Princess Celestia lay motionless on her side, pinning her right wing underneath herself. And she ignored Pinwheel’s second attempt to roll her upright. “Princess?” Pinwheel gave her another prod, and finally, Celestia complied. “Difficult day?”

Celestia nodded silently as Pinwheel removed her regalia and hung it on the wall. “Not especially. I just haven’t had an easy day in quite some time, and it tends to wear one down.”

Hooves next. Pinwheel took her buffing cloth off the vanity and worked them up to a nice shine. Those ornamental shoes always scuffed them up so much, but it was nothing Pinwheel couldn’t fix. A good polish would have the Princess feeling like new again, even if nopony noticed them. Really, with a mane like that, a prominent horn, and that ever-present expression of thoughtful intensity on her face, who would look at her feet?

For her part, Celestia at least enjoyed the pampering, as far as Pinwheel could tell. How long had it taken Pinwheel to convince her? Three years, if not more. She’d insisted that she could do it herself, that she didn’t require special treatment, but even the mightiest mountains eventually give way to the gentle stream.

Next, on to the coat. Pinwheel gripped the brush between her hooves and gave the gleaming white hair a thorough scouring. And she knew to linger a bit on the withers, where Celestia often got an itch she couldn’t reach. The Princess sat there so still, as usual. It rather reminded Pinwheel of a cat, perched like a sphinx, and quite possibly also made of stone, as the lengthy court sessions tended to leave her. She’d wonder if Celestia had fallen asleep, if not for the occasional sigh.

“Left wing, please.” On cue, Celestia extended it, and Pinwheel picked through each row of feathers to give them a good preening. Quickly, Pinwheel held a hoof to her nose—a little downy feather tickled her nose, and it wouldn’t do to sneeze on Princess Celestia wing!

The tingle passed, and Pinwheel removed her glasses so she could get in there further—she found a skewed pinion, and it wouldn’t straighten out no matter what she did, so she gave a strong tug and yanked it out. “Sorry.”

“Comes with the office,” Celestia replied without flinching.

“No, I meant about the feather. But that, too.” She grinned at Celestia’s chuckling—she never could figure out very well when Celestia was joking.

“Well, that comes with the wings, then. You should know as well as anypony,” Celestia answered, cocking her head toward the ones folded against Pinwheel’s sides.

“Yes, Princess.” Pinwheel went back to work, rooting out flecks of dust, some thread from the throne’s cushion, and even a few crumbs of pumpkin bread. No need to let her know about those—she took so much pride in being a meticulously clean eater, and far be it from Pinwheel to burst that particular bubble. All the debris gone, she ran her lips along the wing’s edge to smooth everything back. “There!”

Celestia gave the wing a flap, and every single feather settled into perfect rows. She shimmied her shoulder around a little. “You do such a good job!” she said. “It feels just right, having everything in order.”

A brief smile, but Pinwheel didn’t have time for self-satisfaction. “Other side,” she said, and Celestia stretched out the right one. She would allow herself a bigger grin at that: Celestia didn’t respond to many ponies’ orders.

“Do you mind if I open a window? It’s gotten a bit humid.” Pinwheel nodded through her mouthful of feathers, and Celestia lit up her horn. Soon after, cool evening air seeped over the windowsill and pooled on the floor. Nice and refreshing down on her belly and sides, but Pinwheel’s face still felt too warm.

Chirping crickets and peeping frogs sounded from the dim light outside, and Celestia took in a noseful of the night’s scent. “My previous assistant was a unicorn, you know. Always expertly plucking out bits, on the rare occasion I needed her to.” Pinwheel slumped her shoulders. “Rather impersonal, though. I could never actually feel it. Thank you for convincing me to let you do this for me.”

She still had work to do, but Pinwheel couldn’t fight her grin anymore. She’d only ever heard of the one, and she assumed Celestia always chose a unicorn for her personal assistant. Five years at the job already, and with any luck, she’d serve for another forty.

“Different ponies have different strengths. That’s why I rotate what type I hire.” Celestia went still again, her breathing slowed. But over the faint rustling of feathers, Pinwheel heard a low humming. One of the guards outside the door? No, it was… the Princess?

“That’s lovely. I wonder who’s playing it.”

Pinwheel raised an eyebrow. “Playing what?” Celestia stopped humming, and Pinwheel could just make out an instrument in the distance. She wouldn’t have noticed it if Celestia hadn’t pointed it out. A simple melody, but an odd one, without a regular meter. “Ah. Yes, it’s pretty.” She hadn’t heard that song before, but Celestia clearly knew it—she swayed her head back and forth. Then she emitted a drawn-out “mmmm” and went silent again. Celestia must have been dozing now. That happened often enough.

Pinwheel finished with the right wing and left it draped across the cushion. She gathered up her grooming tools and slipped quietly from the room.

---

While running a brush through Celestia’s mane, Pinwheel rolled her eyes toward the scroll unfurled on the floor beside her. “Due to mechanical problems at the Cloudsdale Weather Factory,” she mumbled over the brush’s handle, “we need to have clouds ferried down from Vanhoover. You will receive the Zebra ambassador and trade minister at ten o’clock to renew our commerce agreements, the Captain of the Guard will have his soldiers ready for their weekly inspection at three—sorry, fifteen hundred hours. Private dinner with Princess Luna at six, and Princess Twilight Sparkle will drop by some time during the evening for your book club meeting. A fairly light day.”

“Thank goodness,” Celestia said. And then her ears pricked toward the window. “There it is again.”

“There what is again?” Pinwheel set the brush aside as Celestia pulled the window open.

“That music.” Just like the previous night, a wash of evening air flowed in, even a bit chilly this time. The sound must carry better in the colder air, if Celestia had heard it with the window closed. Anyway, it was a tad too cold for Pinwheel’s taste—the hairs of her coat stood on end, and she puffed her feathers out.

“It’s not unusual,” Celestia continued. “We have plenty of musicians in Canterlot, and I hear one or another practicing now and then. But there’s something about this one…” Her eyes lit up, and she started humming again. Yes, the same song as last night. Pinwheel remembered it well enough from hearing Celestia—she joined in, her soprano complementing the Princess’s alto. It had a certain… yearning to it. She could see why the Princess liked it.

The melody repeated twice, and when it ended, Celestia touched a hoof to Pinwheel’s cheek and turned a warm smile on her. “My, you have a lovely singing voice, Pinwheel! You should do so more often.”

Blushing, Pinwheel went back to her work. She’d heard Celestia sing under her breath on plenty of occasions, but she’d never added her own voice before. Their melodies right together, hanging in the air, but… it had to end. She’d finished with Celestia’s mane while running through the tune once more by herself, so on to her wings—she’d need her mouth anyway.

“Why did you stop?” Celestia asked.

“My duties, Princess.”

“No need to be so formal,” Celestia replied with a wave of her hoof. “I was rather enjoying myself.”

“Should I start again?” She’d liked the extemporaneous way it happened before. Doing so again would feel forced, but of course she’d do anything Celestia asked.

“No, no, never mind. It’s over now anyway.” Celestia pricked her ears toward the window. “I wonder who that was. I haven’t heard that song in…”

Pinwheel straightened a few crossed feathers, and the muscles in Celestia’s side tensed up, where Pinwheel had her nose pressed near the wing joint on her shoulder. Fresh from her bath, it still smelled of shampoo, of the detergent used to wash the castle’s towels… and of clouds and lily of the valley and morning dew. She took in another deep breath of it.

“I’m not familiar with it,” Pinwheel said as she wrestled her mind back to the moment.

“No, you wouldn’t be.” Celestia shook her head and sighed. “That one goes way back…” A knock sounded at the door, and Pinwheel nearly jumped. “Come in!”

“The castle is secure for the night, Your Highness,” the guard said. Bronze Patina, Pinwheel noted. Always the first one here in the morning and always the last one to leave. She knew him from way back in their school days, but then they’d found separate paths. Funny that they’d both ended up here, and five years later, both ubiquitous fixtures around the castle.

“Thank you,” Celestia said. “Now please go home to your family.”

“Good night, Your Highness.” On his way out, he paused in the doorway. “Good night, Pinwheel.”

Pinwheel grunted a reply. What about that song enchanted Celestia so much? Just nostalgia, or did it hold a special meaning? She ran the tune through her head again as she went back to her preening.

---

Pinwheel’s day off, and of course she swung by the castle to see if Celestia needed anything. And of course Celestia tut-tutted and told her that she was positively banned from the castle today. Just their normal routine for these days.

From down in the city, she glanced up at the windows to Celestia’s chambers and tried to gauge a direction, but sound could echo around so much among all these buildings. No way to be certain, but with a general idea of where in town and what kind of instrument, she’d asked around the neighborhood, and her inquiries had led her here: a two-story house with what looked like a large upstairs studio. The shutters flung wide, Pinwheel could see posters for musicals and orchestras covering the walls. Seemed like a better candidate than that last few she’d tried, at least.

She knocked on the door, and after a litany of clunking noises, a gray mare with a black mane answered. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but… this will sound odd.” Her wings popped halfway open, the way the stupid things always do when she’d rather crawl under a rock somewhere. “Do you mind if I ask your name?”

The mare wrinkled her brow and peered up and down the sidewalk.

Pinwheel shook her head and held a hoof to her chest. “My apologies—my name is Pinwheel. I’m Princess Celestia’s personal assistant.”

“Oh! I-I’m Octavia. Octavia Melody.” And the color drained from the poor dear’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“No! It’s just… Well, somepony’s been playing a song the last few evenings that has caught Princess Celestia’s interest. I’m trying to find out who.” Pinwheel shrugged and hummed a few bars to demonstrate, and a light immediately sparked in Octavia’s eyes.

“Oh, that one. Yes, it’s sort of a pet project of mine.” At her soft smile, Pinwheel finally managed to fold her wings back against her sides. Or maybe they’d cooperated because… Celestia would love this!

“I wonder if you wouldn’t mind playing it for the Princess.” Octavia opened her mouth to answer, but before she could form the words, Pinwheel added, “Privately. Tonight.”

And Octavia blanched again. “She wants… me?”

“No, no. Well… it’s a surprise.” In case it’d help, Pinwheel rolled her eyes. No big deal, just another routine thing. “Yes, she would very much enjoy it, but she doesn’t know. Yet.”

Octavia leaned forward, her face a dam holding… something back. “Does she know the song?”

“I think so. She joined right in when she heard it.”

Gasping, Octavia took Pinwheel by the shoulders. “Was I playing it right? Does she know the words? Can she tell me—?” she spouted in rapid fire.

“I don’t know,” Pinwheel replied. She couldn’t help smiling at Octavia’s infectious enthusiasm—she was getting even more worked up about this silly song than Celestia had. “Maybe she can answer your questions tonight. But would you be willing?”

“Yes, yes! Of course! I have so much to ask her!” Octavia turned and rifled through a small desk just inside the front door until she turned up a key. “I need to go get the original! In my safety deposit box at the bank. I need—I need to—”

Pinwheel laid a hoof gently on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Really. Nopony else will be there. Just think of it as playing for a casual house guest or your mother.”

“But she’s the Princess!” Octavia gaped at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.

“I know.” Holding in a breath, Pinwheel stared at the sidewalk. That one fact changed so much about her life, most of it for the better. But the enormity of it still felt like it might crush her sometimes. “I know.”

And now that poor mare sounded like she might hyperventilate, but she managed to squeak out, “What time?”

“Eight o’clock,” Pinwheel said. “I’ll tell the guards to expect you.”

---

Could the clock’s hands have crept any slower?

Pinwheel watched the short one tick ever closer to the eight. She cocked her head to the side. Might as well have been an infinity. Would she arrive right at eight? No, it’d take the guards a few minutes to show her up here. And she wouldn’t know how long to allow for that. She should have told Octavia seven forty-five. No, then she’d have gotten just as neurotic fifteen minutes ago.

Before she knew it, she was practically ripping that brush through Celestia’s mane, but if the Princess noticed, she didn’t say anything. And finally a knock at the door. “Enter!”

Bronze Patina swung the door open. “Good evening, Your Highness.” And then he faced Pinwheel with a big grin “Hello!” She nodded back, and then found herself still brushing through the same patch of mane. She set the brush back on the vanity—better to leave a few tangles for tomorrow than to tear out her mane today.

“A guest to see you, Princess,” he said, then beckoned somepony in.

Celestia raised an eyebrow at her unexpected visitor, but at the sight of the instrument slung over her back, she squinted at Pinwheel.

“I invited her, Princess,” Pinwheel said, bowing her head. “This is Octavia Melody.”

Celestia shot Pinwheel a sly glance, then pointed toward a clear space near the window. “Please.”

And too much. Celestia smirking at her while trying to keep Octavia from bowing, Octavia fumbling through her saddlebag for her music stand, Bronze Patina waving madly at her on his way back out… and finally, blissful silence. Celestia sat there like a sphinx again while Octavia tuned her instrument.

“I thought you might find it relaxing,” Pinwheel said, moving to drum her hooves over Celestia’s withers. “And none too soon—you have some horrible knots in these muscles.” Celestia opened her mouth to say something, but settled for inclining her head toward Octavia and closing her eyes.

Octavia raised a shaky hoof to her instrument and started into a nocturne. But just a few bars in, she missed a note. Celestia barely flinched—only Pinwheel knew her well enough to notice.

The music stopped. Celestia opened one eye, and Octavia stood there trembling. “My word, you look terrified! This isn’t a test.” She smiled warmly and let her eye drift back shut. “Think of it as an impromptu demonstration, as if you had a house guest. You’ll get no judgment here. Only enjoyment. Apparently, I need to relax more, or my assistant wouldn’t have arranged this.”

Pinwheel groaned inwardly. When Celestia got into pun mode… And Octavia was probably too nervous to catch them anyway. Then… Celestia reached her neck back to nuzzle her. Pinwheel! When had she ever done that before? She blushed, almost coughed, and collected herself, returning to her massage and somehow letting her hooves run on automatic while her head swam. She could still smell the clouds and lily of the valley and morning dew on her cheek.

With a nod and a gulp, Octavia steadied herself. She took a deep breath and drew her bow across the strings again. Celestia soon returned to her sleeping sphinx posture, and through a second and even a third piece, she hadn’t budged an inch. Octavia hadn’t seemed to notice—she rifled through her saddlebag for something else to play, and she pulled out a few oversized sheets of parchment sandwiched between glass plates. They clinked faintly as she set them on her music stand. Was that the music she said she needed to get from the bank?

Octavia applied a fresh coat of rosin to her bow, and with an eager smile on her face, she teased out the first note. By the third, Celestia’s eyes had snapped open. That same song they’d heard in the night. No mistaking the smirk on Octavia’s face—she’d planned it this way. And Celestia joined in with her humming. She went on a measure or two, apparently expecting multiple verses, but the music had stopped.

Celestia’s mouth hung open, and Octavia’s grin lost its confidence. She nearly withered under that gaze, but Celestia burst out, “Again, please, if you will.”

This time, Celestia didn’t hum; she sang. In her lovely alto, but Pinwheel didn’t understand a word of it: “Myn hert altyt heeft verlanghen…” Pinwheel gaped at her. It was… beautiful, but for all she knew, she’d gotten mesmerized by a bawdy drinking song. It didn’t matter, she supposed. She did all she could, joining in with her humming, but her ears pricked toward Celestia, taking in every nuance of shape from those words, those beautiful words. Yes, it was often enough an artistic conceit to mold some disproportionate grace from a coarse foundation, but she couldn’t imagine that here, not with that much authentic passion to it.

She glanced over at Octavia, who leaned forward, her own ears pricked toward the words as well, and Pinwheel could sense her rushing the tempo, intent only on reaching the final note. She didn’t even hold it out when she got there—just lay her cello on the floor as quickly as she dared and rushed over with those glass plates in hoof.

“Th-the words! You know the words!” Octavia practically shoved the first page into Celestia’s face, eliciting a curious grin from the Princess. “You—you know? Could—could you—? I mean…”

Celestia touched Octavia lightly on her foreleg, and if she hadn’t sat of her own volition, Pinwheel was certain Celestia would have forced her to with magic. “Calm down, my little pony. We have all the time in the world. Now, take a deep breath and tell me what has you so excited.”

As if it might speak for her, Octavia held up the first page again. It was an exquisite illuminated manuscript, but Pinwheel had never seen notation quite like it: a four-line staff with very blocky notes, not spaced out, but oddly clustered together in places. She tapped a hoof on the glass. “The tune! Did I play it right? Did I get the timing, the ornamentation, the—?”

Celestia held up a hoof. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

Octavia gave a hurried nod and took a shuddering breath. “But first, can I get the words?” She looked like she might pop if Celestia didn’t agree.

“Certainly. Pinwheel, would you mind taking this down?” Celestia waited until Pinwheel had retrieved a notepad and had a pencil in her teeth, then spoke slowly. “Myn hert altyt heeft verlanghen…”

Pinwheel furiously scribbled it down, all of it. If it meant that much to the Princess, then it meant that much to her, too. It only filled one small page. An entire treasure within a few scant inches. With the last period jabbed into the paper, Pinwheel glanced back at Octavia, who stared through the wall somewhere.

“Hundreds. These are hundreds of years old,” Octavia said quietly, hugging the plate to her chest. “I spent a lot of money to buy original copies. It’s… a passion of mine.”

A sparkle igniting in her eye, Celestia nodded. “Pinwheel, if you prefer, you may go home for the night. This could take a while, I think.”

“No, Princess! If something has captured your fancy, it is my duty to take note,” Pinwheel instantly replied.

“Pray continue, then.”

Octavia took a deep breath and pressed a hoof to her temple. “This music is so old that nopony knows anymore how it should sound. Ponies back then had no reason to think that music would change so much that they ought to document how to read it. See, the notes themselves look similar, but still different. We can tell pitch and get a rough idea of duration for each, but for some notations—” she traced a hooftip over a tight cluster of them “—we don’t know what they mean. We can take our best guess, or we can go by what few have survived by oral tradition, but even then, there’s no way to tell how much they’ve gotten distorted over time from poor memories, taking personal liberties with the music… anything! But to have somepony who was actually there! Could you teach me? Will you tell me what all of it means?”

As Octavia sat there panting, Celestia returned a weak frown and pursed her lips. Pinwheel recognized that look: when she had bad news, no matter whether she was telling a foreign dignitary or her own sister, it would surface. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there. While I love music, I never took much of a technical interest, so you likely know more about the written form than I do. At least I can go by my memory of hearing it sung. Long ago, I spent a number of years in the Witherlands and frequently heard street performers entertaining a crowd with it, though I can’t vouch for their accuracy.”

Octavia slumped her shoulders, but she maintained her smile. “That… that’s okay. Every little bit helps. What about this one?” She held up a different plate, which Celestia took in her magic and studied for a moment with a squint.

And then Octavia hummed the first line. Celestia’s eyes lit up. “‘Tandernaken op den Rijn’! Yes, I know it well!”

Tripping over her tongue again, Octavia managed to cough out, “W-words?”

“If there were,” Celestia answered, “I never heard them. Just the music. But I can at least help you with that part. Go back to the first song. See, right after the opening line, it seemed like you were taking a little too long of a pause—Pinwheel, please. I don’t wish to bore you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Pinwheel cast her eyes down. The music didn’t matter. Seeing Celestia so thoroughly enjoy herself did, but for whatever reason, Celestia wouldn’t let her experience that. “Yes, Princess.”

No sooner had the door closed behind her, shutting her out of that wonderful time of discovery, when another voice rang out: “Hi there, Pinwheel!”

Bronze Patina again. She had to grin. At least his enthusiasm was pretty catching. “Hey, would you—?”

“Sorry,” Pinwheel said. “I still have a lot to do tonight.” She made a beeline for the library. But she did glance back over her shoulder. Once.

---

The Witherlands. So the language must have been Dutch or something close, probably an archaic form.

Pinwheel scanned over the titles of the Royal Canterlot Library’s linguistics section and pulled out a few of the more promising ones. Once she had a stack of five or six, certainly more than she could get through in a couple of hours, she carried them to a secluded table in the corner and pulled out her notepad. She’d had to write everything phonetically from Celestia’s recitation—from the Princess’s own account, she might not even know how to spell any of it.

Besides, she wanted to learn the words herself. That should provide the Princess with a nice surprise, and for a short time at least, she could claim to be one of only two ponies who knew them. Unless Princess Luna did, too. A small number, anyway.

She had no idea how long she’d been at it when she finished, but her oil lamp had run quite low. All worth it, though. Each new word found and translated sent a tingle through her chest, but she got the real chill down her back when she read the full text, all the way through:

My heart is always longing
for you my beloved.
Your love has captured me
I want to be your very own
For all the world
so that whoever can see or hear
that you alone have my heart.
Therefore love do not fail me.

She’d gotten through most of it before she found the entire thing printed as a poem, so she double-checked the rest quickly. No mention of setting it to music anywhere, and the pattern of capitalizing and punctuating seemed odd, but… that’s what she got.

Pinwheel had it right there, in her hooves: the thing that had fascinated Princess Celestia like nothing else she’d ever seen.

Hoofsteps, from across the room. Pinwheel snuffed out her lamp and watched through one of the bookcases. “I’m certain we have at least a few more old manuscripts in the secure wing of the library,” Celestia said. “You’re welcome to borrow them, especially for scholarly research.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Octavia replied. Those two? Still up, chatting through the night? And after Celestia had encouraged Pinwheel to leave…

“Here, let me show you where we keep them—” Celestia jumped when Pinwheel emerged from the shadows next to her. “Goodness, Pinwheel!” she blurted out, a hoof held to her racing heart. “You should have gone home hours ago.”

“Here,” Pinwheel mumbled, pushing a copy of the lyrics into Octavia’s hooves. All properly spelled and translated. One of the copies, anyway. She gazed up at Celestia. So different. Gracefully tall, next to her own unusually short stature. Flawless white coat to her dingy gray. A bright, powerful sun to her meager dust devil. And commanding everypony’s attention to her blending into the background. “I wanted to make sure I had the correct spelling before I left.”

Celestia looked at her as she might a disobedient foal. “It’s long past midnight. Get some rest.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Thank you very much,” Octavia chimed in. “I appreciate your hard work. This’ll help me a lot.”

Pinwheel nodded, her gaze locked on the floor. She left them alone in the dark, cavernous library.

---

Pinwheel nodded to the guards at the palace’s main gate. It had taken her all morning to deliver the confidential message Celestia had requested that she deliver to the blacksmiths’ guild, especially since the Princess had forbidden her from flying there. Something to do with showing respect to their predominantly earth-pony membership. She guessed that made sense.

When she returned to the Princess’s chambers, expecting to find them empty at this hour, she froze in the doorway to see Octavia packing up her instrument. “Thank you, Octavia,” Celestia said. “Another superb performance.”

“Princess?” Pinwheel said.

“Oh, hello, Pinwheel!” Celestia followed her gaze to Octavia and waved a hoof toward the door. “She came over early today, as she has an engagement tonight. You have an amazing talent,” she added to Octavia. And leaned over to give her a hug.

Hot… was it hot in here? Pinwheel’s cheeks burned, and she hung her mouth open.

“Pinwheel,” Celestia said, facing her again, “would you mind escorting Octavia out? She’s only been here a few times, so she probably doesn’t know her way around yet, and Bronze Patina has gone for afternoon drills.”

Pinwheel coughed on the words stuck in her throat. “Yes, Princess.”

“Oh, and please treat her to lunch. Stop by the disbursing office to get some money.” Celestia rummaged through her desk for something. Probably paperwork for her next meeting—Pinwheel knew exactly where it was, but Celestia didn’t ask.

“Yes, Princess.” Pinwheel strode through the corridors with her marching orders and, had she been feeling particularly brash today, might have actually marched to make her point. Not that Celestia would notice. Octavia trailed along behind her, judging from the hoofsteps that stayed with her, but she didn’t look back to check.

She stopped at a small barred window near the barracks and waved at the stallion on the other side. “Fifty bits, please.” Silently, he slid a bundle of coins through the opening, and then she signed the chit her gave her. “Bring back the balance and a receipt.” he said. Yes, she knew. He must be new around here.

“There’s an upscale cafe just outside the castle,” Pinwheel said. “We can get some good sandwiches there.” Octavia merely nodded. She’d seemed so talkative the last few nights. What had her all clammed up all of a sudden? She kept flicking her eyes at Pinwheel, but still wouldn’t say anything.

Even when they got to the restaurant, she just tapped the table twice with a hoof after Pinwheel had made her order. Two of the same, then. “I’ll have what she’s having,” Pinwheel supposed. Easier than asking questions or speaking at all. She clenched her jaw, and at some point realized one of the voices she heard around her was actually Octavia’s. But she hadn’t caught any of it.

Octavia switched places with her cello, sliding into the chair next to Pinwheel. And she stared, with an odd squint to her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“I hope you don’t mind my playing for the Princess. You of all ponies should know how much she needs to relax. I’ve only known her a short time, and it’s a clear as day to me,” Octavia said, laughing at her own little joke. “I’ve never had an audience who gets so lost in the music like she does, and I have to admit I love it.”

Pinwheel’s ears twitched at the invading word.

“I can learn so much from her about music, just from her experience, even if she hasn’t studied it,” Octavia continued. “It doesn’t matter—so much of it is in the feel, anyway.”

Pinwheel nodded and gulped down the last bite of her sandwich.

On her third try, Octavia apparently managed to coax out the words stuck in her throat. “You came looking for me. In secret. Having second thoughts?”

Pinwheel only stared hard at the tabletop.

Another few attempts to speak, and then Octavia opened her eyes wide. Her mouth formed into a small “o”. “I-I’m sorry if I took away too much of your time with her,” she said quietly.

Hot out here, too. Pinwheel’s cheeks burned even worse than in the castle. “Don’t worry about it.” She shoved herself back from the table and left a pile of coins behind. All of them. She didn’t even know how much the bill was. She didn’t care.

On her way back through the castle, Pinwheel ran through the words to that song in her head three times.

And she hadn’t gotten a receipt. Perfect. She probably still could, but she wasn’t going back there to ask for one. A great lunch, and out of pocket, too.

Perfect.

---

“Yes, Princess,” Pinwheel said for probably the hundredth time today. She’d gone through the motions of her job all morning and afternoon, but nothing more. Go over the schedule, arrange the day’s meals, help the Princess with her bath. “Yes, Princess,” she muttered yet another time before noticing she was alone. But not for long.

Celestia strolled in, levitated her towel onto the washroom’s doorknob, and flopped onto the bed. She raised her head and peered at Pinwheel with a strange little frown—it held something back. But then a knock at the door drew both of their gazes. “Come in!”

Bronze Patina let Octavia in, then closed the door behind her. Again. Ever since that first night, they’d settled into a schedule. Mondays and Thursdays, for three weeks now. “Please, get some rest, Pinwheel. You’ve been going nonstop all day long. I’ll see you in the morning.” And Celestia broke into a broad smile. “Say hello to Bronze Patina on the way out. I have no doubt he’s still lingering in the hall, despite my advice. Perhaps because a certain pegasus hasn’t left yet…”

Pinwheel cast her eyes down. She nodded and turned to leave, but she felt a hoof brush against her side—Octavia flicked her eyes toward Celestia and leaned over to whisper in Pinwheel’s ear. “It’s only music.” She added a smile and hunched up her shoulders like she had a juicy secret to share. “If I didn’t know better,” she continued under her breath, “I’d say you had an interest in me. If anypony happened to, I’d have to tell them that I have a coltfriend. A serious one. Not that it’s ever come up.”

Giving a slight nod, Octavia proceeded to the empty area near the window and set up her music stand. “What would you like to hear tonight, Your Highness?”

Where had Octavia gotten that idea? Pinwheel shook her head and walked into the hallway, the closed door muffling the sounds of a sonata. She couldn’t even begin to think where to start carving that up into something understandable.

“Hi there, Pinwheel!” Bronze Patina strode up from where he’d been leaning against the wall.

“You were supposed to go home,” she said.

“You, too.” He gave her the same smirk he must give all the new recruits he sent on a hazing prank to find the “Captain’s punch.” She’d heard all about that one. And they usually did find it… “I stay until Princess Celestia goes to sleep, whenever that ends up being.”

“But you have a family… I guess I never realized you’d gotten married.”

Bronze Patina waved her remark aside. “No, my brother, his wife, and their two foals.”

“Oh…”

“Say, would you like to grab a cup of coffee? Decaf, I guess, at this hour.” He rocked forward on his hooftips.

“No, I still have work to do. I might be here late.”

Bronze Patina pursed his lips and nodded. “Maybe another time.”

She didn’t answer. As he walked away, she slumped against the wall and sung quietly along. That same song again, every time… Maybe Bronze Patina should ask Octavia out. But nopony had, she’d said, not in a while, anyway. Nopony had…

---

Pinwheel enters Celestia’s chambers, as usual, to help her get ready for bed after a late formal dinner. Octavia showed up early today, and she’s already playing—she started before bathtime ended. Something from the Water Music, unless Pinwheel missed her guess. She got the joke, even with her limited knowledge of classical music, and Celestia had flashed an amused little grin when it started.

Pinwheel listens today. She really listens, like she hasn’t since the first few times. While she gives Celestia a good rub-down, brushing, and preening, she listens. As always, it ends with the same song. The song. It only has one verse, but she plays it through three times anyway. As always.

But it doesn’t end. Octavia improvises some kind of a segue, and Pinwheel can feel the chord leading into a fourth play-through. She shoots a curious glance at Octavia, who nods back, just a little. Pinwheel sang along all three times, in a breathy whisper that Celestia couldn’t have heard. But Octavia saw. She nods again as she holds up her bow to draw the opening note one final time. It took a few days, but Pinwheel figured it out.

And Pinwheel gives the words sound. They surge forth from her chest, the same way she’d heard Celestia give careful shape to every syllable, the meaning as much in the tone as the text. And what meaning! Pinwheel pours all she has into it, until nothing remains. When it ends, Octavia quietly packs up her cello and her stand. Nopony speaks.

Celestia’s eyes… her brow drawn together and her head hung low, like she might gaze at a pitiable widow. “Thank you,” she finally says. “That was beautiful. But you don’t have to sing that to me. In fact, you shouldn’t. Do you have any idea what you were saying?”

Pinwheel doesn’t answer. She wouldn’t dare lie, but she can’t make herself admit the truth. She didn’t expect this reaction…

“Pinwheel, that’s a love song.”

Still no answer. What would she possibly say?

The wrinkles on Celestia’s brow deepen, and she peers down at an injured child. “Do you understand why now? Why you shouldn’t do that?”

Her mind racing, Pinwheel goes numb. Her wings droop to the floor, and her throat binds up with all the directions it could go. “Do you fall in love?” she chokes out.

Celestia stares back, then pats the cushion next to her the way she always does when she wants to have a serious talk. Normally, Pinwheel would jump at the chance, but… she still settles in next to the Princess’s warmth. “Of course I do. But ponies are so intimidated by me that if I waited, none would ever approach me on their own. So over the centuries, I’ve learned to be proactive and pursue a relationship myself when I found a pony who caught my interest.”

Pinwheel’s eyes widen. “You have fallen in love before?”

“Oh, yes! Many times,” Celestia says with a wistful smile and a vigorous nod.

“Do you ask them out yourself?”

Celestia chuckles. “You make it sound so simple, but essentially, yes.”

Along the wall, Octavia sidles toward the door. She’s holding something back, but she only rolls a sparkling glance at Pinwheel. “I should go.”

“You’re not interrupting, and I haven’t said anything that you can’t hear,” Celestia says with a shrug. “Feel free to stay. I imagine this must be a subject that would pique your curiosity.”

“Still. I’ll see you Monday, Princess.” Without another word, she leaves and closes the door softly.

“I must thank you for finding her,” Celestia, her gaze fixed on the heavy oak door. “I’ve really enjoyed making a new friend.”

Pinwheel nods sharply and tugs the conversation back on course. “So if you don’t ask somepony, then I assume that means you have no interest?” Her heartbeat picks up.

“Yes, that’s right.” Pinwheel slumps into the cushion, leaving her heart up in her throat. But Celestia’s mouth still hangs open. “Mostly. There are times when I decide against it because it might cause political problems, it might do more harm than good to the pony in question, it might… Oh, I worry that they’d be starstruck, that they hadn’t fully considered the implications. Do you realize how incredibly safe a position it is to know that you’d never be the one who had to experience loss? And yet I fear that every one of them had a more difficult life because of their involvement with me. Sometimes, it’s for their sake that I say nothing.”

Her final word, then. Pinwheel sits in silence for several long minutes. In the end, though, she has a good friend. She supposes that will have to do. “Thank you for speaking with me so frankly, Princess. I hope I didn’t put you out.”

“Not at all. I don’t talk of these things often, but I have nothing to hide. I actually find it refreshing to get a chance once in a while.” Celestia pats her shoulder, and that touch… Pinwheel can live with that. If that’s the limit, she can live with it.

Pinwheel soaks up the silence, a different kind than only a minute ago. “I suppose I should say hello to Bronze Patina on my way out.”

“I think that would be wise.”

“He really does like me, it seems, and I never gave him much of a chance. It’d be a shame…”

Celestia studies her face, but her own remains neutral. “Yes. I’d like to think I’m pretty good at figuring out which ponies would do well together.”

“Yes, Princess,” Pinwheel says, the first time a smile has accompanied that phrase in over a week. She stands up, walks away from that warmth, and heads for the door, for the rest that will begin once she leaves. Tomorrow, she’ll return, and she’ll perform her duties as usual. The old usual, before she had to complicate things with…

For tonight, though, she might enjoy a cup of coffee with Bronze Patina before the shop closes. He really is sweet, and she’s worked with him long enough to know him as a pony of good character. She has thought of accepting his invitation before, at least until she’d mistaken Celestia’s comment about his family. And it certainly wouldn’t be fair to treat him like second prize.

Yes, even with Celestia pointing it out all the time, she’s noticed his attentions. And his goofy smile… At least she’s taken the bad news well.

Bad news.

Celestia always gets that look when delivering bad news, with the slight frown and pursed lips, whether she’s talking to a foreign dignitary or her own sister. Always. She did no such thing tonight.

Pinwheel looks back into the Princess’s chambers—Celestia lies there with her head on the cushion and her eyes closed. Then down the hall: Bronze Patina waves at her, that same goofy smile on his face, before turning the corner on another circuit of his patrol route. She’s known him for years and years, and—

Yes to one is no to the other. No turning back, no second chances. Tell him he’s not good enough or tell her she’s too risky, if Pinwheel even read her correctly. She sets her jaw and concentrates on putting one hoof in front of the other, step by step. She clears her throat.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but I’d love it if you’d join me for a late dessert.” Wide eyes and a gaping mouth greet her.

Then a nod and a big grin.