> Sick Little Ponies II:  The Multiseries Virus Vector
>  by Estee
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Luna:  Diplomacy's Other (Treatment) Option
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In soon-to-come retrospect, Luna would quickly locate the irony of it all:  namely, that she had already been experiencing some degree of false illness.  The nausea of anticipation.

It wasn't the Open Palace session, for the palace hosted the event for the Lunar shift once per moon.  Ordinary citizens stood in lines which wound about the marble halls, waiting for their chance to speak directly with a Princess -- generally in hopes of discovering exactly how a single word from royalty would magically solve all of their troubles.  Strictly speaking, Luna didn't always enjoy the meetings:  too much pettiness trotted into her throne room, and even when it temporarily stepped aside to let another have a turn -- so many such encounters were about personal problems, and she was fully aware that when it came to matters of heart, family, and love, the powers of a Princess were strictly limited.  But there were times when she did find solutions, and...  it was a chance for her subjects to know her a little better.  Perhaps a few would even begin to perceive her as a pony, as opposed to a source of endless intimidation or -- worse.

Still...  the encounters had been going on for hours.  The session had, in fact, stretched out well past its usual deadline.  By design.

She was tired.  Weary on the emotional level which arose when she once again realized that there were self-labeled sapients in the realm who could perceive no solution to their dilemmas other than royal intervention, because surely a Princess would be able to order their neighbor into nibbling the unruly lawn down to a proper height.  Somewhat achy, but that was probably to be expected after remaining upon her throne for such a long time.  The headache was easily put down to the sheer number of idiots she'd been forced to deal with --

-- and I should look at that as being what the cinema calls a 'sneak preview' --

-- and on a very real level, the thing she currently wanted second-most in the world was the comforting coolness of her own bedsheets.  The final barrier against the heat of an early summer Sun, as she slept and hoped to find a better world when Moon was raised once again.

Claiming the desire which occupied first place was presently seen as impossible.

"You look tired, Princess," Moonstone openly noted, and Nightwatch silently nodded.  (There were Guards in the room for all such sessions, and they generally remained in place for the same reason each visitor to the Open Palace meetings was carefully screened:  the sisters weren't stupid.)

"I suppose I would," Luna carefully failed to yawn.  "Given the -- temporal circumstances."

"Are you up for a few more?" Nightwatch asked, and black feathers rustled from nerves.  "Um.  Obviously that's your decision, but if you do want to stop, then it won't be any trouble to clear out the rest of the line.  Especially since we've gotten so much deeper into it than the usual."

"At this point," Luna told them, "meeting an additional number would be mandatory.  That is the plan, Nightwatch.  Bring the next to greet me."

The pegasus nodded, then nosed the Moonrise Gate open and stepped into the hallway. 

A few seconds passed.  The alicorn felt every last one of them dragging a trench through her fur.

Finally, the doors opened again, and a rather young, slender fuchsia earth pony mare stepped in.  Four half-knocking knees forced themselves to approach the base of the throne, and Luna carefully considered the effort involved.  It was actually rather impressive to see how the feat was being managed, especially when the joints were visibly trying to make the journey without the rest of the legs.

Pale green eyes slowly looked up at her.  Blinked a few times in an attempt to fight back weariness, stress, and a fully-unexpected source of illumination.

A very nervous "...Princess?" finally drifted up to her on a less than subtle current of sweat.

Which wasn't exactly the least common opener.  "Greetings, citizen," Luna steadily said.  (Her head swam.  She crossly instructed it to wait until she could reach her bath, along with ordering the skull to stand by for the whole of the body.)  "Your name?"

The mare thought about the query for a while.  No answers came to mind.

"Princess?" was repeated, only with double the anxiousness.  Both Guards watched with well-masked pity.

"Yes," a significant amount of weariness noted, followed by partially spreading oddly-sore wings as a touch of darkness briefly danced on the tip of her horn.  (The world's most skilled illusionist briefly considered creating a false animation as further proof, perhaps springing something on a tapestry into life -- but the mare was already unnerved.)  "The observation would be correct.  I have been identified.  However, as I am still somewhat less familiar with you, I once again inquire as to your name --"

"-- I can leave," the mare hastily said.  "Right now.  If that's okay."

"This is an Open Palace session," Luna softly told the nervous pony.  "All are welcome.  You have stood in line for hours, citizen, all under Moon.  Simply to speak with me.  Surely there must be some topic which you felt was worth the time.  Such as the offering of your name?"

"But it's not your time," the mare helplessly told her.  "Not any more.  So I should leave.  I can come back next moon --"

Royalty blinked.

"Not my time?" Luna asked.  "What, exactly, do you mean?"

The mare's head tilted to the left.  Luna looked.

There were heavy blackout curtains over the high-set windows.  There had also been an intense argument between two pegasi earlier in the session, and the anger-created wind had shifted the fabric.  

A beam of sunlight was in her throne room.

Luna regarded the illumination for a few seconds.  There was dust dancing in the beam, because dust always danced within sunlight.  She didn't find the presence of the dust offensive.  The palace was old, and any structure so ancient was difficult to clean completely.  You couldn't truly eliminate the dust of age, and you certainly couldn't keep it away from sunlight.  

Which meant that dust should be coming off her sister's fur at all times.  And dancing.

(She was allowed to have such thoughts.  Her sister was the oldest mare in the world.  The fact that Luna was a whole two years younger entitled her to endlessly mock the elder for that.)

"I am aware that it is morning," the alicorn wearily said.  "And that the session generally terminates somewhat before this.  I also possess a distinct recollection of having lowered Moon at some point.  However, this particular Open Palace was intended to proceed through a portion of Princess Celestia's hours, as my goal is to eventually be awake much deeper into the day.  You may stay --"

"-- you're trying to stay awake under Sun?" the stunned mare broke in.  "Why?"

The Guards silently, motionlessly watched.  Luna considered the question.

Well...  at least she's talking...

"There is a -- diplomatic function of sorts," she finally said.  "Which will take place a week from today.  Meeting certain -- personages from the other nations.  The full Diarchy shall be in attendance, and the gathering only ends when the last guest leaves.  And as it is a luncheon, there is a certain need to be conscious."

Even if sleeping is the better option.
The one where I don't have to put up with any of it.
...unless the stupid thing manifests in my dreams again, because of course I can't control my own nightscape and I wind up being bored to death while I'm asleep...

"So I am attempting to slowly -- and temporarily --  alter my schedule," Luna finished.  "All the better to go about in some degree of comfort under Sun --"

The mare blinked.

"-- you can be directly under Sun?"

Luna didn't shout.  She didn't raise her voice, nor did she allow that odd weariness to touch her voice.  It was a question which had been asked too many times.  "Yes," generally sufficed, although the followup "If you wish, I can stand within that stray beam and demonstrate how I do not catch fire," was new.

"A diplomatic luncheon," the mare thoughtfully considered.

"Correct."   

"That sounds exciting!"

It isn't.

Maybe if it was the ambassadors, it would be.  Official envoys from the other nations...  the ones who last in the position need to be social.  They understand how to interact.  Some of them even know how to laugh.

But I looked at the guest list.  I kept looking at it, just in case it transmuted into something else.  These are politicians. The ones who perceive Honesty as the enemy.  They won't believe any truth because they never speak it.  Most of them have utter faith in the power of lies, and a number keep trying to make their own falsehoods replace the sin of facts.  Rumormongers and fear spreaders, none of whom have ever found a tale they wouldn't believe as long as it cranks the terror all the higher.  Even when doing so scares themselves.  And I'm tired of those who'll put their trust in any lie.  Especially when it's about me.  

...although there are times when it's useful...

This is the first such luncheon I'll attend since my Return.  And they collectively demanded that it be held at noon, likely to catch me at what they decided was my weakest and most vulnerable.  And Tia is insisting that we have to be there together.

I don't want to go.

But it didn't matter.  There were ways in which a Princess had very little power, and even less in the way of choices.

"It is not," Luna simply said, and briefly regarded the dance of the dust again.  The patterns were almost hypnotic.  "Let that suffice.  So, as we are clearly speaking to each other -- may I gain the knowledge of your name --" 

Her snout twitched.
Ribs convulsed.
Wings, which generally didn't know what to do in such situations, tightly folded and thus got to enjoy the enhanced effect of the first muscle spasm.
Luna sneezed.  Half-clear droplets flew everywhere, dampening a few wall hangings.

Then she coughed.  Several times, to the point where her own left forehoof tried to rap on her sternum to make it stop.  The regalia got in the way.

Eventually, the attack eased.

"...my apologies," she tried to restart.  "So, as to continue with the previous inquiry --"

The Moonset Gate opened.
Then it closed.
And there was one Guard in the room.

Nightwatch's silver eyes blinked helplessly at Luna.  Moonstone was now only present as the echo of fast-moving hooves.

"...Princess?" asked a very worried earth pony mare.  "We can stop.  Maybe we should stop.  I think you need to stop.  Right now."

Oh no...

"We proceed," Luna firmly said, and tried not to think about whether the new rasp in her throat was diluting the royal tones.  "Your name?"

"...Candlelight," the mare finally admitted.  "...where did the other Guard go?"

"Out," Luna technically failed to lie.  "And your issue?"

She listened.  And as she did so, she wrapped her soul in armor of dread.  She knew where Moonstone was going.

Her Guards were present to protect her.  And in the name of that goal, Moonstone had galloped off to tattle.  Looking for a pony who had authority.

A day is never so bad that it can't get worse.
It's going to be one of the Bears...



 

An incident which had taken place slightly over two years into the Return had seen the long-defunct post of Royal Physician revived, and the post was now occupied by a pair of medical professionals.  But as Luna clearly had no need of the surgeon, her forced interaction was with the diagnostician.  

He was a middle aged unicorn with white fur, oddly-intense blue eyes, and a well-known tendency to get lost within the endless depths of his own imagination:  any member of the palace staff who encountered him in a frozen state was advised to steer around the body until the latest fantasy finally resolved.  

There was something attractive about his features, but -- not in a conventional way.  He sometimes came across as the product of a sculptor who had run low on material and decided to compensate with a mix of parts from previous first drafts:  a mouth which was somewhat too wide, a bit of a point at the end of the snout, and too many unicorns already presented the appearance of being 50% forehead:  the additional tenth wasn't helping.  The build was almost waifish, with what felt like a nearly-fatal lack of muscle tone.  He didn't appear to have the strength to hold up the weight of the palace's highest-piled mane, and Luna generally assumed that one of the many homemade tonics was producing an antigravity effect.

The voice was higher-pitched than the average stallion.  He was prone to episodes of stress, most of which were self-imposed.  The physician seemed to eat very little, and mostly lived off his nerves.

"This is the last sample," Doctor Vanilla Bear very probably lied.

"The truly final confiscation," Luna inquired with completely false patience, "or the 'final until the moment when you think of something else' version?"

There was a too-close rumble of thunder.  The section of the palace gardens which had been themed to the region of the doctor's medical school suffered through the fifth hit.

"...two more," Vanilla finally admitted.

"Do you know what this is?" Luna crossly checked, and shifted her position on the examination bed.  Her left wing was trying to tell her that the recently-confiscated pinion had been essential in some way.  It wasn't.  Keeping the electrical expression of her frustrations directed away from the doctor was, but he made it so hard...

"Very likely," he quickly assured her.  "I've been fairly certain about the diagnosis since you trotted in."

Seven more unseen dark clouds instantly coalesced over the gardens.

"Then if you have been 'fairly certain' this whole time," Luna forced out, "why is any of this necessary?"

"Because it's the same for any patient," he told her.  "I want to be completely certain.  A little more, Princess."

Two more samples were collected.  (It took a spark-filled glare to keep it from becoming three.)  He busied himself with potions and chemicals for a time, examining shaved fur and little vials of half-clear mucus.  Luna, whose link to Moon provided her with supernatural immunity to cold, irritably wondered if the examination bed was ever going to start warming up.  Maybe she needed to adjust the palace's climate system.  In summer.  

Of course, properly tweaking the weave of pegasus magic would mean leaving the offices.  The physicians had set up within the palace, all the better to guarantee patient privacy -- but the medical rooms were nowhere near the heart of the loom.

"Equufluenza," the physician finally pronounced.  And to Luna, the most amazing part was that he did so with a smile.

Luna blinked.

"I am familiar with the condition," she told him.  "It existed prior to my abeyance.  I also know there was very little which could be done about it.  Several nights spent in low-key misery --"

"-- but science and magic have advanced, Princess," Vanilla broke in.  He was still smiling.  "We can do things which weren't considered possible before you --" the pause was exceptionally awkward, and the mane swayed accordingly "-- had to...  step away..."

"Advances."

Which got her a rather enthused "Yes!"

"Such as with the cream?" the alicorn half-spat.  

Her body wasn't perfectly adapted to a mostly-nocturnal existence.  In particular, she was prone to conditions which could arise from a lack of sunlight exposure.  One of those was a stubborn, almost paranormally-itchy fungal infection of the skin.  Treatment required either obnoxious amounts of Sun time, having Tia effectively burn it off her, or the cream.

"...yes," the doctor reluctantly admitted.  "But...  well, it's the selenium base, Princess.  It's hard to keep it from stinking."

"And clearing out a room."

"...yes."

"Along with a portion of the palace's Lunar wing --"

"-- it still works," said an oddly defensive stallion.  "Eventually.  Not every solution is perfect, Princess.  You know that better than most.  But this --" the blue eyes were bright, as if lit from within "-- things change, Princess.  And that's not just medicine.  Species change.  They evolve."

Luna bitterly wondered whether professional politicians needed to be considered as their own species and, if so, just how close she would come to disproving evolution.  Or rather, demonstrating its potential to either select for the least viable traits or kick the entire process into reverse --

-- increasing irritation from all the time under Sun and then the stupid luncheon on top of it --

"And diseases can change," Vanilla added.  "We're starting to believe that each one may effectively be its own species.  And they do adapt, Princess:  we've seen that.  They might try to resist the cures we create.  Or they find themselves in a host which they normally couldn't affect, and -- mutate.  Change, until they're capable of causing illness again in the new body.  It's why the battle never completely ends, and --" his tone dropped "-- it's one of the reasons we're always worried about the two of you.  Because an alicorn body is like nothing else in the world, and if one of you --"

He stopped.
Blue eyes spontaneously unfocused.
His head tilted up, and slightly to the right.

After a few seconds, Luna carefully waved her left forehoof in front of his face.  There was no reaction.

She sighed.  Counted to herself, checked her own timing against the clock, and then forced her sore body off the examination bed.  This was clearly going to be one of the longer daydreams, and that made it a good time to stretch --

-- which was when she heard the knock at the outer door.

"Excuse me?" asked a slightly worried mare voice.  "Is anyone in there?  I have a delivery, and the door is locked..."

Ah.  Well, of course the doors were locked:  an alicorn patient required privacy.  But she saw no reason to turn the deliverypony away.  Getting this deep into the palace when you weren't a member of the staff required significant effort, multiple clearances, and a few checkpoints.  It would be unfair to put somepony through it twice in one day.

"I am coming," she told the unseen mare, and carefully trotted towards the door.  Sore muscles protested, and she sent her corona ahead to the lock.  Saving some space.

The door opened.  The pegasus on the other side stared.

"...you're Princess Luna."

It wasn't the least common observation.  "Yes," the alicorn patiently said, and regarded the delivery basket which had been balanced on the mare's back.  It seemed to be full of vials.

"...I..." considered lightly trembling feathers, "need to deliver these to the doctors..."

"I shall take custody," Luna offered.

"They have to be signed for," declared a fast-increasing amount of stress.  "By the doctors.  Or...  a ranking member of the palace staff..."

"I believe," the returned Princess said, "I would qualify for the latter.  Enter."  Perhaps Vanilla Bear would return to the real world in time to sign for the vials himself.  

The mare timidly followed her in, then paused to stare at the frozen stallion.  Luna's corona ignited again, carefully unloading the contents of the basket onto a nearby table.

"Do you have an inventory form?"

"...yes."

"A receipt document?"

"...yes."

"And a quill."

"...yes."

"I am aware that there are numerous quills in this office," Luna added.  "For some reason, any such implement which is kept here becomes incapable of producing a legible signature.  But perhaps the effect has yet to saturate yours.  Let us see.  Yes, this count looks correct.  I believe I can sign in safety.  So if you happen to see a bottle of ink about --"

The doctor's head dipped.  Blue eyes blinked.

"...and you'd need to find a tiebreaker before you knew whether the phlegm actually won..." he non-sequitured.

The pegasus, who wasn't within his current visual field, froze.  Luna, who was more or less used to it, waited for the rest.

"Anyway," Vanilla continued as if nothing had happened at all, "imagine if a disease found itself in an alicorn body for the first time!  Maybe it wouldn't affect you at all, even if it can target every other species of pony.  But it might also start to change.  Mutate, trying to become something which could make you ill.  Or you could wind up immune, but the disease might shift into something which could make somepony else sick.  It might even evolve to the point where it had the ability to affect someone.  There's a theory which says that just about anything could happen, and when we already know that you're ill --"

There was a gasp.
Wings flared.  Flapped.  The usual backblast of wind kicked the unsigned receipt form into an anatomy chart.  
They both heard the door slam.

Vanilla frowned.

"That was odd," the unicorn decided.  "Did something happen to the acoustics in here?  We usually don't get noises from outside -- wait."  He frowned at Luna.  "When did you get off the bed?"

She held back the sigh, climbed back into place.  "Do not concern yourself."  She'd have to have the signed paperwork sent back by palace courier.  "Continue with the current topic?"

"I was just about to say that it's highly unlikely," Vanilla told her.  "Your body isn't a hospitable place for a lot of diseases.  It's why you've never had Rhynorn's Flu, even when both of you can use unicorn magic."  He shrugged.  "Low-probability at at best.  Probably almost impossible.  But with diseases, you never know.  There are things you can catch, and this is one of them.  So we worry."

"And when it comes to -- advances?  For equufluenza?"  Which she'd had before, and should have recognized.  Multiple cycles of doing almost nothing but waiting until she felt better...

"One dose," Vanilla smiled.  "And it's over."

Dark eyes stared at the doctor.

"A single dose," Luna carefully said.  

"That's it."

"Side effects?"

"Does feeling better within ten minutes count?"

"...as that would be the intended central purpose," Luna considered, "no."

He was still smiling.  

"I'll just go prep the treatment," he told her.  "It won't take long.  The mix is standard.  And we already know it's safe for alicorns.  The records say Princess Celestia had to get a dose two centuries ago, and there weren't any problems.  There's just one minor bad part, but -- it's fast."

She immediately presumed it tasted horrible, which seemed to be medication's default prerogative.  The wonders of the modern age.  Which were generally rather less wondrous than advertised -- but there were times when the new world surprised her.  

Luna tried to settle onto the bed.  The ridiculously thin padding fought back.

The stallion moved out of sight.  She heard vials begin to clink.

Ten minutes.  As opposed to several nights.  Possibly more if I truly exerted myself.  Nights in which I'd just be sick --
-- wait.

Because she'd just thought of something.

I'm sick

She could hear liquids being poured.  A fizzing as they mixed.

I'm sick.

"I have just recalled a vital duty," Luna declared.  

The clinking stopped.  Most of the fizzing kept going.

"Princess," Vanilla said, and there was an odd tone to it.  It wasn't a query.  Technically, she wasn't even being addressed.  It was...  a lead-in.  The opener for the rest of the sentence.  Something which only two ponies in the world could say.  Or, far worse, do.

"I need to attend to my duties," the younger alicorn kept going.  "They are, as you are well-aware, rather vital."  The repetition was for emphasis.  "So we will have to continue this at another time.  Of my choosing.  But as my schedule is decidedly crowded, I will have to let you know when I am available --"

"-- Princess."  On the verge of doing it now, as the thin body fully straightened against the burden of its own minimal mass -- and another, far greater weight.

The post of Royal Physician came with certain responsibilities.  And in order to fulfill them, a number of powers had been granted.  None of them were magical, and the greatest remained within what most citizens would have seen as the realm of mysticism.  

Either doctor, in the name of keeping the Princesses healthy, could give the alicorns orders.

He could tell her to stay right where she was.  And she would have to do it.  There would be no choice.  In matters of medicine, Vanilla and Chocolate Bear (no relation and (somehow) unmarried) were the ultimate override.  

But Luna had been a Princess for nearly three centuries before abeyance.  A term which, in the deep past, had also equated to 'General'.  And before that...  a soldier of sorts, in the war to determine the nature of reality.  A proper soldier understood that a sensible order had to be obeyed, at least when it couldn't be creatively misinterpreted.

"Farewell!"

Her horn ignited.  Light flashed.

But for all intents and purposes, an order you'd never heard didn't exist.





The area used to train rookie Guards was located well beyond Canterlot proper, fairly far around the curve of the mountain.  Classes of fresh recruits would see it reserved for their exclusive use, especially since nopony else wanted to get close enough to hear the Sergeant yelling -- and with Emery Board, that safety margin required staying in Canterlot.  And even when there wasn't a session in progress, the locker rooms and equipment storage were restricted to palace staff.  

But the rest of the grounds...  there were ways in which they were open to the public.  Just about anypony could wander into the area, look at the mockup wooden combat dummies and try a few kicks.  Youths liked to pretend they were protecting the Princesses, and some of those who truly embraced the dream would find those visions of heroism reflected in brightly-manifesting marks.

Or you could just use the track.

There was a dark form galloping around the perimeter.  When measured against ponies, it had a land speed greater than that of all of but one.  The muscles moved, sweat glistened on fur because most of the strands had absorbed too much to take in any more, and she ran.  She occasionally moaned as she did so, winced frequently because her body wasn't currently meant for this and the movement came with some pain -- but she maintained the gallop.

Galloping under Sun, at a time -- she glanced up at the orb -- very close to noon.  Had she still been inflicted with the luncheon, she would be very close to her temporal goal...

Luna smiled.  Forced herself to accelerate, came around the curve, found a new section of the perimeter opening itself to her vision --

-- and there was a decidedly large white body standing in the observation area.  A place which was usually reserved for the Sergeant.  Luna assumed the slow, steady tapping of huge forehooves came along with the patch of ground.

Teleport?  Fly?  Run?

Instinctive queries when spotting many intruders, especially when it was an individual who had broken the protections Luna had placed around the training grounds -- and done so without triggering magical notice.  But this was somepony she loved.

It still brought up the question of how she'd been found.  Process of elimination, perhaps.

Luna, mindful that stopping too quickly could do its own damage, gradually slowed across the length of an additional circuit.  Most of the observer gave off the appearance of patient watching.  But the hoof taps accelerated.

The dark body came to a stop in front of the white one. Looked up.

"Sister," Luna greeted as sweat dripped off her sore form -- and followed by turning her head, just before the sneeze.  "My apologies, but I have no desire to place mucus onto -- or into -- your snout.  And there may be similar interruptions.  I hardly wish to pass this on to you --" 

"-- I was just reviewing the newspapers," Celestia quietly said.  "The commodities market didn't have too much of a dip."

Luna shook out her wings.  Sweat droplets flew off to the sides.

"Commodities?"

"I...  used to do everything I could not to show signs of illness in public, while you were -- gone," the elder softly told her.  "Because it was just me, and -- ponies were afraid of what might happen.  The world could panic."  The sigh was barely audible.  "Of course, in those days, by the time the news reached the other nations, I was usually better.  So it was a sort of rolling economic depression.  Moving outwards in a wave.  But with both of us here...  the markets don't react the same way."

"Ah," was the only reply Luna could initially muster.  And then the old guilt began to close in.  "I did not consider economic effects.  I offer apologies --"

"-- most of the articles," Celestia carefully cut her off, "are about the same subject.  But 'articles' may be going too far.  It's conjecture crystalized in ink.  Rumors written down so they can be pinned to the page for a while.  And then they leap from the text and embed themselves in the reader's brain."

"I have not been keeping up with the publications," Luna reluctantly admitted.  She'd been -- busy.  "If there is something significant which I missed --"

The huge right forehoof came up, gestured:  wait.  "Let's see if I can gallop this down for you."  Purple eyes narrowed.  "For starters, one of the more persistent rumors is that the Nightmare was actually a disease --"

"...what?"

"-- which is now potentially capable of spreading.  Then there's the one about how if you get us within five body lengths of somepony with metritis, then anypony we come into contact with after might just melt."  Far too patiently, "I know you didn't read that one.  I would have heard the laughter.  Or the lightning.  At any rate, the commonality seems to be the prospect of alicorn diseases.  Or diseases which change when inside an alicorn body.  There's been a lot of opinion columns on the subject.  The central qualification for getting published seems to be having no actual medical training."

Luna stood very still.  Several varieties of pain worked deeper in.

"...there was a delivery mare," she finally said.  "In the offices.  Vanilla Bear --"

"-- it doesn't matter," Celestia quietly broke in.  "This isn't the first time for that kind of wild conjecture.  It'll fade.  Again.  I'm not angry with you.  Not for that.  It's nothing you did, and it'll go away.  In a few weeks, at the most.  Since nopony's melting."  A little ruefully, "I'm speaking from experience."

"Another reason not to show illness in public," Luna expertly deduced.

"Yes."  The elder sighed.  "But that's not the real reason I came looking for you."

"Then...?" the younger carefully probed.

"It's been two days," Celestia reminded her.  "Two days in which you've been literally galloping around with equufluenza.  And flying, given that you personally decided to launch the last Wonderbolts show.  From the head of the formation.  You haven't been back to either of the Bears.  You're too busy for one dose and somehow, whenever either of them starts to get close to you, there's an alicorn who has to be somewhere else.  For that matter, your staff seems to be losing a lot of medical memos sent directly to you.  By order.  Yours.  And they are not happy about it.  Some of them are coming up on 'terrified', and others are already there."

The younger was silent.

"You've never been afraid of medicine, Luna -- well, some of the taste, and the untried stuff in our era -- everypony had reason to be nervous there.  But you were willing to take risks.  And even if that's somehow changed -- you know this disease.  We've both had it, before and after.  Even if you don't want the treatment for some reason, you know what your body needs.  Rest.  And I found you out at the training grounds, galloping at what was just about your full speed.  Straining yourself.  You're just making it worse.  And..."

The elder's eyes narrowed more.  Then they gave up and outright closed, as the white head dipped.

"...if you're trying to hurt yourself -- if this is --"

"-- it is not!" emerged as something perilously close to a bark.  "I simply have other considerations, ones I have no obligation to explain because it is my life, my health, and I am doing nothing to truly endanger either one --"

"-- if you don't rest, you'll just stay sick, and even if that somehow doesn't have any long-term effects, you'll have to start missing things --"

Luna smirked.

There was no way for the other mare to have seen it.  But they had been sisters for a long time, and some things could be felt by the soul.

Celestia's head shot up, and parted eyelids provided a window onto open fury.  The flowing, half-tangible mane twisted against itself, and a quasi-solid tail lashed.

"-- that's it!" the elder nearly shouted.  "That's what you're trying to do!  You're trying to get out of something -- it's the luncheon, isn't it?  You're doing everything you can to miss the luncheon!  Because I can't ask you to go if you're sick, you're dodging the Royal Physicians so they can't apply the fast treatment, and you're out here doing personal speed trials to make sure you stay sick!  So you won't recover in time to go!"

"That," Luna calmly said, "is a rather interesting theory.  Very well-formed.  Interestingly reasoned.  Only slightly insane.  I suggest passing it on to a party who has more interest in hearing it.  Perhaps if we mutually agree that the staff now requires a Royal Therapist --"

"-- you're playing games with your health to get out of a diplomatic meeting --"

"-- a forced short-term imprisonment with non-convicted criminals -- no, wait:  I misspoke.  One of the yaks did have that felony --"

"-- and you don't know what the consequences could be --"

"-- trading one kind of illness for a lesser form?" Luna proposed.  "Assuming we wish to give your 'theory' that much validity."

Celestia took a very, very deep breath.  Two crucial vocal chords aligned.

"LUNA INVICTUS --"

"-- I invented the Royal Voice, sister," Luna evenly interrupted.  "It does not work on me.  Good day to you.  And in the event that I do not recover fully in time for the luncheon, a good meal.  One spent with rather poor company."

Her horn ignited.  The dark corona flashed, and the younger alicorn vanished.





Anypony attempting to approach this particular occupied palace bedroom at three in the afternoon would have needed to get past seven Guards, multiple security checkpoints, and then defeat an incredible number of spells just to get the door open.  The two intruders were more or less trotting up.  The senior of the invaders was just that good and in the event that she hadn't been, nopony on the Lunar staff seemed to be in the mood to mount a challenge.

The entrance slowly opened.  A minor effect kept all of the noise down, while pushing the majority of unwelcome light to the hallway side.  There was just enough to make out shadows, and that very much included the rather large one on the bed.

It was a plain sort of bedroom.  The sheets and mattress were quality, but..  the designs were nothing special.  Ordinary shelves held books both new and ancient, and the desk had been a functional desk for so long that it was questionable as to whether it even knew how to become firewood.  A framed sketch, ancient and precious, held a prominent place of honor on one corner.  Both invaders left it alone.  

The resident liked to keep things on the cool side, even in winter.  Summer had the bedroom as a chill oasis within the palace, and magical immunity to cold meant the blankets were mostly present because the fabric was pleasant against fur.  The greatest initial risk imposed to those who entered was a shiver fit, and the thinner set of legs was trying not to vibrate.

A mare's body was curled up on the mattress:  something which was just possible to see.  Heavy blackout curtains denied the entrance of sunlight, while failing to do the same for the existence of Sun.  

She breathed.  Ribs shifted.  Feathers rustled.

A soft burst of warm yellow went off in the room.  The blankets were yanked off, and hit the wall at the same moment when a blue corona pressed a thin razor against fur.  Strands fell away, and a liquid-dipped cloth wiped the tiny patch of bare skin --

-- the resident had been born in the Discordian Era.  Survival required the ability to wake up in something of a hurry, and the changing conditions already had dark eyes starting to open as a near anti-light of fast-approaching violence began to climb up the horn.  The intruders had less than two seconds --

"-- OW!"

Luna's wings unfolded as all four legs pushed:  the combination left her awkwardly spinning in midair before almost managing a rotated landing on the mattress again.  Most of the half-collapse took place in a total lack of dignity, and also with a decidedly sore left buttock.

"HOW DARE YOU --"

The thin stallion pulled back slightly, moving closer to the huge white mare.  But he didn't run, and his corona simply put the expended needle away.

"I told you there was one bad part," Vanilla Bear said.  "I also said it was quick."

"I DID NOT DESIRE --"

"Stop."

The word hadn't come from the giant mare.  The elder wouldn't have been able to make it into an order.

Luna stopped.

She could see perfectly in the dark:  another one of the gifts granted by her Moon-link.  It made it easy to glare at their faces, although she wasn't sure whether they even knew.

"No games," were Celestia's first words.  "I know you don't want to be at the luncheon, Luna.  I'd rather not go, especially when I'm stuck with all of them until the last guest leaves.  But if I have to face it, I want you there with me."

"And neither of us," Vanilla added, "is willing to let you play games with your health.  Because ponies shouldn't try to stay sick.  This is a disease which is supposed to pass naturally in a few days, with rest.  To keep it in your body for a week, deliberately straining yourself...  nopony should take that risk.  Not even an alicorn.  Especially an alicorn.  And if you try to pull this kind of stunt again, I am going to have you confined to the offices until you heal.  No matter what that takes.  Do you understand?"

"It is my life," declared an angry mare, speaking from the heart of the insult which had given her so few choices about how that life could go.  "Mine --"

The elder didn't move.  The stallion ignored the sounds produced by the five simultaneous lightning strikes in the gardens.  He simply lunged.

Thin legs jumped.  Put him on the mattress, staring up at her.  The stupid mane nearly went into her snout, blocked some of her vision -- but there was enough left to truly see him.  To witness the utter fury in his expression, and recognize that he was confronting her without fear.

She was intimidating.  (There were times when she used it.  Others when she hated that state.)  Powerful.  Capable of destroying just about anypony in an instant.

He was a physician.
He'd seen worse.

"-- then let me keep you alive."

She blinked.

Wings refolded.  Multiple unseen clouds broke up.  

"...yes."

He jumped down.  Minimal body mass began to stomp its way out of the bedroom --

-- Vanilla Bear turned.

"You'll be better in a few minutes," he said.  "Or you would be, for a normal pony who'd come to me with a normal case.  But you deliberately strained yourself.  So you're on bed rest for the next two days.  And once I clear you, you're going to the luncheon.  Got it?"

"...understood."

He looked away from her.  Oriented on the door, and both mares watched him go.





The food was horrible.  Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to induce vomiting.  That kind of illness would have given Luna an excuse.

...and it might have helped if Tia had mentioned that we were doing this outdoors...

A noon summer Sun did its best to beat down upon her.  Having to work through several layers of an stupidly-elaborate dress didn't seem to be slowing it down much.  But at least the shaved patch was covered.

"...rigged court!" the convicted yak told her.  "All rigged.  Charges.  Judge.  Good judge would have broken charges."

As opposed to your just breaking the law.  The yak magical portfolio was for destruction -- but making a statue meant shattering a rock.  This one had just decided that the rights of others were chains.  And yet he was here.

Professional politicians.  Fear spreaders, rumormongers, those who saw one of the fundamental pony virtues as a grievous insult and Luna didn't think the yak would have appreciated Kindness either...

Celestia was over by the buffet table, reluctantly engaging in conversation with a delegate from one of the more restrictive zebra kraals.  Luna was briefly amazed that the attendee had lowered himself to speaking with a pony who could both spell and define 'freedom'.  Then again, given that he'd jumped onto a bench before speaking at all, maybe lowering wasn't in play.

The crowd milled around the dark alicorn.  Many of the attendees seemed to be keeping their distance.  Others watched her out of the corner of their eyes.

"All better now?" the yak abruptly asked.

"You refer to my recent illness," Luna said, and the politician nodded.  "Yes."  Despite her best efforts to turn her last pre-luncheon bath into an outright waterlogging.

"Wanted to check," the yak told her.

"Considerate of you --"

"-- funny stories in papers," he continued.  "Some worries.  But you look fine.  For pony."

Half-lidded eyes went over her again.  They didn't pause at the dress.  Fabric wasn't all that much fun to break.

Luna looked away from him and, for the first time, truly examined the crowd.

At least a dozen species -- although there were no minotaurs in attendance:  Mazein had a true democracy, and having every citizen as a voting part of the government had effectively eliminated politicians.  A Referee for the debates, and no more.  But beyond that...  criminals convicted, not yet caught, or stalling out their courts.  Ne'er-do-wells.  Those riding an endless power high.  All looking to take advantage of her at what they saw as her weakest --

-- except that few of them were getting too close.

All of the stories in the newspapers.
They believe no truth because they never speak it.
Utter faith in lies...

"My pardon," Luna said.  "I need to speak with my sibling for a moment."  

She made her way through the crowd, and found much of it parting before her.  Wove her way around benches, noticed that the edges of the outdoor eatery had partial walls and windows.  A decorative touch.  

Sun streamed through the colorful glass.  Dust particles, lent hues by the staining of the silicon, danced a pattern of drifting rainbows.

Eventually, the zebra decided to stop talking.  Luna waited until he'd jumped down and stalked away, then closed in.  Lowered her voice.

"This continues until the last guest leaves," she checked.  "Correct?"

The elder managed a very soft sigh.  "Yes.  By my estimation, we've got at least four hours to go."  Purple eyes surveyed the rest of the buffet table.  "Especially since we've got kudu here.  Kudu and food..."

Luna nodded.  "Sister...  are you enjoying yourself?"

Celestia made an expert show of not looking around.  No answer came.

The younger sibling allowed herself to drift away.  Noticed how many attendees were keeping their distance.  One held her breath as she passed:  another tried to filter oxygen through a tablecloth.

Faith in lies.
Valuing themselves above all else...

She stopped near one of the partial walls.  Looked at the sunlight, and the dust.

And to all outside appearances, that was all she initially did.  Because if the world's most skilled illusionist didn't want you to see that she'd just ignited her horn, then you weren't going to perceive anything.

Luna leaned into the irritation of direct noon sunlight.  Took a deep breath of the dust, because the best illusions benefited from a degree of reality.

Particulates swarmed into her lungs.  Tickled her snout.  

She turned to look at the luncheon gathering.  Counted the number she wished to associate with, contented herself with having the total at 'one', noticed just how many were still watching her, and -- 

-- sneezed.

Several hundred rather noticeable, somewhat liquid, and decidedly bright green-glowing globules of something flew out of her snout.  

The majority of them hit attendees.  

Green didn't quite soak into fur.  Luna could manage the look of it -- but doing so with so many subjects would have made the final result awkward, and nothing she did with unicorn illusion magic would have replicated the dampness.  

It didn't matter.  They were politicians.  Actually thinking about what had happened was right out.

Screams erupted from a dozen kinds of throats.  And then the professionals did what they felt their occupation was truly about.  They protected themselves.

There was movement, and there was a lot of it.  A quick flare of wings brought Luna above the majority.  

Things got a lot easier after two of the yaks took out the partial walls.





Tables had fallen.  Benches were in pieces.  Most of the pastries had been trampled, and the younger sibling instinctively prepared a line about this being the world's means of telling Tia to go on a diet.

The only other remaining sapient standing within the debris took a very, very deep breath.

"LUNA INVICTUS --"

"-- it was a boring luncheon anyway," the younger smirked.  "One which ends when the last guests leave, and that would appear to be us.  And quite frankly, I was already -- sick of it.  I am seldom awake at this hour and I have already thought of fifteen better things we could do together.  Shall we go?"

The elder fumed.  The air around the huge white mare burned with heat haze.  But there was nothing she could say, and the siblings finally fell into hoofstep next to each other.  Started towards one of the newly-created exits --

-- Celestia sneezed.

Luna looked up at her.

With open concern, "Tia?"

"...I swear it's from being in your bedroom," the elder muttered.  "You keep it too cold..."

"Ah.  Well.  Then before we go out on the town, I suppose our first stop should be the Doctors Bear.  If only to prevent any strictly accidental riots --"

"-- oh, shut up."
> Sunny:  The Plight Of The Ailicorn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One of the first thoughts to successfully pass through Sunny's moderately-fevered brain was that if there was any dubious benefit to having fallen ill, then it was probably going to be the accommodations.  To wit, it might be nice to have her own bedroom again.  For a little while.

She'd lived on her own for just about the whole of her adult life.  Her father had been...  gone.  She'd never really thought about roommates and given her prior reputation in the Bay, it was probably safe to say that anypony who proposed rooming with her was doing so as the lead-in to telling a future horror story for free drinks.  Something about what had happened to the last nonexistent pony who'd tried to take up quarters with the crazy mare.  And when it came to the other traditional method of getting somepony to move in...  her three-stage disaster with Hitch had never gotten that far, and nopony else had ever chanced expressing public interest:  for lack of details, see 'with the crazy mare'.  So she'd gotten used to the solo routine.  She cooked for herself, cleaned the same way, decorated to personal taste and if anypony had a complaint about the way Sunny lived, then she'd just file it with all of the other complaints regarding her existence. 

Sunny had become accustomed to living alone.  She'd even begun the slow, emotionally-wearying process of trying to reconcile its potential permanency.  

And then a unicorn had trotted into the Bay.

There had been a certain amount of fallout.  One of the more locally significant portions had placed four extra beds into the Brighthouse, and Sunny had joined her guests in what was now a common sleeping area.

It had taken some getting used to and in truth, she wasn't completely there yet.  She still wasn't sure how to deal with everypony else's habits, and it felt like you had to live with a quartet of mares for a long time before you truly recognized just how well the group could tie up any and all available bathrooms.  But simply trying to sleep while her ears were constantly picking up on four additional breathing patterns, hearing all the shifts of limbs plus the rustling of feathers and by the way, Izzy snored...

But on this day, Sunny woken up with a fever.  So all of the others were collectively bundling her off to the same room Pipp had used during the last bout with illness.  Giving her some isolation and privacy.

"We're sure it's just the flu?" Izzy asked from somewhere behind Sunny, and the horn came a little too close to prodding the earth pony's backside.

"It's not the first time," Sunny sighed.  When your first job included making deliveries -- doing so in every kind of weather which the ocean could kick at the Bay -- it was easy to get sick.  Especially in winter, and the cold had closed in again.  If she listened closely, she could hear near-arctic winds testing the Brighthouse windows.  "I know what the symptoms look like."  Felt like, for that matter.  "So I just need somepony to take a gallop down to the pharm --"

A little too urgently, with heavy overtones of worry, "But you're an alicorn!"

Sunny paused.  A lowered horn went into her left buttock.

"OW!"

"Sorry -- !"

"-- what does being an alicorn have to do with it?"

There were circumstances under which the next sound qualified as a horrible one.  It was a slow inhale which entered the lungs after being pulled in between teeth, and it was the audio cue which said Zipp was starting to think.

"Well," the older princess thoughtfully considered, "we all have our own diseases, right?  That's part of why the hospitals and emergency departments are having so much trouble when the ponies who moved need medical help.  I'm pretty sure pegasi are the only ones who get psittacosis.  You need wings for that.  So maybe alicorns get sick in ways other ponies don't."

"...um..." said Misty, because she was still trying to figure out how to live with the heir and when Zipp really got going, '...um...' was about the best anypony could hope for.

This was followed by a high-pitched, slightly annoyed (and very musical) whistle of frustration.  "Look, everypony," Pipp groaned, "we just need to get her into bed.  Nopony around here needs Round Two, and I'm saying that as the mare who got to go through Round One --"

"-- I can't get any alicorn diseases!" Sunny's heated neurons fired off.  

"Why?" Izzy curiously asked.  It was possible to hear the overlong mane swaying with concentration.

"Because a disease infects biology!  My wings aren't made of cells!  They aren't even solid!"  Which once again begged the question of how they were catching the air at all, but...  "They're made of magic!  Magic can't get sick!  And I'm an earth pony!"  Which, since the Second Age Of Unity had officially begun, seemed to come with some degree of enhanced stamina -- but that had already failed her.  "Biologically.  Earth ponies illnesses are the only kinds I could get!"  Although there were a lot of isolation wards in those overwhelmed hospitals, because nopony was entirely sure just how much could be passed on between species.

Nopony said anything for a moment.  Sixteen hooves continued their attempt to corral the last four towards the proper door.  And then a one-of-a-kind brain, which had a tendency to take every possibility to what its owner saw as the logical conclusion, came up with "Unless it's a magical disease."

The silence which temporarily followed represented one of the more typical reactions to an Izzy Moonbow pronouncement:  50% sincere attempt to figure out what she'd meant, 50% desperate concentration on a failed attempt to fend off the incoming headache.

"...what?" Zipp finally expressed for the group.

"If you can have wings made of light," Izzy innocently explained, "then why can't you have viruses made of magic?  Tiny bits of floating light, too small to see without help!  And they would only be able to infect magical things!"  She thought that over for a few extra seconds.  "Somepony needs to get a really good magnifying glass and check the sickroom.  We'll need to remove any suspicious sparkles."

The next level of skull pain registered behind Sunny's eyes, then settled in for a long stay.

"...um..." Misty technically contributed.

"We'll worry about that," Zipp firmly stated, "when we come to it.  Okay, I recognize this door.  Let's get her inside..."

They boosted her into the bed.  Some of this involved leverage and, with the two unicorns involved, more horn pokes.

"...okay," Sunny finally exhaled, and tried to settle in under the blankets.  "Thanks, everypony.  So if anypony has the chance, there's a few things I could really use right now."  Write up a list, send somepony to the pharmacy.  That would be easy enough.  "For starters --"

She glanced up to see who could be recruited.  An activist always wanted volunteers, but Sunny had a natural attraction to lost causes and was still trying to figure out the process of volunteering somepony else.  She was always sure they would see the benefit of working with her, just as soon as she got them lashed to the same tree.  And then they could defy the incoming bulldozers together --  

-- Izzy, Pipp, and Misty were gone.  Zipp was looking at her.

"I know what you need," the heir stated.

Sunny's hot-feeling eyes needed a little extra effort to manage the blink.

"You do?"

"I know I do!"

She's enthusiastic.  
She's almost never --

"Just wait right there!" Zipp declared.  "I'm going to bring in exactly what you need to feel better!"





Sunny hadn't really intended to look at the books.  There were more than thirty tomes on the rolling bookshelf and when you got many hardcovers together in one place, the ink started to collapse in on itself with a sort of literary gravity.  It pulled in attention.  And when the books were all from the same series, it also collapsed all hopes of actually getting through anything.  

She didn't want to look at the books.  But to look away from them would have meant looking at Zipp.

The older princess didn't smile much.  She found the vast majority of the world to be decidedly annoying.  The heir to a throne and future leader of a nation generally treated society as something which could go on without her.  On the other side of that door.  The one which never opened and, just to make the status a little more official, didn't actually have a lock.  Or hinges.  Actually, upon closer inspection, it looked a lot like a wall.

It was hard to engage Zipp's attention.  But if you did happen to find a subject of interest...  everything flipped.  She fixated.  Hyper-focused.  There was a possibility of pictures and if those turned up, having a spiderweb of red strings connecting the images was just about mandatory.  

If Zephyrina Storm could be made to actually enjoy something...

The heir was currently beaming, and it was utterly terrifying.  

"I know you're going to love Chevalia," Zipp decided in advance.  "Anypony with taste does."

Sunny looked at the books.  Then she tried properly counting them, and stopped when the sheer weight of the number began to drill into her skull.

"...where do I start?"

"Volume One, of course!" the pegasus guessed.  "But..."  She glanced at the rolling unit.  "Huh..."

"'Huh'?" Sunny's well-justified Fear Of Ten Thousand Pages inquired.  "What's 'Huh'?"  

"I just thought about it," Zipp announced.  "I could arrange everything in the ideal order for you!"

"One," Sunny tried, "is usually followed by two..."

"Bookmarks," the heir clarified.  "Color-coded.  When you reach a red one, you pull the right supplemental material volume and turn right to the matching tab.  That'll give you more than the footnotes ever could!"  Helpfully, "The books have their own footnotes.  But there's only so much the publisher can do with them."

"...oh."

"The font size is kind of a limit."

"...oh?"

"Three paragraphs is the max."  With open happiness, "Oh, and I could bring in some of the things I've been writing down!  For submission!"

"For..." was about as verbose as the looming literary terror wanted to be.  Besides, the room was already overflowing with words.  There might have barely been enough room to get a 'for' in.

"There's rumors that the author is going to start publishing volumes of fan material," Zipp gushed.  (Gushed.  Sunny hadn't even told the others about her father's notes on changelings and she desperately wanted to make sure she wasn't dealing with one.)  "Officially sanctioned!  So I've been writing down my own conjectures and figuring out how to submit them.  Under a false name."

"Why under --"

"-- I don't want to get published just because a princess wrote it."

"Oh."

"My deductions are solid enough on their own," Zipp added.  "They should be more than capable of speaking for themselves.  Especially after I've spent so much time working out what the author actually means.  As opposed to what she wrote.  So on the first round, I won't use my own name."

"The -- first --"

"I know my theories are good," the pegasus ecstatically declared.  "Better than anypony else's!  I used to dominate in the fan forums.  Under a false name.  But there's going to be hundreds of ponies sending in material, Sunny.  So no matter how brilliant my work is, it could get buried in the landslide.  First round is anonymous submission.  But if that doesn't get me through, then nopony can ignore a palace postmark!"

She kept beaming.  It was the bright expression of somepony who truly adored something and felt that everypony around her was sure to care about it just as much.  It was a very happy face, and it was also a face which hosted a list of future inquiries.  Because Zipp would want to know just how much Sunny had loved the books.  Specific chapters.  Paragraphs.  Individual lines.  If there was laughter, how long did it last?  One box of tissues for the tears or two?  And if the action had the reader on the edge of her bed, then which edge had it been?  Also, name twelve minor characters.  Just to see if you were paying attention.  And what did you think of the stunning foreshadowing which only came into true view around Cumulative Chapter #290?  

"I know you're going to love the originals, though," Zipp enthused.  "All of them!"

It was an expression of utter delight, and it came with the promise of an exacting quiz.

"Um," the earth pony said.

She looked at the books.
She wrenched her gaze away from the books.
She hadn't even reached Word One and she was deep into archive panic.

The intense, heartfelt, and somehow half-unnatural smile began to fade.

"It's really dry in here," Zipp noted.  "The air, I mean."

"Well, winter," Sunny sighed -- which was when her body decided to kick in a few coughs, as if for emphasis.  "We usually don't get humidity this low, not when the ocean's right there.  But when it's cold enough, most of it drops out of the air.  It happens."

Thoughtfully, "Humid air helps with the flu, doesn't it?"

"With congestion," Sunny agreed.  "And clogged throats."  Which was when her heated mind recognized that an opportunity had just arisen.  "Zipp, I'm going to need some things.  But when it comes to a humidifier, I'm pretty sure mine is in the --"

"-- I was thinking about your dad's notes."

Which immediately refocused the whole of Sunny's attention onto the most important topic in the world.

"...you were?"

"I think about them a lot," Zipp solemnly stated.  "Like how he said the ancient pegasi were capable of weather control."

The faintest alarm bell began to go off at the back of Sunny's brain and found the sound blocked by the towering image of a lost stallion.

"I know," Sunny sighed.  "And it's been seasons since the beacon originally went off.  I'm starting to realize, Zipp -- some things may come back slowly.  It's possible that others might never return at all.  I know at least one of the old rules changed, because the old earth ponies could never grow plants this fast --"

"-- humidity," Zipp openly observed, "would be part of weather control.  And that's how the ancients set up climates in buildings, right?  This much here, a little less over there, maybe get a sauna going somewhere..."

"There were magic-powered spas," said a rather confused mare.  "But we all had to find substitutions through science.  So the last time I saw my unit, it was under --"

"-- I'm going to try something," the heir decided, and did so with the air of a pony whose usual authority had exactly one living override.  Who was a rather long way off.

"What?"

Zipp's wings unfolded to their full span.

Then they began to flap.





Hitch paused as he trotted in, then glanced around the room.  The small cart being towed behind him wasn't quite ready for the stop, and the base nearly jammed his pasterns.

"How are you feeling?" the sheriff asked his ex.

"...tired."

"Is that a new bed?"

"Yes," Sunny sighed.

"Bad mattress?"

"Not really," the mare wearily decided.  "Not if you like waterbeds."

The streaked forehead creased.  "Waterbed..."

"It held the rain very well," Sunny announced.  "Ever after we got everything else dried out.  And we couldn't exactly stick it outside in the sunlight during winter, so it wound up in the basement.  And then we swapped beds.  Because a waterbed is seasickness, but a waterlogged one is just cold and squishy"  She thought it over.  "Maybe the damage wouldn't have been so bad if Zipp hadn't prioritized for getting the books to safety."

Local law enforcement, which had just heard a bale-ton of evidence being nosed over, looked confused.

"...never mind," Sunny said, and then sneezed.  "What's in the cart?  I can't see past your tail."

The sheriff tentatively nodded, then unfastened himself from the harness and stepped again.  

"Boswellia," Hitch announced as Sunny carefully looked over the little cutting, which had been tenderly placed and propped up in the pot.  "The others told me what happened.  I thought you'd want something to chew for any joint pain."

"Thank you!"  And she meant it.  A few of the fernlike leaves would help.  "But what I really need is for somepony to gallop to the pharm --"

Sunny squinted.  Looked more closely at the tiny planting.

"Hitch?"

"Present and on medical duty, ma'am," the stallion announced with a smile.

"Isn't boswellia usually a tree?"  And this wasn't even a bonsai.  "That looks like you stuck the end of a branch in soil.  It's not going to last long."  Not that she was complaining about having gotten some form of medicine, but there weren't all that many leaves and the source was going to die.

He nodded.  "It's all Copia would let me have.  One cutting."

Oh.  Copia.  It had probably taken the flash of a badge to get that much out of the Bay's premier greenhouse miser.  "Better than nothing," Sunny weakly smiled.  "I'll take all the help I can get.  Starting with, if you don't need to go back to the station house right away, a bottle of --"

"-- you know," Hitch thoughtfully cut her off with that calendar smile, "I don't think Copia's really gotten the idea of the Second Age yet."

"What do you mean?"

The stallion grinned.

"You're the one always telling me to consider this as a possible solution..." he reminded her.

The soil in the pot began to glow green.





Pipp, who'd balanced the steaming serving tray on her back, carefully stepped around several stray pieces of shed bark.  

"Where did all of this come from?"

It was a slow process.  Some of them took up more floor space than she did.

"Hitch," Sunny wearily announced from the center of her half-curl on the bed.

Her snout twitched.  There was a familiar scent in the room...

"...Hitch," the younger princess repeated, and then looked around a little more.   "And the giant leaf impressions in the wall?"

"Also Hitch."

The pegasus looked up.

"So I'm guessing the ceiling damage --"

"-- I still told him to use magic more than he does," Sunny sighed.  "For practice.  Because it turns out that when it comes to turning a branch cutting into a bonsai tree, he doesn't have a lot of fine control."  Paused.  "Also, there's firewood stacked up behind the Brighthouse.  For the rest of the winter."

The royal slowly nodded.  Most of the tiara failed to shift.

"Can you give me a little help?" the princess asked.  "It's hard to take something off my own back."

Sunny nodded, uncurled, then scooted over to the edge of the mattress.  She looked down at the little royal, then inhaled deeply of the teapot's unfurling steam.

"...spearmint," she finally said, because it took that long for the scent molecules to filter past the congestion.  "With -- honey?"

"And a little lemon," Pipp confirmed.  "Drink it."

Sunny took a mug, carefully sipped.  Some of the soreness in her throat began to ease.

"Is this a pegasus medicine blend?"  Because Pipp hadn't asked for anything like this when she'd been sick.

The royal shook her head.  "It's for professional singers."

Sunny blinked.  Set the mug down on the endtable.

"You should drink all of it," Pipp said.  "I made sure it was balanced --"

"-- it's for what?"

"Singers," Pipp repeated.  "You've got a cough and a sore throat.  It's going to put a lot of strain on your voice."

Three visitors.

I had to get out of bed to help Zipp clean up after the downpour, and then she left.

Then I overworked getting the tree broken up with Hitch.  And he left.  Pretty much all of the leaves wound up outside, and what was left in here was too wrecked to chew.

This is my third visitor and I haven't had one pill.  Or had somepony fetch the humidifier. Go to the pharmacy.  Anything.

She brought tea.

A little desperately, "Pipp --"

The little princess shook her head.  Sunny stopped.

"I looked it up after I got better the last time," Pipp told her.  "Refreshing my memory on the mix."  And now there was a faint note of sadness in the younger mare's words.  "I'm not a doctor, Sunny.  I don't want to try guessing at how to treat an earth pony.  And I didn't go back to the Heights for the Number Twelve soup with extra carrots, because...  that's not from your mom.  It doesn't have the same associations.  It would just be soup."

I went all the way to the palace for her soup.

I could have gone to a Zephyr Heights pharmacy.  Found the palace physician, whispered the situation to him, and filled a few scrips.  Because the species-specific medicines are still being distributed, and a lot of doctors are trying to improvise.    

I'm an earth pony and we're in the Bay.  Everything I need is right here.

And she made spearmint tea.

Which didn't change the fact that Pipp had done something for her.  Pipp didn't always do a lot around the Brighthouse.  Requesting basic cleaning usually got a look which suggested that the royal was still waiting for the servants to show up and in their unexplained absence, Sunny could go get a mop.

Pipp's head tilted slightly to the right.  But she kept looking at Sunny.  

"I know what happened with Zipp," she said.  "A little, anyway.  Zipp usually goes for detail on somepony else's mistakes.  And Hitch didn't exactly help your mood.  You already look grumpy."  The tilt increased.  "You've got a great grump face.  Very memeable.  I thought about using it for some base images."

"Very --"

"-- I don't deal well with being sick," Pipp solemnly understated.  "I'm guessing you're worse.  I hardly ever see you when you're not doing something.  Maybe that comes from being an activist.  Staying busy.  And I have the salon, songs, keeping all of my social media accounts going, publicity and interviews and staying connected with the fans -- but you're just busy.  So we've got that in common, I guess.  And I don't want to be like Zipp.  I don't play around with magic --"  

-- and stopped, because nopony could have missed the expression of 120% Supersaturated Dubious which had just taken over Sunny's features.  

"I don't play with pegasus magic," Pipp firmly said.  "I tried something in the palace before Mom sent us here, and that was it.  Mixing mane tonics and hoof creams shouldn't count.  All that stuff is from plants, and anything which happens is the plant's fault.  Besides, a plant should know how to be a plant.  It's an expert.  The way I'm an expert on acoustics and sound design and viewcount manipulation and getting memes started and..."  

Her head came back to center.  Leaf-green eyes dipped.

"...not much else," the princess slowly finished.  "But I know about singing, Sunny.  How to take care of my voice, my throat.  And I don't want to mess with things I don't understand.  But I know what Zipp did, and now I know what Hitch tried.  So I made you some tea.  So it would be a little easier for you to speak.  And at some point...  you might need to scream."

And with that, Pipp turned and left.

Eventually, Sunny finished the tea blend.  Then she got off the bed and finished cleaning up the bark.  

It made her muscles ache all the more.  But Hitch had needed to return to the station house, and nopony else was doing it.





"I was thinking," was a typical way for Izzy to innocently present the start for her own round of horror

Sunny instinctively checked the availability of all exits.  This included the windows.  The sickroom was fairly high up on the Brighthouse's redesign, but that just gave her more time to manifest the wings before hitting the ground.  

"...about what?"  Because it usually didn't help to know what Izzy had been thinking about, excepting the potential for having fear lend any listeners some extra speed.

"You're an alicorn!  And you're ill."  The large mare's head tilted slightly to the left, and the long curtain of mane shifted.  "'Ill' is also known as 'ailing'.  So right now, you're an ailicorn!"

Silence filled the room, then shoved aside a few volumes on the returned rolling bookshelf and began to browse through the closest index.

"Is it because I explained the joke?" the unicorn politely asked.  "I didn't think anypony would get it unless I explained it.  Even if I said the new word really carefully.  Because everypony here has an accent and that means they don't hear words right.  Why is there a different bed in here?  Did something happen to the old one?"

Sunny carefully possessed her soul in patience, which didn't do a lot for the fast-intensifying headache.

"You get quiet when you're sick," Izzy decided.  "Maybe it's the fever."  The unicorn came closer to the bed, reared up on her hind legs and briefly pressed her chin against Sunny's forehead before dropping down again.  "You're just too hot.  We need to bring that down."

Finally.  "Izzy, I need some paper.  I've got to write this down for you, because I don't want you trying to spell it -- actually, does Bridlewood have them?"  Because she didn't know anything about the forest's medical capabilities.  "Tell me if you recognize any of these names.  Phenylbutazone.  Flunixin meglumine --"

Izzy's eyes had just forfeited a certain degree of focus.  The one-of-a-kind brain was lost in thought.

"-- I think," the crafter considered, "those are supposed to be medical sorts of names."  (Sunny urgently, desperately nodded.)  "Bridlewood's a little weird about medicine."

Words which, upon reaching a fevered mind, temporarily distracted it.  "How?"

"Well, it's just about all plants, for starters," Izzy said, and sniffed the air.  "Is it like that for earth ponies?  Because that would explain why it smells like boswellia in here.  With hints of spearmint tea.  Anyway, we don't really have the manufacturing for most of the drugs.  So it's mostly about what kinds of plants you can eat to feel better.  Only most unicorns used to put that off for as long as they could, because being sick makes you feel miserable and the more miserable you are, the more you would fit into Bridlewood."

"...oh."

"The latest thing is leeches."

"...what?"

"I'm not sure it works," Izzy placidly added.  "They suck out blood, right?  And I don't think there's any blood in a horn."  Thoughtfully, "I'd rather not break mine to find out.  But that's what ponies are doing."

"THEY'RE --"

"-- not breaking horns, because that's stupid."  No change of volume, not a single visible sign that she'd picked up on the half-shout.  "They're putting leeches on the tips of their horns.  And saying that the bad vibes are being sucked out."

Superstitious.
Remember that they're just about all superstitious.  
It doesn't have to make sense.  If it did, they wouldn't be doing it.
...don't picture a leech on a horn.
...don't...
...I think I need a bucket...

"I guess nopony tried it before because they wanted all the bad vibes they could get," the crafter offhoofedly mentioned.  "But, Sunny...  when I see everything Maretime Bay has, and Zephyr Heights...  I know we're behind on medicine."  A little sadly, "We were so wrapped up in being sad about not having magic that nopony really tried science instead.  And now we're mostly buying everypony else's.  Because what we come up with is leeches.  On horns."

"Science is important," was what Sunny's strained sanity decided to treat as the takeaway.  "Especially in medicine."  Back to the important part.  "Paper.  Pen.  Or just borrow a phone and tap in the list --" stopped, recognized that she was talking to the Brighthouse's resident techbane, and belatedly remembered that Izzy's last attempt to create a schedule calendar had somehow wiped out the phone's operating system.  "-- paper.  I think you spell the first one as p-h-e --"

"But we have to bring your fever down," said an extremely worried and caring unicorn, because she had good intentions.  

"-- n-y-l --"

Izzy always had good intentions.  

Almost placidly, "I thought of a way to do that."

It was the consequences which didn't care.

Sunny stopped again.

"...you did?"

The crafter possessed a singular sort of mind.  She thought of things.  Some of them worked.  Others provided cause for reviewing the acceleration math on a just-cleared-the-broken-window falling body.  Oh, and then there was that one which had basically overturned the world...

"It's not tea," Izzy casually mentioned.  "I tried tea with Pipp.  And it was all good tea, because we have a lot of plants and you get used to steeping them.  Getting into hot water is sort of what Bridlewood is all about, only on the social level.  But I couldn't get magic to work with the tea.  And maybe that's because of my mark.  I don't have one for medicine.  My personal magic is about fixing things.  Not ponies."  

All right, considered the part of Sunny's brain which wasn't in a position to see it coming:  the rest was lining up on the window.  So at least that means she isn't going to try casting anything --

"But that's my personal magic," the unicorn happily added.  "I don't need that to get your temperature down!  I just have to do what we can all do!"

Two brain hemispheres set off their respective alarms.  The panic signals collided in the corpus callosum and tumbled into the cerebellum, which twitched.

A frantic "Izzy --" was as far as Sunny got.

The crafter took a deep breath.

"Frosty shivers!  Frosty shivers!  Frosty shivers!  Frosty shivers --"





Sunny had been thinking about shields.

She'd first read about them in her father's notebook, and then she'd seen the real thing in the fight against Opaline.  A shield meant turning hornlight into something solid.  The energy became a barrier.  Protection, a quick way to imprison ponies...

"Your forehead is sparking," Misty timidly said as she visibly forced each leg forward.  "Why?"

...a great way to block the door...

"Just thinking," Sunny sighed, and forced the sparks to stop.  

"And the floor's really cold."

"Izzy put the chipped-out slabs of ice next to the firewood."

"...sorry?" was, perhaps, Misty's most natural vocalization.

"Forget it.  Misty, how well do you know the Bay now?  And I mean for finding things.  There's a building over on Pharlap Street.  And you have to go there, because they don't deliver no matter how many times you call and beg.  I'm up to seven.  It's got a sign with a mortar and pestle hanging over the door --" and realized she was dealing with Misty.  "Do you know what a mortar is?"

But the shy mare didn't seem to be listening.

"I was thinking," Misty shyly said.  "About medicine, and alicorns getting sick.  Treatments.  I think...  I might be able to do something."  Hastily, "Maybe.  If that's okay with you.  And I'll go slow, and I'll concentrate really hard..."

Sunny blinked.  Her eyelids felt hot.

"You know how to use magic in medicine?"  Nopony had worked out --

"Sort of," Misty timidly quasi-decided.  "I mean...  I was on the receiving end a few times."

"Receiving..."  She knew what Misty meant.  Whom.  But her fevered brain refused to create the image.  Not when it came to something which meant caring for another.

"Opaline," the unicorn softly said, and her eyes briefly closed as forehooves scraped at the cold floor.  "I was a filly when she found me, Sunny.  Kids get sick.  And there wasn't anypony else.  So she mixed things for me.  She wasn't always happy about it.  She'd tell me to stop being so weak.  But...  she always made the medicine.  Every time.  And made sure it was by my bed when I needed it."

Sunny went silent.  It was rare for Misty to talk about the true alicorn of her own accord, and every bit of pain which finally drifted to the surface was something they could finally try to deal with.  That was one very good reason to just let Misty talk.

The other was shock.

Opaline.
Looking after somepony.

She still couldn't picture it.

"And she got sick," Misty added.  Mint-hued eyes went down.  "Not very often, and she'd always deny it.  ...almost.  Once, she said it was the natural expectation from having to be around an inferior all the time.  To feel ill.  But then she'd give me a recipe book, and -- I'd have to do the mixing for her."

Natural-born biological alicorns can become ill.

There was a point in the near-past when that would have truly mattered.  It could have meant everything.  But...  not any more.

"I saw some of the spells she used," Misty went on, mostly looking at the floor.  "I don't know how to cast them.  I could make my hornlight form the same shapes, but I don't know if it would do anything.  But I remember the plant mixes.  The ones where she didn't use any magic at all.  I can't really go back to the castle to check the recipes, because it'll take so long and most of the books were probably destroyed.  But I'm sure on what every plant looked like, because I saw the samples in the storage cupboards all the time.  I think I know something which can help you.  I...  want to help..."  

The forehooves scraped again.  The mare tried to find the strength to lift her head against the weight of curls and self-imposed expectations, then failed.

And Sunny thought.

Her second instinct was to just send the unicorn to the pharmacy.  But...  it was hard for Misty to put herself forward.  The mare had been taught that she was weak in all things.  Forever inferior, perpetually existing a heartbeat away from total failure.  It made her reluctant to attempt more than the most basic activities, because a deep-planted seed of poison knew it would all go wrong.

For Misty to openly offer assistance was a sign of possible healing.  It was precious.  Sunny couldn't just shove that aside.

"Go around to the greenhouses and get the plants you need," Sunny gently said.  "Try not to use Copia's unless you can't avoid it.  I'll be right here."

Misty forced her head to raise.  Gave Sunny a weak smile, and slowly left the room.





"Um," Misty said.

Sunny didn't move.

"I...  think I know what happened."

Individual strands of fur were moving.  Twisting against each other, as was most of the hair in her mane and tail.  The prismatic streaks felt as if they were trying to make a break for it.

"I was supposed to get lesser celandine," the unicorn timidly tried. "Which -- looks almost exactly like...  buttercups?"

The fur moved on its own.  Hairs shifted.  But she would not let her muscles twitch.  

"...and that's why you're having the reaction."

There was no way she was going to give in to the itching.

"I think it'll pass in a couple of hours," Misty openly hoped.  "The...  splotchy look in your fur might last longer.  I don't know how long.  I..."

She looked simultaneously miserable and apologetic.  A talent which was both natural and honed.

"...I know you're mad," Misty finally whispered.

"I'm not," Sunny did her best to lie.

"You look mad," the unicorn just barely managed.  "Or grumpy.  Pipp said I'd know when you were grumpy.  And that it was -- very memeable."

Silence.

"...what's a meme?"





The sickroom was cold.  There were still some splinters on the floor, and in most of the ceiling.  There was a scent of boswellia bark, peppermint, old books, dampness, and some of the things Sunny had needed a bucket for.

Nopony had come in to see her for over an hour.  There had been no pills.  No humidifier.  She would have settled for the Number Twelve soup, carrots or no.  The pharmacy was no longer answering her calls.

The earth pony mare slowly, achingly forced herself out from under the blankets, waited two minutes until the shiver fit finally eased, and then began her search.





Sunny heard them before she saw them.  They had gathered near the source of magic, perhaps to see if it could somehow enchant their words into making sense.  And in that, they had failed.

"Maybe if we put her right next to the beacon?" Zipp proposed.  "She could try to sort of soak up the magic, right?"

"It's the same amount everypony receives," Misty timidly tried to counter.  "...isn't it?"

A unique mind considered the problem.

"Maybe we could try to blast her with the lights!"

It was just possible to hear three mares blinking.

"...Izzy," Pipp carefully said, "what do you think that would do?"

"I'm not sure," the crafter admitted.  "But her dad's notes said blasting people with magic used to do a lot of things.  To make them better.  So if it gets any worse, we could just try hitting her with the rainbow!"

Sunny was starting to feel more hot than before.

"And how," Zipp's open disbelief asked, "would we even know it was working?"

This was beyond feverish.

"She'd tell us that she felt better!  If she was still conscious."  Izzy thought it over a little more.  "Does her flu hurt her sense of taste?  Because that might come back first.  She'd tell us that she was tasting the rainbow!"

"...taste a rainbow..." Misty just barely voiced.

She felt as if she was on the verge of boiling...

"You don't know she wouldn't!"

Sunny crossed the last bit of ramp, reached the proper level.  Four heads turned at the sound of hooves.

"Sunny!"
"You shouldn't be out of bed --"
"-- you're sweating, I can see your fur getting darker -- or is that the blotches?"
"...I can go back to the castle and look for --"
"I JUST WANTED SOMEPONY TO MAKE A PHARMACY GALLOP FOR ME!"

Her four originally-unrequested roommates, with expressions and hues distorted by the radiance of the beacon, abruptly, collectively, and completely shut up.

"CAN'T WE JUST USE SCIENCE?" shouted the last of Sunny's strength, channeled into her voice and reaching eight laid-back ears courtesy of a very effective throat tonic.  "Good old reliable, proven medicine!  Why is everypony trying magic and mixes and the silliest things imaginable?  Why can't I just get a pill?  WHY ARE YOU All ACTING LIKE THIS --"

"...because we're scared," Misty whispered.

Thirty decibels met ninety, and won.

Sunny's mouth closed.

"We're worried about you," Zipp firmly said.  "We need you."

"They're trying everything they can," Pipp softly sighed.  "Even when that means new things."

"...anything which happens with you," Misty forced out, "is new.  I knew how Opaline got sick.  It's not the same with you.  You're so different.  Even your dad's notes don't have anything on anypony like you.  It's scary.  And when you're scared all the time, you do dumb things...  I'm sorry..."

"We care," Izzy's unique mind vocalized.  "We're your friends..."

Slowly, carefully, Sunny sat down.  Part of it was from the shock.  The rest was because her hind legs didn't seem to be interested in doing much of anything else.

She closed her eyes.  Thought about being sick in a big building, hearing the echoes of her coughs bouncing off the walls.

Again.
Alone.

She wasn't looking at them.  Closed eyes had fresh tears forcing their way out from between the lids, and also meant she only knew of their approach through hearing the slow, timid taps of sixteen hooves.

Then she felt the cool nuzzles against her hot skin.

Eventually, she nuzzled back.





"I'll get this list to the pharmacy," Zipp said as Pipp placed the paper in the older sibling's left saddlebag.  "I'll be back as soon as I have it filled."

"I can make sure your dosages are timed," Izzy offered.  "I'm used to timing things!  Glue drying, paint..."

"Music," Pipp suggested.  "Something soft.  Relaxing.  To take your mind off being sick."

"The Chevalia books can do it," protested the older sibling.  "That's the best distraction from illness --"

"-- music."

Sunny, back in the slow-warming bed, gratefully nodded to all of it.  And then she looked at Misty, whose hooves were once again scraping at the floor.

"...I could try to make dinner," Misty shyly proposed.  "You shouldn't have to cook.  I remember a lot of recipes.  Things from her cookbooks, which nopony else knows.  I just have to get the right ingredients..."

"Please," the earth pony gently said.





Books were, in fact, a decently good distraction from illness.  Sunny tried to focus all of her concentration on the pages, and found that it helped to take her mind off the newest symptoms.  And while she was sure that Zipp would have preferred for her to be prepping for the quiz, the Chevalia tomes had to wait.  Sunny was much more interested in reading the freshly-borrowed mycology text, because that was what had just taught her that the culinary delight which was the King Bolete mushroom looked almost exactly like the wonder of gastrointestinal distress represented by the Lilac version.  And the more she concentrated on that, the longer she could potentially hope to hold the vomit down until she reached the toilet trench.

It had to be the toilet trench.  Every bucket and sink had been collectively used.  But there was going to be something of a wait.  Having five mares in a house could really tie up all of the bathrooms.

Misty had sobbed her way through most of it:  something which had only initially stopped when the circle of nuzzles had gathered around the unicorn.  And they had to keep going back to her.  Telling her that mistakes were made, because nopony was perfect and you couldn't ask them to be.  But then they were fixed, and never repeated.

It was okay.  It really was.  

Illness passed.  Friendships continued.

They were all learning.