lips. “‘Ee grew jealous of the pillars, tried to steal from them. Zey turned their backs on ‘im in retaliation, and the darkness overtook ‘im, a darkness so powerful that a simple banishment was not possible. In the end, zey had to follow ‘im into the abyss, so that ‘ee would be truly contained,” she said, some of her ire escaping her. All she had left was a sorrowful gaze for the motionless statue of her long lost friend. “She never told me what she planned to do. Never told me Stygian had been lost to darkness. She knew I would ‘ave never allowed her to sacrifice ‘erself. She knew I would ‘ave tried to fight ‘im.”

Luke kept his silence. It really sounded as though Fleur just needed to vent. He was content to just listen.

“Of course, ‘er silence on the matter was just anozzer means of protecting me. I would ‘ave lost, back then. I was not strong enough,” she murmured, bowing her head. “The saddest thing is—if it ‘ad all went down today, I could ‘ave crushed ‘im in a fucking ‘eartbeat. Even as an immortal, time still makes a fool of me,” she sighed, suddenly looking more tired than Luke had ever seen her. She gave the statue one last look. “I miss ‘er so much. Zis statue… It is nothing, compared to ‘er.”

Stonenambula smiled no more. She just sat, motionless, eyes dull and grey. The stoney expression was mimicked on Fleur’s face. “Maybe we should get out of here?” Luke suggested, already getting to his feet. “You sound like you need a pick me up.”

Fleur smiled, some of the warmth usually present in her eyes returning. “Yes, I was just about to suggest the very same-”

POP.

A flash of green light snuffed out her words, a rolled up scroll bearing a seal Luke instantly recognised as the royal insignia falling from its point of origin and landing at Fleur’s hooves. The ridiculous amount of times Luke had had the very same thing happen to him when Celestia had been pestering him to go and work for her was something he wasn’t going to be forgetting for a long time.

Fleur plucked the scroll up off the floor with her magic, unravelling it and scanning the contents. Barely three seconds passed before she let out a sigh. “I ‘ave to go,” she muttered, rolling her eyes and making the scroll vanish with another spell.

“Why?”

“Because I nearly killed Top ‘At twenty minutes ago and Celestia no doubt wants to lecture me about it.”

Luke’s mouth fell open. She nearly what twenty minutes ago? “Oh, come on!”

Fleur blinked, a bemused expression on her face. “Am I missing something? Are the two of you friends now?”

“Fuck no! But you could have let me watch… or, y’know… actually killed him,” Luke snickered, picturing Top Hat’s stupid face with ‘x’s for eyes. “Come to think of it, I’d have been fine with either.”

Fleur’s smile was suddenly as wide as Stonenambula’s had been when he’d scratched her belly, and the ‘blue tint’ in her eyes became a full on pool shimmering azure, engulfing the whites of her eyes. “Don’t encourage her! She’ll be trying to kill the nobles just to impress you now!” Fleur chastised. She sounded mildly annoyed, but her face was telling a completely different story. Shit was just plain weird.

“Yeah, best not actually do that, little miss water-demon,” he quickly added, before realising that that had been the first time he’d addressed her alter-ego directly. It was odd, to say the least.

The blue glow faded from her eyes, revealing violet irises once again. “I do not know how long I will be, but I will catch up with you for zat drink if I ‘ave time, mon cher,” she said, rearing up onto her hind legs, she claimed his shoulders with her forehooves and gave him a lengthy nuzzle.

Luke took in her scent, and it almost made him ask her not to leave. His hands found her sides, the silky material of her dress warm to the touch. The sensation of her fur rubbing against his beard, the feeling of her barrel pressed to his chest… It was a little overwhelming, if he was honest.

“Au revoir, mon amour,” the demonic voice hissed, just as something hot and wet grazed his cheek. One bright pink flash and a loud CRACK later, and Luke was standing by himself.

“Did… Did she just lick me?” he muttered to the empty box.

As if she was waiting for Fleur to leave all along, Stonenambula’s eyes lit up, and she gave an affirmative nod.

The vast blanket of Luna’s cosmological artistry met Fleur’s eyes, her hooves finding purchase on the polished marble balcony of Celestia’s private tower. A late-night audience with the solar Princess in such an illustrious and personal locale to the crown would probably have the average noble drooling all over the floor, immersed in rapturous fantasy about all the bragging rights they’d have after having attended such an appointment. But as it was, Fleur was way more concerned by the fact she had just licked one of her employees.

Or rather, her siren had.

You thirsty harlot! If the board finds out about this, there’ll be hell to pay!

Mien, was all the reply she gave.

Luke is an employee! Not the last cookie in the jar you don’t want somepony to steal!

“Fleur?” Celestia prompted.

Fleur hadn’t even noticed the alicorn standing right in front of her. The golden crown, regalia and horseshoes she normally wore were absent, and there were noticeable dark patches beneath her eyes. Celestia had never been much of a night owl, something for which Fleur felt perhaps even more guilty necessitating an immediate appointment due to losing her temper.

“Sorry, mon amie. I was a little distracted.”

Celestia smiled, the warm glow of her horn summoning a bottle of wine in an instant, which she levitated over to a marble patio table. “I hear that’s been happening a lot, lately,” she commented, taking a seat at the table, where two glasses had just materialised in a fleeting flash of gold.

Subtle and smooth, as was Celestia’s style. Fleur could already feel the regret welling up in her stomach. Celestia cared deeply for the welfare of her citizens. Even assholes such as Top Hat.

“Please, sit,” Celestia offered, half filling the two glasses.

“I know why you called me ‘ere,” Fleur said, sitting on the bench on the other side of the table. “I… lost control. I do not know why,” she lied, hoping her face didn’t give her away. If she could cut this little meeting short, then it was worth a shot.

Of course, it was damn near impossible to pull the wool over this pony’s eyes. “You know exactly why,” Celestia countered, pausing to take a measured sip from her glass. “However, I can forgive your dishonesty on this occasion. I know this can’t be easy for you.”

A gust of wind swept over the balcony, shifting Fleur’s mane a bit. Celestia’s was unaffected, answering as it did to an otherworldly force. “I… I cannot seem to ‘elp myself where Luke is concerned. Top ‘at could ‘ave called me every name under the sun, even attacked me to a certain extent, but to insult Luke like he did… She… she became… uncontainable,” Fleur begrudgingly admitted. Her darker half been perilously close to flying off the handle in general as of late, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the fact that her elevated temper could be traced back to the week Luke first started working at J’adore.

“Well, of course she did. Even I wouldn’t be so foolish as to try and reason with a siren defending the honour of her consort. Be it through physical confrontation, magical intervention, or simple conversation—none are likely to work. But have you considered that Luke may be immensely more successful at calming her?

“Ee was not zere,” Fleur deadpanned, choosing to ignore the ‘C’ word.

“You have a horn, yes? Teleport to him. Hold him close. Wrap your hooves around him so tightly that she has no choice but to forget whatever silly thing she was angry about and just enjoy his presence,” Celestia suggested with a somewhat smug grin, as if such a solution was the simplest little thing.

“But what if ‘ee does not like zat?” Fleur snapped, springing to her hooves and slamming a forehoof to the table. Celestia’s inattentive condescension was quickly becoming tiresome. She may as well have been explaining the obvious to a child. “I know ‘ee could calm her down in an instant, every siren knows zat is what a consort does. But the scale of ‘er sorrow would be unprecedented if ‘ee pushed us away. Zat sorrow would quickly turn into equally devastating levels of rage. She would never ‘arm ‘im, even in zat state, but she would lay waste to everypony else zat got in ‘er way.”

The Passive and Unflinching Celestia took another carefree sip of her wine, before carefully setting the glass back down on the table. Her tongue swept the length of her lips. “I guess that’s a risk you’re just going to have to take.”

“In your city. Around your subjects?”

Celestia gave the wry, knowing smile she was famous for. “From what I’ve seen, neither of us has anything to worry about, but you’re too clouded by needless anxiety to realise.”

Fleur sat back down, huffing out a sigh. It was only then that she realised her hoof had left a small crater in the marble table. One brief flash of her horn later, and it was gone. If only all of her problems could be solved so easily. “Okay… I shall make a move on ‘im. I knew it was going to ‘appen eventually,” Fleur muttered, the words unintentionally emerging as something of an epiphany as she said them. “I… I think I am ready.”

Celestia smiled. “You can go now.”

Grabbing her untouched wine with a resolute sliver of pink aura, Fleur downed the entire glass in one go and charged her horn for a teleport. She hadn’t the foggiest idea where Luke was, but to her mild surprise, her magical ember warped around her horn, presenting her mind with a lofty view of the streets of Canterlot. It startled her so much, the spell imploded in a puff of smoke.

Had she… Had she just seen the world through Luke’s eyes?

The connection… It was already beginning to form. Never before had she been able to teleport directly to an individual without knowing their location first. Teleportation magic just didn’t work that way. For a siren and her consort, however, it was a different story.

A shiver ran along the full length of her back, even though it wasn’t particularly cold. She had found him. She hadn’t even been looking, but here he was. Her consort. She had personally known sirens who had devoted their entire lives to the search, and when they had found nopony to call their own, cast themselves willingly into the abyss, rather than suffer through the rest eternity in solitude.

It was so sad. The only way to win at this game was to not play. So Fleur had done just that, and it had worked quite well for thousands of years, or so she’d thought.

This was only the beginning. The Everlasting Enchantment had been triggered, an involuntary bit of siren magic coveted by every little filly born into the race, and revered, craved and cherished by even the highest order of elders. It was going to change Luke, in ways that he could not possibly imagine.

He wouldn’t even see it coming.

Firing up the spell once again, she teleported, her dark counterpart guiding her to where she needed to go.

Now that the Derby was over and done with, Luke couldn’t really regret his choice of attire so much, especially considering the unusual—even for Canterlot—warmth of the night. Celestia had lowered the sun probably an hour or so ago, but a humid warmth still hung heavy in the air. If he’d have worn a suit, it would have been clinging to him with sweat by now.

Late night patrons of the many bars and clubs dotted the streets of Canterlot, their swivelling ears seeking out the muffled sound of thumping, repetitive music like little fuzzy radar dishes. Being a Friday night, they were no doubt eager to blow off some steam, and probably the majority of their wages as well.

Luke may have been inclined to do the same, but all of his finances had been going towards a small savings account, the end goal of which was to get him the hell out of the dilapidated shithole that was his current apartment. Had he been a pony, the small endeavour of saving up for a mortgage deposit might have been an easy feat, especially with the crazy amount of bits Fleur was paying him.

But, Luke was not a pony.

This, coupled with the fact the Crown Bank was run pretty much exclusively by nobles nowadays, meant he didn’t have a pegasus in a thunderstorm’s chance of ever having quite enough.

Four times. Four times they had inexplicably raised the deposit percentage on the modest little apartment uptown he was trying to buy, with a ridiculous thirty five percent being the latest requirement. The place was perfect, as well. Practically a stone’s throw away from work. Celestia might’ve had something to say about their obvious prejudice, but the mere thought of yet another bail out invalidated the fuck out of the pitiful remnants of his man card. She had got him the job, and that had been more than enough. Of course, the option of just renting a nicer place remained, but that just seemed like a waste now that the bits were flowing in.

Rounding the corner of a small apothecary, a mini heart attack presented itself in the form of a certain long-legged siren standing there on the lime-tinted cobble, a large grin on her face, those huge eyes and that oversized purple bow making her look like something from a Japanese anime.

“Jees, woman! Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“I thought you did not like me teleporting right in front of you, no?” she quipped, wiggling her hindquarters mischievously, so that her tail swayed hypnotically from side to side.

“Yeah, the slendermare approach isn’t really much of an improvement,” Luke observed, trying to tear his wandering eyes away from her ass. Seeing as her cutie mark was effectively a famous brand logo, it was kind of like she had designer flanks. The fact he found that notion so… alluring made his cheeks redden in shame.

“Do I have something on my flank?” Fleur half-squeaked, worriedly glancing back over her withers.

Crap. Luke was quick to flick his gaze to an advertisement for traditional herbal medicines in the shop window. “Other than a fashion icon, no,” he muttered. She’s your boss, she’s your boss, she’s your boss—stahp staring at her butt! With quick clearing of the throat, he went for a casual lean against a standing floor sign belonging to the apothecary. “So, how’d your little meeting go with-ahhfack!”

CLATTER.

Turns out the sign was quite a bit lighter than first envisioned.

“Oh, my!” Fleur spluttered, her face throwing out equal measures of mirth and concern. “Are you ‘urt?”

Luke barely managed to sit up before she was sat on her haunches right by his side, forehooves already checking for injury and horn charged up in readiness.

“M’fine,” he grumbled, internally cursing the stupid thing with the foulest language he could think of. As if she had just caught him staring at her ass, then he’d fell on his ass right in front of her. Real smooth, Luke, you fucking pillock!

Fleur’s cheeks puffed out, hooves still roaming his form for any sign of cuts or bruises, eyes brimming with restraint.

“Go on, you can laugh. Someone might as well.”

Her ears fell, as did the rest of her. She ended up leaning heavily into his side, mane haphazardly falling on his shoulder, laughing her flanks off in the middle of the street. Several ponies stopped to have a good rubberneck at the commotion. The ones that weren’t drunk started pointing hooves and whispering to each other in hushed, excited voices.

“As much as I hate to interrupt your amusement at my expense, we should probably get out of here before somepony snaps a photo of us rolling around in the street,” Luke muttered, his arm instinctively wrapping around the still giggling unicorn so she didn’t end up face-planting the ground herself.

“Oh, Luc… Forgive me,” she snorted, her muzzle bumping the underside of chin more than once. “I ‘ave not laughed like zat in quite some time.”

“Yes, well, at least one of us got a kick out of it,” he muttered, quickly getting to his feet and uprighting the downed sign. Fleur’s laughter died at the sudden absence of bodily contact, and her ears dropped a shade, as well. He might’ve felt a little guilty for not letting the little kinda-sorta cuddle continue, but it was important to remember that she was a supermodel. A supermodel with a lot of die hard, psycho fans that would probably make it their number one priority to hunt him down with torches and pitchforks if the editors of the many bloodthirsty gossip magazines plaguing the city ever got their grubby hooves on a pic of him with an arm wrapped around her.

Stallion’s Weekly had already heavily implied that their relationship was “perhaps more than that of the average employer and employee,” and that was without a scrap of evidence. Luke paled at the thought of what they would write if they ever knew the truth. As far as he knew, Fleur didn’t really make a habit of hanging around with her employees after working hours. Well, with the exception of ponies like Photo Finish, and perhaps the make up mares whose names he kept forgetting. But even then, they were still doing a job.

“So, where would you like to go for zat drink, mon cher?” Fleur practically purred, undeterred by his minor evasiveness, it seemed. She was on her hooves again, already trotting a few paces down the street, ears rotating left and right as she scanned the various shop fronts with mild interest.

“Somewhere where you won’t get papped?” Luke hopefully suggested, dragging his feet along after her. It would be nice to find a quiet bar to just sit down and relax, without being bothered by the press, or starstruck fans, or ponies that just wanted to know what a hyoo-man looked like up close. If he had a bit for every colt or filly that trotted up to him and give him a lengthy blast of wholly inappropriate staring, he’d have… well, four bits. But that wasn’t the point. Sometimes the parents were there as well, and did they tell their annoying spawn to maybe cut that shit out? No. Of course they fucking didn’t.

“Well, zat narrows things down to the company ‘eadquarters, the inside of my estate, provided we stay away from the perimeter, of course, and maybe a couple of the stricter honourable mares’ clubs in the Equinox district. Zey tend to keep the paparazzi out, but I cannot say what their stance on you will be,” Fleur pondered aloud, trotting in slow, small circles around him, not unlike a curious feline might around a new toy. “Zey aren’t going to say no to somepony like me, but zey probably wouldn’t be good company for someone like you,” she said, her grin perhaps a little wide for his liking.

“In other words, they’re full of narcissistic ‘noble’ asshats, then?”

“Zat is one way of putting it, oui.”

“Well, that rules that out.” Of the ponies that frequented the Equinox district, even those on the ‘bearable’ end of the noble spectrum were bad enough.

“I actually own a nightclub, but it is being restored at the moment. Hmm… ‘ow about zis,” Fleur proposed, a bottle of wine materialising in front of her in a flash of pink. “We ‘ave a clandestine drink in the street, while I… um, walk you ‘ome?”

Luke blinked. “Walk me home? Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” he queried, paling a little. The thought of potentially being invited back to Fleur’s huge mansion was… well, terrifying, but exciting at the same time, mainly because of what might occur there. Not that he was implying anything would, of course. But, Little Miss Water Demon could potentially show herself. Maybe, she’d have free reign to come out and play? Such a notion should have scared him, and it might well have done, a few weeks ago…

“Well, of course not! The mare always walks the stallion ‘ome. It would just be silly the ozzer way around,” Fleur countered, trying to pass the conviction in her tone off as a playful facade. He knew she was just testing the waters.

It had quickly become apparent during Luke’s short time in Equestria that the nation was primarily mare dominant. There was a reason the place was ruled by Princesses, after all. Luke hadn’t a clue what it was, but certain gender roles appeared to have swapped sides. Stallions were big, masculine enough to fit the bill of being a bodyguard for a pretty mare, and most of them generally acted pretty similar to the human versions of the gender back home. But, at the same time, mares would often go out of their way to be the main breadwinner of a family, fight for the right to be with the stallion of their choosing, and just generally be the main instigators of things such as relationships.

“You know I’m not a stallion, right?” Luke reminded her.

“And you know zat doesn’t matter to me,” Fleur coolly replied, her eyelids lowering over that slightly blue tinted gaze.

And, there it was, as expected—that look a mare sometimes gets when she simply will not accept ‘no’ as a viable answer. This would have been fine. Great, even, were it not for the fact Luke currently resided in the indoor equivalent of a dumpster. This mare had grown accustomed to luxury beyond the average pony’s wildest dreams. What the hell was she going to think of him when she found out he lived like a fucking squatter?

“Eh… Maybe we should-” Luke began… but, no. That wouldn’t work, either. If he suggested going back to her place, then it would just come off as pushy and way too forward… Or, would it? Taking into consideration the gender role flip—would it perhaps be like a chick wanting to go back to a guy’s place back home? It was weird as shit to think of himself as the ‘chick’, but to Fleur, he might well be just that very thing. It was almost like she was putting the moves on him. Fuck… it was just so confusing.

And kind of flattering. Like, holy shit—a freakin’ supermodel was trying to ‘woo’ him.

“Forgive me, Luc. I do not wish to be intrusive. It is just… the night is so young, and I like spending time with you,” she said, gazing up at him with weary eyes. Her ears had flattened a shade, and it may have been a trick of the light, but he could’ve sworn she was pouting a little.

Shit. It was hard to say no to that beautiful face. She was right—it wasn’t particularly late. But… If he agreed to let her ‘walk him home’, he could hardly turn her away at the door when they arrived. Perhaps a warning was required. “Alright. But, I should probably mention, my apartment is… modest.”

Fleur blinked, a peculiar smile spreading over her muzzle. “Zat also does not matter to me, mon cher.”

Luke gave the mare a comically wide grin. “Eh, heh-heh… hold that thought,” he muttered, giving her a solid boop on the snoot and promptly setting off along the street. Welp. There wasn’t any point wasting time. If she was going to see the cesspit de Luke, then it was perhaps better to get the ordeal over and done with so she could start judging him.

So much for his as-yet untarnished image.

Fleur blinked adorably, her grin widening and one of her ears flopping back against that ridiculously oversized bow. “I am sure it is not zat bad,” she laughed, breaking out into a slow canter at his side. “Where do you live?”

Luke drew in a breath. Shouldn’t she already know? She was his boss after all… Unless the admin staff took care of all that stuff. Yeah, they more than likely did. “Slateside.”

Fleur blinked, almost missing a step. “Oh.”

“Annnd, you’re judging me,” Luke confronted, holding his head high like the most righteous of snot nosed nobles.

“I am not judging you, mon amour.”

“Liar,” Luke shot back at her, his feet automatically turning left onto Stonesaddle street. It was one of the few roads that led into Slateside—a neighborhood which was pretty much the Canterlot equivalent of an English council estate.

“No, Luc—I-” Fleur began, but stopped dead in her tracks, eyes fixed on a small charcoal-coated bat pony sat on her haunches at the intersection.

Luke’s heart leapt up into his throat at the sight of the thestral. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fucking Stonesaddle street! How could he have forgotten? The adorable little bat pony’s pointy ears swivelled, her amber feline-esque eyes rolling upwards. Her little face simply lit up when she spotted him.

She’d went all out tonight. Long purple and black socks, lurid fishnets over her flanks, and her long, bushy purple tail hairbanded multiple times at the dock. Everything was on display.

Luke frantically waved a flat hand at his throat behind Fleur’s back, his expression manic. If Glory pulled her usual spiel of trying to get into his pants in front of Fleur, well… he wasn’t sure what would happen, and he wasn’t particularly keen on finding out, either.

“Hi, Luke!” the bat pony purred, flicking her tongue over her fangs. “Are you finally going to let me r-”

“Ahhhh-dah-dah-dah… Eh… heh… Glory… Hi,” Luke gasped, sweat suddenly running down his brow. Fleur’s puzzled look suddenly became very apparent.

“Do you know zis pony?” she asked, eyes flicking between them.

“Wait… Are you… you’re Fleur de Lis…,” Glory muttered, squinting through curly bangs. Her heavily mascara framed gaze flicked back up to him. “Luke… why are you walking through the red light district with Fleur de Lis?” she chuckled.

Fleur’s eyebrows raised even higher. “You’re on first name terms with a hooker?”

Luke flinched so hard he nearly stumbled. “Look—this is the quickest way home from work for me, and I’ve been pulling some late nighters these past couple of weeks, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he argued, levelling his boss with a stern look. “She kept, uh… saying hello. What was I supposed to do—blank her?”

“Ahem—I prefer mare of the night,” Glory interjected, sluttily flicking her tail with a lurid grin, little pointy fangs on display. Both Luke and Fleur ignored her.

“Why not take a carriage?”

“Carriages cost bits.”

“Tartarus, Luc, you can get all the carriage rides you want on your expenses account. Just use zat!”

“I have an expenses account?”

“Yes! Did Sunfire not give you your cheque book?”

“Wait… you work at J’adore?” Glory interrupted, her eyes lighting up like solar flares. “Here I was thinking your ass was broke,” she laughed, flaring her leathery wings. “So, how about it? You gonna put those bits to good use, stud?” The lewd bat pony flagged her tail like a broodmare in heat.

Fleur’s scowl turned into a blue-tinted glare. “Excusez-moi?” she growled, the deadly blue aura of her horn piercing the night, fangs a lot longer than the bat pony’s extending into view.

“Glory… please, I’m flattered, but no,” Luke quickly countered. Fleur was looking like she was about to go all murder-corn on the clueless mare. She had quite enough bad press flying through the grapevine at the moment without throwing ‘dead hooker’ into the mix. “C’mon, Fleur, it’s not far now,” he muttered, subconsciously trailing fingertips over her withers.

The delicate contact was just enough to chip away at the siren’s sudden mood swing. Her horn delaminated, eyes slowly returning to their usual violet, she allowed herself to be led away.

“What the… Are you a vampony, or something?” Glory called from somewhere behind them.

Fleur didn’t bother turning back, but her ears gave a noticeable flick, and her mouth was perhaps thinner than Luke had ever seen it. He made a mental note to speak to Sunfire the very first thing Monday morning regarding that expenses account.

Barely five minutes of silent strolling later, and Luke found himself gazing up at the four storey apartment complex, the washed out white stone looking even more drab and depressing than it usually did. The small patch of greenery leading up to the communal lobby was noticeably unkempt, populated mainly by various weeds and shrubs. The landlord only ever showed her face when sompony wasn’t keeping up with their rent arrears. Luke very much doubted even the simplest of horticulture would be very high on her list of priorities.

Fleur, effortlessly stunning knockout as she was, looked ridiculously out of place in front of the mundane building. Luke knew in an instant she was trying to keep her face as neutral as possible, but the subtle tells were there.

“Um… Would you like to come inside?”

The mare’s petit nostrils wriggled a bit, probably due to the overflowing trash cans beside the entrance, but she lifted her chin regardless. “I would like that very much, mon cher.”

She even managed to make the words sound sincere. Luke grinned at the sheer effort. Let’s see how long that lasts. Taking out an old brass key from his pocket, he jammed it into the lock. Several seconds later, the useless old mechanism finally gave the rusty click he was waiting for, and with a good kick, the door yielded, revealing the crappy interior.

“Come on in,” Luke said, stepping into the lobby with a smile, allowing Fleur to trot on tepid hooves past him. He closed the door after her, the familiar musty smell filling his lungs.

If Fleur had any reaction to the odour, she managed to hide it well. “Thank you,” she replied, violet orbs flicking from the mildly stained carpet, to the old set of mailboxes built into the hallway wall, several of them sporting large dents.

“My place is on the ground floor.” Stopping at the third door on the right, number seven, Luke took out a second, smaller key, though this one’s corresponding lock put up a bit more of a fight, as per usual. “Ugh… One moment,” he muttered, wrestling with the stupid thing. It was almost as if the apartment itself was ashamed of her very presence.

The door opposite suddenly opened, revealing an unshaven earth stallion wearing a tatty old nightgown, his brown mane and tail in a dishevelled state. He gave a wide mouthed yawn, blinking groggily as though he hadn’t seen sunlight for days. A strong smell of cider joined the must hanging in the hallway. “Oh, hey, Luke. I was wondering when you’d get back. I’ve ran out of sugar, you don’t happen to have…” he slurred, but the words died, his tongue falling out the side of his mouth when his sleepy gaze landed on the international billionaire supermodel stood casually in the hallway. Poor guy looked like he was about to have a seizure.

“I’ll take a look, Brockhoof,” Luke chuckled. “Just pick your jaw up off the carpet. You know old Iron Teats never has it cleaned.”

Click. “Ah. There it is.”

With a strained creak, the door swung inwards. Brockhoof’s jaw flapped a few times, but it appeared the gift of speech had temporarily abandoned him. Fleur’s friendly smile further sealed his sudden vegetative state. She deftly stepped inside.

Even as the door closed, the stallion stood like a petrified statue. “Is ‘ee going to be okay?”

“Eh, he’ll be fine. Probably won’t remember anything when he wakes up tomorrow afternoon,” Luke said, throwing his keys down on a small pile of scrolls on the side table. “Anyway, what do you think?” he asked, his grin wry.

The supermodel took a couple of steps, which was all her long shapely legs were able to without bumping into the coffee table. Muzzle scrunched, one of her ears gave a solitary flick, eyes surveying the room with increasing levels tongue holding. “You… You have a sink in your lounge,” she observed.

“Yes, yes, or… perhaps it’s a couch in my kitchen,” he countered, plonking himself down on said couch, though his grin soured a bit when one of the exposed springs gave him a good poke in the backside. Oww…

Fleur opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. She looked a little lost, gaze still sweeping over the peeling wallpaper, a forehoof hovering in the air as though she was about to take a seat beside him, but couldn’t quite will herself to do so.

Luke’s grin faded. This… This had been a dumb idea from the start. “I did try and warn you,” he gloomily muttered.

Fleur’s ears dropped. “Why do you live like zis, Luc?” she slowly asked, eyes full of something that looked a lot like sorrow. It didn’t make him feel any better. “I know you said modest, but zis… Am I not paying you enough? Because I can-”

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just,” he began, the scrolls on the side table taunting him from afar. He knew he shouldn’t bother her with this. Fleur had much more important things to be dealing with.

“Just what?” she prompted, her eyes, so full of concern, looked even prettier than they usually did framed by those silky pink locks. Maybe he could tell her? It would certainly be nice to discuss the issue with a friend. It wasn’t like he was asking for a bail out, or anything. Advice was all he needed.

Fuck it. “I didn’t want to rent a more expensive place, because I’ve been trying to buy a place uptown. But, everytime I go in for a mortgage consultancy, they go and up the deposit. Just… take a look at that scroll on the side table. It should put things into perspective.”

Fleur frowned, her pink aura instantly grabbing the Crown Bank parchment. It floated through the air, unravelling itself and stopping in front of her. She read, and the frown deepened into a full blown scowl by the time her eyes reached the bottom. “Zey have no right to do zis! I cannot believe the Crown Bank would stoop so low. I shall seek out zis-” she glanced at the name of the mortgage consultant “-Equity Rose, and ask her just what in Tartarus she is playing at.”

“Fleur, you don’t need to do that-” Luke began, but the mare had already slipped into full on business mode. There was no stopping her now.

“If the buck stops with her, then she will lose her job,” Fleur all but growled, the scroll slipping out of her aura and landing on the coffee table. “If she is taking orders from the ‘igher ups—probably the more likely scenario, I am ashamed to say—zen the Crown Bank will not only lose zeir biggest client, but zey will probably earn the wrath of zeir founder as well, for I can guarantee she knows nozzing of zis,” she added, her accent flaring with the passion behind her words.

“Woah, hold on a second. You don’t need to go bothering Celestia with-”

“Luc, come with me tonight. I cannot in good conscience leave you to live like… zis!” the supermodel cried, waving her hoof overdramatically around the small apartment. “Especially considering zese ‘eartless ‘nobles’-” she spat, the word rolling off her tongue like snake venom “-are making up excuses to deny you the means to start a better life.”

“Come with you? What do you mean?”

Luke’s words finally gave her pause, the resultant ear flop suggesting she may have gotten a tad ahead of herself. “I do not mean to brag,” she began, quite a bit more quietly than before, “but zeir are seven suites in my home, five of which are unoccupied. You are welcome to use any one of zem you like until you are able to find a suitable place of your own.”

Luke’s eyes widened. Did… Did she just freakin’ ask him to move in with her? “That’s really not necessary… kinda feels like I would be imposing a bit,” he muttered, despite already picturing Fleur fresh out of the shower early morning, her wet mane and tail trailing on the floor. Perhaps they could even make a habit of walking to work together… Damn it.

Her lips thinned, ears perking right back up in defiance. “Luc, you ‘ave mice living in your walls, not to mention zat big ‘ole over zeir,” she argued, pointing to a football-sized crater in the plaster, through which a small patch of white stone could be seen, as well as a tiny bit of night sky.

“There’s normally a mirror covering that. It fell off the other day. I just haven’t got around to fixing the hook yet. And I do not have mice.” Probably not, anyway. Judging by the scratching sounds at night, it was more than likely rats.

Fleur’s horn flared, and an unnerving number of small rodents came crawling out of the woodwork, chased by the magically induced heatwave she’d just conjured inside the interior wall. That’s what it felt like, anyway. Fucking OP unicorns, man.

“Okay, so maybe I have a few mice.”

Fleur puffed out her chest, raising her horn high and levelling him with an annoying look that simply screamed I told you so. “Luc.”

“What?”

“Pack your essentials. I shall teleport zem ahead, then we shall walk to my estate, so you know where to find it,” she said, in a tone of voice that simply dared him to argue.

Luke, recognising a battle he would not win, merely let slip a tired sigh. “You’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer, are you?”

The supermodel smiled, simply beaming now she had gotten her way. “Non.”

It hadn’t taken long for Luke to pack. A quick scavenge around his bedroom revealed most, if not all articles of clothing he owned within about five minutes, but they weren’t exactly clean. If he had known the prior evening that Fleur was going to insist on ‘saving’ him from his crappy abode, he’d have made the effort to stop procrastinating and go down to the laundry room in the basement.

Never saw much use, that laundry room. It was, of course, to be expected. Ponies that weren't into the Canterlot fashion scene rarely wore clothes for aesthetic appeal. But even if they had, the place would have probably still been underutilised, given the smell of some of the inhabitants of the complex. They were nice ponies, but some of them had fallen on hard times, and their personal hygiene had taken a bit of a hit as a result. Brockhoof was a prime example of that.

Luke was glad to be leaving the place behind, but the prospect of going to live on Fleur’s estate was not something he could ever take lightly. She hadn’t thought this through—not like he had, anyway. The press were bound to find out at some point. Just what awful things were they going to print about her when they did? The rumours were already flying like shit off a griffin claw, but the mare was just too damn nice to care about their libelous scribblings.

His gaze had never strayed from her during the walk to the Equinox district, the long graceful waves of silky mane and tail swaying gently with her practiced gait. The gentle clip-clop of her hooves echoed through the deserted, pristine streets, leading him far deeper into the ‘posh end’ of the district than he had ever needed to go. The castle entrance was situated next to the east side of the upper plateau, where most of the shops, restaurants and bars were located, but Fleur had strolled through the thestral-guarded gates and passed all of that by.

Now, Luke found himself walking on polished freakin’ marble enchanted with some sort of anti-slip spell, and this was just the street. The houses grew in size and grandeur the further the supermodel led him, going from large detached buildings with modestly sized, perfectly manicured lawns to huge mansions mostly hidden within multiple acres of walled off land.

And, the gates—it was as though the residents were trying to outdo each other with the sheer size and imposition of their gates. Huge, towering wrought iron masterpieces of metalwork set between marble pillars seemed to be the running theme. They would of course, give way to crystal-lit gravel paths leading through blooming gardens that rivalled those of the royal palace.

“Luc, you are awfully quiet. Are you okay, mon cher?”

“What? No… I mean, yes. I’m fine… Just tired,” Luke muttered, eyes still taking in the sheer extravagance of the neighbourhood. Some of these rich fuckers had their own personal water fountains. Not the tiny crappy ones, either. Freakin’ huge statues of various creatures—ponies, hippogriffs, manticores, even a full size dragon, set in the center of large circular pools.

A warm pony cheek pressed against Luke’s hand, making him jump a bit. He smiled, a set of even warmer lilac eyes gazing up at him. “It is okay, mon amour, we are ‘ere,” Fleur softly spoke. “We just need to acquaint you with the gate. Once it learns you are welcome, you may come and go as you please.”

Resisting the urge to give her a good scratch behind the ear, Luke gave her a bemused look instead. “Acquaint me with the gate? Does it have a mind of its own, or something?” he chuckled, glancing around for said gate.

There was a marble archway at the end of the cul de sac that looked like it could’ve housed a gate, but apart from an elaborate depiction of a sleeping unicorn expertly incorporated into the metalwork, the wrought-iron barrier in the archway looked as though it was just another part of the fence. There were no visible hinges at all.

Fleur stepped up to the arch, face emotionless, eyes studying the frontal view of the unicorn contained within the metal. Eyes, Luke couldn’t help noticing, that were already starting to change colour. In a matter of seconds, the switch had been flipped. Trident glowing from sapphire, Fleur opened her fanged mouth, her mane and tail dancing in the sudden breeze that swept through the neighbourhood.

Luke drew in a breath, automatically taking a step backwards. He knew what was coming before it even happened. The last time she had sang, there had been a bunch of street performers backing her up. Not this time, though. The harsh wind whipped through the leaves of the many trees lining the estate, the rustling crescendo rising and rising, until the eerie sound of a music box cut through the din.

“Uh… Fleur? Is this normal?” Luke yelled, but he could barely hear his own voice. Fleur’s, however, rang loud and clear:

The siren’s beautiful voice downplayed the rustling of the leaves, the howling of the wind, the creaking of the ornate copper street lamps—all but the mysterious chimes of the phantom music box were suddenly muted as though they had never been.

Luke fell to his knees, the cold sting of marble barely registering. There it was—that urge to hold her close, as close as he could get her. To run his fingers through her gleaming coat, to lay with her for an eternity. But, something was different this time. It wasn’t just Fleur he craved—no. An equal longing for the dark creature dwelling inside of her was just as apparent. The dark creature that was supposedly born of evil. A beast that had killed time and time again, fed upon the emotions of others, and was said to care for very little other than her own welfare.

Yet, in that moment, all of it just seemed like a bunch of minor details, holding no real significance. This beautiful creature was simply misunderstood.

As if sensing his very thoughts, the siren turned, that half lidded, fanged smile delving into his soul in the blink of an eye. “Ouvrir.”

The music box faded, leaving behind only the relative calm of the night that had pervaded the walk. A metallic grinding sound was quick to break the semi-silence, and Luke snapped his gaze to the gate. It had not opened, but the unicorn woven into its peculiar design had awoken, and she was staring at Fleur though embedded gemstone eyes as blue and endless as the sea.

A nod, and the solid iron bars ceased being solid at all, fading to a light haze, before evaporating completely, like smoke, leaving an empty archway.

“Zere. She knows your face,” Fleur beamed, all traces of the siren now nowhere to be seen. She made a move to step through the arch, but paused. “Luc… Why are you kneeling on the ground?”

Luke remained motionless, his jaw hanging lopsided for a second. “All of that… just to open a gate?” Talk about needlessly complicated. Then again, this was Fleur. Casual extravagance was kind of her thing.

The supermodel raised an eyebrow, hips swaying as she made her way through the arch. “This is a cullis gate. It needs only simple voice command, spoken by the siren zat enchanted it, to allow access to an ally.”

“Okay,” Luke said, pushing himself to his feet. “But what about all the singing?”

Fleur blinked, her gaze flicking back to him. “Singing?”

“Yes. Singing.”

“I sang?” she squeaked, her ears flopping adorably.

“You did.”

She turned, her eyes wide. “What was it zat I sang?”

“I dunno, I heard a music box, and I think you sang something like… ‘forever we shall live, for never shall we die’. Then something about the sea, then your search was at an end, and then…” Luke trailed off, the last part of her heavenly verse replaying in his mind. He felt his cheeks redden with the recollection, and promptly opted to omit that particular part from the recital. “Is this seriously not ringing any bells?”

Fleur’s ears flattened further still. “L'éternel enchantement,” she breathed.

“Come again?”

“It is… getting late, mon cher. We should really go inside,” she said, her voice soft, hooves already crunching down the gravel path leading further into the estate.

“Okay, so I guess that’s another thing we’re not talking about. Fair enough. It’s cool.”

Her ears lifted. “Luc, please. I know you want answers, and I shall give zem to you, in time. But it ‘as been a long day. I would just like to settle into the retiring room for a glass of wine. I am ‘oping zat you will join me, no?”

“You have a retiring room? Wait—what am I talking about? Of course you have a retiring room. You’re a multi-billionaire.”

“Well, actually, zere are six-”

“Six? Just how big is this pla-” The gravel path curved around the last towering sycamore tree blocking the view of the estate, and Luke’s jaw fell open, hanging like a dead kipper at the sight before his eyes. “Never mind…”

Fleur’s house was always going to be big. That was to be expected. But the sheer size and extravagance of the building laid out before him arguably rivalled that of the royal castle. The structure consisted of several wings constructed of gleaming white marble, attached to a main section that must have been around seven stories high. No less than three towers were incorporated into the architecture, the tallest of which stood alone, its foundations built into the cliff-edge boundary of the city. It was connected to the top floor of the main building by an ancient-looking white-stone viaduct hallway bridge, complete with windowless white-stone arches and an umistakeable supervillian-lair vibe.

The grounds surrounding the castle—because calling it anything less would just be ridiculous—were mostly flat. A deep plain of unwavering green separated the thick tree line from a… “Is that… Is that a freakin’ moat?”

A suspiciously narrow bed of shimmering, tropical blue water enveloped the entire circumference of the building, terminating at two waterfalls cascading over the cliff either side of the ominous-looking tower. A golden drawbridge spanned the water, giving access to a thirty foot tall archway barred by a thick iron portcullis.

Fleur’s smile suggested Luke was perhaps the very epitome of naivety. “You are once again forgetting zat I am a siren, Luc. Through the ages, not everypony ‘as been so graciously oblivious to zat fact as zey are today.”

She trotted serenely around a larger-than-lifesize statue of a rearing unicorn, not unlike the one in the headquarters lobby. The only difference was that this one was a water fountain, set not upon a plinth, but in a large circular, gem-lit pool, the water cascading from the unicorn’s horn. “I needed a place zat would ward off any glory seeking vigilantes. Zis castle fits zat purpose quite well.”

Luke stepped up to the drawbridge. The rocky depths of the moat were also strewn with gems of varying shapes and sizes, all of them illuminating the clear, colourless water. “There isn’t even any water flowing in here. How does this thing not drain?”

“Zis ‘moat’ is in fact what is known as a ‘soul bridge’. It is self replenishing. Any who seek to ‘arm the inhabitants of a dwelling it protects shall be cast away for zeir efforts. It breaks all forms of deception, sees through the most iron clad of lies,” she said, with the tiniest hint of playful suspense, hooves clunking over the golden drawbridge. “It is infallible.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “A soul bridge?”

Fleur stopped just shy of the portcullis, spinning on her hooves to face him. “I did not name it,” she muttered, eyes a hair trigger away from rolling. “Now,” she sat on her haunches, suddenly beckoning with a dainty forehoof. “Come to me, mon amour.”

“You still haven’t told me what that means,” Luke said, already halfway across the drawbridge. “Is it the same as mon cher?” he mocked, in a ridiculously butchered attempt at her accent, “or mon ami?” Fleur’s eyes did roll this time, but she was smiling as he stopped beside her. “Or is it something else?”

Springing to her hooves again, the supermodel’s horn flashed, prompting the heavy iron portcullis to grind into action, slowly lifting. “It means you are terrible at Prench.”

Beyond the still lifting portcullis, an equally large set of polished oakwood doors, complete with thick iron hinges, swung open without prompt, revealing a spacious entrance hall. An open plan staircase leading to a first floor balcony dominated the centre.

Luke’s gaze flicked around the room, its priceless paintings, masterpiece sculptures and long hanging wall banners of red and gold all competing for attention. “I feel like I’ve just stepped into the Gryffindor common room.” This space alone was perhaps three times the size of his whole apartment.

“Ahh, mademoiselle Fleur, you are ‘ere. Would you like me to-mère de céleste, qu'est-ce que c'est?”

The grey unicorn that had just stepped through one of the many side doors slapped a hoof to her face, her irises inflating to the size of grapefruits and her ears tanking. A pause, and she quickly adjusted a small crease in her otherwise pristine maid uniform. “Forgive me. I did not realise you would be bringing ‘ome company.”

Fleur tilted her head, ears pointed to the ceiling, a look of mild disbelief on her face. “It?”

The maid pony took a horrified step back. Her eyes now looked as though they were about pop out of her skull. “I-I-I’m sorry, mademoiselle Fleur, for my outburst. Zat was v-very unprofessional of me. I was just… startled,” she squeaked, gaze flicking up to Luke for a split second.

“What’s happening here?” Luke muttered, even though it was pretty obvious. Unfamiliar ponies did this all the time.

Fleur’s eyes darkened, azure creeping in. Her lips thinned. “My ‘ead maid thinks you are a monster.”

“No, F-Fleur, please.”

“Eva, you should know zat Luc is no more a monster zan you are,” Fleur began, her voice already morphing into the dual-tone affair that always sent shivers down his spine. “Le seul monstre ici est moi!”

The trembling unicorn maid let out a small shriek at the sight of bared siren fangs. Spinning on her hooves, she disappeared back through the side door so fast she may as well have left a smoke silhouette of herself.

Luke took a few steps toward the door, but the mare was long gone. “Was that necessary?”

“Argh… no,” Fleur all but growled. “Stupide sirène. Non. Zis ends now.” Her horn suddenly summoned a fleeting flash of pink so bright it nearly bleached the china. “Tout personnel. Réunion dans le hall d'entrée. À présent,” she called, her magnified, booming voice shaking the walls of the castle.

Luke flinched, ringing eardrums and half-singed retinas making his head spin. “Jees woman, you trying to blind and deafen me at the same time?”

Fleur did not answer. Instead, she simply sat on her haunches in front of the doors, which had since closed themselves, and waited. Barely twelve seconds passed before a portly blue stallion wearing a very smart looking tuxedo appeared from a hallway to the left. He gave no reaction whatsoever to neither Fleur nor Luke, instead trotting to the center of the room and standing at ease. He was joined not long after by three mares, all of them wearing maid uniforms. One of them might have gasped upon spotting Luke, but a second glance revealed absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. They joined the stallion in the center of the room, imitating his stoic silence.

More and more of the castle staff congregated in the hall with each passing moment, until around thirty ponies stood before Fleur and Luke, all dressed to the nines in fancy tuxedos and maid gowns that made Luke look like a street urchin. The head maid, however, was absent.

Fleur got to her hooves, ears flicking in a way that suggested she was agitated, but suppressing the emotion. Luke was getting more and more clued up to her mood just by observing her ears. They were oftentimes a dead giveaway. “For zose of you zat are unaware,” she began, addressing her staff, “zis is Luc. ‘Ee is both a colleague, but more so a friend of mine, and ‘ee shall be staying with us for the foreseeable future. I only ask zat you treat ‘im with the same kindness and respect you would show to any pony invited to stay in zis castle. Now, even though I ‘ave never made a point of openly discussing it, I am very much aware zat all of you ‘ave figured out for yourselves the true nature of my being. I ‘ave turned a blind eye to many a fearful glance, and a deaf ear to countless ‘ushed whispers over the years, and I will certainly continue to do so. But I would be remiss if I did not warn you of the potential consequences you may face if you ‘appen to insult my tall friend ‘ere.”

“Fleur,” Luke intervened, already sensing the metric fuckton of crazy she was about to dump on her servants.

“No, Luc, it is important zat zey hear zis. I… ‘ave a lot less control in situations concerning you zan I am usually accustomed to,” she said, turning back to her staff. “I cannot be ‘eld accountable for what might ‘appen when I am not myself. Be sure zat you give me absolutely no reason to be anything ozzer zan myself. Do you understand?”

Thirty ponies nodded at once, their expressions resolute, and this seemed to satisfy the supermodel. “Dismissed.”

Not fifteen seconds later, and the vast entrance hall was as empty as when Luke had first set foot into it. “Good talk,” he muttered, though his tone was practically swimming in sarcasm.

Conveniently, Fleur appeared oblivious as she trotted swiftly over the thick red carpet. “Yes, quite. Now, ‘ow about zat drink, mon cher?”

Luke shook his head, letting out a small chuckle. “Sure.”

So early was the morning, that Fleur—only ten minutes previously fast asleep in her vast super-queen-size four poster bed—could practically hear the very crack of dawn. The phrase was not to be taken literally, she knew, but the glass of wine she had shared with Luke in the grand retiring room the previous night had swiftly been followed by another, and that one by several more as well. It was only when several bottles of Château Farriere had been liberated from the wine cellar that Fleur finally managed to drag herself to her bedchambers.

Luke had not lasted long in the grand scheme of things. The human had passed into peaceful slumber after his sixth slowly consumed glass. The siren, perverted as she was, viewed this occurrence as something of a missed opportunity to steal a few snuggles, but Fleur was above such unchivalrous behaviour, and had instead carefully levitated him to the vacant Manehattan suite.

“Will zat be all, Miss Fleur?” asked Lily Fern, the makeup artist’s lit horn applying the final finishing touches to the signature flowing waves of Fleur’s mane and tail.

Bow Tie, Fleur’s faithful butler of over thirty years, telekinetically pulled back the heavy satin drapes of the bedchamber, allowing ruthless rays of sunlight to filter unapologetically through the spacious room. Fleur squinted. “Yes, zat will do fine, ma chere. I ‘ave business to attend to-”

Knock knock.

The door was thrown wide, the ever-effervescent and punctual Photo Finish trotting into the room with no less than three maid mares in tow. The maids busied themselves tidying and organising, making the bed to such perfection that not a single crease could be seen and taking away the small bowl of oats that Fleur had hastily nibbled at upon being awoken by her butler.

“Guten Morgen, Fraulein,” Photo said, tone unusually curt. She pulled a rolled up copy of the Canterlot Herald from the neckline of her dress, unfurling the newspaper out onto the freshly made bed, much to the carefully concealed chagrin of the maid mares. “You should have came straight to me after your little outburst at ze amphitheatre yesterday. I could have run a little bit of damage control if you had bozzered to tell me. Now zat insufferable nag of a noblestallion is milking ze situation as much as he can.”

Fleur glanced down at the paper with a look of disgust. Most of the front page was taken up by a photograph of Top Hat being levitated out of the amphitheatre in a spinelock sphere enchantment. There was even a grim look seemingly permanently etched on the face of the doctor casting the spell. “I did not ‘urt ‘im anywhere near zat badly. If I ‘ad, she would ‘ave rejoiced for hours.”

It was true that her darker half often took pleasure in the suffering of others. Not something Fleur cared for, but true all the same. Though through years of subtle conditioning, she had managed to narrow down the siren’s interest in such potential victims to only those who truly deserved it.

“It matters not! He will still spin his web of lies regardless. You know how much he hates Luke. Such blindsighted racism is an ugly agenda, especially for a stallion,” Photo muttered. “I’ll have sompony make a statement to ze press on your behalf.”

“Speaking of racism,” Fleur said, her eyes darkening a shade. “I ‘ave an unscheduled appointment to attend at the Crown Bank zis morning. I would very much like it if you would accompany me, no?”

“Vhat appointment? I vas not made aware of any bank appointment today,” Photo challenged, perplexed.

“Zat is because I was only made aware of it myself last night.”

“Vhat do you mean, Fraulein?”

Fleur did not answer. Instead, she charged her horn, eyes shimmering with a subtle blue underglow like sunlight shimmering over the surface of a vast ocean. “Ve go!” she cried, and both the supermodel and her confused manager vanished in a bright flash of pink light, leaving the maid ponies to finish their work.

The resounding crack that echoed upon Fleur and Photo's sudden appearance in Mane Street was enough to startle the few ponies that were present at such an early hour on a Saturday morning. Early shoppers beating the rush, savvy business ponies on their way to weekend meetings, tourists keen to explore the Capital city from dawn till dusk, all gave a start at the teleportation.

Fleur knew it was indeed customary for a high profile client such as herself to have had an appointment made when making a visit to the Crown Bank. The higher ups running the place much preferred plenty of notice of time and purpose, mostly so they could have their most capable staff present, and query any topic ahead of time. But considering the circumstances on this occasion, Fleur very much thought they deserved nothing more than a surprise visit.

Photo Finish flicked her gaze from left to right, as though she was surprised to suddenly find herself standing in the middle of Mane Street. “Fraulein… Zis is not like you. Vhat has happened?”

Fleur’s horn flashed, and the siren gave a low growl inside her mind as the scroll appeared. “Read zat. Quickly,” she muttered, thrusting it to Photo's hooves. A moderately sized gaggle of Manehattenite mares were in the process of making a beeline straight for them.

“Oh my stars! That's totally Fleur de Lis!”

“Sweet Celestia! It is, it's the immortal supermodel…”

“Can we get a photo-”

“NEIN! Miss Fleur is extremely busy. Get out of here before I tan your flanks!” Photo snapped.

Whether it was because they hadn't encountered a raging middle-aged Germaneic mare before, or that they just weren’t used to such sudden confrontation, the Manehattenites scarpered from Photo Finish like rats from a flood.

“Hmm… Ah, yes,” Photo murmured to herself, walking along three-legged with her muzzle inches from the parchment. “So zey are raising ze deposit. I guess zey were always going to try to keep him out of Uptown. Bad business not to keep the majority happy, and ze ponies zat live in zat neighbourhood aren’t exactly xenophiles.” Photo barked out a sudden joyful laugh. “I bet zey never thought you’d see zis letter.”

“Non. I very much doubt it, mon amie.”

The towering double doors of the bank swang open silently and without prompt, giving way to a lavishly decorated interior. Whilst the exterior was the epitome of aged, yet imposing stone architecture, the inside of the building had been renovated so many times through the years it had lost all of its old world charm. A young unicorn stallion, fresh out of school, by the look of him, was stood behind a small welcome booth, its flashy gleaming marble enchanted to emit a welcoming azure glow. Despite the emulation of daylight right under his muzzle, the colt’s eyelids and ears were drooping as though he had mastered the act of micro-napping whilst standing upright.

It was only when Fleur had stopped right in front him, a businesslike, yet still warm and friendly smile on her muzzle, that he realised the bank had customers. “Bonjour, mon jeune ami. I am looking for Equity Rose. Could you go and find her for me, s'il vous plaît?” she chirped, with just the right amount of endearing inflection.

The young stallion blinked, his eyes widening so much they may have popped out of their sockets if given half a chance. Jaw flapping two or three times before any sound came out, he managed to croak out a barely audible. “I… I… F-F-Fleur de-”

“Yes, yes, it is Fleur de Lis, beautiful, immortal, eternally youthful, blah blah—just go and get zis banker for us already!” Photo Finish snapped, waving the rolled up scroll threateningly at the poor stallion.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Within five minutes, he returned with a dainty, off white, bespectacled unicorn in tow. The young stallion proceeded to keep his gaze glued to anything but Fleur, but Equity Rose was eyeing Fleur with a look of utter bewilderment.

“You requested to see me?” she timidly asked, her voice decidedly mousy.

Fleur gave the mare a wide smile. “Oui. If you would like to follow me, ma chere.”

With barely a thought, Fleur’s horn ignited, and a sound rather like lightning tearing through the skin of an airship helium chamber rocked the bank for a split second, prompting a series of shrieks from the tellers behind the counters who had been pretending not to eavesdrop. The poor receptionist stallion nearly jumped out of his coat, but Equity Rose was too busy staring at the twenty-hoof wide portal that had just appeared in front of her. Born of shimmering blue flames, the unmistakably demonic anomaly looked grotesquely out of place hanging in the air, smack bang in the middle of the glitzy bank. It looked, in fact, as though it should lead anypony that stepped into directly to the deepest and darkest pits of Tartarus, but as it happened, it lead only to Fleur’s office.

Turning glossy tail, Fleur deftly stepped through, her ears popping at the sudden change in air pressure. It was fairly obvious Equity Rose was about as guilty as the poor receptionist colt now attempting to hide behind his welcome booth, but she had a high enough position in the bank to have a voice. A voice that Fleur needed to scream at the top brass as loud as equinely possible.

“Well, zat’s new,” Photo Finish muttered. She eyed the portal warily for a second, but ultimately followed Fleur through into her office.

Equity Rose looked to be on the verge of hyperventilation, but Fleur merely widened her eyes a shade, and the middle aged unicorn hopped through the casually pierced wormhole like the blue flames encircling it were nothing more frightening than a glow in the dark jump rope.

Relaxing the physics-defying torrent of magic rushing through her horn, Fleur allowed space time to heal itself with the same thunder-like CRUNCH as before. “Please, do not be alarmed, ma chere. I wish only to discuss a piece of correspondence you sent to my colleague. Photo, if you would?”

Photo Finish unravelled the scroll onto Fleur’s desk.

“I am given to understand zat you raised ze deposit on zis apartment no less zan four times.”

“I… I…” Equity stuttered, eyes darting from the slightly curled parchment to Fleur, then back to the parchment. “I am not at liberty to discuss these matters. C-Client confidentiality, you understand.”

“Well,” Fleur replied, leisurely taking a seat behind her desk, “considering the J’adore Corporation holds by far the Crown Bank’s largest account, I would suggest zat you… liberate yourself.”

Equity Rose gave an audible gulp, anxiously shifting her weight between her hooves. “Miss Fleur, please, you have to understand that I-”

“Who told you to hike ze deposit?” Photo interrupted. “Tell us zis, and we will guarantee you keep your job.”

Equity’s resolve wilted under Photo’s piercing glare. “It was Platinum Ring. Every application Mr Nona sent in, Platinum Ring instructed to me to raise it. I didn’t ask questions, I just did what was asked of me-EEK!”

CRUNCH!

The smouldering portal erupted once more into being with a flick of Fleur’s aura. “Would you kindly go and fetch ‘er for me?” Fleur asked, a hint of sweetness to her voice.

“Y-You want me to-”

“I know she is zere. She invites me to every quarterly board meeting, and if I am not mistaken, zere is one due to take place in ten minutes, no?”

Equity paused, steeling herself for a moment. “I’ll let her know you wish to see her.” With an air of relief, the mare swiftly jumped back through the portal, which Photo was busy examining in more detail.

Her forehooves probed at the edge, but could get no closer than an inch or so, blocked by the built in safety element of the enchantment. “Everytime I think I haff seen all of your cards, you pull something even more ridiculous out of ze hat.”

Fleur smiled. “Zis one is actually nozzing special, mon amie.” As wise as Photo Finish was with her vast knowledge of fashion and cutting edge photography, like all mortals, the earth mare was truly blind to the infinite potential of the magical aura.

A portal was just very primitive form of magical transportation, which fell out of fashion thousands of years prior when the hugely more efficient and easier to master teleportation spell was discovered. It was so rarely used in modern times in fact, that to a modern Equestrian, it often appeared quite alarming.

“Ahem,” came a small, high pitched voice from just through the portal.

A tan coated unicorn dressed in a smart black blazer and tie combo, brown mane tied up in the tightest of buns and a tail cropped uncommonly short stepped quite gracefully through the portal. A look of trepidation flashed over her features, but it was gone almost instantly. “Greetings, Miss De Lis. Miss Rose informed me that you wanted a word, yes?” The thick platinum ring encompassing the base of her horn glinted in the light from the portal, which imploded with the usual CRUNCH. Platinum Ring didn’t even flinch.

Fleur had never really cared much for jewelry. Her sapphire and platinum spiked collar were more than enough. Platinum Ring, however, not only wore her signature hornpiece, but many other items as well. Diamond earrings, a golden necklace, and even a golden dock ring banding the base of her tail. She was probably wearing more bits than the price of the apartment Luke had been trying to purchase.

A low growl rippled through her mind at this particular observation, swiftly followed by demands to make the mare eat every last display of wealth decorating her body. As tempting as that was, it would just cause more problems than it was worth.

“Oui. Do take a seat, ma chere. I would very much like to discuss a mortgage application made by a colleague of mine,” Fleur said, motioning to the swivel chair in front of her desk.

Platinum Ring perched herself on the edge, wasting no time in clearing her throat. “Yes, Miss Rose mentioned you were curious as to some of the bank’s policies regarding-”

“Cut ze scheisse, Platinum,” Photo Finish interrupted, a hoof slamming down to the desk. This time, the banker did flinch. “Ve vant to know why you raised ze deposit on Luke’s application.”

Platinum paused. It was a long pause, as though the mare had exhausted all avenues of possible explanation. Her vacant, businesslike expression quickly morphed into one of sheer desperation. “I had to do it, Miss De Lis,” she spluttered, choosing to ignore Photo altogether. “Some of the residents of Uptown got wind of Mr Nona’s application and spread the word. It took less than two days for the petition to start, and it had over a hundred signatures within the first few hours. My hooves are tied, Miss De Lis. If I was to approve Mr Nona’s application, the repercussions for the Crown Bank would be immense.”

Fleur let the mare ramble out her reasoning, but couldn’t really find it in herself to pity her position. Being an enabler of racism was just as abhorrent as the act itself, when it came down to it. Platinum, apparently done talking, merely sat with a pleading look on her face. “Well. It appears zat you ‘ave a decision to make, Mrs Ring. I do not know the combined value of the business the Crown bank is set to lose if you decide to stop zis discrimination against my colleague, but I am willing to bet zat it is not more zan the Crown Bank will lose if the J’adore Corporation transfers accounts to Hooves Fargo.”

The fur on Platinum’s face suddenly bleached itself. “Y-You wouldn’t… You can’t,” she gasped, clutching the desk for support.

“I do not wish to brag, but if I wore clothes with pockets, Mrs Ring, J’adore’s board of directors would practically live in zem.” Not entirely truthful. Some would rock the boat, especially if pressured with such a questionable decision clearly influenced by a personal matter, but Platinum didn’t need to know that.

The bank mare stared blankly at the carpet for the better part of a minute before looking at Fleur again. “All of this, for a… a colleague?”

With no warning at all, Fleur’s field of view suddenly widened, the room elongated, and a sharp pain pierced her jaws in four precise places. Both Platinum Ring and Photo Finish were bathed in a shimmering azure glow. “Tu oses m'interroger?” She felt the words leave her mouth, and fought ferociously to wrest back control, lest there be a dead banker in the middle of her office.

Either Platinum was fluent in Prench, or the dual toned words put the fear of the gods in her. With wide eyes, she began to babble a mile a minute. “Zero percent deposit. Five percent interest. I’ll be happy give Mr Nona the keys myself. Anything for a friend of our most valued client, Miss De Lis, and of course, I’ll be happy to facilitate the ongoing partnership between the Crown Bank and the J’adore Corporation, Miss De Lis.”

One forcibly recalled image of Luke’s smile to placate the raging siren later, and Fleur blinked, the room appearing normal once more. A quick swipe of her tongue failed to reveal any fangs. I told you to leave the talking to me, she hissed internally, but the siren had since progressed to planning out the logistics of mating with Luke, and precisely how their bodies would fit together. Fleur blushed, quickly driving the inappropriate fantasy from her mind. Thankfully, neither Platinum nor Photo seemed to notice.

“Problem solved,” Photo Finish cried triumphantly. “You can go now,” she added to Platinum, casually waving a hoof at the door.

“No,” Fleur said, before she could stop herself. Merde. It’s not like she could blame it on the siren this time, either, engrossed in such lewd indulgences as she was.

“No?” Platinum repeated, a look of horror on her face.

“Luc no longer ‘as need of zat apartment,” Fleur continued, cursing her pitiful resolve.

“But… But you…”

“I wished to see where your loyalties lay, Mrs Ring. Be thankful of the knowledge zat I am satisfied, for now.” Fleur nodded to the door, opting not to disturb her Saturday morning workforce again with the unsettling noises of archaic spells. “You may go.”

Platinum Ring’s business mask returned, most likely a facade, of course. “Good day, Miss De Lis.” She swept from the office without another word.

Photo Finish slowly shook her head as the door swang closed, hitting Fleur with a look that made her feel about fourteen years old. “You’re like a Diamond Dog with a big shiny rock, you know zat?”

Fleur let slip a small chuckle. “I really don’t think ‘ee will mind, in the grand scheme of things, mon amie.”