On the Nature of Alicorns

by Typoglyphic

Chapter One

As much as she still missed her old home, Twilight Sparkle had to admit that living in a giant crystal castle had its perks. It was a lot less flammable, for one. More importantly, it was large enough to accommodate things that she used to have to squeeze into the corners of the old library.

She glanced up from her book as the gentle whirring of the centrifuge before her spun to a stop. Grinning, she levitated some test tubes out from within it. White sugar filled the tops of the tubes, and a small pile of iron filings filled the bottoms. Hardly a novel experiment, but Twilight was giddy just thinking about what she could do with an automated centrifuge in the future.

Along with the renovations her friends had made to the castle, Twilight had taken the liberty of ordering equipment for a proper laboratory. A laboratory that, due to the recent pony summit, she only now had a moment to enjoy. It occupied an entire wing of the castle, and was stocked with everything from wall-sized furnaces to eye protection. She'd also ordered a large supply of materials to go along with them.

Twilight closed the centrifuge and glanced around. She’d tested out most of her new equipment, and the afternoon sun was beginning its descent. Now was a good time to start cleaning up.

She carried the test tubes over to a nearby sink and began to pour out the sugar, taking care not to lose the iron with it. Being a princess with a near infinite budget was no excuse to waste perfectly good iron filings, after all. She paused as a tube floated past with iron and sugar still mixed together, one that she’d forgotten to put through the centrefuge. She sighed and moved to dump it into the sink like the others. A list of drain-safe materials flashed through her mind, and she tilted the tube back before more than a few flakes could drop. Iron did not belong down the drain.

Biting her lip, she looked back at the centrifuge. It seemed a waste of time to spin it back up for a single test tube. Well, there was more than one way to separate sugar and iron. The light from her horn pulsed, bathing the walls in soft violet. After a few seconds, the sugar began to melt into a clear liquid, and the iron fell to the bottom. Twilight smiled. Chemistry was a lot faster when you could melt things with your mind.

She stepped back toward the sink and held the test tube out. The sugar cascaded into the drain. Twilight absently wondered whether Pinkie would disapprove. Twilight began to turn as the last of the sugar left the… huh? She turned back to look at the bubble of glowing red molten iron floating in front of her.

Oops. Twilight ended her heating spell, and the iron bubble started to cool. This wasn’t the first time she’d overdone a spell since she became an alicorn. Her power had grown so dramatically that it was easy to forget she was casting one. She winced as she noticed the ring of solidifying glass at the bottom of her sink. That wouldn’t be easy to clean.

She placed the iron ball she had made onto the table next to the other test tubes and levitated a container of iron filings over, which she emptied the test tubes into. Accidental or not, melting iron magically was pretty cool. That would take…

Twilight blinked.

… Almost two thousand degrees. Of pure heat. With her horn. And she hadn’t even noticed. That kind of energy output would have knocked her out for hours as a unicorn.

Whirling, she scrambled to the door to one side of the room. Her supply room. She stepped inside and trotted over to one of the many tall storage shelves that filled the space. She ran her eyes over the rows of labelled boxes. There was no method of quantifying unicorn magic exactly, but all unicorns had a vague awareness of their personal limit. Twilight couldn’t wait to rediscover hers.

She hurried back into the laboratory, levitating several boxes behind her. Arriving at an open workspace, she set the containers down next to her. She popped the top off one of them and produced a small, shiny metal bar. If she was going to run this test properly, she had to start small.

“Zinc,” she noted aloud, “one hundred and twenty grams; melting point six hundred and ninety degrees.” Twilight began to turn up the heat. The metal glowed and began to deform. It melted completely after a second or two, becoming a small pool of clear, viscous liquid. Twilight ended the spell, leaving the zinc floating in her magic. Generating almost seven hundred degrees had felt no more taxing than her normal telekinesis.

The zinc solidified quickly, and Twilight returned it to its box. “Next up: calcium carbonate, commonly known as chalk. Fifty grams; melts at one thousand and one hundred degrees.” She levitated a small cube of chalk and heated it.

Nothing happened.

Twilight grinned. Progress! She slowly increased the spell’s intensity. After nearly a minute of steady heating, the chalk began to dissolve. It disappeared moments later. Oh, right. Calcium carbonate to calcium oxide, which boils at…

“Three thousand degrees?” Now she was getting somewhere! Twilight glanced at the pile of boxes next to her. She just had to find…

“Aha!” Twilight popped open the box labelled Tungsten. It was filled with short, fat metal cylinders. She floated one of them up to her eye height.

“Tungsten, one point five kilograms. Melts at three thousand and two hundred degrees!” Without another thought Twilight flooded the air around the cylinder with pure heat.

The metal flashed and glowed a blinding white light. Twilight flinched and ducked her head, squeezing her eyes shut, an after image already superimposed on her retinas. She stumbled backward. Her flank bumped up against the fume hood on the opposite wall, and she lost her balance completely, sprawling onto the ground in a tangle of limbs and assorted lab equipment.

Twilight lay there, her head spinning. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. A few moments passed. Once the room stopped turning around her, she glanced up. She was greeted with another scalding flash, though less severe than the first. In place of the dull metal she’d pulled from the box was a large ball of…

“Plasma?” Twilight croaked. Wincing, she ended her heat spell. The dancing sphere of lightning seemed to implode, folding in on itself until it settled into a lump of ugly looking slag. It fell to the table with a dull thump. As the spots in her vision faded, Twilight stood up and took stock of the lab.

Some of the plasma had escaped her telekinesis field, scorching the walls and probably ruining most of the materials she’d been using. Nothing was on fire, though, which was an improvement on some of her previous experiments.

Plasma. She’d accidentally ionized solid tungsten in under a second. Tungsten only underwent ionization at temperatures exceeding…

“Six thousand degrees,” Twilight muttered. That was an incredible amount of heat. Far beyond what her normal heat spell was capable of. Aside from the beginning of a headache from the flash, she wasn’t feeling at all tired. “How powerful am I?”

Twilight took stock of the damage. The other substances she’d been using were, as she’d expected, ruined. Plastic bottles had warped, cardboard had disintegrated entirely, and one of the boxes seemed to be fused to the table. She sighed and got to work. Only two or three boxes were worth saving. She tossed the rest into a nearby trash can. It was a bit late to worry about wastefulness.

She did her best not to think about the results of her experiment as she cleaned. She righted the fume hood she had knocked over when the tungsten dissolved, which shouldn’t have even been possible given that tungsten—horseapples. She was thinking about it again.

She shouldn’t be able to generate that kind of energy. This was more than a power boost. She had just used several thousand the amount of magic she’d had as a unicorn. Where did all that energy come from?

The lab door flew open, and a colourful blur shot through the opening. Twilight flinched, waiting for something to explode.

… What? It was a pretty reasonable fear, given the last few minutes.

Rainbow Dash hit the ground and skidded, coming to a stop inches from a shelf of burners. “You okay, Twi?” Rainbow glanced around the room. “We saw a lightshow go off in here from outside.” She gestured to the open window in the far wall.

Twilight sighed. She picked up a couple stray flasks and floated them back to their shelf. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“So what was with the flash?”

“Oh,” Twilight turned back to Rainbow, “I accidentally ionized some tungsten.”

A blank expression settled across Rainbow’s face.

Twilight groaned. “I made a hunk of metal so hot that it turned into lightning.”

“That’s more like it!” Rainbow cheered, pumping a hoof in the air. “I can get behind that.” She squinted at Twilight. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look, uh…” Rainbow bit her lip.

Twilight scowled before catching a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby jar. Her mane was unruly, her shorter hairs standing on end. Her coat wasn’t much better. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, probably from the flash. She looked like she’d been awake for days.

“Hey,” Rainbow was grinning, “I’m giving Scoots some flying lessons. Wanna come watch? Spend some time outside the science dungeon?”

Dungeon? They were on the third story of the castle. Twilight shook herself to attention. She supposed that cleaning the lab could wait. At least until Spike was back from Carousel Boutique.

“Sounds good, Rainbow.”

---

THUNK!

Ouch. That looked painful.

“I’m okay!” Scootaloo shouted through a mouthful of dirt. “I almost had it that time!”

Twilight sat on a hill at the edge of Ponyville. Rainbow Dash hovered above. The sun’s orange light nearly obscured Scootaloo from sight as she scurried up the slope toward them. Her face and neck were covered in grass and dirt, and there were small scrapes along both of her forelegs, but her eyes were bright.

“I know what went wrong that time!” Scootaloo stopped by Twilight and started buzzing her wings.

“Oh yeah? What happened?” Rainbow set down beside them.

Scootaloo grinned. “I looked down!”

Rainbow smiled awkwardly. “Uh…” She glanced over at Twilight.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Well then you know not to do that next time, Scootaloo.”

Rainbow relaxed a bit. “Oh, totally! And, uh, this time I think I’ll fly a bit closer to you. Just in case.” She winked at Twilight. “Wouldn’t want another crash if we can help it.”

The two pegasi trotted over to the side of the hill. Twilight watched Scootaloo carefully. The filly’s… delayed development, let’s say, was a touchy topic in Ponyville. Pegasus flight was poorly understood by modern science, but pegasi, of any age, could fly. They found flying more instinctive than crawling. Twilight had never heard of another pegasus with Scootaloo’s condition.

She saw Rainbow lean in close to Scootaloo and whisper. Twilight couldn’t quite hear the words. Scootaloo nodded slowly, eyes wide. Her mouth formed a slight frown. A moment later, Rainbow shouted “so what are you gonna do?”

Scootaloo whooped. “I’m gonna show the sky who’s boss!” She ran over the crest of the hill, then turned and sprinted and leaped. The ground dropped out from beneath her, and Scootaloo soared, flapping her wings with the poise of a Wonderbolt. The moment seemed to crystallize. The air stilled. The soft swish of grass blowing in the wind faded. It felt like a dream.

Then time reasserted itself.

THUNK!

…

“I’m okay!”

---

One thing Scootaloo could never be accused of was laziness. Twilight sat there on the hill for hours as Scootaloo jumped and fell over and over again. Rainbow Dash was less unwavering. With each crash she winced harder and shot more worried looks at Twilight.

While Scootaloo’s flying practice was painful to watch, Twilight’s curiosity eventually started to overcome her sympathy. The proportions of the Scootaloo’s wings did seem a bit cartoonish, but they weren’t much smaller than those of other pegasus foals she’d seen. It was commonly accepted that a pegasus’ magic was more important than her wings for flight anyway.

“What should I try this time, Rainbow?” Scootaloo chirped.

Rainbow opened her mouth, but Twilight answered first. “Why don’t you try starting from a cloud, instead?”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened.

Rainbow shot Twilight a look of rising panic.

“I have an easier time taking off from somewhere high up, so sometimes I just teleport straight up into the air when I want to start flying,” Twilight continued. She did her best to sound nonchalant. “I think jumping off a cloud would be the next best thing.”

Scootaloo looked back and forth between Twilight and Rainbow Dash. She was twitching from excitement. “That sounds awesome!” She paused and turned to look out from the hill. “Uh…”

Oh. The sky was completely clear of clouds. Twilight heard Rainbow Dash let out a sigh of relief next to her. “Sorry, Scoots,” Rainbow said, “maybe some other day.”

Twilight squinted at nothing. Her heat spell had proved useful earlier. Maybe she could repurpose it.

“Hold on a minute.” Twilight began to gently heat a wide area around her. Rainbow Dash’s wings started to twitch after a few moments, probably feeling the updraft. Twilight ended her heating spell, then turned her attention to the air above her. Switching her heating spell around wasn’t hard. As she cooled the air, a small cloud formed, growing every second. Soon it was large enough for two pegasi to lie on it side by side.

Rainbow was glaring at her. “What was that?” She sounded annoyed, for some reason.

“I heated the ground until the air started to rise, then I cooled it until the water vapour in the air started to condense.” Twilight responded, feeling strangely defensive.

Scootaloo turned on Rainbow. If the filly had been at all discouraged by her lack of progress that day, she didn’t show it now. “Could you carry me up? Please?”

Rainbow hissed through her teeth and winced. Then she forced a smile. “Of course, squirt. Hop on!” She crouched so Scootaloo could reach her back.

Twilight watched as Rainbow jumped, flapped a few times, and landed on the cloud. She nudged Scootaloo with one wing, and the filly slid down Rainbow Dash’s side. She disappeared from sight as she sank through the cloud. Twilight dropped her gaze to the bottom where four little orange hooves poked through.

“You okay, Scoots?” Rainbow sounded confused. Twilight heard the buzz of tiny wings and a quiet pop as Scootaloo managed propel herself up above the surface of the cloud.

“Uh,” Scootaloo’s voice was strained, “how do I stand on it?”

“What do you mean?” Rainbow sounded even more confused, “You just… do.”

Interesting, Twilight thought. Scootaloo couldn’t stand on clouds. That certainly had nothing to do with the size of her wings.

She was shaken from her thoughts as Scootaloo fell before her eyes, shrieking. Thankfully the cloud was only a few feet off the ground, which she plowed into with with a dull thud.

Rainbow rubbed the back of her neck with one hoof. “Uh… maybe,” her voice cracked, “we should pack it in for tonight, Scoots. Your parents probably expect you back soon.”

“Aw! I wanted to try the cloud thing!” Scootaloo whined. She seemed to have already recovered from her latest crash.

Rainbow scoffed. “Sorry, but I think Twilight’s cloud is broken. We’ll find a better one next time.”

Twilight didn’t say anything. There had been nothing wrong with her cloud.

The sun was almost down, and the moon, though faint, was already well above the eastern horizon. The shadows of the trees around them were long, but the sky shone enough light for them to make their way back to Ponyville’s heart without a problem. The soft candlelight in windows flickered out, one by one.

They stopped in the centre of town, between Sugarcube Corner, town hall, and the Castle of Friendship. The only real crossroad in Ponyville.

Twilight turned to Scootaloo. The filly was still covered in dirt. “Would you like to wash up at the castle before you go home? I’ve got bathrooms to spare.” Even though Scootaloo wasn’t really hurt, her parents probably wouldn’t approve of their daughter’s current appearance.

Scootaloo shook her head. “No thanks, Twilight. I never feel right in other ponies’ bathrooms.”

Understandable.

Rainbow Dash smiled at Twilight over Scootaloo’s head. “Come on, squirt. Let’s get you home.” Rainbow scooped Scootaloo up with one leg and lifted her onto her back. With a final wave to Twilight, she jumped up and shot off toward the other side of town.

---

The Castle of Friendship always seemed cold and lonely at night. Despite it’s name, it was not a very friendly building. Her friends' decorations had gone a long way in making it more welcoming, but there was something innately uncomfortable about crystal floors, walls, and furniture.

Twilight made her way up the lobby stairs and past the door to the throne room. The halls were bathed in warm light emanating from the enchanted crystals which lined the walls. She heard shuffling above her. Poor sound isolation was another downside of crystalline construction, apparently. She turned a corner and climbed a spiral staircase up to the castle’s library.

Twilight stepped through a small, plain door and into the mathematics section. Her new library rivalled Canterlot’s in size. The room itself, that is. It contained an embarrassingly tiny selection of books. The bare shelves towered over her, some stretching all the way to the ceiling, nearly two hundred feet above.

Twilight navigated toward the main entrance. Not by memory, but by subject. She passed the geometry and topology shelves, eyes moving from one sign to the next. The library was somewhat cramped, despite its size. Bookshelves stood in neat rows, interrupted only by narrow aisles and the occasional writing desk. She heard faint humming ahead of her, followed by a loud thud.

“Oops,” muttered a voice.

It looked like Spike was back.

After a few minutes of walking the shelves ended. The library’s entrance was its only open area, housing a small office by the doors and clusters of couches and chairs for casual reading. A few short bookshelves here actually lived up to their names, holding the books she had ordered personally. Her necessities.

“Spike?”

“Over here,” Spike called from behind the office’s counter. Twilight trotted over.

“How was Rarity’s?”

“Oh, uh,” Spike dropped whatever it he was carrying and peeked up over the counter. “It was fine. Good, really.”

“Uh huh.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “What are you doing back there? Carrying something?” She walked up to the counter and peered over. A cardboard box, apparently. Twilight brightened. “Oh, did my last inventory request get here?”

Spike grunted. “Yeah. This one was marked as fiction, though.” He gave the box a half-hearted kick. “I thought you wanted to fill the science sections first.”

“I did.” Twilight levitated the box up onto the counter and inspected the label. Speculative and Historical Fiction. “Was this the only one?”

“As far as I could tell.” Spike climbed up onto the counter and sat. “Man, you’d think that princesses would get their mail on time, at least.”

“Well, we need to fill the fiction sections as well.” She lifted the box into the air and Spike onto her back. “Come on. Let’s go shelve these.” She headed back through the shelves.

Twilight didn’t want to get into the habit of throwing her weight around, but she was tempted to talk to Princess Celestia about… well, a few things, actually. Her library, for one. She had never lived more than a short trot from a library before. The symptoms of book withdrawal were acute. There were probably better channels for replacing her collection than standard mail orders. Also…

Twilight glanced back, past Spike, in the direction of her lab. She would need to do some research into alicorn magic. What had happened with the tungsten was… unprecedented, so far as she knew. Some Element of Magic she was if she didn’t understand her own power. And while-

“Uh, Twilight?” Spike stared at her. “What are you looking at?”

Twilight blinked. She stopped walking. “What?”

“You’ve been staring over your shoulder for, like, a minute now. You almost ran into a bookshelf.”

Twilight turned her head to the direction she’d been moving. There was, indeed, a bookshelf mere inches from her face. Twilight cleared her throat and started walking again, away from any bookshelves this time. While she held a great deal of respect for books, she knew from experience that they held very little information about alicorns. Other alicorns, on the other hoof… “Hey, Spike, are you busy tomorrow?”

“Um, I don’t know.” Spike sounded confused. “Am I?”

Something instinctive made Twilight stop in place. Ah, finally. The literature section. “Well, you are now! We’re going to Canterlot tomorrow.” Twilight opened the box and examined the book labels. “Here, you take A through M, and I’ll take Z through N, and we’ll meet in the middle!”

Twilight smiled. Spike suppressed a groan.

They had a wonderful night of shelving ahead of them. And tomorrow, Canterlot.