The train was an elegant thing, as much a work of art as a machine. It was made from the finest wood and polished brass, every component etched with beautiful depictions of the nations it visited. Gentle electrical lights filled the interior with a warm glow so diffuse it seemed to have no source. The engine purred, soft as a cat.
The world beyond the train was less pleasant to consider. Through the windows, Twilight and Spike could see a twisting nether world lacking direction or true form. Through swirls of purple and pink mist, they could see the vague outlines of islands floating in the air, broken and ancient cities, and things that had no name but filled them with an instinctive dread. When lightning flashed, they could briefly see the creatures that lived in that cloud. Things the size of whales with the sensibilities of wasps.
One of the serving staff had brought Twilight an ice pack for her head, though. So that was nice.
Twilight had demanded an explanation from the staff, and received nothing but polite deflections. Then she demanded an explanation from Spike, and received nothing but stammering incoherence and an insistence they were going back to Equestria. She considered demanding answers in a slightly more insistent tone, possibly with the addition of lasers to emphasize her point, but upon reflection decided she would be patient.
And soon enough, their host arrived.
“Terribly sorry to keep you waiting.” She was a slight thing—a little grey earth pony, nearly half a head shorter than Twilight. She would have been utterly unremarkable in a crowd, her drab coat and off-white mane drawing no attention. She wore a saddle cloth draped over her midsection in the Saddle Arabian style, but it bore no cutie mark. She had hers on her flank like an Equestrian pony: the Guild’s cog-and-bolt.
She slid it across from them at their little table in the dining car, folding her hooves in front of her. “Coffee? Tea? Have the servants helped you?”
“I’d prefer answers, if it’s all the same to you,” Twilight growled. “Where are we, and who the heck are you?”
“You’re in the spirit world,” she answered, her tone cordial and largely flat, “and I am the princess of all djinn.”
Spike looked down at his claws. Twilight froze, biting her lip as she processed that information. “Prove it,” she said.
“It is said, is it not, that my name is death to any mortal who speaks it? And dragons, while long lived, are mortal. So, Spike, if you could be a gentledrake and cover your ears for a moment?”
Spike hesitated, lifting his head halfway to her. “But it’s only death if I say it, right? I could still hear it.”
“I suppose you could,” she agreed, “if you desired to know a word that would consume you from the inside out if you ever once uttered it.”
After a moment’s thought, Spike covered his ears and hummed loudly to himself. Wrapped in that noise, he could only watch without sound as Twilight leaned across the table and the princess of all djinn whispered in her ear.
Twilight’s eyes went wide. Her ears shot up. The little hairs of her coat stood on end.
The name did not take long to utter, and when it was done, Twilight sat back in her chair. Spike uncovered his ears.
“Wow.” Twilight’s voice wheezed. “That, uh… okay. Hello, your Highness. I’m sorry for doubting you. Princess Celestia informed me you didn’t exist.”
“Did she say I didn’t exist, or did she say the stories Saddle Arabians tell about me were fictional?” She waggled a hoof in a playful little gesture. “Because you always need to watch the exact wording with that mare.”
“So I’m realizing.” Twilight took a deep breath and again looked around the train car, taking in all of its details as though for the first time. Finally, her eyes returned to the princess opposite her. “Did you cause the war?”
The princess of all djinn snorted. “No. It’s strange, but not many empresses consult me on their war policy.”
“Then why have you brought us here?”
“Spike asked me to assist you. It seemed like a reasonable request.”
“He asked you.” Twilight looked down at Spike, whose eyes remained somewhere around his feet. “Just like that.”
“More or less. He promised me anything that was his to give if you got back to Equestria in time to win your bet. And from his expression, I’d hazard he believes he sold his soul to me.” Spike looked up, and she gave a gentle shake of her head.
“What!?” Twilight whirled to stare at Spike. He offered no response. His eyes watered, and he pulled up his knees around himself.
The anger on Twilight’s face faded, replaced with shock and confusion. “Spike…” She said slowly. She reached out a hoof to touch his shoulder. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m sorry, Twilight.” Spike’s voice cracked. “I was supposed to be there for you, but everything went wrong, and I didn’t know how to fix it. And I wasn’t the person you needed me to be. And it all fell apart. You’re supposed to be the hero of the story—the mare who always saves the day. And it was awful just seeing you staring at the walls.” He choked up, squeezing the tears out of his eyes. “I didn’t want you to give up.”
“Spike…” Twilight’s eyes watered as well, and she pulled him into a tight hug. “You’re such an idiot.”
They hugged each other, and squeezed until their breath was gone, and for a little while, their tears ran down both their faces.
Eventually, as they began to pull apart, the princess of all djinn spoke. “He’s actually quite bright.” Her tone always stayed the same: never quite friendly, but ever cordial. “But there are a number of factors impairing his judgement. His love for you, his shame that he loves me, his need to prove himself, but also a rather severe case of shock.”
She pointed at Spike with a hoof, but turned her eyes back to Twilight. “I don’t think he ever fully explained to you, but at Akhal-Teke, he was present for the shooting at the train station. He was in the middle of a conversation with the officer in command when one of my Artificers blew her spine out through her back. It’s the sort of thing that could shake a pony up. Or a dragon.”
“Oh, Spike. Why didn’t you tell me?” Twilight hugged him again, but he had no answers; he just stared at the table.
“When you get home,” the princess of all djinn suggested, “you might have Luna help him with his recurring nightmares.”
Twilight lifted her eyes from Spike and turned them to the mare across the table, her face hardening into a glare as she protectively pulled Spike against her. “How do you know all this?”
“Well, he has been carrying around one of my pendants for the last seventy-something days. And he did put himself entirely inside my power.”
“You can’t have him!”
“I can, actually. But don’t worry.” She lifted a hoof and made a small waving gesture. “I don’t have much of a use for his soul. My request will be much more reasonable. We can discuss the details in a moment. But first--” she leaned across the table “--let’s talk about what I’m giving you. Because all Spike asked for was for you to get around the world by your little deadline, but I don’t think that’s what he actually wanted.”
Twilight hesitated a moment. She looked between Spike and this strange mare. “You can end the war?”
“Mmm.” She wagged her hoof, a note of reproach in the gesture. “That’s what you want. Not what he wants. And even you don’t want it bad enough. Spike was speaking for me, during your little chat on the airship. I offered you a chance to sacrifice your neutrality, your reputation, or your moral code. And you refused.”
“You have the power to end this and you’re refusing to use it because I won’t sink to your level.” Twilight’s voice sunk to a growl, her hoof rising to the table. “You’re killing millions.”
“I’m djinn, Twilight. My sole desire is to see others’ desires fulfilled. And so I grant wishes to those who are willing to sacrifice to see those wishes come true. And to help you?” She pointed. “Spike is willing. And his wish is that your trip not end in failure. That you know that as a Princess you are more than Celestia’s shadow and that you see the path forward to making the world a better place.”
“And this path you’ll show me—” Twilight’s voice remained low and distrustful “—I assume it entails further sacrifice?”
“All things do.” The princess of all djinn shrugged. “But sacrifices I hope you’ll find more palatable than the ones you’ve already refused.”
Twilight looked down at Spike. Though his eyes were still full of tears, he nodded, and Twilight turned back to the mare across the table. “Out with it, then.”
“You’ve visited every major power in the world,” the princess of all djinn said. “Save one. I’d be happy to stop by and make an introduction.”
“The changelings?” Twilight’s muzzle scrunched up. “Why would they help? Queen Chrysalis is a warmonger herself! She attacked Canterlot.”
“She’s a warmonger when war suits her interests.” The princess of all djinn lifted a hoof. “This war does not suit her interests. The conflict will generate powerful emotions to be sure, but changelings cannot live on grief and hate. And back at home, fear of wartime spies will have everypony on alert for infiltrators and put her drones at risk.”
Twilight hesitated. Her muzzle relaxed. “Maybe. But even if she did want to help, how could she?”
“Government officials can be persuaded to lobby for peace. And if they won’t see reason, they can be replaced by shapeshifters with more suitable attitudes. Chrysalis already pursues the second half of this strategy in isolation. Since the day the crown prince was killed, her infiltrators have fought for peace. But they were too few, and too late. She cannot prevail on her own.”
“So,” Twilight said, her voice hard. “You want me to team up with Chrysalis so she can have government officials who disagree with me kidnapped and replaced.”
“I was going to suggest you take advantage of the infiltrators she already has, but I’m sure you two can work something out that you find morally acceptable. Chat over tea and biscuits. I’ll bring some honey. Changelings love honey.”
“And you expect me to overlook the fact that she’s a selfish tyrant, and all the horrible things she did to my brother and Cadence, simply because she happens to want the same thing as me at this exact moment?”
“I expect nothing of you, Twilight.” The princess of all djinn sat back. “Wish it to be so, and I will drop you off in Ponyville and you’ll never face of any of these events again. Or perhaps you’d rather I return you to Celestia, so you can assist her with her strategy for rebuilding the post-war world in a more peaceful image. But if you want to help the ponies who are fighting and dying right now, this is the least objectionable option that is likely to produce results in time to save them.”
Spike rested his hand over her leg. She looked down at him. “It’s better than refusing to raise the sun, Twilight.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “You kind of scared me there.”
Twilight’s face tightened. She reached down to rub his scales with a hoof. “I know.” After a moment, she returned her eyes to the djinn. “And what happens to Spike?”
“The same thing whether you take my offer or not. He will be my servant. He will apprentice with my Guild and will remain there until such time as he earns the master’s pendant he borrowed. After that, he may stay or go as he likes.”
Twilight frowned. “Why go through all this trouble to ask for something you were probably going to get anyway?”
“Because I know you and Celestia and Luna and Cadance,” Spike said, speaking quietly. “And after the war, it’s likely one of you will try to disband the Guild. So having…”
The princess of all djinn lifted her hoof to her lips. Spike fell silent. “A servant does not discuss his master’s affairs with others,” she rebuked him ever so gently. “Not even his beloved former master. Or his beloved sister.”
“No way.” Twilight moved a little more of her body between the djinn and Spike. “I don’t care what deal you tricked him into making. He’s not well, and not in any state to be making those kinds of promises! I won’t let you—”
Spike took Twilight’s shoulder with his hand. He gently pushed her away, down into her own seat. He took her hoof in his claws and held it gently.
“Twilight,” he said, speaking slowly and deliberately. It took him a moment to find the words. “You know I’m not a pony, right?”
She started to reply, but he quickly lifted a claw to silence her, taking the time to find the words. “I mean, I’m not like you. All the things on this trip that hurt you so much: the intrigue and the scheming and the corruption and the greed. They never hurt me. They never even bothered me. In Equestria, everything is so simple. But out here? Out here is different.”
He gestured wildly in the air, turning his wrist to mimic the motion of wheels or gears. “Seeing how it all fits together. All these ponies with their conflicting desires and selfish interests that have somehow clicked into this… this functional thing. It’s like seeing a machine go together with all of its delicate little gears. And it’s a beautiful machine. The most beautiful machine. And…”
He glanced at the princess of all djinn. For a moment, Twilight followed his gaze. It took Spike a moment to speak. “And I fell in love.”
“Spike.” Twilight laughed a little, brushing his words aside like some childish fantasy. “You’re just rattled. You don’t really love…” He caught her eyes. She stared down into his. “You… uh…”
Twilight looked back at the djinn across the table. Then back to Spike. She bit her lip. “I, um…”
Spike went on. “Yeah. I know. I knew. I mean, I knew I was in love with something you thought was a monster. And I thought that made me a monster. And I saw it all falling apart, and the more I tried to help, the worse everything got. But now I guess…”
He squeezed her hoof tighter, squared his shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. “Twilight, I’m not a pony. Pony magic is based on friendship, and love, and kindness. Dragon magic is based on fire and strength. And that’s why Celestia gave me to you when I was an egg. Because without you to teach me right from wrong, I totally would have grown up to be a monster. And you did teach me that. And I want to keep doing the right thing.”
He licked his lips and forced himself on. “But let me teach you something, okay? You didn’t help anypony this trip. You didn’t save anyone or stop anything bad. And the reason you didn’t is because you made yourself powerless. And power is what the rest of the world respects. In Equestria, standing by your principles is always the right thing to do. But the rest of the world doesn’t work that way. Sometimes you have to bend to get the best outcome. And if you can’t ever bend? You’ll break.”
He let out a little breath, a sound that was almost a laugh. “And I saw what you breaking looks like, Twilight. I saw it when you were ready to tell Celestia not to lower the sun. You did go full Nightmare Twilight there for awhile, and I don’t ever want to see it again. So, please. I know I tried to help you so much this trip, and I messed it all up, but just let me help one more time?”
Twilight looked down at Spike. She bit her lip.
Silently, without a word, she wrapped him up in a hug and squeezed tight.