//------------------------------// // 33. Found // Story: Lost and Found // by Cloudy Skies //------------------------------// She had slept, but she hadn’t dreamt. She woke up, but she felt tired still. It was rather odd, but then, one did not live thousands of years without having a few dozen weird experiences. Memories flooded back to her, but they simply ended that one night. Still, she could deduce fairly easily that their journey to find the two missing ponies hadn’t ended quite as planned. The fact that her balcony was covered in snow, that was new too. As was the missing wall and the wounded unicorn beyond it. Despite this, for all that had gone terribly wrong, something must have gone very right, too. Smiling, gaping and confused faces surrounded her, and Fluttershy and Applejack were among them. Fluttershy stood side by side with Rainbow Dash, one of her forelegs thrown around the other pegasus’ withers, oblivious to Dash’s confusion and slight blush. Applejack was grinning widely, standing by Pinkie Pie and Rarity, the former of the two bouncing on the spot, and the latter dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Luna stood with her jaw hanging open, what she herself would consider a breach in etiquette true testament to her shock. And standing above her, Twilight Sparkle. The studious unicorn was staring at her, eyes wide and dripping with wet, scarcely daring to breathe. “Twilight,” Celestia repeated, clearing her throat and turning her head so that she could look upon her in full. “What just happened?” Rainbow Dash asked, off to the side. She was very quickly silenced by a murderous glare from Rarity. “I’m sorry,” Twilight said, her voice shuddering. For a moment, Celestia feared her pupil would simply collapse on the spot, but the biggest movement she made was to swallow. Celestia raised a brow. “For blowing a hole in my room, or for standing on my flank?” she asked, instantly regretting the little joke. Twilight blinked and gingerly stepped off the princess, her confusion giving way to a deep-seated frown right after. “No! I mean, none of those! For making you leave Equestria and get hurt, for this all happening! You could have—” “That was my choice entirely,” Celestia interrupted her. “Luna and I spent weeks discussing how to proceed, and if she feels no guilt over what was ultimately my decision, then neither should you. We live and we learn.” She glanced over at her sister, and Luna offered her a weak smile in return. “Apologies have no place. After our return, we have used that word until it ceased to have meaning altogether, but we are glad you are back,” she said. “It was still my fault,” Twilight claimed, rebelling against Celestia’s calming words. She stomped a hoof, but the effect was somewhat ruined by her standing on the softest bed in Equestria. “You have done nothing. I would love to know exactly what has happened though, in time,” Celestia suggested, clinging to the first things she had heard when she awoke, to a voice that belonged to a different time. “But first—” She tried to move her legs, but they were stiff and ungainly. She had obviously been asleep for a very long time, and it showed. Celestia felt as weak as a newborn foal, all her strength gone. What little progress she made was quickly arrested when Twilight placed a hoof to either side of her neck, locking her in place and eliciting gasps from the others who had until now stood mute. The unicorn shook. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t know,” Twilight whispered. “You do not have to do this. In your own time,” Celestia said, locking eyes with the pony who meant so very much to her. The pony who stood apart from the others in so many ways. The pony who dared. More than anything, she wanted this, and she thought she saw in the unicorn’s eyes the fire she desired. There was no doubt. Why did she herself hesitate? Why did she try to bar Twilight’s path with doubts when it was clear that she did not share them? Why did she try to stall her when she was happy that she did not stop? Twilight leaned closer, and Celestia was keenly aware of her heart beating madly in her own chest. When the other mare draped over her body, she could feel her heartbeat too. Fear, of course. For the second time, Twilight had made her feel fear, and this time, it was thrilling. Twilight Sparkle tilted her head and kissed the Sun Princess in full view of her sister and all their friends. It was a clumsy, stiff and awkward thing, and when Twilight drew back a second later, she was blushing brightly. She glanced left, then right, as if only now realizing they had an audience. Rarity gaped, her jaw making a desperate push for the floor. At her side, Applejack stood completely still aside from the occasional blink as the only suggestion that she was still alive, and Pinkie Pie was grinning widely as she scribbled on a notepad she’d procured from somewhere, muttering names of ponies and cakes. Fluttershy was beaming, and Rainbow Dash had her head tilted and one brow raised. The only one even remotely competent at masking her expression was Luna, but even her own sister was smiling faintly. “Am I going to the moon for this?” Twilight asked in a whisper. Whatever courage had possessed Twilight a second ago was obviously taking a break. “I would rather you went nowhere at all,” Celestia responded, reaching up to touch Twilight’s face. “Sister? Could you take our friends outside for a moment? I am very glad to see you all, and especially glad you two are safe,” she said, smiling at Applejack and Fluttershy, “but there are some things Twilight and I must discuss.” “That sounds like an invitation to plan a party!” Pinkie cheered as the ponies made for the door. “You’re both invited, of course, and especially Twilight since we’re gonna have the party at the library since we can’t have it at Sugarcube Corner now that the foals are—” “Uh, actually, the library needs some, um, cleaning,” Twilight suggested, her ears down. “Maybe we could celebrate somewhere else?” “Weren’t gonna say nothing, but if I don’t get to see my family soon, I might just have a heart attack. Farmhouse’s big enough, so if we make it back before evening,” Applejack said, trailing off as the others left them, Fluttershy saying something about pies. Luna lingered in the doorway for a second to smile at the two, and then the doors shut behind her, leaving them alone. Or rather, close to. Celestia eased herself out from underneath Twilight and rose to stand. Her legs shook and nearly buckled out from under her when she stepped off the bed, and at once, Twilight was at her side. It was a gesture, nothing more. Twilight couldn’t effectively support the larger alicorn, but it was such a supremely sweet thought, Celestia leaned on her a little; enough that it was felt. Neither of the two so much as smiled, much less laughed at the spectacle. Not a living soul was there to see, anyway. On sleep-addled legs, Celestia made for the shattered wall. “Don’t you want to know what happened?” Twilight asked. “You haven’t asked, but I assume you want to know, and even I don’t know all of it, yet—” “Applejack and Fluttershy are safe and sound,” Celestia said. “They looked tired, but they are safe. That is the most important part. All of my subjects and friends are well. The rest can wait.” “Well, yes,” Twilight agreed, giving a sigh of relief at that. “And I’m really looking forward to just sitting down and just talking to them again.” Her rant blunted, Twilight shook her head. “It must be confusing for you, this.” “Not as much as you would think. I assume I fell asleep because my hunch was correct. As I said, details can wait. I, ah, caught your last words just now, so I suspect I know what woke me up, too,” Celestia added, ducking as she stepped into the royal bath chambers. She pursed her lips and made a note to explore the options of having a door just here. It would be very convenient. “Oh,” Twilight said, her cheeks once again lighting up with a deep red. Celestia’s gut tightened. Another of those little things she could count on one hoof how often she’d felt in as long as she could remember. “Nothing?” Celestia asked, halting in the middle of the room, in front of a crumpled up, half-translucent shape. “Nothing what?” Twilight retorted. “I’m not sure what more to say. I’m not going to take it back.” The tension left. She had feared exactly that, but Twilight did not regret it. Celestia nodded, once. “I love you, too,” she commented, smiling at the smaller unicorn. Twilight took a deep breath and let it out again, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or feel now. The words sound a little odd, but I kind of want to say ‘I know’,” Twilight said. “Perhaps you don’t fully believe me yet,” Celestia suggested, leaning down to nuzzle Twilight’s neck. “I hope you will, in time.” Twilight closed her eyes and rubbed her snout against the top of Celestia’s head, sighing contentedly. “What did you want to talk to me about?” “Not you alone,” Celestia said, shaking her head and drawing herself up. She stared intently at the supine pony in front of them. The exact shade of green and the torch cutie mark was known to her despite the passing of centuries, and she remembered the voice well, too. “Brighthoof. Show yourself,” she commanded. “I know you are not yet departed.” “Departed? Dead? Oh—isn’t he, I thought he was a ghost—did I—” Twilight stammered. “Relax. I have been dead for longer than you have been alive ten times over, little filly,” a voice hissed. The body in front of them was nearly completely gone, but from it stepped forth an indistinct spectre made from the very mist that filled the air. “You’re still here!” Twilight gasped. Her horn was aglow in an instant, the unicorn lowering her head and scratching at the ground. She tried to put herself between the spectre and the princess. Celestia put a hoof on her head to still her, gaining a confused look from Twilight, but it was Brighthoof who spoke. “Hello, Princess. It seems she truly loves you,” the spectre murmured, his head-shape trailing white fog as he turned to face Twilight with empty eyes. “She makes me wonder if I ever did. My star is pale by comparison.” “If you have any love for me at all, you will explain yourself,” Celestia suggested. “My love for you is why I did what I did,” he countered. “This would never have worked if her resolve was weak. That she defended you from me is only part of it. Think with me, here. She’s clearly clever: You’ve always chosen the brightest as your pupils, so she must have considered all the implications. That, or she’s never cared.” The spectre snorted, a whirl of mist rolling over them. “You are practically immortal. She is not.” Celestia rolled her jaw. She had of course considered it. She had spent far too long ruminating the facts, wondering if she was doing something terribly unfair. In the end, she had decided that she would go mad if she did not act upon it, if she let Twilight pass her life by. Twilight didn’t seem to think the same. At her side, the unicorn stood at rapt attention, listening, but there was no doubt in her. The facts passed her by and she did not flinch. Part of Celestia wanted to pick her up and shake her, to ask her if she truly understood. “Except if she has peeked into my notes, of course, which she has not,” Brighthoof continued. “I wish there was time for me to tell all I know, but suffice it to say that you know even less of the Elements than you thought you did. Think on it, Princess. Harmony, you and your sister, alicorns, the Elements, it is all connected.” “You wanted to test me? Why?” Twilight demanded, wrenching the conversation to what she no doubt considered back on track. Brighthoof turned to regard her for a fraction of a second, but his reply was for Celestia. “You were comatose. Harmony and love are so strongly intertwined, what else could wake you but a strong display of pure, untainted love?” he asked, shrugging. “My life was forfeit long ago, and no amount of tears shed on your bed would bring you back, including my own.” Twilight looked back and forth between the two, princess and ghost, eyes wide but with no further words. “There is a chance I could bring you back,” Celestia said, lowering her voice as she reached out to touch Brighthoof’s face. The mist curled around her hooves. “The more we understand, the stronger we grow, and with Twilight’s help, maybe—” “No. You love me, but not the way I wanted,” Brighthoof said, pulling away. “And even if I could get past that, I have done terrible things. I have hurt your subjects, and I have become something I can no longer stand for. I wanted revenge. Even if you could revive me, you could not redeem me. All I ask is that you remember me.” “I did, and I will,” Celestia sighed. “Some ponies go astray, but each and every one, I strive to remember. You went missing, but were not lost. Thank you. Rest well.” Bowing his head in one final gesture of supplication, the mist that had been Brighthoof dissolved into nothingness, scattered to join the air. Already, Celestia’s brain was shifting into gear. There was a lot she needed to know, a million details about what had transpired in her absence, the vast majority of those things were eclipsed by the purple shape to her side that occupied all of her mind merely by her presence. “So,” Twilight said, clearing her throat. “What do you want to do?” “The Elements are the key, but immortality is complicated. Ethics,” Celestia hummed. “I’m sure I could fund a research division.” “Oh. Uh, I’m sure that can wait,” Twilight laughed. “I meant now. Do you want to come to Sweet Apple Acres with us and celebrate?” “I, ah,” Celestia said, a smile spreading across her face as she slowed down to match Twilight. She closed her eyes for a moment and refused to think about the grander scheme of things. When she opened them again, she was in the present first, stepping out of the millennia to join her student-no-more, to be with her love in the present, today. “I would love to,” she finally said. “You and the others go ahead. Tell whatever servant you see first that you’re to take any chariots we have, and any bits or food you want from the kitchens.” “But?” Twilight asked. “No buts. I just need to make sure my sister is alright. I will join you a little later, if that is okay?” “Was that a question?” Twilight asked, blinking. “I don’t feel I have the power to order you to do anything much, Twilight. It was a question,” Celestia affirmed with a smile, but Twilight’s own expression slowly sagged. “How are we going to make this work?” she asked. “There are so many things we need to figure out, and you’re still a Princess—” “And you still have studies on friendship that will make for a very good book, one day. I won’t give up my crown any more than I would have you give up your position in the library,” Celestia retorted. “No?” Twilight asked, biting her lower lip. “That makes sense. Perhaps I could make some special reports on how we do this?” “That would be excellent, and if we can save Spike some work, I think it is only right we do so. He’s been overworked lately, so perhaps you should take it upon yourself to deliver some reports to me in person. Also, I am sure I can stand to get out of the palace more. With Luna able to assist me in matters of state, I should be able to visit Ponyville to hear some of these reports myself,” she concluded, finally earning a smile from Twilight in return. “Aw, but I don’t wanna go to bed, it’s still early!” Apple Bloom complained, two legs on the stairs that led to the second floor of the farmhouse. “You say that all the time! It’s well past midnight, that ain’t early by any measure,” Applejack retorted, though she couldn’t keep from smiling. All around the room, the others laughed and waved, wishing the little filly a good night. Finally, helped by a nudge on the flank, Apple Bloom started moving. “I’ll be right back down again, just gonna tell her a goodnight story since Granny Smith’s asleep herself,” Applejack said, smiling at the ponies who filled the main room of her home. It would have been crowded enough if it was just her family and a few others, but in addition to Big Mac, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Twilight, Spike, Rainbow Dash and Rarity, Princess Celestia herself had arrived a few hours earlier. The sheer size of the pile of winter-wear by the door shed by her guests spoke volumes, and having a princess in the living room hadn’t made the job of getting her little sister to bed any easier. “D’you wanna read a book?” Apple Bloom asked, trotting down the second floor hallway and slipping inside her own room. She had her hooves braced against her little bookshelf when Applejack entered. “A book? You’ve read the ones you have, haven’t you? I may not be Granny Smith, but I’m sure I can think of a story or two,” Applejack said, hopping atop the little filly’s bed and patting the pillow next to her. “As long as it’s not the story of how you got your cutie mark, again. You’ve told me that story three times now,” Apple Bloom commented, bouncing over to sit next to her before slipping in under the covers. Applejack cleared her throat. “Er, ‘course not,” she retorted. “Or the one about the time you locked yerself in the apple cellar,” the filly shot, squinting with grave suspicion. “When the hay’d you get so picky?” Applejack sighed, flicking her head so she could re-adjust her hair band for the tenth time that evening. Now that she’d been able to get to her spares, she’d found that she could barely even remember how she used to wear her mane anyway. “Uh, sweetie?” Applejack asked. Apple Bloom had made no reply, the little filly looking up at her with unblinking eyes. “You ain’t going anywhere, right?” Apple Bloom asked. “You’re gonna be here when I wake up this time?” Applejack swallowed and closed her eyes, leaning back until she could rest against the headboard. The sincerity of the question stung, but it only lasted until she reached out and pulled her sister closer. “Yeah. I ain’t going anywhere except to market. ‘Least, not before the Manehatten Apple Con next year, and I was thinking maybe you’d want to come along.” “You really mean it?” Apple Bloom asked, the filly’s eyes lighting up. “Sure, why not? And thinking on it, I may just have one story you ain’t heard before,” Applejack suggested, grinning. “Not sure if it’s all appropriate for little ponies like you, though.” “Aw, no fair! If I’m going to Manehatten, I can’t be a little filly any more. I’m a big pony!” Apple Bloom cried. “Alright, alright,” Applejack laughed. “It’s a little scary, is all, and I don’t think it’s all told in one evening. It begins with two ponies lost in the middle of nowhere, back when the sun was warm and the farm wasn’t covered in snow like now. It gets awful dark in places, but there’s a happy ending, trust me.” When Apple Bloom finally fell asleep, it was because her eyes protested her desire to stay awake until the two brave ponies of the story were safe back home. Twice she nodded off only to wake up a moment later, begging her sister to continue, but in the end she lay curled up and snoozing quietly. Applejack slipped outside with nary a sound, and she’d no sooner shut the door behind her when Big Macintosh came up the stairs. “Heading to bed?” Applejack whispered. “Yup,” Big Mac intoned, pausing before her. “Really wish there was more to do ‘round the farm,” Applejack muttered, casting a glance over her brother’s shoulder. Great snowflakes were drifting down from the sky, locking down the business other than what little they could do inside. “I’ve a hankering to get some real work done, but now there’s no excuse to get up early.” “Yup,” he responded, following her eyes. The silence held while he shifted the straw he perpetually chewed on from one side of his mouth to the other. “Reckon maybe you’ve earned a day or two off. It’s good to have you back, AJ,” he added. Applejack grinned and leaned close, gripping him in a tight but brief hug. “And it’s good to be back,” she affirmed, trotting past him. “See you tomorrow. We need to discuss expanding the northern orchards if Mayor Mare wants to sell the lands past the brook.” Downstairs, little had changed, and that was hardly worthy of complaint. Perhaps Pinkie Pie had held off on the majority of the balloons and banners out of respect for Applejack’s home, or perhaps there were limits to what even she could do on such short notice. Whatever the case, the main floor of the farmhouse was as it had always been except for the gramophone Pinkie’d brought and a few colorful streamers. That, and downright dangerous quantities of snacks. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, turning down the volume of the music a tad, noting she’d have to dig into the apple pie soon or miss her chance. It had been so very long since last she’d gotten to spend time back home where she belonged, and it was an immense relief—even if some things had changed on her absence. Her companion for the past months sat over by the small stove that kept the house warm during winter; Fluttershy looked every bit as content as Applejack herself felt as she traded quiet words with Rainbow Dash. The colorful pegasus, for her part, only seemed to be half listening, now on her second round of attending Fluttershy’s wings with hoof and mouth both. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on there, but it brought a smile to Applejack’s face regardless. Even more unfamiliar, Princess Celestia sat with Twilight, Rarity, Pinkie Pie and a softly slumbering Spike not far off. Pinkie had moved the snack table closer to the window, and somepony had dug out the Apple family’s blankets. Applejack re-adjusted her hat and made for the group, slipping in between Rarity and Pinkie Pie to catch the tail-end of one of Pinkie Pie’s jokes, Celestia laughing hardest of them all except for Pinkie Pie, of course. It had been the work of hours to get used to the larger alicorn’s presence, but she belonged. At least, Twilight seemed to feel that way, leaning against her. “So what’re you guys on about?” Applejack asked, accepting a proffered sweet roll from Pinkie Pie. “Pinkie Pie was just telling us about the Cakes’ reaction to her telling them about the, ah, new situation with Twilight and Princess Celestia,” Rarity explained with something half-way between a frown and a smile. “Just ‘Celestia’, please,” Celestia commented. “And I will admit I did not expect word to get out so quickly,” she added with a shake of her head. “Oh no, did I do it all wrongy-wrong?” Pinkie asked, gasping. “I just thought that because you were happy and Twilight was happy and everypony was happy that I could make more ponies happy!” Twilight looked up at Celestia at that, trepidation plain on her face. “Um. Is it a problem? I won’t be offended if you’d prefer to keep it quiet for a little while,” she said, though her tone suggested otherwise to Applejack. The momentary hush carried all the way to the other end of the small room. Rainbow Dash looked up with one of Fluttershy’s feathers still in her mouth, and for once, the usually unflappable princess paused. The princess who faced crowds of thousands of ponies on a weekly basis looked from Rainbow Dash to Pinkie Pie, between all of them until her eyes finally came to rest on Twilight. “You fear I’m ashamed?” she asked. Applejack raised a brow, and at her side, Rarity gasped. “No, not at all,” Twilight said, rubbing her forelegs together and shrinking under her gaze. “Good, because I am not. When I asked that you stay here in Ponyville, it is because I don’t want you to be anypony but yourself, and the same is true for me. I will still have to be Princess Celestia,” she said. Twilight nodded and swallowed at the words that sounded grim even to Applejack’s ears. Celestia begged to differ, a gentle smile spreading across her muzzle. “And what I mean by that is that I did not court you in secret as somepony else. If ponies want to talk, then let them talk. They’ll have to decide for themselves what it means if I arrive unannounced here in Ponyville because I would like to have tea with you,” she concluded with a shrug. Twilight nodded and sighed, leaning against the larger princess. “I can live with that. Maybe I won’t have to beg favors of my brother to get to see you on a short notice, either,” Twilight suggested, giggling as she turned to Applejack. “Now, we were just asking if you had any games, because Celestia said she’d like to play us all in a game of Battleclouds.” The night stretched on until Celestia excused herself on account of royal bedtimes needing to be kept, as she put it, and Twilight left with her to get Spike to bed. Shortly after Twilight returned, pillows were brought down from the loft, and the question of sleeping arrangements was simply never raised. With the game pieces, the sarsaparilla bottles and the snack bowls put away, Applejack pulled the blanket up until it rested against her neck. With her head against Pinkie’s flank for a pillow and her legs over Rarity who offered no complaint, she murmured her goodnights, home in every sense that mattered. Soft sounds of sleep filled the room. Rarity’s quiet breathing, Applejack’s unapologetic snores, Twilight’s mutterings and Pinkie Pie’s whatever she was doing in her sleep; composing songs, possibly. Fluttershy smiled. Where the others were eager to welcome them back, Rarity especially prone to dramatics, Pinkie Pie merely partied on as if though they’d never left. Fluttershy saw the pink pony’s smile wobble a bit when she thought nopony was looking, but she was always beaming when talking to Fluttershy and Applejack. She would have to visit her more often. Just like how she fully intended to make good on her mutual promise to Applejack. If things were to have changed, then she resolved to make them be changes for the better. The thought was oddly empowering. Fluttershy shook her head at herself, marvelling at the strength of the thought. It wasn’t a hope; it was a decision. That power was in her hooves. Well, mostly. Almost everything was her decision to make. Fluttershy winced and furled her wings as something stung. “I told you to hold still,” Rainbow Dash hissed. They sat awake together amidst all their friends. The very second sleepy silence had settled over the pile of ponies, Rainbow Dash had wasted no time in setting to work preening Fluttershy’s wings again. It was enough to drive them both to distraction, and so it had. “It’s okay,” Fluttershy said, keeping her wings folded to deny Dash her busywork. “Um, if it’s okay with you, I think we really need to talk.” “What we need to do,” Dash whispered back. “Is to get your wings fixed.” “They’re fine. It’s really not that big of a deal, I’m sure I can—” “Uh, it’s totally a huge deal. How else are you going to fly with me?” Fluttershy blinked. “I dunno, I like flying. I’d like to fly with you sometime,” Dash said, shrugging and crossing her forelegs. “I’d like that too, I think, but we really need to talk anyway,” she said for what must’ve been the fifteenth time that evening. If it had been a little scary how she’d always find a way to busy herself when Fluttershy said words to that effect, the fact that Dash had never left her side spoke volumes, too. “Talk, yeah,” Dash sighed, sticking out her tongue and flexing her wings. “I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime since you and Applejack disappeared,” she murmured, her ears twitching as she turned to look at their sleeping friends. With her wings thus spread, Fluttershy saw something odd around one of her friend’s wing bones. On instinct, she reached out to touch, and Rainbow Dash squealed in surprise, jumping when Fluttershy’s hoof touched the base of her wing. “Whatever are you two doing?” Rarity asked as the only one to stir, lifting her sleep mask to peer at the pair with bleary eyes. “Nothing, sorry,” Dash muttered. “Sorry,” Fluttershy whispered, splaying her ears. Rarity merely raised a brow and went back to sleep, but Rainbow Dash took the opportunity to slip out from the pillow pile to make for the door. “C’mon Fluttershy,” Dash said, pushing the door open. Fluttershy didn’t have the time to ask any of the hundreds of questions she wanted to ask before Rainbow Dash slipped outside. With a second whispered apology to Rarity, Fluttershy hurried out the farmhouse’s front door, closing the door after her before she disturbed them further with the draft. Outside, everything was quiet. The moon was but a sliver, and the snow still drifted down to cover the darkened farmyard in a dense white blanket. A single set of hoofprints ended in a small blast zone where all the snow had been scoured away by a powerful takeoff, leaving Fluttershy guessing. “Up here!” Dash called. Fluttershy craned her neck to find Rainbow Dash peering down at her from atop the farmhouse. Evidently, she wasn’t planning on a long trip. Fluttershy sighed in relief, quite done with those for a while. She spread her wings, relishing the way the currents responded to her when she took to the air, flying up to join Dash on the roof. Rainbow Dash had already found a little nook by the chimney and lay down in the snow looking up at the starry sky. As Fluttershy watched, she reached over to unclasp something from her wing, soon holding up a colorful band on one hoof. “It’s just that stupid little thing we made back in flight school,” Dash said, shrugging. Fluttershy recognized it now as she sat down by Dash’s side. “It’s not really stupid,” Dash added in a mutter, looking away. “Want it back?” Fluttershy shook her head. Before her lay Rainbow Dash. Though it had been many hours since they were rejoined, and though they’d barely left each others’ side since—as if by some unspoken agreement—it was a little hard to believe she was real. She suppressed a tremble at that thought. For the longest time, she had been afraid she would never see her again. The bracelet was the past, infinitely less important than Dash herself. “It’s fine,” Fluttershy said, scooting a little closer. She extended a wing, if only so she could touch Dash and make sure, yet again, that she was truly there. Rainbow Dash made no comment, still staring at the multicolored little bracelet cupped in her hooves. She didn’t protest, nor did she ask why Fluttershy sat so close. While she’d hardly ever been shy, there was something different to her every move now. “You know, don’t you?” Fluttershy asked. It took all her courage, but still her voice came out nothing but a whisper. Dash didn’t play dumb. She didn’t joke around or ask her what she meant. The unusually pensive pegasus trained her eyes skywards once more and frowned. “Yeah. We’ve been talking about the spell, about the armor pieces and your trip all night, but I never told you what I did. You’ve been gone since summer, so a lot of stuff has happened. I went to see your parents,” she said. “Oh,” Fluttershy said, hanging her head. “Your dad’s kinda dumb, by the way,” Dash tacked on. “That’s not at all how I wanted you to find out,” Fluttershy sighed. “Not that I meant for you to, um, well, yes. I’m sorry,” she said. “Yeah, that was kind of lame of you,” Dash said, a grin passing her face by as she gave a burst of laughter. “Seriously, that was the most awkward thing ever, and I’m sure they pretty much hate my guts now.” “I’m sure they don’t,” Fluttershy offered, shifting to lean back against the chimney herself, studiously avoiding looking at Rainbow Dash. She was beginning to feel numb, but the snow was hardly an issue. All the time she’d been striving to get to this exact place, to this exact conversation, she’d always worked her best to suppress the notion that Rainbow Dash might not feel the same; and she’d succeeded. She’d almost forgotten it was a possibility. Past snow-covered trees, her cottage waited, still dark. Rainbow Dash’s face appeared in front of her, the other pegasus leaning around until their snouts touched. Fluttershy shrank back, but the hard brick of the farmhouse chimney was almost as hard as Dash’s eyes. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. Fluttershy swallowed. “Because I didn’t think you felt the same, because I was afraid, because I didn’t want to lose you, because I didn’t know what I felt!” she said, the words spilling forth. “I didn’t, not exactly. I do now.” She wanted to add another apology. To say she was sorry, that she didn’t want to put her friend in this situation, but she couldn’t lie to her like that. Now, at the end of everything, the one thing she wasn’t was sorry. Rainbow Dash pulled back and tilted her head as Fluttershy went on, a small cascade of snow falling off her head. “I wanted to be stronger,” she said, a wan smile across her lips as she stared out into the snowfall. The silent white flakes fell so rapidly now, she could barely see past the farmyard. “First for you, because you’ve always wanted what’s best for me. At least, what you thought was best for me,” she amended, shaking her head. Rainbow Dash said nothing. “I wanted to be stronger for myself, too. I don’t know how, but it started after the reservoir draft this year,” she added. “Not just my wings and all that, I don’t know. Just stronger. It was stupid.” Rainbow Dash lay down at her side, what little distance Fluttershy had put between them ignored. “Why is that stupid?” Dash quietly asked. “Because you’re what makes me feel strong. It’s that simple,” Fluttershy said. She couldn’t hold on to that numbness any longer, instead bringing a leg up to cover her snout as she sniffled. “That’s the least stupid thing I’ve ever heard,” Dash muttered. “I meant it when I said you can’t go anywhere. I haven’t gotten anything done since you left.” Fluttershy hazarded a glance over at Dash. The blue mare was staring straight up, licking her lips. At the silence dragged on, she stuck out her tongue to catch one of the large snowflakes that drifted down to cover them. “I-I’m confused,” Fluttershy stammered. “So am I!” Dash groaned, flipping over to stand on all fours and shattering the budding tranquility. “This is why I don’t like talking. It takes forever!” “I’m sorry?” Fluttershy asked, scrabbling to stand on the slanted roof. “You’re in love with me, or you love me, right?” Dash asked. “I don’t know if those are different.” Fluttershy’s jaw hung open while Dash wielded the words and the truth like a mallet, but she could not deny it. Would not. After a moment, she nodded, eyes locked on Dash’s. Again, an apology lurked but refused to show. “Right, cool. I don’t want to lose you. I need you,” Dash growled, as if the words themselves were an enemy to be fought. She spread her wings as she spoke. “I’ve been feeling like the world’s biggest jerk here, because I go crazy when you’re not around. I don’t know what that means. It has nothing to do with you being ‘weak’. Who cares how fast you can fly or whatever? If I wanted somepony as amazing as me—” she began, rolling her eyes as she paused. “I mean, you’re you. You’re awesome the way you are. You don’t need to change.” Fluttershy nodded weakly, but Dash pinned her with another look the like of which made her doubt her own vaunted stares. “No. I mean it. Don’t you dare change,” Dash snapped, teeth gritted and leaning forwards until their foreheads touched. “You’re one hundred percent cool the way you are. Got that?” “Okay,” Fluttershy managed. She didn’t wilt under her attention or freeze up at the praise that she already knew she would never forget. Instead, she stood up straighter. “What about us?” “I don’t know,” Dash said. “I guess there is an us, huh? I never thought too much about this kind of stuff,” she admitted, kicking at the snow. “I like hugs and all that as much as the next pony, I just can’t lose you. Maybe it’s a bit like that, being together? If you want to be, uh, mine or something.” “I don’t want you to say that just because you don’t want me to go away,” Fluttershy said, pressing through the way her stomach tightened and her eyes burned. “We’re still friends. Unless you don’t want to be. You don’t have to—” “I’m not saying this because I have to, jeez. I’m saying it because I want to,” Rainbow Dash interrupted her, a hoof on her snout. Where she touched, warmth blossomed. “Sorry. It sounded a lot cooler in my head. Can we just not make this all complicated again? I’m saying yes. You’re cool. I like you. I don’t care how stupid it sounds, but I need you, and if that’s not enough, I want you.” A thousand butterflies milled around in Fluttershy’s heart, and her entire body set to itching in the funniest way, redoubled when she noticed Dash cheeks brightening the tiniest bit too. “Yeah, that sounds totally weird. Just don’t expect any silly expensive dinners or anything just yet, that’s all I’m saying,” Dash said with a shrug and a grin. “Don’t you dare tell anypony else I said this, but for once, I don’t mind if we take it slow. I need to get back into the air. Practice some stunts. That sort of stuff. You could, uh, watch if you want to. Cheering would be nice, too. If you’re not too cool for that now.” Her words barely reached Fluttershy’s ears before the yellow mare slipped a hoof under Dash’s muzzle. Before she could stop or ask what possessed her, Fluttershy leaned forward, Rainbow Dash’s breath hot on her face before their muzzles met. Dash’s eyes were wide as dinner plates while Fluttershy kissed her, frozen in silence in the wake of the words Fluttershy had waited years to hear. When Fluttershy broke the kiss, her heart was pounding. Long seconds passed before Rainbow Dash licked her lips and closed her mouth, breaking into a grin. “That works too,” she declared.