It was a sunny Tuesday morning in Ponyville, only slightly chilly with the approach of autumn - though Lapis Print didn’t know it was cold, yet. He’d have opened a window if he’d known, since the heat of his forge was practically choking in his basement.
Nevertheless, he persisted, gently tapping away at what was beginning to resemble a large pair of iron goggles without any lenses, the metal gleaming red with its own heat, the anvil reflecting the orange coals of the furnace. Lapis had already gotten the basic shape of the goggles down, at this point it was just a matter of working out the kinks.
I really wasn’t expecting Princess Luna to be this helpful, Lapis thought, as he tapped out the last unwanted bend and started looking for a scribing tool. But, well, even with the information I held back…
Lapis hadn’t written to Luna about everything, the morning after he’d first introduced himself. He didn’t mention that “A-mare-ica” was in another world, he wasn’t sure how to bring up the Elements of Harmony yet, and he wasn’t even going to think about the ‘prophecy’ while he was looking at Luna’s book. Otherwise, however, Lapis brought Luna about as up-to-speed as he had for Bon Bon back in Ponyville General, though he also mentioned some broad strokes about his home - advanced metalworking techniques, widespread use of electricity, large number of diverse cultures, and so on.
When he’d mentioned multiple spoken languages, though, Luna had initially been confused. At first, she’d been asking Lapis whether he really thought there were half a dozen different languages spoken in Amareica, and eventually she asked if “the reach of Harmony extends not to thy lands,” which had only confused Lapis more. After some mutually-bewildered back-and-forth, Luna had finally explained something that only left Lapis with more questions.
Apparently, magic did stuff on its own sometimes, providing a package of benefits so wide-reaching that most ponies didn’t even know there was an alternative. And, apparently, one of the things that magic did was to translate between the languages of different species. ‘Harmony’ wasn’t quite omnipresent: it made exceptions for Prench, and it seemed to prioritize the most difficult situations. So, ponies who only rarely encountered languages they didn’t speak would be mystified as normal, but griffons would always seem to speak perfect ‘Equuish’ despite lacking lips.
And griffons wandering into Equestria, Lapis recalled, are able to understand ponies and read Equuish text, despite being raised to speak, read, and write their own language. They perceive all Equuish as Gryphic. And as long as they’re in Equestria, even if they think they’re writing in Gryphic, they’re observably writing in Equuish characters instead. So what I want to know is…
Lapis tapped the last rune into the goggles on his anvil, quenched the goggles in a nearby bucket of water, then slid on several sections of copper casing, making sure that all the topaz gems - along with the single ruby - were set firmly into their sockets. Is this happening to me, too? Am I seeing English everywhere, when really everything’s written in a whole other language?
Then, slowly, Lapis slid the goggles onto his face.
The goggles were one of the simpler designs he’d come up with. The iron frames were designed to pull only on magic that was headed for Lapis’ eyes, and the copper casing would absorb that magic and redirect it into the four topaz gems surrounding each eyepiece, angled so that they wouldn’t shine straight into Lapis’ eyes. The frames were the difficult part - inscribing the strongest attraction runes Lapis knew, then making sure they affected only the magic headed for Lapis’ eyes, had barely left any room to add on a failsafe. This time, though, Lapis had learned from his mistakes and added a safety mechanism: if the ruby on the goggles’ bridge stopped detecting his body heat, then the frames would stop pulling in magic, and the goggles would shut off.
Lapis made sure the goggles were positioned correctly, wincing as the ruby settled onto his muzzle. Wow, that’s cold. Then, to his relief, the topaz gems flickered and began to emit a soft, warm, buttery-yellow light. Alright, it’s picking up something- could be the translation spell, but it might also just be free-flowing mana. Only one way to find out.
Lapis swallowed, walked over to the workbench, and looked down at his books… then, a triumphant grin split his face. Bingo!
The text of both Trixie’s grimoire and the guide to pegasus aerodynamics had been completely replaced, their pages instead full of small, simple pictograms - butterflies, spirals, flowers, and so on. Details were difficult to make out, though: for some reason, all the text was wrapped in a waving haze of prismatic light, as if Lapis were viewing them through a rainbow-tinged heat shimmer. Lapis opened his own notebook, checking the pages he’d written, and frowned - here, too, the English he’d written had been replaced with Equuish. Huh. Well, that’s not good. How am I supposed to look for books written in English now?
Lapis grimaced, then flipped to a blank page, picked up his pencil, and scribbled down: The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. Then, he lifted the goggles off his face, and saw no change in the letters he’d just written. Everything else, however, was once again written in English. Lapis double-checked his work, looking at the letters with the goggles, then without, then with them again - and, to his relief, the sentence he’d written with the goggles on remained in English.
“Alright,” Lapis breathed, grinning. So it looks like it’s still possible to write in your own language here, if you’ve got the means to catch the spell in action. If I’m lucky, then I’m not the only one who’s figured that out - so, the next time I go looking around a library or someplace, I do it with the goggles on. That way, if anything in there is written in English, then I’ll be able to tell right away…
Lapis’ eyes fell on the book of shipping records from the Castle of the Two Sisters, saw that its title was still legible upon its spine, and felt his eyes widen. …Like that, for example.
Slowly, Lapis picked up the book and began to flip through the pages. Much of the text was still in Equuish, but here or there, he’d find a line written in angular, spidery English: 2 tons Amberhoof copper, or Smithing hammers, six sets. A possibility dawned on Lapis, and he flipped to the last page of the record, his hooves shaking as he read:
- 256 steel ingots, excellent condition (Pinion forged)
- 2 items griffon stonecarving, perfect condition
- Message for Gara Pinion (delivered directly)
“YES!” Lapis shouted, pumping his hoof. “Ha! I knew it!” Gara Pinion. Either she, or somepony close to her, was never a pony at all. They were human, or at least they were near enough to one to have a reason for writing in English.
Lapis exhaled, then let his head droop, chuckling to himself. A lead. Finally, I have a fucking lead. I need to find out more about Gara Pinion.
I need to go back to the Castle. …Or write to Luna. Probably both.
A short while later, Lapis emerged from his basement, grabbed the request slips off his corkboard, and started to plan his way through one more workday in Ponyville. Today looked like it would be relatively light - he had nothing to do but a couple of roofing jobs, and as Lapis looked at their slips, he frowned. The roofs in question were on opposite sides of Ponyville, and yet the requests to repair them had been filled out by the same pony: the messy scrawl across each note was identical, right down to the the jagged, trailing lines that the writer had used to dot their i’s and cross their t’s.
…Then again, Lapis thought, they didn’t really write any i’s or t’s at all, did they?
After retrieving his goggles, Lapis put them on to look at the request slips, and felt his eyes widen as an astonished grimace spread across his face. Whoever had requested the roofing jobs, their hoofwriting had actually been improved by the translation spell - in Equuish, the request slips didn’t look like they’d been written on, so much as tossed into a paint shaker full of pencils. Here or there, Lapis could make out an individual character, but for the most part there barely seemed to be any pattern at all. Okay then, I guess I’d better let magic take one for the team this time around.
Lapis removed the goggles, tucking them into his saddlebags, then grabbed his ladder and headed out for the nearer of the two roofing jobs, keeping his head on a swivel as he went. While Lapis was, technically speaking, done running and hiding from the Elements of Harmony, he sure wasn’t done worrying about them. No, his job at this point was to be as normal, easily-accessible, and boring as possible. In short, Lapis needed to be forgettable, so that the Elements who were inclined to forget him would have an easier time doing so.
And, so far, this seemed to have worked - since the Hot Air Balloon Incident, none of the Elements had darkened Lapis’ doorstep-
Ope. Twilight at two o’clock. She was trotting down the street in the opposite direction of Lapis with an apparently confident grin on her face, and would’ve seemed perfectly casual if not for the fact that she was talking to herself. “…got this, Twilight. You still have plenty of time to get that letter to Princess Celestia. There has to be somepony around here who needs the help of a good friend!”
Uh-oh. Lapis started composing a list of reasons why he didn’t need any help, but was saved the trouble when a shrill scream echoed from the direction of the Carousel Boutique. Twilight perked up at once, and hurried away just as another, louder scream split the air, Lapis’ ears tucking themselves back atop his head. Should I be worried about that? …Eh, Twilight’s got it covered. I’ll probably just have to clean up some of the mess, later on.
Lapis nodded, then continued on his way, arriving at the roof he’d been paid to fix a few minutes later, propping up the ladder against the wall and climbing up. And, on today’s menu, we have…
He reached the top of the ladder, and spotted the problem almost immediately - a pegasus-shaped crater, with a few sky-blue feathers dotted through the strands of thatch. …Surprise surprise, it’s a Rainbow crater! Again.
Well, here we go. Lapis grimaced, then grabbed a spool of twine from his saddlebags and began the process of tying the bundles of thatch back together…
An hour later, Lapis climbed back down from the ladder, the spool of twine lighter than it had been by half. Well, that sucked, but no more than usual. At least it’s not boiling hot outside any more!
“Hey, Lapis! There you are!”
Lapis looked over just in time to spot Lyra trotting over. “Hey, Lyra. What’s up?”
“Well, me and Bon Bon are making those cinnamon drops today,” Lyra said. “And it seemed like you had fun when we were trying to make gumdrops, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to drop by and pitch in!”
“Cinnamon drops,” Lapis muttered. “So, are they like… lemon drops, but with cinnamon?”
“That’s the idea!” Lyra said. “They’re a little bit harder, too. More of a melt-in-your-mouth kind of thing, so the cinnamon’s got more time to warm you up. They’re super easy, though! You in?”
Lapis thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a pretty light workload today. Plus, there’s some stuff I need to catch the two of you up on. Let’s do it.”
“Great!” Lyra said, beaming. “C’mon, Bon Bon’ll get antsy if we take too long.”
“…It’s fine,” Twilight was muttering to herself at that moment, near the outskirts of Ponyville. She was lying on her side atop a park bench, firmly curled into a ball and stroking her own tail with a hoof. “It’ll all be fine! The day isn’t over yet-”
She lurched upright atop the park bench and stared, terrified, at the early-afternoon sun. “But it will be over, soon!”
Twilight waited a few moments - and, when the sun refused to retrace its steps across the sky, she fell back upon the park bench and groaned, staring down into a puddle.
This wasn’t the first time that Twilight had approached a meltdown over deadlines. She wasn’t sure whether she hoped it would be the last or not - after all, there were two ways that this could be her last close deadline. Either she'd make her friendship report before the evening and never, ever forget another one ever again, or else-
No! No. Bad Twilight. Don’t even think about it.
“It’ll all be over,” she muttered anyway. “My time in Ponyville, my advanced studies!”
Twilight pulled back, taking a deep breath and facing her own reflection in the puddle. “No, no, you’re a good student. You can do this!” She forced a grin, her ears flopping back atop her head even as she pumped an enthusiastic hoof.
“Oh… but what if I can’t?!” Twilight’s reflection asked. Her mane looked terrible - she’d need to take a brush to it, after all this was over.
“You CAN!” Twilight reassured herself. “You just have to keep it together. Keep. It. Together!”
“Are you talking to… yourself?” a familiar voice asked.
Shoot. I am. Twilight groaned internally, but continued to glare at her own reflection in the puddle. Come on. You KNOW how you get about deadlines! It’s not that bad, just get ahold of yourself and-
“Twilight?” the voice asked, and Twilight suddenly heard giggling off in the distance. It sounded familiar, too… too familiar…
Twilight looked up, past the set of purple-scaled talons that was being waved before her face, and saw the source of the laughter. They were three little fillies, and one second they were playing jump-rope - then, the next they were pointing their hooves at Twilight again. Pointing and laughing, their smiles sharp and mocking, and Twilight could feel the heat of their contempt like fire in her coat-
“SNAP OUT OF IT!”
Twilight blinked, and suddenly she was back in Ponyville, lying on her back atop a dry, dusty dirt path. Spike was standing over Twilight, staring down at her with mingled exasperation and worry written across his face, and a large, flat box held in one forepaw. “Are you okay?” he asked.
…Did that really just…? Twilight got to her hooves, looking over the top of the hill with Spike. The three little fillies that she’d heard were just jumping rope, and though they were giggling, it was only about their game. Oh. Oh, shoot. It’s this again.
“Twilight, I’m really worried,” Spike was saying, as Twilight rubbed her eyes, then sat back on her hooves, wobbling slightly. Come on, Twilight. Keep it together. There’s got to be something I can write to the Princess about! “I mean, this letter thing is really getting to you! Here - you’ve been so anxious all day that you completely forgot about the picnic! Why don’t you just relax and go hang out with-”
“THE PICNIC!” Twilight shouted, wheeling on Spike and snatching the box. That’s perfect! Why didn’t I think of that before?! “I should go see my friends!”
Twilight turned and started galloping toward the spot that Pinkie had picked for the picnic. And they’ll all be in one place, so I’ll be able to ask all of them at once, so they’ll have to have some way to help!
They’ve gotta have something. They have to.
“Glad you’ve come to your senses!” Spike announced, as Twilight made haste toward the picnic site with the box levitating by her side, not even looking over her shoulder.
And, really, that was all Spike wanted to make of the situation. Sure, Twilight and deadlines got along about as well as oil and water, especially when she was stressed already, but it seemed like she had things sorted out now. Honestly, I’ll bet that Twilight should be ready to write that letter only a few minutes after I get back to the library. I could head over there now, grab a snack, and Twilight will sort herself out just fine!
Juuust fine.
…Unfortunately, Spike knew better than that.
Spike groaned, then sat atop the same park bench that Twilight had been perched on only a few moments before. And here we go again. Any problems I’ve got, that Twilight can solve before sundown. Any problems. Aaaaany… problems. C’mon, I’ve got to have some problem for Twilight.
“Huh,” Spike muttered. “Problems for Twilight… what about Twilight’s problems? What’s she been worried about lately?”
Spike raised a hand, counting off his claws. “Well, she’s wanted to do the checklist rewrite for a long time. But she finished that yesterday and tested the new checklist today, so that won’t work. There’s all the books on cleaning that have gone missing… but that’s not really a pony-to-pony problem, either.”
Spike paused. “…Huh.” Missing books. That reminds me, didn’t Twilight…
Hey, wait a minute! That’s right! Twilight wrote that extra letter about Lapis Wren, or whatever his name is. Spike groaned, smacking himself in the forehead. Duh. Guess I’d better get back to the library and find that letter - the sooner it gets into Twilight’s hooves, the better.
“…MIX EVENLY ALREADY, you pile of hayseeds!” Bon Bon was yelling into a bubbling cauldron of orange-ish liquid, as Lapis and Lyra walked into her kitchen. “When I want swirls, believe me, I will swirl them in myself- Lyra, Lapis, good timing. Could I bother one of you to stir this bowl for a while?”
“On it!” Lyra chirped, and a second later, the handle of the paddle that Bon Bon had been holding was engulfed in orange light. “Did you get the first batch ready?”
“No,” Bon Bon muttered. “The cinnamon is all even, but the orange food coloring just won’t mix all the way. Lapis, could you open up that cabinet and fish out the little orange bottle?”
“Sure thing,” Lapis said, pulling open the cabinet in question - to reveal an enormous arrangement of bottles, tins, and other assorted receptacles. “…What side of the cabinet would that be on?”
“Front right,” Bon Bon said, ducking into a cabinet by the oven and pulling out a baking sheet, which she sat on the counter. “So. Lapis. While I’ve got you in here, there’s a couple of things I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Same here, but hang on a second,” Lapis said, pulling the first orange bottle he spotted out of the cabinet. “Is it this one you wanted?”
Bon Bon glanced over. “Uh-huh.” She reached forward, taking the bottle between her teeth - then, with a flick of her head, she sent the bottle shooting across the kitchen, where it landed in a trash can with a sharp metallic clang. “Now, there should’ve been a red bottle right next to that one. Grab that, get it out, and then standby for further instructions.”
“…Coming right up,” Lapis said, returning his focus to the cabinet.
“So what was it you wanted to ask?” Bon Bon said, as she pulled a roll of wax paper from a cabinet.
“Oh, yeah, there’s actually a couple of things. First off, I made another gizmo,” Lapis explained.
By the cauldron, Lyra paused, and over the bubbling of the orange stuff Lapis thought he heard an “uh-oh.” Bon Bon, meanwhile, finished spreading a sheet of wax paper over her baking sheet, then glanced over at Lapis. “Okay. And is this one going to go on a rampage through Ponyville?”
Lapis frowned, pulling the pair of goggles from his saddlebag and holding them where Bon Bon could see them. “If they do, then I’ll honestly be impressed.”
“Oh, you’ve brought it into my store,” Bon Bon said, giving the goggles a quick once-over. “Great. Let’s save it until after we’re done worrying about the five pounds of molten sugar that Lyra’s dealing with?”
“Makes sense to me,” Lapis said, returning the goggles to his bag. “So the other thing was, I was wondering whether you’d found any pegasi willing to go into the Everfree with me.”
“No, I have not,” Bon Bon said, slowly and carefully. It was the same tone of voice that Lapis might once have used, if a grown adult had asked him whether he’d spotted any elves recently.
“Same here,” Lyra said, straining as she withdrew the paddle from the pot of sugar. “Lapis, do you have the food coloring yet? This stuff’s about ready to harden.”
“Coming right up,” Lapis said, he and Bon Bon approaching the pot at the same time. Lyra took the bottle of food coloring from Lapis’ grip, levitating a box of toothpicks from a drawer, while Bon Bon stuffed her face into a nearby cabinet - and emerged with the bottom half of her face encased by tough-looking pink fabric.
“What the…” Lapis muttered, as Bon Bon opened her mouth, revealing that the piece of fabric on her face had a cuff which covered her lower jaw, and a pocket that extended an inch or two into her mouth.
Lyra giggled. “What, have you never seen an oven mask before?”
Oven mask…? Oh, like an oven mitt. “Not so much, no,” Lapis said, as Bon Bon picked up the pot with her mouth and carried it to a potholder by the baking sheet, her teeth and lips protected from the scorching metal by the mask on her face. “Huh. Bon Bon, I could’ve floated that over for you.”
“Drmf brfr,” Bon Bon said. She paused, rolled her eyes, then delicately spat out the mask and tried again, smirking. “I mean, don’t bother. This thing’s heavier than it looks, I’d hate for you to strain your horn or something. But anyway, this brings us to the tedious part, which is why Lyra asked you over.”
“Can’t be worse than roofwork,” Lapis said. “Let’s get going, I’m ready whenever.”
Lyra set down the bottle of red food coloring and the box of toothpicks, then levitated a toothpick over to Lapis. “Great! So, you know how a lot of candies have swirls in them?”
“Yep,” Lapis said, as Bon Bon grabbed a tiny spoon and began to scoop small dollops of the melted translucent-orange sugar onto the baking sheet, one at a time.
“Okay, good,” Lyra said, “because that’s what we’re doing!” She dipped the toothpick in the bottle of red food coloring, and brought it back out tinted with a warm, deep maroon. Then, Lyra stuck the toothpick in one of the dollops of sugar and gave it a quick, gentle swirl, the toothpick’s tip leaving a spiraling ribbon of red inside the thick liquid sugar.
Lapis cocked an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“Sure is!” Lyra said, grinning. “That’s all we’ve got to do. I’d grab a toothpick and get started, though, because we still need to do it about two hundred fifty more times.”
“Oh, there’s the catch,” Lapis said, levitating his own toothpick from the box.
Bon Bon chuckled around the spoon in her mouth. “Yeah, Lyra hates this part.”
“No I don’t!” Lyra protested. “…I just think there’s got to be a better way to do it, that’s all.”
“Probably,” Lapis said, as the How It’s Made theme song lodged itself in his head. Nah, I couldn’t do that. Don’t want to accidentally start the Industrial Revolution or something, and besides, assembly-line machinery isn’t even my field of specialization.
…Then again, neither is artifice. Which brings me back to my most recent problem. Lapis continued to swirl the dye into the drops, and began trying to figure out how he was supposed to access the other bookshelf inside the Castle of the Two Sisters. Let’s see… if I can’t find any pegasi who are willing to help, then that means I’ll need to figure out something else. The grappling gauntlet won’t cut it, I’ll need to be up there for way longer than it’ll keep me still for. Something like a ladder would be ideal, but… well, that’s a way longer ladder than I could just carry through the Everfree.
“So,” Bon Bon said. “You’re still planning on going back into the Everfree?”
“Yep,” Lapis said, dipping his toothpick back into the bottle of food coloring. “That bookshelf isn’t going to check itself.”
“The one you said was in the Castle of the Two Sisters?” Lyra asked, her ears tipping back with what looked like nervousness. “Isn’t that place cursed?”
“Not that I saw,” Lapis said, frowning. “Old, overgrown, and deserted, but not cursed. Honestly, the parts I explored were kinda peaceful.”
“Sounds like an accident waiting to happen,” Bon Bon grumbled, tapping the last dollop of cinnamon gel off her spoon and pulling a toothpick of her own from the box. “Remind me again why you’re going in there in the first place?”
“Gara Pinion,” Lapis said. “Remember how I thought they were a liaison to A-mare-ica?”
Lyra nodded. “Because their name kept showing up next to all the weird metals?”
“Exactly,” Lapis said. “Well, I confirmed this morning that they write in Eng- that they write the same way I do. That basically guarantees that they’re familiar with either A-mare-ica or a related nation.”
“…Write the same way you do?” Bon Bon asked, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Has to do with the goggles I made,” Lapis said, gesturing to his saddlebags. “I can show you in a little bit, but we should probably finish swirling these first.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Bon Bon said. “It probably won’t take longer than forty-five minutes, though. In the meantime… how sure are you about all this prophecy stuff, really?”
“Oh,” Lapis said, pausing midway through one of the cinnamon drops. “Well, hopefully, a hundred percent sure.”
Bon Bon cocked an eyebrow. “‘Hopefully?’”
“Yeah. I mean, assuming I haven’t messed it all up by now,” Lapis said. “What I’m trying to plan for is around eighty percent accuracy or so. Maybe eighty-five.”
Lyra grinned. “Y’know, for somepony who isn’t sure, those are some pretty specific numbers.”
“…I guess,” Lapis said, shrugging.
“Especially considering that you only remember the ‘big stuff,’” Bon Bon added. “Lapis, I believe the whole prophecy thing, I’m just not sure I believe non-interference is the best policy. Do you have any idea how much of a problem Discord was, back when he was free?”
“Pretty big,” Lapis muttered. “I mean, if he can turn an entire town’s roadway system into soap-”
Lapis froze. “Uh. I… said nothing.”
“And the cleats I’ll be keeping by the door from now on are just coincidence,” Bon Bon said, evenly. “That’s the thing - what if, it’s that simple. You said that nopony really gets hurt, right? What if it just happens that when the demon who nearly destroyed Equestrian civilization finally escapes, somehow nopony really gets hurt. And it had absolutely nothing to do with any royally-organized evacuation drills, no. That letter that the Princess burned to ashes as she gave the orders definitely didn’t have your signature on it.”
Bon Bon turned to face Lapis, the toothpick sticking out from the corner of her mouth bobbing as she spoke. “What if that’s what happened, and you never knew it, because that’s not what you needed to know? What if this prophecy didn’t explain how to fix things on purpose, so that the wrong ponies couldn’t make sure things stayed broken? What if you’re the fix?”
Lapis felt the toothpick slow to a stop as he dropped it inside the bottle of red food coloring. “…That’s a hell of a thing to just drop on someone, Bon Bon.”
Bon Bon shrugged. “You were here. I figured I might as well.”
“Uh-huh,” Lapis said, picking up his toothpick and trying to resume work. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s going on, though. If that’s what was supposed to happen, then… the magic accident would’ve happened to someone who knew the story better, so they’d have a better idea of what would need to be fixed.”
“…Maybe,” Lyra said, waving a hoof back and forth. “I mean, yeah, maybe.”
Lapis raised an eyebrow at Lyra, and she froze, glancing back and forth.
“…I mean, y’know,” Lyra eventually said. “You are, kinda, pretty good at fixing stuff.”
Lapis opened his mouth, then closed it. “Well, then they wouldn’t have picked someone who’s got a deadline. My family’s debt, my debt, isn’t going to pay itself. That’s a problem I know I can fix, so that takes priority. I save them first.”
“You were able to fix Nightmare Moon’s problem,” Bon Bon countered, as she began to swirl her way down a line of cinnamon drops. “That was a big one. And, we were able to keep the Nightmare from taking over anypony else. Maybe you can do both.”
“Bon Bon, I can’t use ‘maybes’ and ‘what-ifs,’ okay?” Lapis said, raising a hoof. “Believe me, I come up with enough of those on my own. I’ve got to focus on definite things. What I know, what I can find out. If I don’t do that, I can’t focus on anything.”
“Well, why not?” Bon Bon asked, frowning.
Because, Lapis thought, there’s already a very big what-if I can’t handle thinking about, and one more maybe might just leave me no option.
He took a deep breath. “…I just can’t, okay? Can we please just focus on swirling these things?”
“Sure can!” Lyra chirped, and Lapis pretended not to notice that she was staring directly at Bon Bon as he got back to work.
“…Alright,” Bon Bon eventually said, and she, too, lowered her toothpick back to the food coloring.
“Not in here,” Spike muttered.
He pulled the bowl of sapphires out of the fridge, popped one into his mouth as he shut the door with his foot, then resumed searching for Twilight’s pre-written letter about the repair-pony. “Already checked her writing desk, and it wasn’t there. That means she wasn’t really in the writing mood when she wrote it, so it won’t be in any of her usual composing nooks…”
Spike swallowed his mouthful of precious gemstone, then tossed another sapphire in, his face scrunching in concentration as he chewed. Snacks were supposed to help you think, right? Honestly, it was hard for him to think about anything when there were sapphires around. …Or when Rarity was around.
“Rarity…” Spike muttered. “Oh, yeah, Rarity was here, right! And Twilight was over here, and…”
Spike glanced around the room, then carefully walked over to where he remembered Twilight standing, striking a dignified pose with the bowl of sapphires cradled in his arm. “‘Dear Princess Celestia. Today I learned a very important lesson about friendship. Here’s some gossip, here’s a one-sentence recap written like a moral, and here’s the moral phrased differently, in case I didn’t make the connection between the gossip and the moral clear the first time. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.’”
Spike held out an arm. “ ‘Wait, Spike! Don’t send it yet. What do you mean, Rarity? I can’t have a crush on him, he looks just like my B.B.B.B.F….’”
Spike trailed off. “Wait, wasn’t it just three B’s?” He thought about it for a second, then shook his head. “Eh. So then she did the Spiders Dance, and then I started telling Rarity about the Spy-ders, and Twilight went… back behind the counter, right!”
He grinned, patting the top of the bowl of sapphires. “Huh. Snacks!”
About thirty seconds and three gems later, Spike emerged from a drawer behind the counter with a letter firmly clutched in his hand. He flicked it open with a claw, his ear fins springing forward as he scanned down the page. “‘Dear Princess Celestia, I recently encountered one Lapis Print…’ Perfect!”
Spike grinned, hopping up onto his stool and picking another sapphire out of the bowl. Now he just had to wait until Twilight got back, and-
There was a flash of magenta light and a crackle like electricity, and Spike yelped in surprise, the gem slipping from his claws as he toppled to the floor.
“SPIKE!” a desperate, familiar voice called, and Spike groaned as he sat up. That specific ratio of exasperation to fear in her tone (one to two) was warning sign number two. Warning number one had been that Twilight had teleported into the library, instead of walking. Clearly, the picnic hadn’t gone well.
Twilight was pacing, her utterly-frazzled mane bouncing stiffly with every step, her hooves clacking against the floor of the library as Spike rounded the library counter. “I need a problem, fast,” she was saying, looking right past Spike as she turned to pace the other direction. “My friends didn’t have anything. Nothing! They told me I shouldn’t sweat the small stuff! Like this was small!”
“Um, wow,” Spike said. “Well, turns out, I’ve got something!”
Twilight froze in place, and then in another flash of magenta light, she was standing directly in front of Spike, her muzzle inches from his face. “You do?!”
Spike, who had learned to expect this sort of thing, grinned and offered Twilight the letter. “Yep! You saved this one back weeks ago, just in case you needed it!”
Slowly, Twilight levitated the letter from Spike’s grasp, pressing it open atop the counter with shaky hooves - then, slowly, a manic grin split her face as she read it. “This won’t work, but I know what will. Spike!”
“Ready!” Spike announced, unfurling a scroll of parchment and looking around for a quill.
“‘Dear Princess Celestia,’” Twilight began, and Spike threw caution to the wind, popping the cork off the inkwell and writing with the tip of his claw.
“‘For a little over two months, I’ve been confused by the behavior of one Lapis Print, a pony who had his heart set on never encountering me or my friends. At first, I had thought that this made him pretty strange - then, after I talked to a mutual acquaintance of ours, I realized that me and my friends were the strange ponies. We had saved the world - of course he might be nervous about getting near us. Or so I was told.’
“‘However,’” Twilight continued, “‘I suspected that there might be more to the situation. And while I certainly didn’t endorse Pinkie Pie’s hunting him down and throwing him a whole Welcome-to-Ponyville festival, she certainly gave me the chance to find out. And it turned out that really, he just didn’t want a Welcome-to-Ponyville Party, and was staying away from me and my friends so that Pinkie wouldn’t be able to throw one for him.’”
“Huh,” Spike said, his brow beginning to furrow. “Sorry, when was this?”
“Earlier this week,” Twilight said.
“And this pony said he didn’t want a party,” Spike said, cocking his head, “but Pinkie threw him a whole festival.”
“That’s right,” Twilight replied, then she raised a hoof and opened her mouth to continue dictating.
“So, how come you didn’t think of this sooner?” Spike asked.
Twilight paused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you need to write to Princess Celestia about a friendship problem,” Spike said. “And, well, if I were this pony, I’m pretty sure I’d see the whole tracking-me-down thing as a problem-”
It was at this point that Spike realized what he was saying, and clapped his hand over his mouth. Unfortunately, it was the hand that he’d been using to write, and Spike felt a drop of ink running down his cheek as he watched a look of wide-eyed, horrified realization spread across Twilight’s face. Uh-oh. Gotta backtrack this, quick.
“But if he said it was fine-” Spike began.
“He did,” Twilight said, nodding.
Spike sighed in relief.
“But what if he didn’t mean it?” Twilight said.
Spike winced. Here we go.
“Oh, no,” Twilight muttered, her ears slowly flopping back atop her head as she levitated Spike’s scroll from his claws. “Oh, no no no. This isn’t a friendship letter, it’s a confession! Oh…”
Twilight briefly glanced around the room, then shut her eyes and focused - and a second later, the scroll burst into orange, non-magical fire, which reduced it to ashes in less than a second. “I’ve been looking for a friendship problem this whole time, but I think I made one! -But if I talk to him, if I get him to admit he was upset and accept my apology… It'll be fine! It'll all be fine. I just have to hurry.”
Twilight ignited her horn again, and a fresh scroll floated across the room to her side, along with an inkwell and quill. And, before Spike could say anything in response, she’d galloped through the library door and out of sight.
Spike waited for a count of five, then pulled another scroll of parchment from the desk, along with an inkwell. He hesitated as he dipped his claw in the ink, then glanced over at the pile of ashes on the floor and swallowed.
He always hoped he was just being paranoid, whenever he wrote one of these letters. But intentional pyrokinesis was always the final warning, especially when it was done anywhere near books. Twilight didn’t put books in danger unless she was hitting critical mass, and that was going to be bad news for anypony - or any dragon - who didn’t make themselves scarce until some serious, serious help arrived. And there was only one pony in Equestria with that grade of problem-solving power.
Dear Princess Celestia, Spike wrote, a nervous grimace fixing itself on his face as he glanced at the library door again.
Code Morning Glory.
He rolled up the scroll, not bothering to seal it before sucking in a breath and blasting the scroll with enchanted flame. It shot out the window at blistering speed, Spike already hurrying up the stairs toward his improvised emergency bunker.
He belched out another scroll midway through scrambling underneath Twilight’s bed, unfurling it to reveal three lines of neat, sharp print. He recognized the writing immediately, it was what the Princess used when she was in too much of a hurry for cursive.
Spike,
I am on my way.
Elaborate.
“Alright,” Lapis said, picking up the goggles and offering them to Lyra. “So you know how there’s normal Equish, and then there’s Prench?”
“Um, yeah,” Lyra said, taking the goggles from Lapis’ telekinetic grip and looking them over. They’d just finished swirling the cinnamon drops, and Lyra had taken the initiative to ask Lapis about his latest creation. As such, Lapis thought it only fair that she get to try them first.
“Well, it turns out there’s more than just Prench,” Lapis said. “Griffons have Gryphic, zebras have Zebrican, and Amareicans - well, more than just us, but still - have English. We just don’t notice that Griffons are speaking a different language-”
“Because Harmony translates for them,” Bon Bon said, waving her hoof. “…Except in such cases where they don’t intend for their words to be understood by a foreign party, in which cases Harmony respects their wish.”
Lyra gave Bon Bon a funny look, and Bon Bon shrugged. “Canterlot’s a big place. Lots of foreign ponies. Eventually, you figure it out.”
“Okay,” Lyra said. “So, wait. Lapis, you’re trying to say that it’s not just your swear words? Like… I don’t know, instead of saying-”
And then, Lyra contorted her mouth and produced a stuttering and distinctly horselike noise somewhere between a squeaky printer and a sedan hitting its brakes too quickly.
“-or something,” Lyra continued, as if nothing unusual had happened, “you’re just saying gibberish? Or, um, not gibberish, but some other word that would sound like nonsense to me?”
“Uh,” Lapis said, frowning. “I think so. …Sorry, what just happened?”
“Lyra said ‘muffins,’ but she specifically meant for it to be in Equish,” Bon Bon said, looking between Lapis and Lyra. “So, Harmony left it in Equish for Lapis instead of translating, the same way that it just sounds like a really loud screech when a… relatively reserved griffon calls somepony a spineless egg hen. Meanwhile, Harmony keeps translating as I say ‘muffins’, because I’m imagining actual muffins as I say it, instead of just referring to the word-”
Bon Bon’s face contorted, and a split second later, she produced a noise identical to the one that Lyra had just made. Lapis and Lyra both looked it her in confusion, and Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “It’s weird. Try not to think about it too hard, it works better that way.”
Lyra’s ears flopped back, and her brow furrowed as she made a vaguely-nervous nickering noise. Lapis’ expression must have betrayed his bewilderment, because Bon Bon sighed in exasperation, then turned to Lapis. “She says that might be tricky.”
“Wait,” Lapis said. “So, Lyra will understand if I’m talking about butter…”
Lyra nodded.
“…But as soon as I focus on saying the word,” Lapis said, “then instead of understanding, she’ll just hear ‘butter?’”
Lyra’s eyes widened, then she suddenly giggled, covering her mouth with a hoof. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, it’s just… That one sounds fun to say.” Lyra concentrated for a second, and when next she spoke, her voice was back to sounding horselike, trailing into something between a rolling ‘R’ and a snort as she spoke. “Buh-drr.”
Bon Bon rolled her eyes, smirking. “Yeah, that’s kind of a strange one. But Lapis, let’s get back on topic. What do the goggles do?”
“Right,” Lapis said, shaking his head. “Well, uh, the same way that we’re making different noises to describe the same thing, we also write different words to describe the same thing. It’s just that - thanks to Harmony, I guess - I didn’t notice until recently. These goggles are designed to help me see that kind of stuff, by grabbing any magic that’s headed for my eyes and using it to make light from these topaz gems.”
“Oh! Oh, okay, now I’ve gotta see this,” Lyra said, and then she slid the goggles on. “Let me get some pencils and paper, hang on…”
Lyra turned and headed out of the kitchen. A few moments later, she rushed back in, the topaz gems on the goggles already glowing as she slid a few slips of sheet paper and a pencil onto the table. “Okay, so I’m going to write down some lyrics, and Lapis, you do the same thing. I want to see what your writing looks like.”
About thirty seconds later, there were two sheets of lyrics on the table - one in Lapis’ familiar handwriting, and one in Lyra’s curlier style. Lapis could read Lyra’s just fine - they were a simple series of rhyming couplets about the beginning of fall - but Lapis had copied down the opening stanza to Bohemian Rhapsody, and Lyra was staring at it through the goggles as if she’d never seen anything like it.
“…they don’t even look like anything!” Lyra was saying. “I mean, I guess that letter is kind of like a chair if you squint at it, but - Bon Bon, here, you look!”
Bon Bon held still as Lyra slid the goggles onto her face, then cocked an eyebrow as she examined Lapis’ writing. “Huh. Well, I guess that should help you spot anything that was written by somepony else from Amareica.”
“That’s the plan,” Lapis said, grinning.
Bon Bon looked up at Lapis, gesturing to the goggles. “So, how are you going to get up to that bookshelf with these?”
“Uh,” Lapis said. “…So far, my plan has been ‘big ladder,’ but that’s not gonna cut it. I’d still like some pegasus or griffon assistance if I can get it. Anyone with wings, really. But-”
And then, quite suddenly, an idea occurred to Lapis. It was the same idea he’d had nearly a month ago, when he showed the grappling gauntlet to Big Mac. And, as then, he considered it for only a second or two before immediately tossing it aside. Nope. Just no. Even assuming I’ve got the magic in my tank to keep them running, which I don’t, and assuming the laws of physics and aerodynamics are the same here, which they aren’t, it would take months of engineering and weeks of practice to get something like those up and running. I do not have that kind of time.
Plus, even assuming they’re not completely impractical - if I got spotted once, I’d be on headlines instantly. Rainbow Dash would be on me like green on a leaf, I’d have angry mobs of pegasi trying to stop me from inventing them out of a job, and I’d be at risk of every kind of falling-related injury possible.
A floating platform, though… if I made it slow and awkward enough, that probably shouldn’t turn too many heads. Maybe. I’d need to prioritize stability and precision, which is probably a good thing to do anyway since falling is easy…
Or, I could try asking the one pony with wings who’s made it her business to help me.
“Okay, I’ve got to ask,” Lyra began.
“Lapis, that's your dumb-idea face. What are you thinking?” Bon Bon said, at the exact same time. She and Lyra looked at each other for a second, then Bon Bon waved a hoof. “You first.”
“Right,” Lyra said, giggling. “So, Lapis. You know that swear word you use all the time?”
Lapis frowned. “Um… ‘fuck?’”
“That’s the one,” Lyra said, nodding. “What does it mean?”
Lapis’ eyes widened. “…I, uh, might need to ask some awkward questions-”
He was cut off by a flash of magenta light and a crackle like electricity, and Bon Bon’s gaze instantly locked onto a point behind Lapis. Lyra’s eyes grew wide, her ears slowly flopping back on her head. “Um…”
“Hello, Lapis!” a familiar voice announced, and though the speaker’s tone was perfectly casual, Lapis felt a shiver run down his spine nonetheless. “I’m so sorry it took this long for me to check in on you. I’ve just been really busy with my other friends recently, and… well, I might be wrong, but I feel like we may not have gotten off on the right hoof.”
“Hey, Twilight,” Lapis said, slowly turning around. “Why would you think… that…”
Twilight looked terrible. Worse than that, it was a kind of terrible that Lapis recognized, a kind he’d seen in the mirror on a few occasions. Her mane was a nightmarish mass of odd angles and bent tangles, her eyes were too wide and bloodshot to seem completely reasonable, and her skin was stretched painfully tight around the edges of her wide and toothy grin.
“…Are you okay?” Lapis asked.
Twilight glanced to the side without moving her head. “Yes. I’m doing great. Are you? I mean, that brunch party that Pinkie threw for you, it was pretty wild, right?”
“Right,” Lapis said, trying to ignore the tingle of dread that was building in his gut. “What about it?”
“Well,” Twilight said, sauntering over and leaning on the counter beside Lapis, “I mean, you went to all the trouble of avoiding me and my friends just to get away from a Pinkie party, right?”
“Yep,” Lapis said. “That’s what happened.”
“Yes, exactly,” Twilight said. “And let me tell you, I was really relieved that you didn’t take it out on Pinkie, or anypony else. I was so sure that you’d be… scared, or upset, after something like that.”
Lapis heard Bon Bon taking a slow, deep breath from somewhere behind himself, and saw Lyra backing away slowly out of the corner of his eye - whether toward Bon Bon, or away from Twilight, he wasn’t sure.
“You aren’t, right?” Twilight asked, looking Lapis right in his face, her expression one of apparent concern. “You don’t have any hard feelings about the brunch?”
“Nope,” Lapis said, growing increasingly bewildered. “Like I said, I’d been expecting something big from Pinkie for a while, and honestly, I’m just glad it’s over with.”
Twilight’s face twitched.
“Seriously, are you okay?” Lapis asked.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Twilight said, waving a hoof. “And thank you for asking, it just goes to show that you’re such a good friend. But are you okay? Are you really? Don’t you have any lingering resentment toward me or Pinkie Pie, at all? Are you sure you don’t have any problem with either of us?”
“Whaaat the buck,” Bon Bon muttered under her breath. If Twilight heard, she didn’t acknowledge it, continuing to stare at Lapis without blinking, a faintly desperate smile locked into position on her face.
“Any problems,” Twilight repeated. “Any at all.”
…The safe thing to do, Lapis knew, was to say ‘no.’ The problem was that he did, in fact, have a problem with Pinkie Pie. There was a small but vocal part of Lapis’ brain which would be more than happy to explain, at length, how much any real friendship between Twilight and himself would require not letting Pinkie Pie, or so much as a slip of her confetti, within a fifty-foot radius of his person and domicile ever again.
The rest of his brain, however, knew that this was an impossible thing to ask - and more importantly, that Twilight didn’t seem to be in a stable enough condition to give a reasonable response to his opinion. Or, for that matter, to anything else.
“Nope,” Lapis said, his ears twitching as he plastered a grin onto his face. “It’s all good.”
“Are you sure?” Twilight asked, cocking her head and leaning in closer.
“Positive,” Lapis said.
For a split second, Lapis thought he saw a genuine expression on Twilight’s face, one that looked quite a bit like mortal terror. “Absolutely no problem?”
“None whatsoever,” Lapis said. “Do… you have any problems?”
Twilight’s eyelid twitched. “Nothing major, apparently. Thank you for your time. Bye!”
Then, in another crackle of magenta light that left Lapis blinking an afterimage from his eyes, she vanished.
“…Well then,” Lapis began.
“GAAAAAH!” Twilight’s voice yelled, from just outside the kitchen window. A second later, there followed the sound of galloping hooves, which slowly faded into the distance.
For ten seconds that felt like minutes, nobody spoke. Bon Bon’s kitchen remained so silent that Lapis was tempted to hold his breath.
“Did that just happen?” Lyra eventually asked, slowly sitting down on the kitchen floor. “Like, did everypony else just see that, or am I hallucinating, or…”
“No, that happened,” Bon Bon said slowly. “…Lapis, you okay?”
“Aside from a sudden sense of impending doom?” Lapis asked, levitating his goggles off the counter. “No. I think I might go home, write a letter, and maybe hide in my basement for a while.”
“Take us with you?” Lyra asked, raising her hooves pleadingly. From her tone, Lapis couldn’t tell whether or not she was kidding.
Contrary to popular belief, dreamwalking magic was best performed while awake. This was true for any school of magic, really - a pony’s mind, when asleep, worked in a different way from when it was awake, and this meant that magic cast while its caster was asleep would also work differently. Since Princess Luna had no desire to awaken with her wings dyed hot pink again - rather the opposite, as a matter of fact - this meant that she normally had to coordinate her schedule so that she was awake when most other ponies were asleep, and sleeping when they were awake. This often presented… difficulties, especially in establishing contact with much of pony society, but such were the sacrifices Luna had to make for duty.
Today, however, Princess Luna was not having her full day’s rest, which was to say that she was having a thoroughly enjoyable day. It would, she knew, be followed by a terrible night’s work - however, Princess Luna was quite certain that her future self would derive great glory and satisfaction from facing the challenge.
Only half an hour ago, Luna had been shaken from her sleep by Celestia. Celestia had gently but briefly explained that she would be out for a while, and that in the event of an emergency, Luna was the highest authority in the castle. Luna, who had long been familiar with Celestia’s random cravings for cake, had asked Celestia to pick up something citrusy on her way back and promptly thought nothing more of it. Since then, Luna had requested and eaten a glorious late-afternoon breakfast, read halfway through an utterly bizarre novel she’d pulled from the castle library, and was now practicing some fine-detail telekinesis using her letter opener and a medium-largish chunk of chilled mozzarella.
Luna had just finished carving a muzzle into the block of cheese when the book sitting off to the side of her desk buzzed. She paused, then set the cheese and knife to the side before opening it up.
Hey, Your Highness, when are you free? Lapis had written.
Luna frowned, picking up her quill. Never. Celestia tells us she has devoted much legislation to the prevention of indentured servitude, but as yet she seems to have forgotten our own.
My condolences, Lapis replied.
Luna levitated a cracker off the platter on her desk, topping it with a fresh slice of tomato, a trimming of lettuce, and some shavings of the mozzarella she was carving. She added a light drizzle of balsamic glaze, then popped it in her mouth. ‘Tis not so bad, she wrote, munching blissfully. We are glad to serve. Didst thou petition us for curiosity alone, or is there some purpose to thy asking?
Maybe. There’s a bookshelf I need to investigate, but the problem is that there’s no floor in front of it. And it’s also in the middle of the Everfree Forest, Lapis replied a few moments later. So I guess what I’m asking is, when are you available to visit the Castle of the Two Sisters with me?
Luna froze mid-bite - or rather, she attempted to, and instead managed to bite her own tongue. She clapped her hoof to the side of her mouth, sucking in a breath with which she intended to utter a string of curses. However, a few fragments of cracker found their way into her lungs, and so Luna found herself having a vicious coughing fit instead.
When, a few moments later, Luna stood back up and got a drink of water, she saw that Lapis had already written a follow-up line, and was midway through writing a second. That’s probably a massive breach of protocol or etiquette or something, now that I think about it. Forget I asked, read the first line.
Just out of curiosity, how does somepony go about requesting a stay of execution? the second line read, in slightly messier writing than the first.
“WHY WOULD YOU ASK HER THAT?!” Lyra screeched, clapping her hooves to the side of her head.
“I don’t know!” Lapis said, sitting back before his workbench and rubbing his temple with a hoof. “She’d know, right?!”
“So would I,” Bon Bon said, in a considerably calmer tone than the other two ponies in Lapis’ basement. “And I’m also not the pony who would execute you. …Though, I seriously doubt that she’s going to do that.”
“Are you kidding?!” Lyra said, throwing her hooves in the air. “He just asked Princess Luna to do something! For himself! He didn’t even make it sound official!” Lyra sat down on the basement floor, her ears flopping back. “Oh Celestia. Lapis is going to the moon.”
“The… moon?” Lapis asked, his eyes widening as Lyra began to hyperventilate.
“No, you’re not going to the moon,” Bon Bon sighed. “This is not the kind of offense that get ponies sent to the moon. Maybe some Canterlot nobles might try that, if they had the option, but the Princesses wouldn’t be Princesses if they couldn’t take these things in stride.”
Lapis relaxed a little, and Lyra paused. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, Lyra,” Bon Bon said, putting her hoof on Lyra’s shoulder. “Remember when we met Princess Celestia? Lapis made a good half-dozen breaches of etiquette, and the Princess just thought it was funny. If Luna’s anything like her, she’ll write back with a witty little quip as soon as she’s done having a polite little chuckle.”
…and if thou dost again accuse us of permitting such tyrannical injustice as execution, Luna wrote, we shall ensure that thee wishest thyself correct.
Then, Luna took a deep breath, examined the piece of scrap paper upon which she’d written her reply, and firmly crossed out the more threatening lines. She paid special attention to the last, drawing her pen over it three times before she took a deep breath and looked over the revised message.
This sort of writing and revision was a habit of Luna’s, one she’d picked up over centuries of standing as the first line of defense between her sister’s time and the scrabbling contracts of avaricious fools. Luna dearly wished her method had some transferability to conversation, but alas, the spoken word was rather more difficult to strike through and place in a rubbish bin.
Firstly, Luna wrote (this time on the book), it was we who wrote the laws that forbade execution, more than a millennium ago. Banishment, or else petrification, are all that thou need fear, and we advise thee to simply avoid those actions which might give thee cause to fear them. And, on the off-chance that thy question was in jest, we request that thou keepest thy humor to subjects with consequences less permanent.
Secondly, protocol does not apply to thee, save if you should enter military service. Thy concern is with etiquette. Considering our mission to assist thee in recovering a path to thy home, thy request was acceptable. However, if in future thou must maintain propriety, we recommend that thou merely describe that mission, state thy requirements for any accompanying ponies, and allow those ponies who might fit the bill to volunteer themselves. Much as we wish we could give you further guidance on conduct, we fear ourselves more capable of recognizing failures than of cultivating success - we recommend finding a guide, or a guidebook.
And, in regards to thy excursion…
Luna hesitated, wincing as she dipped her quill in her inkwell. At Luna’s request, Celestia had recently explained the degree of fear that most ponies held for the Everfree Forest, and for the ruins within it. Luna… had been the stuff of such legends before, but never among her own subjects. Criminals’ fear, Luna appreciated, along with that of greedy nobility and ravening monsters.
But the fear of her own ponies…
Luna struck another line through the final threat of her first draft, then resumed writing to Lapis.
…We are unsure, yet, of whether we shall be able to join thee. To perform our duties minding the dreams of our subjects, we must sleep through the day, and awake instead at night. Plan thy excursion as if we shall not be present, and notify us when all preparations are made, Luna replied. Should we possess the strength and time to spare, then hunting we shall go.
Lapis grimaced, then began writing up a thank-you note. Lyra, meanwhile, was lying on her back on the basement floor, where she’d collapsed with relief as soon as Lapis had announced Luna’s forgiveness. Bon Bon was sitting just beside Lapis, looking over his shoulder as he wrote.
“…So, uh,” Lyra eventually said. “Remind me again how you became pen pals with Princess Luna?”
“The cursed book wasn’t actually cursed,” Lapis said. “Apparently, Luna just likes that look.”
Bon Bon cocked an eyebrow. “The cursed book that you found in the Castle of the Two Sisters?”
“That’s the one,” Lapis replied, finishing his reply and closing the book. “Luna put it where I could find it on purpose. She got sick of being ignored in my dreams, and thought that I might respond to her if I didn’t know it was her writing back.” Lapis waved a hoof as he levitated the goggles onto his face, picking up his own notebook. “The ‘thees’ and ‘thous’ tipped me off pretty quickly, though.”
“Well, that’s convoluted,” Bon Bon replied.
“Yeah, but I’m definitely not complaining,” Lapis said, looking over the page he’d written on earlier that day. “As far as minimal exposure goes, this is basically the best thing I could ask for. Okay, so this sentence here, I’ve written twice - once in English, and once in Equish. It uses every character in the English alphabet, but I’m not sure the translation is one-to-”
“Hang on,” Bon Bon said, holding up a hoof. “Why’s it so quiet?”
“Yeah, I noticed that as soon as I got down the stairs,” Lyra said, nodding. “It was like the whole village just stopped.”
“Oh, this place is magically soundproofed,” Lapis said. “Whoever built this basement, they didn’t want to annoy the neighbors with blacksmithing noises. No sound from inside gets out, none from outside gets in.”
“How considerate,” Bon Bon muttered, looking warily around the room. “I’m going to go outside for a little bit, see if whatever was going on with Twilight is over now.”
“Wait, we all need to go with you, remember?” Lyra said, getting to her hooves. “We’ll get locked in here otherwise.”
“Right,” Bon Bon said, looking over at Lapis from halfway up the stairs. “So, did you ever figure out who made this place? Because I’m starting to wonder myself.”
“Nope,” Lapis said, following Lyra up the stairs and into the closet. “Again, not going to look a - uh, not going to temp fate.”
There were a couple seconds of silence as Lapis shut the secret door and opened the normal one, then Bon Bon sighed. “Lapis, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m really not sure your magic accident was completely accidental.”
Lapis groaned. “Bon Bon, I’ve just got really bad luck, alright? Always have.”
Bon Bon sat down at the table next to Lapis’ window. “Bad luck? Lapis, between this house, the ‘mimic,-’”
“His name’s Chester,” Lapis said, gesturing to the wardrobe that was sitting against the wall by the hallway entrance.
“-Gara Pinion, the Nightmare, and now Princess Luna,” Bon Bon continued, “you’ve been a magnet for mysteries and loose ends ever since you got here.”
“But I haven’t been solving them so much as either tolerating them, or beating them off with a stick,” Lapis said. “Bon Bon, I’m not some secret hero, alright?”
“You…” Bon Bon said, in a slow and clearly exasperated tone. “Know… A… Prophecy.”
“Not directly.”
“You fought a Nightmare.”
“And would’ve lost without you and Lyra.”
“Uh, guys?” Lyra said.
“You were able to hide from Pinkie Pie.”
“And it nearly drove both of us insane.”
“Guys.”
“You’re in touch with Princess Luna! The immortal alicorn who moves the moon!”
“Only because-”
“GUYS!” Lyra shouted. Lapis and Bon Bon broke off, looking over at Lyra, and she waved over to the window. “There’s a stampede or something coming this way, look!”
Lapis looked, and sure enough, there was a crowd of ponies barreling down Nutmeg Way. They were moving at a fast gallop, following a tall, rusty-red Earth-pony-
“Is that Big Mac?” Lapis asked, squinting.
“I think so, Lyra said.
“He’s holding something, look,” Bon Bon said.
Lapis frowned, looking through his goggles at Big Mac. He was holding a… doll, or something?
Then, the outline of the doll suddenly flared with pink light. An instant later, the topaz crystals on Lapis’ goggles lit up like a sulfur-yellow flash-bang. Lapis yelped and stumbled backward, tripping over the leg of his chair and falling back onto… another chair, which rocked back and forth as Lapis tried to scrub the stinging afterimage from his eyes. He dimly heard the door opening, and two sets of hoofsteps galloping out of the storefront, but was too busy being in pain to voice any inquiries.
Lapis opened his eyes to find that, while his vision was still tinged purple by the afterimage, he could still see. He’d landed rump-first on a squat, sturdy rocking chair, which Lapis guessed was Chester, based on the sudden absence of the wardrobe. Bon Bon and Lyra were nowhere to be seen, and Lapis’ door was slowly swinging shut as he watched.
“…What just happened?” Lapis muttered, slowly climbing to his hooves. He would’ve called for Nikki, but he hadn’t seen her in a few days - for all he knew, Nikki had flown south for the winter. “Uh, thanks, Chester. Did you see where they went?”
When next Lapis blinked, Chester was once again a chest, and was propping Lapis’ door open. Lapis nodded, then galloped out the door and looked down the street.
The stampede was still out there, it had passed his house and was now heading toward the center of Ponyville - and, to Lapis’ dismay, Lyra and Bon Bon were trying to join it, galloping just a few paces behind the rest of the crowd.
“Uh-oh,” Lapis muttered, and then he started galloping after them, trying not to inhale the dust from the stampede. There was a horrible niggling feeling in his gut again, the one that meant he was forgetting something, but he didn’t have the time to figure it out. The crowd rounded a corner, starting down one of the larger roads nearby, and Lapis cut the corner between several of the houses.
Lapis emerged just in front of the crowd, and this time he caught a better look at the doll in Big Mac’s mouth. It was a donkey, or more likely a pony, and it looked… “well-loved,” to put it politely. The doll’s outline flared pink again, and Lapis realized he was still wearing the goggles just in time to shut his eyes. He still saw the resulting flash of light through his eyelids, and a half-dozen different shouts from the crowd confirmed that the goggles were still functioning as he’d built them to - but hey, at least I didn’t use rubies.
Lapis briefly considered removing the goggles as he opened his eyes, but as he saw that the stampede was continuing, he decided that he’d better figure out what was going on, first. Lapis started galloping with the crowd, deliberately falling behind until he was next to Bon Bon and Lyra.
“So why are we running?” Lapis shouted over the thunder of galloping hooves.
Lyra looked over at him, and Lapis felt his eyes widen in shock - her pupils had been replaced by throbbing, pink hearts. “I’m gonna get that doll!” she exclaimed, and quite suddenly she put on a burst of speed, shoving her way into the bulk of the crowd.
“Oh, like hay you are!” Bon Bon yelled, and Lapis just barely had time to see that she had hearts in her eyes, too. Bon Bon sprung forward with a leap that was nearly a pounce, landing atop an enormously muscular pegasus and using him as a springboard to jump forward again, nearly colliding with Big Mac-
“Nope,” Big Mac said, taking three steps to the right without slowing down. Bon Bon missed Big Mac entirely, tucking into a roll that left her smack in the middle of the crowd by the time she got back to her hooves. Even still, she was able to rise into a gallop, keeping pace with the rest of the crowd as they rounded another corner.
Lapis gaped, then shook his head and tried to figure out what was going on. The doll’s definitely magic, it’s tried to cast a spell at me twice. My goggles were able to catch the spell, meaning it must be aimed at ponies’ eyes - so, that means the doll is probably to blame for the whole heart-eyes thing. If I destroy the doll, maybe that will break the spell?
Lapis swallowed, then set his jaw and hung a left toward another alleyway. Worth a shot.
Now, if only I knew any destructive spells.
Lapis cut another corner, snagging an oil lantern from beside a nearby door as he passed, frantically twiddling the knob that would raise the lantern’s wick. The lantern was already beginning to burn brighter as Lapis emerged near the front of the crowd, deliberately not looking toward Big Mac as he pulled up alongside the larger pony.
“Hey, Big Mac,” Lapis panted, waiting for the lantern’s flame to burn just a little bit brighter. “Long time, no see.”
“E-yup,” Big Mac said, out of the corner of his mouth.
“So, what’s going on?” Lapis asked.
“Gotta get this doll.”
“Cool, cool,” Lapis said. “Can I borrow it real quick?”
“Nope.”
Lapis grimaced. “You sure?”
“E-yup.”
“Alright,” Lapis said. “Hey, I need to talk to you real quick. You mind looking this way?”
Lapis turned to look at Big Mac, at the exact moment that Big Mac glanced over at him. Lapis registered two things at once - first, there were hearts in Big Mac’s eyes too, and second, that the outline of the doll was already flaring pink again.
“Sorry about this,” Lapis said, and he shut his eyes just as the goggles flared with yellow light again. Lapis was only mildly surprised to hear Big Mac actually whinny, but he still took the opportunity to yank the doll from Big Mac’s mouth and jam it into the top of the oil lantern.
The fire in the oil lantern, instead of burning the doll, promptly snuffed itself out in a silent, pathetic puff of smoke. Lapis had precisely two seconds to berate himself for forgetting the chemistry of fire before Big Mac shoulder-checked him, snatching the doll out of the oil lantern midair as Lapis flew off to the side.
Lapis landed on his side atop something wooden, which rocked back from the impact. He covered his head with his hooves as the crowd thundered past, coughing once from being out of breath, and then several more times from all the dust, his eyes watering behind his goggles as he struggled to regain control of his stinging lungs.
Lapis wrenched his eyes open, and discovered that he’d managed to land atop a bench made from dark reddish wood, which had been fitted with runners like those of a rocking chair. He must’ve hit his head, because for a second Lapis thought he saw two Bon Bons in the crowd - then his vision cleared, and Big Mac and the rest of the crowd were already a good fifty feet down the road, rounding a corner out of sight as Lapis watched.
Lapis staggered to his feet, and was about to start running after them again, except when he blinked, the bench was suddenly in front of him. Lapis frowned in confusion for a second, then recognized the tint of the wood. “Oh. Uh, thanks again, Chester.”
He stepped around the bench and took off running after the crowd again, squinting against the dust cloud - and, as soon as Lapis blinked, he slammed face-first into a reddish-brown grandfather clock, which wobbled in place just as Lapis staggered backward. Neither of them fell over, and Lapis winced as he rubbed his face, glaring at Chester. “Cut it out, I’m trying to steal a doll here!”
Lapis rounded the grandfather clock and started galloping again. The next time he blinked, however, he opened his eyes to find himself running directly into an open wardrobe, which tipped backwards as Lapis collided with its back wall. The doors swung shut, and Lapis was trapped inside, in the dark, as the wardrobe fell backward. He slammed, hard, against the back of the wardrobe - then, to his surprise, the entire wardrobe lurched in place, pressing him against the back before bouncing him off the walls like a pinball.
The wardrobe’s movement came to an abrupt stop, and Lapis yelped in surprise as he was pitched forward, bursting through the wardrobe’s doors and falling forward to land - miraculously - on his hooves, which thunked against the hardwood floor as he staggered onto a familiar green rug.
“Chester, what the-!” Lapis began, looking backward - only to find that the wardrobe was gone, and in the place where it had been, there was only a portrait of a mustached griffon smirking at him. Lapis realized that he was back inside his own shop, and he looked to the front door to find that Chester was once again a grandfather clock, positioned to prop Lapis’ door closed from the outside.
“Hey!” Lapis shouted, rushing over to his door and trying to push it open. Unfortunately, Chester made for a heavier grandfather clock than Lapis had expected, and the door barely even rattled in its frame as Lapis tried to budge it aside. “Chester, c’mon, dammit! Scoot! I’ve gotta get out there!”
Chester refused to move, and Lapis groaned. Okay, so Chester’s betrayed me. Great. I need a new plan, now. He spun and rushed into the closet, tearing open the secret door and nearly falling down the stairs. Lapis reached his workbench, frantically looking over the books at his disposal. The first one that caught his eye was Luna’s book, and he promptly opened it, grabbed his pencil, and touched it to the page.
RED ALERT SEND FUCKIGN HELP
Luna munched down the last of her crackers, sighed in contentment, then got up from her cushion and stretched, pointing her wings straight up as she arched her back like a cat. She walked over to her latest painting, reached for her palate of paint, and-
Lapis’ book buzzed again upon her desk, and Luna paused, then set her palate aside and levitated the book over to her side. When she opened it to the newest page, she paused, a frown wrinkling her brow. Instead of writing in Equish, Lapis had sent her a number of strange runes, which Harmony somehow seemed disinclined to translate for her.
Luna frowned, then picked up her quill and wrote.
Lapis stared down at the book, utterly bewildered, as Luna replied with a series of small, neat pictograms. Then it clicked, and Lapis facehoofed as he took off his goggles.
We fail to discern thy meaning, Luna had written. Might we ask thee to write back in Equish?
What I meant was ‘send help,’ Lapis replied. There’s this gross old doll, and everypony who looks at it gets hearts in their eyes. The whole town is chasing after the thing. Also, there’s an overprotective clock holding my door shut.
Ah. Luna seemed to hesitate for several moments, and Lapis took the opportunity to rummage through the other books on the workbench, flipping open Magic 4 Dummies for all of a few seconds before tossing it aside. While we are uncertain what to do about thy clock, we expect the doll represents a rogue Want-It-Need-It charm, from thy description. We have news on this front both good and bad.
Bad news first, Lapis wrote, grabbing his own notebook and skimming through it at high speed.
Our dear sister, from the sound of it, has yet failed to arrive and resolve the matter, Luna wrote, as Lapis turned a page of his notebook and froze in his tracks as he saw what he’d copied there, by quill, less than a month after the Summer Sun Celebration.
However, as she departed from Canterlot near forty-five minutes ago, we suspect she shall arrive quite soon.
Lapis grimaced as he read Luna’s reply, then picked up his pencil again, levitating his notebook to his side as he wrote. Unless you have an ETA more specific than ‘quite soon,’ that isn’t soon enough. Both of my friends are stuck chasing that thing. I’m going to try something, wish me luck.
Lapis set the book aside even as Luna’s reply began to scrawl itself across the page. He took a deep breath, then set his jaw as he slowly and deliberately ascended the basement stairs with his notebook floating before his face, skimming past the list of strongly-recommended supplementary reading. Never tried making a wormhole before, he thought, but Twilight does it all the time. It can’t be that hard, right?
He read and reread the teleportation spell on his notebook, the one he’d copied from The Horn is Quicker than the Carriage, then stood directly behind his own front door as he slid his goggles back into place over his eyes. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to get to the other side of town. Just to the front door of Town Hall. I’ll get to the highest window, see where the stampede is, and then… I don’t know, drop the doll down the first chimney I see that has smoke coming out of it. That should work.
Besides, I’ll need the practice, before I try working up to… however far away Ohio is.
He took a slow, deep breath and shut his eyes, imagining the doorstep of Town Hall as he carefully reached out with his magic. Lucky thing this spell doesn't ask me to think about the math, or I'd be screwed...
Here we go. As all the world is cloth, so the cloth will fold.
Almost immediately, his horn started to buzz, and Lapis’ ears twitched at the unfamiliar sensation of his skull vibrating. He did his best to ignore it, gritting his teeth and focusing on the incantation. As I command magic, to my will the cloth will mold.
Lapis’ horn began to vibrate more intensely, with enough force that a low, whining wineglass-hum filled the room, a throbbing ache developing where Lapis’ horn met his skull. The world folds all around me, here is touching where I see…
The hum of Lapis’ horn began to rise as Lapis felt something in his magical grip, and he saw the glow of his horn flaring buttery-yellow through his closed eyelids. Where I was unfolds away… he thought, picturing his workshop vanishing around him, the doorstep of Town Hall taking its place. I’m where I want to be.
There was a crack like lightning, and Lapis held still as every drop of magic in his body seemed to lurch out of him through his horn, the flare of heat in his body replaced with a sudden, harsh chill like walking into a freezer. His horn’s hum rose to a fever-pitch, there was a crack like lightning, and-
It felt like Lapis was made of Jell-O, and he was being sucked horn-first through the nozzle of a shop-vac. There was no up or down, but Lapis wasn’t spinning, either - gravity was simply gone, and there was no direction but forward. His eyes were as firmly closed as if they were glued shut, but everything was so tight around Lapis that he found himself praying his eyes wouldn’t open, as he accelerated faster and faster toward whatever the magic of his horn had grabbed onto-
And suddenly, it all opened up. Lapis gasped for breath, his eyes snapping open, and he found that he had arrived on the doorstep of Town Hall. Lapis frantically looked himself over, patting down his own head, and found that while his horn was sore and his entire body was numb, he still seemed to be in one piece. …Okay then, I’m never doing that ever again.
Lapis telekinetically reached for the handle of Town Hall’s door, meaning to pull it open so he could walk inside. Nothing happened, and then a few sparks shot from the tip of his horn. Oh, I must’ve used all my mana. …Shouldn’t I be in a lot of pain right now, or something?
Then, the ground did something very strange. Slowly at first, and then very quickly, it flipped sideways like a pancake and rose toward Lapis’ face, so quickly that he barely had time to frown before it made contact with his head. And then, all of a sudden, everything went dark…
…
…“TWILIGHT SPARKLE!”
“Pancake!” Lapis yelped, scrambling off the ground. He staggered, and nearly fell over again - he was dizzy, and the numbness was already fading from his body, making way for the splitting headaches from his horn and the side of his head to chisel their way into the rest of his skull.
Lapis stared around, wincing and clutching his hoof to the side of his head. It was sunset now, which was a slight problem. Princess Celestia had arrived, which was a much bigger problem - she was descending toward the hills just outside Ponyville, her horn radiating sunlight, her glare visible even through the setting sun’s.
It was at this point that Lapis realized that the Princess was flying toward Twilight, and then he remembered why, along with which episode he was now in. Lapis groaned, then facehoofed, which immediately intensified his headache.
Slowly, carefully, he started down the street in the general direction of Princess Celestia.
A few minutes later, he arrived. The Princess had long since flown off - Lapis wasn’t sure where to - but the rest of town was dispersing from the area with much less haste, the less-athletic ponies nursing their bruises as they hobbled back toward their homes. It only took Lapis a few seconds to spot Bon Bon, who was being carried on the backs of Big Mac and Lyra.
“Are you-” Lapis asked, his eyes widening as he hurried over.
“Fine,” Bon Bon muttered. “Sprained my ankles, that’s all. I’ll be walking again by tomorrow.”
“Nope,” Big Mac said. “You’re gonna rest through tomorrow, if Ah have to hog-tie ya to yer bed.”
“Seconded,” Lyra panted, straining under the back half of Bon Bon’s body. “And after that… I’m putting you on a diet.”
“Hey!” Bon Bon snapped. “That is pure muscle back there, and the next pony who implies otherwise is going to get bucked by it!”
“Well, I was going to help Lyra carry you, but you just made it weird,” Lapis said, cocking an eyebrow at Bon Bon.
“Yeah, way to go, Bon Bon,” Lyra muttered, grinning as Lapis got in place to support Bon Bon’s midsection - then stopping, as Lapis tried to support Bon Bon’s weight and immediately buckled to the ground. “Wait, are you okay?”
“I’m good,” Lapis muttered, shaking his head as he tried to dislodge the haze of static that seemed to be filling his brain. His horn issued a few fizzling sparks, and Lapis waved them away with a hoof. “Ignore those.”
“Nope,” Big Mac said, and a few seconds later, Lapis found himself slung over Big Mac’s back like a sack of potatoes. “Sorry ‘bout knockin’ you off the road earlier.”
“It’s cool,” Lapis said, waving a hoof. “Curses happen, not your fault.”
“Curses?” Bon Bon asked, cocking an eyebrow from next to Lapis. “Wait, you know what happened- actually, no, what happened to you?”
“Uh, well, I got locked in my house, so I tried out a new spell, and it kinda completely emptied out my tank,” Lapis said.
“O-kay,” Lyra said, concern audible in her tone. “What kind of spell?”
“Teleporting.”
There was a second’s delay, and Lapis suddenly realized that the other three ponies were all looking at him. Big Mac and Bon Bon were just cocking one eyebrow each, and Lyra was gaping in wide-eyed horror.
“…For what it’s worth,” Lapis said, “it worked, and I won’t do it again.”
“Good plan,” Lyra said. A few seconds later, they started walking again, making it three whole steps forward before Lyra spoke up again. “Y’know what, no. We’re not letting that go. Nope. Lapis, you teleported? Like, honest-to-Celestia, first-you’re-there-and-now-you’re-here teleported?”
“I mean, I don’t think ‘teleport’ is the right word,” Lapis said, shrugging atop Big Mac’s back. Big Mac hadn’t stopped walking as Lyra spoke, barely even breaking a sweat beneath Lapis’ and Bon Bon’s combined weight. “It’s more like conjuring a wormhole, which is several times worse for the space-time continuum, but since pegasi can fly the laws of physics clearly only matter when magic is looking the other way.”
“Is he delirious?” Bon Bon asked.
Lyra shook her head. “No, I think he’s just super mana-burnt. Uh, Big Mac, once we’ve dropped Bon Bon off, could you aim for Lapis’ house?”
“Hey,” Lapis said, frowning. “I’m not incoherent, alright?”
“Of course not,” Lyra said, soothingly. “You’ve just had a very long day.”
Lapis sighed, and settled down for the ride.
A few minutes later, Big Mac had arrived at Lapis’ shop, where Lyra had promptly sat Lapis at the table by the window, and ordered him to remain there. Chester had somehow secured another bag of shimmerberry tea, which Big Mac had wasted no time in getting started, while Lyra had sat herself across the table from Lapis and stared at him, without speaking, for an entire minute.
“…Is there something on my face?” Lapis asked, when he couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Lyra sighed. “Well, no, I’m just… trying to figure out how you didn’t learn what I’m about to explain.”
“It’s about the teleporting, right?”
“That too,” Lyra said, sighing again. “Okay, let’s just start there. Teleporting is supposed to be… tricky. Like, super-tricky. You need to learn a whole bunch of stuff that isn’t even related to magic - not memorize it, but actually learn it - to even understand how teleporting works. Like, my roommate in Uni-Versity-”
Lapis winced.
“-took an entire class for figuring out how teleporting is supposed to work,” Lyra said. “I tried to help her with her homework a few times, but… well, all I managed to pick up was that it was some kind of gravity-magic origami.”
“Gravity,” Lapis said. “Okay, that makes sense.”
“Not to me,” Lyra said, shrugging. “Gravity magic in general is… weird, and tricky, and it has a lot of oddball spells, but teleportation is definitely the oddest ball of the bunch. And, even if you can figure out how to cast a teleportation spell, they’re way too draining to practically use - unless you’ve got, like, a really high affinity for gravity magic, which is generally something most ponies don’t have.”
“Well, I definitely don’t have that,” Lapis said. “Twilight has to, though.”
“Oh, yeah. A hundred percent,” Lyra said, rolling her eyes and grinning. “I figured that one out during the brunch. Like, you don’t just say that you mix your telekinesis with gravity unless you’re really oblivious or trying to show off. Which kinda wraps us back around to-”
“You done bringin’ Lapis up to speed on all the magic schoolin’ he missed?” Big Mac asked, entering the room with the handle of Lapis’ kettle held between his teeth.
“I think she’s getting there,” Lapis replied. “Hang on, I’ll grab the mugs-”
Lapis tried to reach out with his telekinesis, and was instantly rewarded with a flurry of sparks from his horn and a spike of hot, throbbing pain in his forehead. “Never mind. …Ow.”
“I’ve got it,” Lyra said, igniting her horn. “So, anyway. The reason my roommate took that class was because she wanted to get into the royal magic academy, and maybe even train under Princess Celestia someday. Now, there’s completely different bars for those two things, but just to get yourself into the Academy, you’ve got to prove to their Admissions Committee that you have a… significantly above-average degree of magical power. There are eight different options, one for each school of magic, and… well, the test for anypony crazy enough to use gravity magic is teleportation.”
“…Are you telling me I just accidentally wrote a master’s thesis?” Lapis asked, as a mug floated onto the table in front of him.
“Oh, no, it’s way worse,” Lyra replied, pouring the shimmerberry tea into Lapis’ mug. “I’m telling you that you just accidentally got admitted into the Royal Academy of Magic-”
Lyra glanced up behind Lapis, and her eyes grew wide as dinner plates. “-Whoa-oh, gosh.”
“That’s quite the accident,” a voice said, as Big Mac knelt on Lapis’ rug, Lyra scrambling off her chair to kneel beside him. “I believe that makes it twice in a row you’ve surprised me during a visit, Lapis Print.”
Oh, you’re kidding me, Lapis thought as he hurried out of his chair and into a bow of his own. “Your Highness?”
“You all may rise,” said Princess Celestia, stepping the rest of the way into Lapis’ shop and looking around the room. “Big Macintosh, what a surprise. This year’s batch of cider was exquisite. And Lapis, I love what you’ve done with the place. Very cozy, and the painting is a nice touch - Von Hoofber, I believe?”
“So I’m told. -Uh, thank you, Your Highness,” Lapis said, carefully climbing to his hooves, trying and failing to prevent his knees from shaking. “Can I offer you some shimmerberry tea?”
“Certainly,” Princess Celestia said, not taking her eyes off Lapis as she smiled. “But first, my sister asked that I check in on you. She believed you might have done something… drastic, in response to the actions taken by my student today involving a Mr. Smartie Pants doll.”
“Oh, he might’ve,” Lyra mumbled, as she levitated another mug from the kitchen and filled it from the kettle. Big Mac glanced to the side, then carefully adjusted a lump under his bandana that Lapis hadn’t noticed until just then.
“Well, Your Highness, uh…” Lapis swallowed. “A few hours ago, I learned that I had the non-magic education to know what a teleportation spell does, without the magic education to know why I shouldn’t try to do it.”
“And you succeeded, despite this?” Princess Celestia asked, taking a seat and levitating her mug of shimmerberry tea to her lips. Even sitting, she was at least twice Lapis’ height.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Lapis said. “…And then I immediately passed out, and didn’t awake until you arrived in town.”
“Hm,” Princess Celestia said, sipping her tea. “I believe that qualifies as ‘drastic.’ No lasting harm done, I hope?”
“Just mana-burn, Your Highness,” Lyra said, and her smile very nearly wasn't a nervous grimace. “We’re taking care of him.”
“Excellent,” the Princess said, smiling. “I wish you luck. That said, the Royal Academy has updated its admission criteria in recent years, to discourage prospective students from endangering themselves through pushing their limits beyond their affinity. Additionally, there is a written component.”
“Right,” Lapis said, and he felt his ears try to droop with relief before he jerked them upright. So, I didn’t accidentally pass admission, meaning this isn’t really a great big giant thing. Good.
“However,” Princess Celestia added, raising her mug. “Should you be interested in filling the gaps in your knowledge, I happen to know an excellent tutor.”
Uh-oh.
“I’m flattered by your offer, Your Highness,” Lapis said slowly, Princess Celestia continuing to watch Lapis as she sipped her tea. “I’d be happy to accept your recommendation, but I don’t think I can follow up on it anytime soon.”
“I expected as much,” the Princess said, lowering her mug again. “Luna has informed me about the matter of your debt. The Royal Academy’s tuition and financial aid packages are quite extensive, you know. Depending on your needs and performance, you may even qualify for our loan repayment program.”
Through the haze of mana-burn, Lapis registered the words ‘loan repayment,’ and his eyes snapped wide open as a burst of adrenaline flared in his veins. “…Your what?”
“Our loan repayment program,” Princess Celestia repeated, and though Lapis could see the calculating look in her eyes, he couldn’t deny the warmth behind them. “Let me assure you, it has a long and respected history - why, it goes back for at least two minutes now.”
Lapis’ brain short-circuited, and the Princess’ smirk flashed over top of her mug for barely an instant before she took another sip of her tea. “Of course, you would need to pass admissions first, which brings us back to your tutelage. I completely understand that the life of a repair-pony, especially in Ponyville, is somewhat lacking in free time, especially for somepony already involved in a research project. That being the case, the tutor I have in mind is quite effective at getting a lot of work done in very little time, and I expect uncovering a route of travel to A-mare-ica will prove much easier with her aid-”
“With all due respect, Your Highness, this sounds a little too good to be true,” Lapis blurted out. The Princess didn’t even seem surprised, smiling regally down upon Lapis as he spoke. “What are you hoping to get from all this- from me?”
“Myself, personally?” Princess Celestia asked, raising a hoof to her chest. “Forgiveness for the trouble my student has caused you, and the hope that one more of my little ponies may rest without fear. However, I imagine that Equestria has much to gain from any research or design projects you pursue.” She gestured to Lapis’ face, and Lapis suddenly realized that he was still wearing his goggles. “To that end, I believe your continued education is a goal worth supporting. I can see you still need time to think, however, so don’t let me pressure you.”
“Uh, right,” Lapis said, as Celestia rose and set her mug aside. “Thank you very much, Your Highness.”
“My pleasure,” Princess Celestia said, smiling as she turned toward the door. “Thank you for the tea. I wish you a speedy recovery, and look forward to seeing you again.”
And, a few steps later, she was gone.
“…Oh, gosh,” Lyra breathed.
“E-yup,” Big Mac agreed.
“Excuse me just a second, please,” Lapis said, and he turned and headed for the closet, shutting the door behind himself and starting down the basement stairs.
There were a lot of emotions that Lapis was feeling just then. Three of them in particular were stronger than the rest, however - the weakest of the bunch was a little lingering irritation with Twilight over the Mr. Smartie Pants Doll event, but Lapis had basically put that out of his mind by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Second place, then, belonged to an emotion that was somewhere in between dread and hysterical panic, brought on by the attention of Princess Celestia. Lapis had two problems with her, at present - the potential alteration of the timeline, and the question of what Her Royal Highness really wanted from Lapis. Children’s cartoon or not, nobody just handed out a boon like this unless there was something bigger they wanted in exchange. Worst-case scenario, Celestia had somehow cracked that Lapis was from another dimension, and she'd just provided an excuse for having him supervised, tested, and possibly shipped off to a laboratory when nopony was looking - and, while Lapis couldn't really bring himself to believe such a scenario was possible, he could certainly imagine some unpleasant middle-grounds.
The strongest emotion of the bunch, though, was by far the worst. Despite Lapis’ best efforts to the contrary, he was considering the terms of Celestia’s offer even as he walked into the center of his workshop. And the more he thought about how much he could stand to gain, here, the more he was filled with a frankly terrifying amount of genuine hope.
The joy and the fear had been fighting with each other ever since Princess Celestia had first made her offer, and Lapis needed to do something about them, now, or else they’d just charge him up for some new form of magic mental breakdown. Luckily, Lapis had an idea, inspired by a chapter in Twilight’s book on Cascades and his own venting session in the woods a week earlier - and here in the basement, Lapis had all the soundproofing he needed to put this method to use, hopefully expressing both his warring emotions at once.
Lapis took a slow, deep breath in, then tipped his head back. This is so stupid, he thought.
“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Lapis screamed.
He paused, checking over his emotional state again. The hope was undiminished, and he now felt faintly embarrassed, but to his surprise the fear had basically settled down. He shook his head, bemused, and made his way back up into his storefront.
Big Mac seemed to have taken his leave, but Lyra was still sitting in the living room, briefly looking up as Lapis pushed open the closet door before taking a sudden interest in the texture of the rug. Lapis ignored this, sitting on his chair and downing a few mouthfuls of his now-lukewarm shimmerberry tea.
“Big Mac headed back for Sweet Apple Acres,” Lyra explained, nodding her head in the direction of the Apple family orchards. “He’s, uh… He said he wanted to check whether there was any trampling there, but honestly I think he doesn’t know how to apologize to you.”
“…For shoulder-checking me?” Lapis said, frowning. “He already apologized.”
“No, I mean for his part in the whole brunch incident,” Lyra said, her ears flopping halfway back. “He had nothing to do with how far overboard Pinkie went, but he was definitely the pony who got Applejack involved.”
“Oh,” Lapis said. “Yeah, that’s… he’s blameless. No apology required.”
Lyra shrugged. “Well, yeah, but he doesn’t know that, and now he thinks you might be gone before he gets the chance to apologize, so… well, I’d be panicking about how to apologize, if I were him.”
Lapis nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d better drop by his place at some point.
“…So, uh,” Lyra continued. “You know what happened? With the doll and stuff?"
"Twilight," Lapis confirmed. "Her Highness had asked Twilight to write a friendship report every week - don't ask, that's a whole conversation on its own - and Twilight couldn't find a friendship problem to write about. She's scared of deadlines for some reason, so... she figured making a friendship problem on purpose, and then solving it, would do the trick."
"Uh-huh," Lyra said, her face scrunching briefly as she tried to process all that. After a few seconds, she shook her head, then looked directly to Lapis. "You realize Bon Bon is never gonna give up her idea now, right? About you being destined for big stuff?”
“…Yeah,” Lapis said, and he swallowed another mouthful of tea.
“And you’re not worried about it?” Lyra asked, cocking her head in surprise.
“Oh, I’m terrified,” Lapis said, setting down his mug. “At this point, though, I don’t think there’s much I can do about it. Her Highness didn’t seem like she’s willing to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Well, she probably would,” Lyra said, shrugging. “…But I don’t think I’d give you the chance to say it, and I know Bon Bon sure won’t.”
Lapis cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
Lyra giggled. “Lapis, a royally-recommended tutor for admission exams to the Royal Magic Academy is the kind of opportunity… well, a lot of ponies would feel silly even for dreaming about it, let’s put it that way.”
“There’s still the whole fate-of-the-future thing to worry about,” Lapis said. “…But I guess that some magical education would make that easier to handle, right?”
“Right,” Lyra said.
Lapis nodded. “So, I guess that brings us to my biggest worry about this whole thing.” He cleared his throat, staring down into the depths of his sparkling purple mug of tea, then looked up at Lyra.
“What do you think the chances are,” he said, “that the tutor she’ll recommend is Twilight?”
There was a moment’s silence. Then, Lyra snorted, breaking into a giggling fit.
“None,” Lyra said, shaking her head. “Not in a million years.”
“Right,” Lapis breathed, grinning. Unfortunately, this just puts everything back on the big what-if.
…Nah. The princesses are two steps down from goddesses, and besides, Equestria’s full of magic. Even if today solidly ruled out teleportation as an option of getting back to Earth, there’s got to be a way. If Gara Pinion and I both wound up here, then between the two of us, there has to be some way back.