Blood of the Mountain

I had been invited to visit the duchess’ manor, after several letters requesting permission to come and visit the castle. I was a historian by trade, and recording, compiling, and transcribing details about all aspects of Equestrian history was a goal I worked tirelessly to achieve. It was in pursuit of this I came upon an old map detailing the location of a castle high in the Smokey Mountains. To my delight, I found out after further research that the castle still stood! I immediately set out to investigate the castle, only to find my travels arrested in the village at the foot of the mountain.
The townsfolk were unwilling to assist me in my climb up the side of the cliffs, and refused to tell me how far up the castle was. They knew of it, that much they admitted, but they certainly weren’t going to help a mere visitor up to it. It was important to them. Sacred, it seemed, though they never said as such. They saw me as a threat to something and so I resigned myself to staying in an inn as I tried to find somepony willing to lead me up to it.
It was during this stay that I received a letter, addressed to me directly, from a ‘Duchess Lepidoptera’. She claimed to be the current resident of the castle, and wished for me to please leave her in peace. She wanted nothing more than to live out her days alone, and unmolested by the outside world.
I made note of her existence, but I couldn’t leave without some sketches or photos of the castle. Nopony would believe me if I just said a castle existed up on the sheer cliff faces of the Smokey Mountain without some photo evidence to back it up. I was determined to get that proof before I left.

On the first day I attempted to scale the mountain myself. Being a unicorn, I thought I could use my telekinesis to help me set the pitons and pull myself up. That idea was out the window as soon as I got to the cliff faces. There had been pitons set up before by the natives, but the path was not obvious, and there were many choices. I made it to the first one only to find a dead end, and turned back. The cliffs were much too dangerous for a lone pony who was unfamiliar with the area. I didn’t want to get lost or stuck without somepony to get help, so that option was out.
The second day was one I was not proud of, but I attempted to bribe the locals to help me up, but they wouldn’t take my bits. One of the younger ponies, who looked young enough to have just had his cuteceneara seemed interested, but his mother yelled at him, and that option was gone as well. Whoever Lepidoptera was, she commanded great respect among those she looked after.
Day three I gave up trying to find my way up to the castle and proceeded to just ask questions about it, hopefully finding out the history of the castle. Nopony was willing to talk about it. They hadn’t been to recalcitrant to my interest before, and I had to assume that the duchess had ordered them to avoid talking about it.
Day four was the first day I sent a letter to the duchess. I had no idea if any of the ponies would take it to her, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out that they were indeed willing to do so. I had only to suppose that they found a letter much more harmless than taking an actual pony up there. It worked out for me, though, so I wouldn’t complain.

There was no response the first day, so I asked if I might send another one, and they agreed. I didn’t know how far up the mountain the castle was, but it couldn’t have been very far at all if they were able to make the trip so frivolously.
The ponies here, I feel I should say, were very sure-hoofed. They reminded me a lot of goats, with their willingness to just clamber over sheer cliff walls, and with such ease. I wondered at the age of the village, and the inhabitants therein if they had adapted so much to their environment.
Despite my interest in them, they were still unwilling to talk to me about much that pertained to the village itself. They were willing to talk about the Smokey Mountains, which was a treat, but most of what they told me could already be found in several other history texts. Not to mention the fact that the mountains weren’t very exciting. They were beautiful, but not exciting. No cave systems to speak of, and just cold and windy year-round. Nothing significant was gleaned from my queries. The castle was the big thing, as well as the village, and I wasn’t going to leave until I ran out of funds, or had an audience with the duchess.
So the third day, I sent yet another letter.
The fourth day, another one.
The fifth day, a letter and a picture of the village to illustrate what I wanted to do. I only wanted to record information about the castle, the village, and the mountains themselves, and nothing more. I did not want an interview, though if she was willing to give me her family information, it would be recorded for posterity. History would remember her existence if she would but let me in to see, record, and photograph.

It was then with much surprise that I got a response to my fifth query. It was brief, and terse, but it was a response! It wasn’t even a very good response. It simply said: “I appreciate your interest. Please wait for further correspondence. Your room and board will be provided free of charge until a decision is made.”
It didn’t commit to anything, but the mere fact that I had received a response that didn’t say no was cause for celebration in my book. I was also being provided for while I waited on the duchess to make a final decision, and I appreciated that. She seemed a very conscientious yet protective sort.
So I waited. I did not badger her with more letters, as doing so after she was poised to decide the future of my expedition seemed tacky, but I must admit I found the experience of waiting tiresome and quite frustrating. Beyond the daily grind which I was not part of, and climbing up and down the mountain, there did not seem to be a lot to do for an outsider such as myself.
There was some farming going on in small plots spaced out over the mountain, but I wasn’t welcome to help in any of it, and they weren’t willing to tell me how they managed to make things grow at this altitude. I contented myself with taking photographs of their work, their homes, and their multitude of ropes and pulleys attached to the mountainside for transport while I awaited a response.
That only lasted me about a single day, however, and the rest of the time I had to content myself with talking with the few ponies who were willing to communicate with me, and whiling away the hours in the local pub as I wrote my experiences in my journal.

Several days after I had received the response from the duchess, I was informed I could come up for a visit. It was the best news I had received in a long while, and I immediately picked up my saddlebags and put them on, eager to make my way up to the castle.
It was much to my chagrin that I was informed we would not be leaving until just before nightfall. Having had the wind blown out of my sails, I put my saddlebags down and waited, writing about the news in my journal.
When the time finally came, I was getting quite eager, and it was plain from the way I paced back and forth in the pub. The Pegasus who came to fetch me for the trip glowered at me with a look that told me I was merely tolerated and not welcome, and even then only because of the word of their duchess.
Thankfully such an extreme attitude was not the most common one. I had been welcomed by most of the townsfolk with a distant but kind manner. As long as I did not ask many questions about the duchess or the castle, they had usually been forthcoming with their answers.
As I gazed upon my guide, a strange thought struck me: This was one of the few pegasi that I had seen during my stay here. Most of the town was populated by earth ponies, and only one unicorn that I had seen thus far. This pony counted as one of less than ten pegasi that lived at this altitude, which was quite strange. With such heights, it would have been more beneficial for a Pegasus pony to live up here than earth ponies, but the population suggested the opposite had happened. I resolved to ask the duchess about it at some point, but followed the Pegasus out the door.

She, I discovered, was one of the duchess’ hoofmaidens. She had personally been sent down to gather me and lead me to the castle. I took another look at her to try to determine some form of marking of identifier, because I would not have guessed that she had come directly from the duchess herself. I was beginning to feel the slightest bit more important, though I didn’t know if I should.
The Pegasus brought me to the climbing ropes and bade me begin my ascent. She would lead me along the path to the castle to ensure I didn’t get lost. If, however, I were to fall, I was not her responsibility.
“So, you’ll just let me drop, then?” I asked.
“Indeed. If you cannot complete such a simple task as climbing to the castle, you are not worth the effort to allow you the visit,” she said.
“Charmed, I’m sure. Fair enough.” I began my ascent, moving as one of the ponies from the village had shown me, keeping the rope securely tied to the belt they had convinced me to buy. I probably could have rented one, but I felt they could use the patronage, and I had bits to spare.
The ascent was harrowing, and moving up the sheer cliff face had me light-headed and frightened in places, such as whenever the wind blew stronger. It was one of the more frightening things I had done in my life, but I did not, as you might have surmised, fall to my death. As night fell, I could see the edge of what I assumed was the castle ahead of me, carved directly into the rocky face of the mountain’s stone. The imposing visage stared out at the craggy cliffs of the Smokey Mountains, nestled inside a circle of rocky spines that hid it from the rest of Equestria.

The final few meters were a struggle, and true to her word, the Pegasus did not help me climb at all. In fact, it almost seemed like she was hoping I would slip and fall, saving her the trouble of introducing me to the duchess.
“Well, I was hoping you would have fallen. That would have saved me the trouble of introducing you to the duchess,” she said as I pulled myself up onto the stone plaza.
“Well, I am sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “Thank you for your guidance, nonetheless.”
She landed next to me and pulled me to my hooves, not giving me a chance to rest. “Come with me. Night has fallen and Duchess Lepidoptera will not be kept waiting.”
I obliged her and followed her up to the massive stone doors. Beside them stood several columns that appeared to be flush with the mountain itself, looking to have been carved out of the stone surrounding the castle itself. There were friezes and statues placed nearby, gargoyles that looked down upon the valley and the lake below, nestled inside the mountainous maw beneath us.
The double doors, much to my surprise, did not actually open, and we stepped inside a smaller door set within the wall next to it. I supposed they did not want to make a scene for a guest they had not anticipated nor wanted. My guide said nothing, so I made nothing of it and looked around at the inside of the castle I had just entered.
The inside, much like the castle’s front face, was covered in carvings. The walls had an impressive array of styles, and there were paintings on the ceilings. The dim light inside did not give me much to see by, but the colours appeared to favour crimson, with almost all of the paintings awash in red of one shade or another.

I was led to a larger room with a red carpet going down the center of the room. There were two lines of ponies, all pegasi, on either side of the carpet, and all of their eyes were trained on me. There was a seat in the middle on a raised dais beyond them where the carpet ended, and I assumed that was where the duchess would be seated.
The mare who had led me up the mountain and into the room left my side to join the ranks of ponies on either side of the red carpet, leaving me to stand in the center by myself. I shifted under the penetrating gaze of the ponies as I waited for whatever was supposed to happen.
While waiting, I noticed that all of the ponies were mares, and all of them were looking at me with undisguised disdain. If the duchess was also a mare, that put me in the distinctly uncomfortable position of being the sole stallion here in the castle. The pegasi part I understood, but the fact that they were all mares was unusual. The royal sisters in Canterlot employed stallions as guards and serving staff in almost equal measure to mares, so this was quite a difference. I just assumed I hadn’t seen any stallions, and that made me feel a bit better.
The waiting went on for some time, with me shifting on my hooves as I waited for some form of order, request, or for the duchess to show up. It was maybe ten minutes later that I heard the slow clopping of hooves on stone coming from somewhere behind the throne. It was common ancient royalty to make their subjects wait if they were displeased, so I was not unfamiliar with the tactic, but I had never been on the receiving end. It was quite effective.

The hoofsteps approached the dais, but I couldn’t see much of anything in the gloom. They turned the corner and… nothing.
They just stopped.
The hoofsteps should have continued with me seeing the duchess or whoever it was come around from behind the throne, so where had they gone? Were they taunting me now? I frowned.
“Welcome to my castle, historian,” a voice next to my ear said.
I had been tense from the unrelenting stares of the pegasi mares, and the promise of seeing the duchess come around the corner. Needless to say, I jumped away from the voice and stumbled on the carpet.
“Oh my. You’re quite skittish aren’t you?” she said.
I collected myself and tried to put on a more polite front after my first impression had been so poor. I bowed while I took a better look at my host.
She was tall. About half a head taller than myself. That made her much taller than your average mare, and she was slim, which gave the impression that she was taller again than first glance would imply. She wore a blouse that was buttoned up to her chin, and a simple set of slacks, with fine shoes adorning her hooves that glimmered in the torchlight. Her features were severe and angular, and her eyes were sharp, much like the rest of the mares I had seen in the room. Her fur was the white of sun-bleached bone, and her mane an inky black, pouring down her withers to the bottom of her barrel. Her tail was likewise long, so much that I could see it dragon the floor behind her.
The most striking feature, however, was when I noticed that she lacked both wings, and a horn. The Duchess Lepidoptera, ruler of the Smokey Mountains, one might venture, and overseer of the small town of Bluestone sitting at the hoof of the mountains, was an earth pony!

“Welcome to the Fluttering Court, Historian,” the Duchess said. “You asked to see it, and I have granted you this request. You have one week, beginning upon the morrow in which you will be given free reign to come and go around the castle as you please. You may sleep wherever you wish, eat whatever you wish, and do whatever you wish.”
She was giving me free reign to do whatever I wanted inside her castle? This was odd and seemed too good to be true. “That’s… incredibly generous, and a little strange, if I may say so. What is it you want in return?”
“What do I want?” She turned and walked down the red carpet to the throne at the far end. “I want nothing but that you should record the existence of my castle and share the information with Equestrian citizens far and away from these mountains.”
“That’s all?” I asked.
“That is all,” she said. “You are simply not permitted to leave the castle until the week is up. Any attempts to do so will receive harsh punishment. Are these terms acceptable?” She seated herself in the throne, one foreleg crossed in front of the other.
“Punishment? For leaving? I hadn’t planned on leaving until my documentation is done. I’m not sure how quickly I could get it done either, seeing as I don’t know the extent of the castle,” I said.
“You must choose. No matter what you see, no matter what you hear, you must stay in the castle for the full week, but in exchange you will have my word that you can go anywhere and do anything you wish,” the Duchess said. “You may even destroy the castle if you please and no retribution will be visited upon you, though I doubt I need worry about that.”

“Celestia no! Your castle is a treasure of Equestrian history!” I said.
“Then you accept the agreement?” The Duchess asked.
“I suppose I do, yes,” I said.
“Then our contract is sealed. Enjoy your stay, Historian.” She hissed the last words with undisguised venom, and a hint of mockery. It made me cringe.
The Duchess stood up from her throne and stepped behind it, disappearing from view. The pegasi mares surrounding her spread their wings in unison and took off, flapping about the ceiling of the castle, dodging in and out among the columns as they fluttered about, disappearing one by one into various doors, windows, holes, and other parts of the castle until I was once more alone.
I reflected on the Duchess and the exchange we had shared. She had promised me free reign of her castle and the freedom to do whatever I wanted while I was there. I was promised food, room, and board, and diplomatic immunity no matter what, which sounded good by itself, but I had to wonder what the ulterior motive might be.
I resolved not to let it deter me from my original goal in coming here, which was to document the existence of the castle, it’s ruler, and the surrounding countryside. The first order of business, however, was the find a place to set up my base of operations. Sketches, a small darkroom for developing photos, and also someplace to sleep.
I looked around and picked a direction. I chose one that did not lead in the same direction as the Duchess herself. I would be lying if I said she didn’t intimidate me. I was considered a large stallion, but she towered over me, and her features were quite unusual. The whole effect was a pony that seemed almost otherworldly. Sort of like the fey creatures found in Earth Pony culture that performed miracles and laid curses.

Maybe sometime later during the week I was to be here I would find the gumption to go see where she lived. If I was going to make a full record of the place I would have to, but I did not relish the thought of speaking with her or even seeing her at the moment.
I passed into one of the other halls, and trotted down the corridor, looking to see what could be seen hidden amongst the columns and statues that filled the path. There were benches interspersed down the hall that looked as though they had seen a lot of use over the years, and the statues had their heads worn smooth and polished, as though something, or somepony, had perched on them for extended periods of time. The thought of the many pegasi in the castle sitting on top of the statues was an amusing thought, but I did not laugh. The looks they had given me before made the thought much less humorous than it otherwise might have been.
As I traveled down the hall I peered into each of the rooms I passed, making note of what lie where. I located the ballroom, the music hall, and a room that was maybe the dining hall. The table in the latter room was laden with a spread of delicious-looking food, but I refrained from indulging just yet. Once I was settled, then I could make use of the food provided.
I found a suite of rooms eventually that had pre-made beds, and I decided I would make use of the one closest to the hallways. I wanted to be able to come and go quicker rather than slower, and being close to the main path I expected to be taking would make things a lot more convenient for my research. I just hoped I wasn’t putting out any of the pegasi. Despite being told it was okay, I didn’t want to be rude.

I settled myself in with the meager belongings I had brought up with me. I also made a mental note to ask if one of the pegasi might be willing to fetch the rest of my luggage from the inn down in Bluestone. According to the agreement we had made I wasn’t allowed to leave, so I had to take that at face value. She must have meant it, or she wouldn’t have said it. It was a curious request, but if it meant I was going to be allowed to document a formerly unknown castle, it would be worth it.
I unpacked the clothing and other necessities, and left only my camera, sketchbook, and notebook inside. I would begin by making a rudimentary map of the place during my first day, which would allow me to find my way later on during the week. I could also make notes about certain rooms and the sort of décor that they had, along with the carvings and murals inside them. If I could get the rest of my luggage I could start trying to catalogue some of them in my textbooks as I went along. I reminded myself once again to ask about that.
I confirmed my pockets were filled with all I would need, and stepped out the door. The long hallway was still empty, but if the population of the castle was all the pegasi at the throne room, I wasn’t really expecting to see many of them as I wandered down the halls. They could all fly as well, so they had that advantage over me. They could be glaring at me from the rafters and I wouldn’t even know it.
Just to alleviate my own curiosity, but partially to admire the ceiling, I looked up. There was fortunately not a Pegasus glaring at me from the rafters, but I did see that there was more of that red artwork. It was far and above the most popular colour here in the castle. I made a mental note to ask if the colour had some significance to the Duchess’ family line.

I made my way back to the entrance, then pulled out my sketchbook. I made a rudimentary sketch of the size of the entrance, including a few notes about the statues and the large double-doors at the entrance, then started making my way down the hallway directly to the left. I tried to keep a good idea of the size of my steps, and tried to measure as well while I walked, but I was not a cartographer, and I was expecting it to get off-kilter soon enough.
In this manner I measured out the halls branching off from the entrance. I made notes of rooms, where they were, how many, and tried to match their size in my sketch, but when I had completed the floor, it had become a very messy drawing. The only section I had not mapped was the large door behind the throne that I had seen the Duchess pass through. I still felt very uncomfortable entering some areas despite her assurance that it was acceptable, so I avoided it for now, and contented myself with sitting down in the dining room for some of the food that had been laid out.
It felt odd, being in a stranger’s house and just helping myself to their food, but I had spent several hours walking along empty hallways, and I was feeling hungry. I had seen no other ponies, and I was told it was okay for me to eat whatever I wanted, so I made myself comfortable in a chair and tucked in.
The food, despite having sat out for so long, was delicious, and tasted quite fresh. The vegetables were crisp, the lettuce wasn’t limp, and the bread didn’t taste or feel stale. They must have replaced it as the day went on, because none of this tasted or looked like it had been sitting in the middle of a table for hours.

Once I had finished eating I looked around the table to see if there was a place my dirty dishes should go, but I was unable to find one. I hadn’t yet found the kitchen, so I couldn’t take them there myself, so I decided they would probably clean up after me if they were willing to let me have the run of the place. It went against my every polite habit, but I left my dirty dishes on the table, neatly stacked, and hoped I was right.
Having finished my meal, though, I determined that I would find the kitchen, as I did not know where it was, and it would be useful to know in case I wanted to further make use of their allowances toward me and have a midnight snack. I set off to one of the many stairwells I had located on the first floor and climbed the spiraling steps up to the next floor of the castle.
This floor was even more hollow than the last, with fewer statues lining the walls, instead opting for murals and tapestries. The murals were of all sorts, showing art styles of time periods that I recognized, with one, to my amazement, that marked a turning point in pony artwork. It may have just been done in that style, but the fact that it was in here at all was shocking. It made me curious as to how old the castle truly was. It seemed to be a strange mix of artwork and architecture, that I believed it had not all been constructed at once, but over a series of decades or possibly even centuries, depending.
Although she hadn’t mentioned it, I was curious if the Duchess would be willing to have an audience with me during the time I was here. If I could ask her some questions, I might be able to eke out some information about the origin of her family line and possibly the castle. She still scared me a bit though.

I spent the night walking and exploring, and after a couple more hours of walking among the myriad halls I was exhausted enough to retire to the room I had picked for myself. I looked over the sketches and notes I had made, happy with the progress of the first night, and lay down in the large bed. It was plush, and I sank into it with ease. It wasn’t long at all before I fell asleep, my eyes heavy from exhaustion and the excitement of the day.

The dreams I had were strange and terrible. Flashing images of pegasi flitted in and out of my head, presenting me with disturbing imagery. Ponies with wings like those one might find on a bat, screeching as they flew through the halls of the castle. I dreamed of a nightmarish landscape of blood, where the Duchess Lepidoptera ruled with fear and the promise of worse punishments to come. I dreamed of the colour red suffusing the bed I slept in, seeping deep into the sheets and the mattress, becoming sticky with the fresh colour.

I awoke, and I did not know the time, nor how long I had slept, though I felt exhausted. I attempted to go back to sleep with no success. My head was pounding and I felt weak, but I forced myself up and out of the bed, as laying there with no further rest did not feel productive, nor like it would lead me to any further information about the castle. I did not wish to waste my week of freedom in the castle, and I intended to document as much as possible, sick or no. I resolved to go find myself a fresh glass of water, and maybe get a light breakfast, hoping that it would help clear my head and give me a better start.

Pulling myself out of bed, I had trouble finding my hooves and stumbled as they hit the floor. I heard the door open and looked to see one of the pegasi looking at me with a much calmer look than I had experienced yesterday.
“Are you well, Historian?” she asked.
“I am… light-headed, but I am well, yes. I merely wish to find a small breakfast if I may. Will breakfast be in the same room as the meal last night?” I said.
“Yes, that is correct,” she said.
“Ah, then I’ll find my way there shortly. Let me just wash my face and I’ll be out presently,” I said.
She nodded and left the room. It was nice to know that they were concerned for my well-being, even if I was an unwelcome intrusion in their home. They likely didn’t want the unwelcome attention my death might bring. Though, on that note, would anyone know I had passed?
The question hung in my mind as I packed my saddlebags once more and walked over to the dining room I had entered last night. Much to my delight, it was once again covered with all manner of foods, and all other thoughts were driven from my head to wonder how and where they got their supplies.
I began eating a hearty breakfast of oats and fruit, when I was interrupted, or perhaps joined, by the Duchess herself. She pushed open the door with little pomp or circumstance, and walked calmly to the seat directly next to me. She said nothing, but sat down and stared at me as I ate. The silence became too uncomfortable to bear, so I tried to start some conversation.
“Would… you care to join me for breakfast? Perhaps have a glass of cider?” I asked.

“I do not drink cider,” she said.
She said nothing else, and the uncomfortable silence fell once again. I stole the occasional glance at her, admiring her mane and her piercing eyes, which looked at me with the sort of disdain one uses to watch an insect crawl across the kitchen floor. It felt like I was being spied upon, though she made no secret of how she was studying me.
“What have you to say about my castle?” She asked.
I chewed for a moment, then swallowed before responding. “It’s quite something. I actually wanted to ask you—“
“My castle has been the product of centuries of development. It has been home to a tyrant, a despot, a saint, and a beast, and it bears the scars these tenants left in it upon their disappearance,” she said. “What think you of this now?”
“I… can see how that might have been the case. It is ancient, I can tell that much, and the artwork reflects these changes. Do you know why nopony talks about it? Why it was missing from public record?” I asked.
She stood, and made her way to the door. “Not all questions will be answered at once. Enjoy your first day here, Historian. I hope you sleep deeply.”
I watched her go, standing to give a bow as she left the room, and her eyes almost looked mirthful. When she was gone I finished my breakfast, feeling recharged and with a much clearer head now that I had properly eaten.
I collected my saddlebags and made my way out of the room and back upstairs to where I had left off my mapping. I intended to continue where I had stopped until I had sketched out the entire map, but when I arrived where I had wanted to be, I noticed that the artwork had changed.

Where before, the art I had seen depicted crude sketches of ponies engaged in bloody but glorious battles, now the victors in the battle appeared to be enjoying themselves, reveling in the blood spilling everywhere with gleeful, almost excited expressions. The red colours adorning the paintings were more vibrant than they had been the night before, with a much richer luster than had previously been seen. The reds almost seemed to have leapt off the wall and now covered several statues that had been blank stone before.
Curious, I moved closer to the wall to investigate this change in the art. Was I mistaken? Was I seeing things? Had the Duchess’ conversation this morning during breakfast changed how I felt about her castle and the artwork within it? I hadn’t really assumed the castle had a spotless history, but maybe her words had stirred some form of resentment.
A sudden squealing sound, as of metal scraping against metal came from down the hall, and I turned toward the sound. It stopped, but as I kept my ears pricked it came again, louder and longer. I moved away from the artwork on the walls and traveled down the hall, following the sound as it came again, screeching throughout the castle. I followed it down to a set of spiral stairs, and I stepped down them, curiosity leading me down, down, and still further down into the bowels of the castle.
I was not outside of myself during this trek, and I still recorded the path that I took as I sought the source of the noise, mapping it out on my rough sketch of the castle I had drawn out the night before. It did not reach anything unknown to me until it came to a room that was in one of the far corners of the castle halls, right on the cusp of areas I had explored. I stopped at the door from which the sound seemed to be coming from.

I hesitated in front of it. The door was a large iron beast, with no windows, bars, or other holes, and the latch was large and imposing, just like the door itself. It looked like it had been locked, as the latch, while old, had been scraped and scratched around the keyhole, showing fresh and shiny marks on it. Images of all sorts of different contents filled my mind, but I realized none of them were likely to be what the room contained, so I pushed it open.
It squealed in a loud and terrible manner, which told me the source of the noise I had heard earlier, but didn’t explain the continued sounds. The contents of the room answered my questions regarding that upon the door swinging open. The room could only be described as a torture hall. Myriad devices meant to inflict pain were in every corner, and among them stood the Duchess, moving from one to the next, testing their straps, moving their parts, and scrutinizing their function.
“Welcome, Historian. Our talk earlier this morning led me to remember this room, and the nefarious purposes to which its contents had been put,” she said. “Tell me, is your home’s history calm and free of strife? Or was your history filled with wars punctuating shifts in power?”
“Well, Equestria—“ I began.
“Not Equestria. I have been in Equestria. I mean your home city, wherever that may be,” the Duchess said.
“Oh, well I’m from Vanhoover. It’s actually not very far from here, but there haven’t been any wars or anything. We just have a mayor we elect every few years,” I said. “How long have you been the duchess for Bluestone?”
The Duchess turned away from some device I could only guess at the purpose of, and looked me in the eyes. “Tell me about your home.”

I had many questions I wanted to ask her, and find out more about her home in the mountains, but I found myself answering her question. “It’s a beautiful city. Very clean, and quite green, set on sloped hills overlooking the north Luna ocean. It’s quite peaceful, as well.”
Duchess Lepidoptera looked at me for a long moment after I finished, and I found myself fishing for more to say, not wanting to displease her.
“There’s… beautiful boats sailing on the ocean on a constant basis, and ponies engage in trade. There are markets selling imports from all over Equestria, and some griffon and minotaur things as well,” I said. “There are even fishing boats, pulling up pearls. Ponies from all walks of life live there, and the university where I conduct my research is one of the best.”
The Duchess blinked, and I relaxed, confident that I had answered her well. “Your home sounds very nice. I might like to move there. Living here in the mountains has not made me happy, nor has separating myself and my home from the rest of Equestria. It has been… quite some time.”
“Quite some time since what?” I asked.
“Since I actually met other ponies beyond the citizens of Bluestone,” she said. “Bluestone serves me well, and I provide for them, but there is not much about it you need to know besides that. It is a dull and uninteresting tale. Ask me one question about my castle. I will answer it. I am feeling generous.”
“Oh, well thank you Duchess, I appreciate it,” I said. “Um… back to my earlier question then; Have you been Duchess here all your life?”
The Duchess smiled an enigmatic smile, and looked away from me to scan the items strewn about the torture room. “Yes. My entire life have I ruled here. Upon my violent birth, I became the Duchess Lepidoptera, for good or ill, and here have I remained,” she said. “Thanks to you, however, that may change, soon.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Nothing, for now. Enjoy the rest of your examination of the castle. I look forward to seeing your sketches later tonight, when I am fully awake,” the Duchess said.
“Oh, may I ask another question before I leave?” I asked.
The Duchess ignored me, focused instead upon the devices sitting about the room in various states of disrepair. She fiddled with a lever attached to one of the machines and tried to twist it back and forth, but it was rusted tight. She didn’t even spare me a glance, so I bowed and stepped out of the room.
Once outside, I experienced a brief moment of confusion. The exchange had gone rather favorably, with me explaining things about my home, and she in turn telling me about herself. There seemed to be much about it all that I had not fully understood, though. I had given up far more information than she had.
In fact, thinking back on it, the only thing she had told me about herself was that she had lived her entire life as the Duchess Lepidoptera. The citizens of Bluestone serving her made sense, and that wasn’t something I had needed confirmed, but her history was surely more in-depth than just being the duchess her entire life.
Nevertheless, I wrote down the exchange, including what I had told her about myself and how she had answered, then moved to investigate more of the castle. I stopped for some lunch when I got hungry, though with the lack of outside light in the castle I really had no idea what time of day it was. It might have even been the middle of the night, but I could not tell without going out the front doors, and I did not know if that violated our agreement. I would have to ask.

By the time I was hungry again, I had explored nearly all of the castle that I believed there was to be seen, except that section behind the Duchess’ throne. I still felt like that was an area that I should leave alone, despite the Duchess having given me free reign of all the castle. I promised myself I would explore it, but first I should take photographs of the rooms and the artwork that I had already found.
I decided that was what I would do after having rested, and determined to have supper. I found food waiting for me in the dining hall once again, ate my fill, then retired to my bed.

My sleep was once again plagued by terrible visions. In my feverish slumber I dreamed that a nightmarish creature entered my room. It possessed eyes of blazing fire and a mane that seemed to breath with an unholy life of its own. This horrible mane, almost a creature by itself, floated in the darkness, long and silky as it reached out toward me in my bed. The darkness prevented me from seeing everything, but the creature’s eyes glowed providing muted light, and every so often, beyond the dark tendrils of hair that filled my vision, I swore I could see wings.
Large and insect-like, as of those possessed by a moth or butterfly they spread wide, imposing and terrifying. The mock-eyes on them stared down at me as the creature leaned over my bed and opened its mouth.
Then I awoke.
There was nothing and nopony at all in my room. The door was shut tight, and the darkness was almost absolute. I lit the lamp next to my bed, bringing light to the oppressive blackness. My head was pounding, and as I moved the world around me seemed to swim. I lifted a hoof in front of me and noticed a distinct shiver to my limb. My dreams had become my enemy in the two days here, and I began to wonder if it was the sheer isolation I was forced to endure for much of my time.

I could not dwell on it, and decided against thinking on it any further before I had breakfast.
I collected my saddlebags from their place on the floor, only to have their contents spill out of them. I looked down at my notes and sketches strewn out on the floor and wondered how this had happened. I was always very careful about putting them back into the bag whenever I was done with them, and as I began putting them back inside, I noticed that my pencils were in the wrong pocket, and several of them had marks on them like those you might expect from a foal chewing on their pencil in school.
My first thought was that the mares that had been glaring at me on my first day here had snuck into my room and rifled through my belongings while I slept. Maybe a maid or somepony like that. I sincerely hoped that was not the case, and made a mental note to myself to try to broach the subject with the Duchess when next I saw her.
I spent some time going through my things to see if any items were missing. I was pleased to note that nothing had been taken by whomever it was that had come in, but everything had been thrown back in a haphazard manner. The sketchbook had several creased and folded pages, and one of the notebook’s pages was torn halfway out. It was annoying, but no pencils were gone, the books were all present, and none of the pictures or pages had been defaced. I was pleased to note that despite my privacy being violated, I had not been robbed. I would bring it up with the Duchess as a side note only. I didn’t want to appear to be condemning her court in any way. I had diplomacy to maintain.

I put my things back in their proper order and readied myself to head out into the castle. I went to breakfast and spent it alone, and was surprised to see that the food presented for me was once again fresh, with no hint of spoilage.
The habits and behavior of Duchess Lepidoptera’s court were strange and somewhat alien to me. None of my readings or experiences with any sort of high-ranking ponies had prepared me for the idiosyncracies of ponies such as these. Least of which was being left so alone. As I wandered the halls by myself, I wondered what I could get away with having been given so much freedom.
It was a court, and it possessed a ruler who the ponies making up her subjects believed held enough power to control them, either through charisma or through force. Having seen only a few pegasi mares who worked directly with the Duchess or stayed at her court, I had a difficult time believing that a show of force by her would be enough to keep the ponies of Bluestone in check, so it must be charisma in some form or another, either they had been convinced she could keep them in check, or they had no desire not to work with her.
As I took a photo of one of the statues lining the halls, I wondered if I could deface any of them and have it be noticed. Would the Duchess even care?
While looking at the statues, I looked over my sketches and notes, and noticed that there was even more fresh red colour on everything than there had been yesterday. I reached out and touched it to find that it was still damp, and some of it smeared off on my hoof. Alarmed, I brought it close to my face to look closer.

“Do you like it?” a voice behind me said.
I jumped and turned around to find the Duchess standing at my flank, looming over me. She was looking quite lively today, with a flush colouring her cheeks, and she seemed far less gaunt than when I had first arrived.
“Oh! Duchess, I hadn’t heard you approach. I was busy admiring the artwork. Has it… changed since I arrived?” I asked.
“I’m so glad you noticed. I’ve had my servants give it a few touch-ups in honor of the new blood you’ve brought to the castle. Everypony is feeling so full of life since you’ve been here.” The Duchess leaned closer to me and I could hear her inhale with her muzzle close to my mane.
“Well I’m pleased you think so. I don’t feel like I’ve done much other than stare at the artwork and wander the halls.” I shifted away from the Duchess, her breaths making me uncomfortable.
“Tell me about the building you live in,” the Duchess said. “Is it deep within the city? What kind of light does it get during the day? Is there a basement?”
“Well, it is deep within the city, yes,” I said. “There is a basement, but I live on the university grounds as part of my job, and I do have access to it, but it is used to house documents, artifacts, and other items of interest to the school.”
“And this basement, it is locked and gets no light to protect the artifacts?” The duchess looked directly at me as she spoke.
“Oh… yes, it is locked. I do have a key, and there is no light that enters this area of the school,” I said.
“This sounds perfect. Enjoy your walk, Historian. We will speak again once I am rested,” the Duchess said.

The Duchess walked away, her long mane and tail look far more lustrous than when we had first met, their inky-black colour much more pronounced and shiny than it had once been. She left me next to the artwork alone with my thoughts, which were quite muddled and unsure.
I looked at my hoof with the paint on it, and wiped it on my fur without a second thought. I realized I would now need a bath, which I had not had since arriving in the castle. I remembered finding a bath room, which was separate from the room I relieved myself in. The bath room consisted of nothing more than a large bath, fed from a tap I assumed was magical. I hadn’t ever turned it on in my eagerness to map out the castle, but now seemed a good time.
I made my way there, slipped off my saddlebags and set them outside the door so the humidity would not harm my parchment, and turned on the taps. Water flowed, steaming hot, and I slipped into the water with a delighted sigh. I relaxed into the water and dunked my head, soaking my mane as I let the work of the past two days seep out of me.
I wasn’t sure what happened, but I must have been more tired than I thought, because I closed my eyes once, then found myself standing outside the tub, washed, dried, and my mane was fully styled. The tub was empty, with naught but a thin film of soap scum on the bottom right around the drain. I felt more tired than I had before, and slightly woozy. I caught myself as I teetered to one side, feeling weak. The heat must have drained me, and left me a little light-headed. Surely that was all.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, as I found myself missing time out of my day, remembering only snippets of my time awake here and there. I traveled around the castle, apparently, taking photographs of… something. I just know that my camera appeared in my magic grip at some point, and by the end of the day, the roll of film that I had started with was full and had been removed from the camera. The confusion persisted until I rolled into bed, giving up on understanding what had happened, and feeling sick to my stomach.
I had forced myself to eat, but I was feeling weak, and a little nauseous. I ultimately decided not to fight it, but I couldn’t bring anything up, no matter how much time I spent in the bathroom. I tried, and I felt my bile rise, but nothing happened, almost as if my body was forcing me to keep it down. That was when I decided it was not worth it to fight it, and I must have caught some bug unfamiliar to my body up here in the castle, and just tried to sleep it off.

My sleep, though I was filled with sickness and an ill feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, was once again a nightmare-scape I could not run from. The insectoid creature had returned, and was caressing my mane whispering words I couldn’t understand into my ear. I twisted and turned in bed, but as with most nightmares, it was in vain, and escape eluded me. The thing’s words were sweet and persistent, and I could not help but listen, though I know not now what was said. Despite myself and my better judgment, I could not help but agree, and when the thing left me alone, I knew I would obey. I must obey. She will not be denied.

I next came to my senses in the throne room, standing in front of the throne itself on the red carpet. I was still feeling weak, and what little light there was burned into my eyes. I had to squint in the dim torchlight, the pounding in my skull an incessant drumbeat in my ears. I felt a pull in my aching skull driving me toward the rear of the throne room, and the final room in the castle I had yet to explore.
I checked my back for my saddlebags and was surprised and pleased to see that I had possessed the instinctual foresight to pack my saddlebags and bring them with me on my unconscious excursion. I pulled out my sketchbook to take notes and draw out the room I was about to enter.
I was dismayed to see that the page the sketchbook was open to was covered in scribbled dark lettering and scratched images of a pair of eyes. I recognized the eyes as the ones from my dreams, and I felt… comforted, instead of alarmed.
The words that I saw written on the pages were a little less comforting. Among them I saw ‘Mistress’, ‘Vanhoover’, ‘home’, ‘nest’, and ‘serve’. Any other words were illegible or covered by the pictures of the eyes which I admired so much.
I flipped to the next page, and almost dropped the sketchbook in surprise. On the next page was a large and detailed drawing of a butterfly, with wings that covered the entire page. On those wings were the eyes from the previous page, emblazoned as large as life, one eye for each wing.
I spent some time looking at the image, which seemed beyond my skill to draw, and I wondered again if somepony had been in my bag while I slept. I had no proof other than the drawing, and I remembered that I had several questions to ask the Duchess, and added that to the list. Maybe I would find the Duchess down below in the doorway and I could…serve?

The thought came unbidden to my mind, and I wondered why I had thought of serving instead of helping, assisting, questioning, or any number of other words. Why ‘serve’?
I felt the nagging in my mind pulling me in the direction of the doorway behind the thrown once again, and my hooves began to move. I held the sketchbook in my magic and flipped to the next page as I walked. I found another image of the butterfly on the next page. I flipped to the next, and they were there as well. I began to flip faster and faster, until the pages were a blur, and I saw the eyes on the wings slowly close, then open back up, staring at me the entire time.
When I reached the final page, a chill went through me. The wings were there once again, but the eyes on either side of the page were coloured a deep red. The same colour I saw appearing on the walls of the castle during my stay. I heard a sound, like that of rustling wings, and I looked up from my sketchbook. There, at the far end of the room where my hooves had taken me, I saw the creature from my dreams.
The Duchess, or I suppose I should say my mistress, the Duchess Lepidoptera, lay in gentle repose. Her wings were unfurled from her sides, released from under her carapace where they usually lay hidden. The eyes on them bored into my mind, their hypnotic pattern—filled with the deep red I had grown used to—pierced into my psyche, and her words from the nights she had visited me resonated in my thoughts.
I did as I had to do, and began to bathe her during her sleep. A bucket and a soft cloth lay nearby, and I picked them up without a second though, gently patting her down all over.

During my work, my mind raced with thoughts, the foremost of which being why in Equestria I was doing this in the first place. The pony in front of me was alien to me, unlike any creature I had seen before. Inside my head I was simultaneously screaming in fright, and praising her beauty. Was this why she remained hidden up here in the mountains? Had her ancestors been the same? How had they come to be this way?
The questions mounted in my mind as I worked, and the terror I felt subsided. It was replaced with awe and curiosity, and I stopped questioning why I was doing what I was doing. The subliminal messages that floated to the forefront of my subconscious bade me bathe her, brush her mane and tail, and massage her back. So I did.
While I worked I received quiet murmurs of approval from the Duchess, and I found myself happy that I could please her. The questions I had faded until they no longer mattered. I knew the Duchess was here, and I knew she needed something from me, and so she would get it.
Once I completed my work, I picked up my saddlebags, put away the items I had used on her, and walked toward the exit. As I made my way there, I thought I should check on her once more, so I turned around to look.
Standing there behind me, watching me leave, the Duchess herself had sat up and was watching me go. Her wings were spread wide, and the eyes on them stared into me, just as her own eyes stared. Both sets of eyes were a deep red, and they seemed to glow with an inner light that pierced through me. I hastened my steps and returned to my room. Once there, I felt exhaustion overtake me almost immediately, despite having just woken up. I struggled to the bed and fell into it, passing out as soon as my head hit the pillows.

I had no dreams that night, but waking from my sleep I was presented with further confusion. I found myself lying on a mess of some sort of fiber. Silk, judging by the feel, but just a mess of string covering the floor upon which I had decided to make my bed. I looked around the room to see where I had found myself, and found a note written in a very neat and flowing script next to me in the silk.
It read:
“Well, Historian, you have convinced me to relocate to one of your larger cities that now exist in Equestria, and I find the descriptions of your home lovely. Since I have your address, and you are such a willing host, I will take you up on your offer of a visit. That will give me a chance to survey the city itself and pick a likely location in which I might live. Please return to Bluestone and see about finding your way home. I will ship some of my things and follow soon after. You will know me when I arrive. Wait for me on the evening of the next week.” Signed: Duchess Lepidoptera.
I read it through again and thought about its contents. It was clear that she was dismissing me from her castle, but I did not remember inviting her to visit my home. I also did not remember telling her where I lived, or much conversation about it at all.
Mind you, I didn’t remember a lot about the last couple of days. I had a problem, and I didn’t know exactly what kind of problem. I felt like I was being led around by the nose, but the worst part was that I didn’t seem to care. I thought about my options and realized that I was going to end up doing exactly what she had requested. It wasn’t even an order. My options were limited, and leaving the castle was one of the few ways I could imagine controlling my blackouts.

I looked around in befuddlement for a moment longer, holding the strange letter in my magic. My eyes fell on my saddlebags, sitting on the floor, and I picked them up and put them on, then slipped the letter into them. I looked at the room I was in and pulled out a map, then found my location and the way back to my room. The first time I had been to this room it had not been filled with silk. That’s something I would have noted on the pages and it was not on there. That meant that the silk was a new addition, and I had only a hunch as to where it came from.
I returned to my room and began packing the meager pile of things I had brought with me. Every item I remembered was accounted for, so despite my things having been rifled through, nothing had been stolen from me. The ponies here were just curious, including the Duchess herself. Within a very short time, I was prepared to leave, and I made my way to the front doors. Upon arrival, I found the pegasi ponies standing in lines on either side of the carpet leading out.
The ponies watched as I approached, and I felt my pace slow, unwilling to move any faster under their intense scrutiny. Their glares were heavy, but I pushed forward. The Duchess would not want me to give in. She was counting on me to be there when she arrived, and I didn’t want to let her down.
Once I made it through the gauntlet of stares, I was at the smaller door leading out. I turned around to look at them, and take one last look at the castle, then I pushed the door open to step through into fresh air.

The sun was rising just above the neighboring mountains and it pierced my eyelids so I had to squint to see. Once my eyes adjusted and I could see clearly again, I looked around for a guide or somepony to help me back down the mountainside. Not seeing anypony, I sighed and made my way to the cliff’s edge.
Although my vision spun upon first reaching the edge, I began scaling down the mountain. I had a minor amount of trouble, but it wasn’t long before I was back in Bluestone. My reception was different than I had expected. Everypony was surprised to see me. So much so that I had difficulty finding the things I had left at the inn. Despite my request to have them brought up to the castle, the Duchess had not sent for them and the innkeeper had begun giving the items away. He apologized profusely, but it wasn’t the loss of my things that really had me worried, it was his reaction. He seemed to think I wouldn’t be coming back. That was worrying.
Was the Duchess not as good of a matron to these people as I had assumed? Was she ruling with an iron fist that I simply couldn’t see?
Admittedly, she had run circles around my questions and had instead gleaned a significant amount of information about me instead, and now here I was doing… something?
…what was I going to do for her?
I couldn’t remember.
It was important, I remembered that much, and I had forgotten it.
I took some time at the inn to pull open my saddlebags and search through my books for some indication of what the Duchess had expected me to do. Although my pictures and sketches were intact, I could not find any notes or the like of what was expected of me. I was getting a little frantic, because I knew it was important, and she wouldn’t like me to be so forgetful.
I needed to get home.

Once I had some rest outside of this area, I could clear my thoughts and remember exactly what it was she wanted me to do. These ponies here in Bluestone with all their questions and demands and curiosity were just getting in the way. I needed to be alone at home, where I could really think things over. Somewhere familiar, dark, and safe. Yes. Dark and safe.
I brushed aside the myriad questions from the ponies of Bluestone, gathered what things I could get back from them immediately, and left on the next carriage out of the village. As I traveled, I went back through my sketches and notes and read and re-read them, looking for some hint as to my purpose. I found nothing, but went back to the drawings of the wings time and time again, staring at them as the carriage rocked on the bumpy road.
When we reached the cobbles of Vanhoovers roads, I packed my things away and disembarked at the first opportunity inside the city. I walked through the streets toward my home, even though it was still several kilometers away. I was looking to see what the houses around my hometown looked like, and what kinds of windows and other such things they had. Backdoors, roofs, and openings. I hadn’t ever really noticed them before. It was interesting to look at them and see the differences. A lot of them were no protection, with the windows being flimsy enough to easily break, or having no latches on their upstairs windows. Pegasi and the like could get inside them without much effort. I believed the reason for most of that was that pegasi were a rare sight in Vanhoover. Most of the residents were earth ponies and unicorns, with Pegasi living down south in Los Pegasus.

When I arrived home, I had taken a look at a good chunk of my neighborhood and planned out a path that would take a pony through alleys, backroads, and other non-trafficked paths. Or at least, rarely-traveled paths. It would be the best way to remain unseen if a pony would otherwise stand out as they traveled.
Satisfied with my time, and finally having arrived at home, I unpacked my things and took the time to develop my film. I had several days before I was expecting any of the Duchess’ items to arrive, followed by herself.
Being in the darkroom reminded me that I did need to clear out space in the basement for the Duchess to stay in. She had made it clear that she would prefer a darker room to a lighter one. My bedroom, which I would have been happy to give to her for her use, would not suffice, as it was on the upstairs floor and had a window directly across from it. I could probably move it downstairs, but I didn’t know if the Duchess would be shipping her own bed or not. She was enigmatic about everything except that she would be arriving some days after I arrived. I would clean, and then I would wait.
I developed my film and perused the fruits of my labour, admiring the pictures that I had taken. The changes from one day to the next in the Duchess’ castle were clearly outlined in the photographs. But every change that I could see included the addition of that red paint. That rich and vibrant colour that had been splashed on everything while I was staying there. To my eyes it appeared rather tacky, but I wasn’t privy to the habits of royalty, and especially not the Duchess, who had remained hidden from public records for decades.

I skimmed through the photos until I got back to the start of the ones I had taken, then put them away in a marked manila envelope. I titled and catalogued my sketchbooks and notebooks that contained information from my trip about the castle and filed them away, then began writing a report of what I had discovered high in the mountains.
It was tedious work, and it filled the rest of day. Then the day after that as well. I did take breaks, spending a little bit of time to go onto the campus and speak with a few of my colleagues. Some were interested to hear about what I had found, but others didn’t believe me, even claiming that the photos I had taken were doctored somehow. I was offended, but I didn’t need to prove anything to them at the moment. The report and the eyewitness account directly from the Duchess herself would clear all of that up quickly enough. Any amount of doubt would be washed away in the wake of her appearance.
I returned home and slept early, my mind filled with dreams about the Duchess and her current discomfort during her transportation. I saw her stuck inside a dark and confining container of some sort, swaying back and forth with the motion of whatever she was being carried in or by. She had little room to move, and there was no light seeping in anywhere at all. She was currently at the mercy of whomever it was that was moving her from place to place. I did not envy her her plight, but she would have more than enough accommodation when she arrived. I would see to that. All I needed to do was clear up enough space downstairs for her to safely live, then she could come and go as she pleased.

I awoke feeling energized. The moon was bright and spilling in my open window. I could smell the night air and hear the revelry of a few ponies who were living it up late in the evening. I took a deep breath and made my way down to my basement. I looked around at the clutter that was currently filling it and resolved myself to clean it all up. The Duchess needed a place befitting royalty, not the basement of some two-bit teacher. She was greater than that, and even though it was the basement of a two-bit teacher, she would have something great.
I removed the boxes, putting them upstairs in my room where she would not have to see them, then cleaned everything. The walls, floors, ceiling, and the doors. I repaired some minor holes in the floor and walls, then made sure there was enough lighting in the room for her if she needed any, though I knew from her castle the Duchess did not need nor care about lights. In fact, she seemed to shun it entirely. I brought down my dresser for her clothes, emptying my own out onto the bed. I brought her a washbasin and other furniture, removing it from other parts of the house for her use down in the basement.
When I was done, my own room was filled with junk and missing much of the previous furniture that I had used, but the basement was a brightly lit space that was not enough, but would do. I hoped she would be happy with it.
I went back upstairs and began writing down notes about the surrounding neighborhood, including the observations I had made earlier about the windows and doors on upper and lower floors of houses surrounding me. I did not know why she needed the information, but I was not going to ask. That was her business.

When I was done with that, I sat down, and I waited at the door for the arrival of her and her things.
I don’t quite know how long I waited, and I knew I was shirking other duties for it, but the Duchess was uncomfortable, and I would wait until I knew she had arrived and was made to feel at home with whatever I had available.
I could feel her getting closer. There was a weight upon my mind that I could sense as her presence drew nearer to me. There was a knock at the door and I opened it within a few seconds of the sound. I startled the pony who was there, and he asked for my name. I gave it, signed the paper, and accepted the pile of items into my home. I arranged them downstairs for the Duchess and went back to wait at the door for the Duchess herself.
When night fell, there came a second knock at the door. I opened it to see four of the pegasi from Bluestone Castle. They pushed past me, carrying a long cylindrical thing between them. I shut the door behind them and directed them downstairs. They carried the cylinder down and placed it down with reverence upon my bed which I had brought down for the Duchess to sleep on.
I would make do with a simple bedroll.
Once it was in position and safe, the four pegasi said nothing, but flew back up and out of the room. I knew not where they were headed, and I cared not. My Duchess had arrived, and I needed to see that she was comfortable.
I went back down to the cylinder, and waited next to it. I could see it for what it was, and I realized that it was a cocoon, not unlike those used by many insects. It was made up of silken strands that I recognized from the castle. Had she traveled all this way trapped inside this cocoon? She would be starving.

I waited again, but this time I didn’t have to wait long. The cocoon split down the front and began to open. I had left just enough light to see by, and I waited in eager anticipation for my Duchess to appear. I leaned closer, waiting for the moment when I could glimpse her glorious face.
With a ragged gasp the Duchess lurched out of the tear in the cocoon and gripped me by the shoulders. Her grip was powerful, and I resisted at first, but she held on to me as she crawled from the ruined husk of her temporary prison. Her face was gaunt, and her skin pale. Her eyes were filled with an angry red glow, and I heard the crackling hiss of her carapace opening to reveal her diaphanous wings. The eyes on each wing glared at me, the red glow from all four eyes burrowing into my skull, and removed any thought of resistance. A thin film of dust began to pour from her wings and I felt my muscles relax, my strength leaving me.
“Thank you for preparing for my arrival, Historian.” She opened her mouth, and a long, thin, coiled appendage unfurled out of it. It uncoiled until it reached my neck, and I felt a prick as it pierced my flesh. It stopped hurting in an instant, and instead I felt a strange leaking feeling as what I assumed was my blood was sucked out of me.
I felt a strange detachment from the whole scenario, instead focusing on the Duchess’ face as she fed upon my lifeblood. Her own pallor became flush and healthy. Her skin took on a lively glow, and her eyes lost their feral desire as my own limbs started to shake and dizziness hit me.

I realized in the back of my mind that I may perish from this, but her proboscis pulled away from my jugular vein before darkness took me, and she laid me down on the bed next to the cocoon. She furled her wings back up and stepped away from the bed, and I tried to lift myself to follow, but the room spun and I ended up falling out of the bed instead.
The Duchess picked me up and put me back in bed with an admonishment to stay put. “Wait here, Historian. You are weak, and I merely wish to see your hometown. I will return.”
I did as I was bade since I didn’t have a choice. The room spun around me and my limbs didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure if it was some spell she cast on me or if it was the blood loss, but I waited.
She returned much later, still looking as upbeat and healthy as after she had fed on me, and I gave her a weak grin. I had recovered enough to where I could sit up, but walking still provided a challenge. She looked at me sitting on the bed and approached, staring down at me with those terrible eyes of hers.
“Historian, your city is much larger than I anticipated, and this will be a very difficult task for me alone,” she began. “I will need more servants than just you. Servants like those I had in Bluestone. I desire a Pegasus and an earth pony. One of each, to serve as liaison to the rest of their race. Find them and bring them to me.”
I felt a little hurt that she couldn’t just use me, but I wasn’t going to disagree with my Duchess. I nodded. “Yes, of course. I know just the earth pony. The Pegasus will be harder to find.”

“There is no hurry. I have all the time in the world,” she said.
I recovered my strength, making sure to eat enough to replenish myself in case the Duchess needed me again. When morning came, the Duchess remained downstairs, avoiding the upper portions of the house. I didn’t know why, but I assumed it was to preserve her fair complexion. It was a little alien, along with her size, but I had to admit she was beautiful in a very exotic way. It was probably more than enough to attract the attention of any stallion.
I was trusting that it would when I went to fetch the earth pony I had mentioned that would be a good addition to the Duchess’ entourage. He was a colleague of mine who worked in the anthropology department of the university. He was part of the “who’s who” of the university, working to connect the different sections together in order to make communication and resource trading among the departments easier. He and I talked about history a lot, and I considered us good acquaintances, if not friends. He would be perfect for the Duchess’ purposes.
I invited him over for dinner to talk about the castle I had found, and he jumped at the chance. Despite most of his work keeping him at the university, a new castle, complete with a ruling Duchess in this day and age was more than enough to entice him over to talk about it. He tried to get me to divulge more information about it while we were at work, but I insisted we talk about it over dinner. I did provide him with a few of my photographs to look at. Copies, of course. This was still my discovery, and I wanted the credit.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was not at all surprised to see him arrive a bit early, before the sun had set. He brought a bottle of wine as a gift, which I accepted gratefully. I invited him in, and he entered, all full of excitement.
“I still can’t believe you found an undiscovered castle. And still filled with ponies! In the Smokey Mountains no less! This has to be the find of the century, my friend,” he said.
“Well I can only hope everypony else thinks so as well, because while I, personally, have never heard of this castle before or found mention of it in any texts, somepony else might have. I would welcome the information, but it would still cast some shade on my discovery,” I said.
“Oh I wouldn’t worry too much, the fact that the owner still lives there will be huge. How did that meeting go, by the way?” He asked.
“It went well. The Duchess Lepidoptera has agreed to come visit, at which time I hope to have enough sway with the university to have my presentation while she’s here to make an appearance,” I said.
“Well it sounds like you have the whole thing planned out well. Tell me about her? How disconnected from modern Equestria is she? Does she keep up with current events?” he asked.
I tell him about the Duchess and her castle. I go into some detail about the artwork filling the place, but when I begin to talk about the Duchess herself, I must have gone into a bit too much detail, as he starts giving me strange looks.
“You… think quite highly of this Duchess, then?” He fidgeted in his seat, moving as if to stand up.
“I do, yes.” I was just trying to stall him until the sun had set enough for the Duchess to come upstairs. We hadn’t even begun eating the food I had prepared, he couldn’t leave yet.

“Well I’m glad you do, she sounds nice,” he said. “Listen, I forgot I have to meet somepony.” He stood up from his chair, leaving his food untouched.
“Stay, Anthropologist,” a commanding voice said. The Duchess walked up the stairs, her gait powerful and assured, and my friend jumped in surprise, turning to look at the source of the voice.
From the stairs to the basement, the top of the Duchess’ head came first. Her long, flowing hair draped down her body, and as her head cleared the landing, I could see the tips of her wings come up after her. I turned away, knowing that this time the wings were not for me, and I would only be a nuisance if I stared with my friend.
I could hear her hooves tap slowly along the floor toward where my friend had been sitting, and I heard the hiss of her breath as she opened her mouth. The faint scent of the dust from her wings tickled my nose, and made my muscles ache. There was the brief sound of a struggle, and I heard a chair being overturned, then nothing. I assumed the Duchess must have him in her grip, as there was a wet sound like the slow dripping of water.
I risked a glance and saw that the Duchess had furled her wings up, and was holding fast to my friend while her proboscis was firmly stabbed into his neck. I approached to observe the spectacle, and waited for my Duchess to finish. I felt a small pang of worry for my friend, but I knew she wouldn’t kill him. She needed him.
She finished, and retracted the proboscis into wherever it hid on the roof of her mouth, and she turned to look at me. She held my friend out to me, his body limp and pale, but still breathing. I took him in my magic and laid him across my back.

“Bring him, it is time to show you how I will complete my servants.” She turned back to the stairs leading down into the basement, and I followed, holding my friend.
She led me to the bed, where her cocoon lay split open, but very much intact. It had been fastened to the bed with more silk, a web of silken threads criss-crossing the covers and latching onto the wooden posts. Inside the cocoon, a thin film of fluid coated the walls, and the whole thing seemed to pulse with what must have been life, or strange magicks.
“Place him inside,” the Duchess commanded.
Curious, I did as I was told. Once he had been put into the cocoon, it closed up around him. The panic in his eyes as he disappeared from view almost made me regret my actions, but the Duchess’ presence swept that feeling away in an instant.
“When he emerges, he will be like me, but under my thrall. Complete obedience is what I can then demand of him, and he will help me in taking more of the city,” she explained.
I looked at the cocoon in wonder. “Did… did you do that to me?”
She smiled at me in a way that made me wonder if she was patronizing me or acting cruel. “No, my dear Historian. You get to be my messenger. The delightful part of treating you the way I did was that you become devoted in a way that makes you assist me of your own free will.” She came toward me and stroked my cheek with her hoof. It was almost tender, but her eyes were hard and cruel. “You help because you want to, but that kind of brainwashing takes a lot of time, and a lot of effort.”
Even after hearing her say that she was using me, my anger flared and disappeared almost instantly. “So… what now?” I asked.
“Now, we feast on your home.” She smiled, and her teeth were stained red. The same red that had coated the walls of her castle, and I understood. I would serve. I wanted to.

The End.