“A pony divided by duty has no legs to stand on.”
- Poison Pen
“Excellent, sunshine,” Green Fields said, shuffling his index cards. “That’s all three of the original founders of Equestria! Now,” he sidled conspiratorially close to Lemon Hearts and stage-whispered. “Who were their ‘leaders’?”
Lemon made a show of racking her brain, and flopped backwards in frustration. “Augh!”
After a moment’s consideration, she shot back upright. “Wait! Commander… Commander Hurricane, Chancellor… Cobbler— no! Puddinghead! And uh… Princess something. Princess Platypus?”
Green Fields put up a noble effort to not laugh. If she hadn’t been learning how to read ponies, she’d have missed the telltale signs before he cracked up and laughed until he could hardly breathe.
“Platypus! Princess—” he kept laughing. “Princess Platypus! The only—”
Lemon struggled to maintain her composure. “What seems to be the problem?”
Green Fields wiped a tear from his muzzle, and stood back up. “Sunshine, that might have worked before, but I know you now. The only way you’d make that kind of error is if you were trying to!”
Lemon finally let her mask slip, and they both laughed together.
Lemon sighed contentedly, enjoying the closeness.
“Alright, but really. Who was it?”
“Princess Platinum, daughter of King Bullion.”
“Well, you've got this one down. What's the next quiz on?”
Lemon riffled through her notes, eventually landing on her syllabus. “Um… Nightmare Night myths and legends.”
Green Fields chuckled a little. “Getting into the spirit of the season, Your Highness?”
Lemon sniffed dismissively as she swooped her reading mat around her shoulders like a cape. “It is beneath one such as I to comment on such matters before the coronation,” she purred in a thick parody of a Trottingham accent. “Now, your future princess demands ice cream. Fetcheth it here.”
Green Fields raised an eyebrow, and stood. “Alright, tell you what. I want ice cream, so I'm gonna go get some. You summarize your top five Nightmare Night stories, with a focus on their relation to famous ponies throughout history. If you've finished when I get back, I'll share my sundae. Deal?”
Lemon swept the makeshift robe off her shoulders, and bounded over to her notes. “‘Kay!”
Green Fields cantered to the door. “Sunset was right, you’re really fun to be around!”
Lemon coasted on that for a while.
Somewhere nearby, a loud crash echoed down the hall, like a cart colliding with cabinets stuffed with alchemy tools. Metal, and glass, and shrieks of shock.
Lemon Hearts tossed her notes aside, and galloped into the hallway. She skidded slightly as the floor transitioned between the wood of the classroom became the polished tile of the hallway, but she stayed true to course.
She rounded the corner, and ran smack into Raspberry Tart. They both tumbled over each other, eventually coming to rest on top of each other.
“Oh my gosh!” Raspberry Tart said, her violet mane knocked askew. “Are you okay, Lemon?”
Lemon extricated herself and pushed Tart off of her with a shove of her telekinesis.
“What are you doing back, Tart?” She said acidly. “Weren’t you kicked out?”
A little light in the back of Raspberry Tart’s eyes died as she spoke. “Suspended, actually, no thanks to you. Look, I came by to…”
Lemon tossed her mane over her shoulder, and shot Tart a chilly glare.
Tart sighed. “You even look like her now. Ah—” She stood, and lashed out with her hooves at the fashioned stone walls. “— damn it. Forget it, kid. Maybe someday you’ll figure it out. I’m gone.”
As she walked away, Lemon couldn’t help staring at the scuff marks on the stone wall.
“Was that Raspberry Tart? Are you okay, sunshine?” The rich baritone of Green Fields shook her out of her reverie.
She put on a smile, and turned to face him. “Yeah. And I’m fine, thanks.”
She turned a corner, and stopped. The row of lockers in front of her had been painted with terrible words and vulgar pictures. All of them centered around one particular locker.
And with Sunset Shimmer back on her haunches, staring horrified at the vandalism, it wasn’t hard to guess whose.