Numbers didn’t lie. With the right words supporting them, numbers could be molded into half-truths, stretched into educated guesses, or else stripped of meaning by lies of omission. Raw numbers in themselves, however, did not lie. Numbers also didn’t tell a pony what she wanted to hear, despite Silver Spoon’s best efforts.

Despite the insinuations of Silver’s carefully worded reports, the polls came in thirteen days ago, roughly two hours before Diamond announced her candidacy to the student council.

Displeased with the… less than ideal initial results, Miss Silver Spoon had opted to stall for seven days’ time. A week offered plenty of time to play the field and adjust some numbers.

Last Friday, in the sliver of time between school and The Dink’s summoning, Silver re-analyzed the numbers. Twice.

The results returned worse than before. She’d doubled down and played the field again.

Now, as she shivered in the pink-skied Sunday morning, out of time to stretch and ponies to poll, Silver Spoon crunched the numbers one last time. The pencil bobbed in her mouth as it skimmed down the open notebook.

Father told her once that things often looked better in the morning. Sadly, poll results did not count among those things.

Technically, it hadn’t been a true straw poll. Silver had quietly collected the informal information and opinions floating around her, though at the end of the day, the results of either one would be the same.

Nineteen foals would almost certainly vote for Pip, or more specifically, would vote against Diamond Tiara. Eight undecided foals could be coaxed either way, but still currently leaned away from Diamond Tiara. Presuming that he didn’t skip school, one colt would run for the arcade the second the bell rang, and ignore the voting booth altogether.

That left two guaranteed votes in their favor: Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara herself.

Frowning, Silver chewed the tip of her eraser. I should’ve been upfront about the polls from the start. If anything, the tweaks and double-checks made everything worse.

Two weeks ago, Silver could at least argue a margin of error or theorize that the schoolyard passed through an Anti-Tiara phase. Average turnover rate for popular opinion ranged from three to eight days—the same time frame of the Mare-Do-Well fad—to premiere, peak, and peter out. However, if popular opinion at Ponyville Schoolhouse stayed constant for at least nine days, that opinion stuck for at least two months.

Diamond’s social credit tanked with a continuing decline during the two weeks Silver took polls, but it had begun a downward slope weeks before that. At best, it had been in flux. Silver couldn’t remember the last time a classmate held Di’s gaze for more than ten seconds. August, perhaps. Or July. Foals had actually smiled at them in July.

Rolling onto her belly, Silver pulled Ferdinand’s bowl closer. “Two years ago, foals bent over backward for a chance to get on Diamond’s guest list. Now they all run to keep off her hit list. Honestly, Ferdinand, I…” Silver’s tail swished uncertainly. “Can you keep a secret?”

A quiet Sunday morning outside Miss Fluttershy’s cottage was the last place for spies to be lurking about, but with election day a week away, one could never be too careful. Silver Spoon sat up to check the perimeter for eavesdroppers.

Squirrels and chipmunks scurried up and down oak trees, gathering nuts and berries. A family of raccoons washed their paws in a nearby stream while a duck bobbed in the water, quacking merrily to himself. A goat lifted its head from a bale of hay and glared back at her. Several bunnies hopped across the expansive lawn surrounding the cottage, washing their faces, munching grass, and not paying any mind to the gray filly at all. Bunnies had better things to do than worry about politics.

One white rabbit with nothing better to do balanced on its hind legs to sniff at Silver’s notebook. It stared at her with little black eyes that shone with more interest than they ought to.

Silver Spoon held the notebook out of reading (and chewing) distance. “Shoo.”

The rabbit stamped at her. That did not count as shooing, but chasing it off didn’t seem worth the effort.

Silver leaned over the fishbowl and readjusted the scarf she’d double-looped around the glass. The bowl already had a heater installed, but she didn’t want Ferdinand to risk another chill. Besides, scarves were in this year.

“I can’t deny it anymore, Ferdinand,” she quietly said. “Diamond Tiara’s going to lose this election.”

The white rabbit crossed its paws and rolled its eyes in a “Well, duh” gesture.

“Excuse me, but nopony was talking to you.” Silver put her hoof on her hip, frowning. “I’ll ask you to kindly mind your own business. Go back to your carrots or whatever.”

Good thing nopony besides Fluttershy speaks bunny. Silver’s gut told her this fluffy little annoyance would blab to everybody in town, given half a chance. That, or extort a princess’s ransom of carrots in exchange for silence.

“Can you make yourself useful and tell Fluttershy that Ferdinand’s here?” Silver Spoon considered the rabbit’s put out expression and added, “Please.”

Politeness, as always, did the trick. The white rabbit hopped off towards the chicken coop.

Now with room to think, Silver turned back to the merciless numbers. A pony with a cutie mark in persuasion might have been able to spin the polls to not look like a total dumpster fire. If their positions were reversed, Diamond could do it.

“At least I rewrote the speech.” Even storm clouds had a bright side or two. “If she sees that first and likes it, there’s a chance she won’t get too upset about the polls.”

Ferdinand stared with unblinking amber eyes. He blew a ring of skeptical looking bubbles.

“Hey, a low chance is still a chance. Pessimism is not becoming of ponies and fishes of high society, Ferdinand.”

Before the betta could respond, Fluttershy appeared. She stood atop the chicken coop, carrying an egg basket and shading her eyes with her hoof. With a little jump, she went aloft, glided across the grass, and touched down beside them.

She set the basket down, waving at the fishbowl. “Why, hello there, Ferdinand! Don’t we look handsome today?” Fluttershy smiled at the white rabbit sitting in the egg basket and picking chicken feathers out of her mane. “Good morning, Silver Spoon. I didn’t think I’d see you this early—oh, dear. I’m not late am I?” She turned towards the coop. “I didn’t think feeding the hens and gathering eggs would take so long, but Elizabeak is having a little fight with Eggwina and I must have lost track of time. I’m so sorry, Silver Spoon!”

“Don’t be, Miss Fluttershy, you’re not late. Ferdinand and I arrived a half-hour early.” Since evaluating the polls didn’t take as long as Silver thought it would, they were probably still early. Silver pulled a raspberry leaf from her saddlebag and offered it to the rabbit. Promptness deserved a tip.

“There, you see, Angel? I told you Silver’s a nice little pony.” Fluttershy tapped the rabbit—Angel, apparently—on the ear as he mowed down the leaf. “What do we say?”

Angel twitched his pink nose and placed a paw on Silver’s leg. The gesture could have actually meant anything between a thank-you, an apology, or a subtle request for more raspberry leaves.

“No trouble,” Silver told him—a utilitarian response which covered all those bases—and the four of them went inside.

Considering Fluttershy’s personal calling and choice of profession, the first time Silver Spoon set hoof in Fluttershy’s cottage she’d expected it to smell like a barn, or a zoo, or a second-rate pet store. It didn’t. Of all the eight times she had visited, the place never smelled the same way twice.

Today, Silver’s nose caught whiffs of wet dog, lemongrass, birdseed, skunk, turtle water, fresh hay and oats, goat milk, buttercups, and wood chips. However, another familiar undercurrent ran through all of these scents. The lemongrass threw her off a bit, but after another sniff, she felt certain of it.

“You’ve made tea!” Silver put the fishbowl on the coffee table and sniffed the air again. “Honeysuckle and lemon, right?”

“Yes, I did. Oh, but I’m afraid we’ll have to wait a little bit until it’s ready.” Fluttershy brushed her mane back, hovering over the fishbowl. “How are we feeling today, Ferdinand?” She laughed at whatever his answer had been and went to work.

Silver hopped onto the couch and propped her back against a pile of tasteful accent pillows.

Or rather, accent pillows and one exceptionally angry cat. Silver ducked out of reach from the tangled pile of orange fur, teeth, and claws now glaring at her from the bottom of the couch. “Uh, sorry.”

Without looking up from the bowl, Fluttershy tisked. “You know it was an accident, Grundlewhiskers. Be nice.” She dipped her nose into the lip of the bowl, nodding as Ferdinand did a little twirl. “Very good. Can I see your gills, please? Thank you.”

While her fish went through his checkup, Silver ran her hoof along the edge of her notebook and looked out the window. Outside, the pinks and purples of the sky faded to pale blue. The sun winked fierce and blinding between the Everfree’s branches.

If Silver squinted, she could see the tall shadow of a unicorn turning away from the forest and back towards Ponyville. Naturally, Brass Tacks would never let Silver and Ferdinand travel so close to the Everfree unaccompanied, especially not when Celestia hadn’t raised the sun yet. He might have waited out there for the remainder of Silver’s visit, if not for Granddad’s arrival this morning. Somepony still had to help with his bags, and Mother and Father would be too busy handling bags of their own.

Silver hoped Tacks would still have time to cook breakfast; it would save her a good twenty minutes or so.

Upon the wall, Fluttershy’s clock read seven-twenty-five. Okay, if I’m meeting Princess Twilight around three, that’s not so bad. Fluttershy’s checkups never go past an hour. Let’s see, with travel… Worst case scenario, I’ll be home at nine. That meant a minimum of three and a half hours for breakfast and to catch up with Granddad Silver Tongue. Plenty of time, plus extra wiggle room if she went past the minimum.

Presuming all went well, Silver Spoon would still arrive at Twilight’s castle at three, right on schedule. (The appointment book read four, but for young ladies, early meant punctual, on-time equaled late, and actual lateness was a travesty.)

Activities, planning, and appointments packed Sunday from end to end with little time to rest. Good. If left idle, a young lady’s mind meandered into dangerous territory. Trivial terrors. Impractical worries. Anxious wonderings.

Silver rested her chin upon one of the throw pillows, watching the animals eat their breakfast. In the peace of her own silence, worries—practical and impractical alike—whispered in the back of Silver’s head.

Maybe before I meet Princess Twilight, I should write some notes. Taking notes displayed thoughtfulness and organization skills, and it could help untangle Silver’s thoughts in advance. Plus, it never hurt to have backup. The last time she’d been in Twilight’s home, she’d been struck tongue-tied, and that absolutely could not happen again.

Silver clamped her pen between her teeth and flipped to a blank page in her notebook. This meeting’s too important to waste on distractions and fluff. Every single minute spent with Twilight had to be economic. Every question needed precision and solid functionality.

I’ll write a list. Silver smiled. Perfect. She’d draft up of all the questions and observations bumping around in her head for the last few weeks, then sort them by importance, or else cut the fat.

Silver Spoon curled in the crook of the couch and scribbled a list of queries. The pen flew across the page with no pause for spelling, neatness, or politeness. No dwelling upon the gravity or insignificance of what she wrote. No rechecks, rewordings, or edits. Raw words from brain to page, full stop. After all, she still had plenty of time for a final draft, and besides, nopony but herself (and maybe the princess) would ever see it.

When she could think of nothing else to add, Silver capped her pen. She skimmed the page front to back, squinting through the ink smudges and raggedy bullet points.

Silver Spoon’s shoulders went limp. …Oh. She put a hoof to her mouth. Oh, dear.

XIII: Can I be friends w/ Twist and Truffle, but still be friends w/ Diamond?
XVI: How am I supposed to manage a campaign when she won’t listen
XX: why won’t she listen to me she asked me for help but I can’t do it if she doesn’t listen
XXIII: How When should I tell her she will may will probably could will might is going to lose the election?

Silver’s eye paused towards the bottom of the page and stared at the second to last question. A small sentence cramped in the corner of the margin and crawling up the border of the page. It had no number. She underlined it twice and circled it as if extra emphasis might lead her to some sudden enlightenment. (It didn’t.)

Silver Spoon did not recall writing this question—which was not at all a question—nor did she recall actively thinking it. But she had to have thought it, otherwise it wouldn’t be here.

“But that can’t be right,” Silver whispered. “Di’s one of the most powerful fillies in the whole school.”

Her frown deepened. “Powerful,” she’d said. Not “popular”. Not “liked”. Not “favored”. Powerful. Diamond—despite a long and storied history of proving otherwise—did not have appeal or charisma, nor did she attract envy. She inspired fear, but that wasn’t the same thing.

Indeed, Diamond Tiara held power, but power without solid allies or friends meant power supported by fear and only fear. A table couldn’t stand on one leg. Silver Spoon recalled Toplofty’s razor-edge giggles and dictator grin. Silver had known fillies who ruled by fear before. She also knew what inevitably became of them.

Fear had an expiration date. When that date came up, the power structures at Ponyville Schoolhouse would shift. Hard. So hard that it could drown a pony in ill repute for semesters, if not years. Diamond’s social credit might stay in the red until graduation, if not longer, unless she performed a drastic turnaround.

Could Silver say that foals hated Diamond the way fillies secretly hated Toplofty? She didn’t think so. No true allies, though. Di had a cluster of neutral, fraying connections—mostly newbies who hadn’t built a history with her yet—and those connections could snap any second.

The only ally she has who isn’t an adult is… Silver glanced at the window to discover her reflection staring back at her. She groaned inwardly.

This goes beyond the election. In fact, this problem overtook the election ages ago. Silver just didn’t—or wouldn’t—see it.

Hurricane Tiara churned the social waters and rocked too many boats. Once upon a time, Diamond captained their ship through those churning waters at a clip. Now, that vessel lingered dead in the water—no crew, no sails, no lifejackets, and hurricane damage blasted through the hull. Now, the sea rushed in.

Silver’s gaze settled upon the toy luxury liner at the bottom of Ferdinand’s tank.

The boat would capsize any moment with Captain Tiara and First Mate Silver still clutching the wheel.

Her eye trailed to the tiny lifeboats painted on the side of the sunken ship. Silver flicked her tail.

“All done!” Fluttershy’s cheer snapped Silver back into the real world. “You did a wonderful job, Ferdinand.” She fanned her wingtip above the bowl with a grin. “High-fin?”

Silver scooted closer for a better view. “Is he feeling better, Miss Fluttershy?” She propped her hooves on the coffee table and poked her muzzle into the bowl. “I mean, I know, he seemed better, but…”

“Oh yes, he’s made a full recovery. In fact, I think his scales look even shinier than they did before he caught that awful chill.” Gently, Fluttershy smiled down at the filly who still desperately gripped the edge of the bowl. “He said he likes the new tank temperature and all the new water plants Mrs. Perfect put in.” She twitched her ears. “Oh, and he wants to thank you for the get well card, too.”

“He does?” Silver glanced up at the pegasus, then back to her fish. “You do?”

Ferdinand popped his face out of the water and booped the tip of Silver Spoon’s nose. An absolutely perfect gentlefish.

It took a moment, but the smile returned to Silver’s muzzle. If nothing else, at least she’d done right by her pet and best non-pony friend. “You’re very welcome, Ferdinand. I’m so glad you feel better.”

“You’ve done a wonderful job taking care of him, Silver Spoon.” Miss Fluttershy rubbed her chin, tilting her head so that her long pink tresses of mane coiled upon the coffee table. “But…”

“Oh!” Fluttershy’s wings arched with a nervous little flutter. She immediately backpedaled with her most delicate I-Promise-I’m-Not-Mad-So-Please-Don’t-Be-Mad-Either smile. “Ohhh, no, no, it’s nothing you did. It’s only that I’ve been thinking... um…”

Fluttershy dared a quick glance at Silver to confirm no hard feelings. “Well, you’re not home for most of the day, and I think little Ferdinand gets lonely sometimes. Have you thought about adding a couple of little friends for him?”

Silver blinked, surprised. “You mean in his tank? I thought you said betta fish couldn’t have neighbors, because they’d fight and hurt each other.”

“Oh my, no; I should have been clearer, Silver Spoon. Male betta fish can’t live with other male bettas, or any other fishies with long fanning tails, or aggressive tank mates, but that doesn’t mean sweet little Ferdinand has to be in that great big fish mansion all by himself. Ooh!” Fluttershy’s feathers fluffed with enthusiasm. “If you want, I could introduce you two to the cutest little water froggy who’d love to be somepony’s pet. Or a school of pretty neon tetras, or shiny little minnows, or some teeny tiny little ghost shrimp friends, or a charming zebra snail!”

“A… snail?” Though Silver didn’t want to be rude, she didn’t know if an elegant animal of Ferdinand’s caliber ought to be rubbing metaphorical elbows with the likes of snails and shrimps. They weren’t even fish.

“Yes, aquatic snails are perfect. They live nice and quiet in the tank, and they don’t bother anybody. Some can even help clean the water!” Fluttershy perked her ears, turning towards the kitchen. “I think the tea is ready.”

A quartet of squirrels approached the table, carrying a fully loaded tea tray between them. A mouse bearing a small jar of jam followed close behind, though it seemed to have trouble with the weight.

Fluttershy kneeled and gladly relieved all the animals of their burden. “How considerate! Thank you all very much.” Still on the floor, she glanced up and added, “Maybe you could ask your little friend Snails about it, Silver. Gastropods are his specialty, after all.”

Snails barely counted as a fifth-tier associate, much less a friend—did he actually favor Pipsqueak in the election, or would he end up voting Trixie again?—but it sounded worth looking into. Silver jotted a few notes in her notebook. “I just might do that. Thanks for the suggestion, Miss Fluttershy.” Building new bridges couldn’t hurt, and Snips and Snails never struck her as the type to hold a grudge.

Silver flipped her notebook closed and slipped it into her saddlebag. Business could wait; teatime was now. She clasped her hooves, admiring the spread as Fluttershy poured her a cup from a ceramic tea set that matched the color of her eyes.

“No thank you, ma’am, I think the honey will keep it sweet enough.” Silver Spoon hadn’t been on the receiving end of teatime since Wisteria’s Winter Gala, and she welcomed the novelty of not having to guide conversation or coordinate tea and cake preferences.

Silver’s tail curled with contentment at the first sip. Gentle, soothing, and mild, but enough spunk to keep one from falling back asleep. Perfect for the early morning, and ideal for the impending chaos of an election. “It’s wonderful.”

“Glad you like it!” Fluttershy brushed her mane out of her face and settled in a chair to pour a cup of her own. “You see, I’ve never tried a flower tea before. I usually like to stick with regular teabags…”

A white tuft of fur popped out of the spout. Something long and red and scaly snaked out after it. Silver frowned. Fur didn’t go with scales. Tufted, scaly tails did not belong in teapots.

“…but I know that you don’t like teabags very much, Silver, and I wanted to be polite. I’m so glad it turned out alright.”

Two little legs that didn’t match the tuff or the red scaled tail waggled in the lip of the spout. The legs didn’t even match each other—the brown one clearly belonged on a cow, and the other should have been attached to a green lizard or a dragon or something, and neither should have been attached to that tail OR in a teapot in the first place!

The teacup shook in Silver’s hooves. Brass Tacks once told her that a good way to tell the difference between dreams and reality was to examine a clock, because clocks didn’t read normally in dreams.

Fluttershy’s cuckoo clock read seven-forty with regular hands on regular numbers.

A long winding body, beaver-furred and slithering—also in complete disjunction with the awful tiny legs and freaky tail—poured into Fluttershy’s cup. A dark bat wing unfurled on one side. A blue feathered one twitched on the other.

“Um, M-Miss…” Silver glanced at the clock again so she wouldn’t need to look at the cup anymore. Still a normal clock. This was not a dream.

Her teacup shook harder. Silver’s voice squeaked in a tiny whisper. “Miss F-Flutters-s-shy?”

“Hm?” Fluttershy blinked at Silver Spoon, then at her cup. She burst into a grin and giggled the way one might giggle at a baby chick. “Hi there!”

The teapot chuckled back. “Why, hellooooo, yourself.” The rest of the… the thing poured itself out in some sort of ghastly parody of tea.

By the merciless sunlight of morning, Silver Spoon finally saw the full scope of its horrors: Gangly goat beard. Fearsome six-point deer antlers. Twisted antelope horn. A single filly-stabbing fang curved out of the horse’s mouth. It waggled its pointy donkey ears at them. A pair of mismatched bloody pupils floated in the pools of its jaundiced yellow eyes.

None of those chunks of creature parts could attach to each other. None of those parts should have ever been that small and weird and… wrong.

The weight of the top half against the thinner bottom half should have snapped the twisted, slender spine in two, but it didn’t. It stepped out of the teacup and began to walk around. It shouldn’t have been able to walk.

Silver’s bottom lip trembled. It shouldn’t be able to function—it shouldn’t even be alive.

She couldn’t bear to look, and yet Silver couldn’t turn her eyes away from this… this... she didn’t even have a word for it. What word could be used for it?

She couldn’t bear it. The joints and limbs and hooves and horns and pelt and spine and teeth and tail and fur and scales and eyes and mane that didn’t fit together, all of this THING—this carriage crash of a creature—wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG!

A throaty laugh rippled out of the horse’s mouth attached to the elongated head attached to the bristle-maned neck. “Fluttershy, this isn’t your normal brew at all!” The ghastly dragon tail flicked honeysuckle tea off the fluffy white tuft that didn’t even belong there. It smacked its mouth and said, “Needs sugar.”

Why did I ever decide to send Tacks home? Silver pushed her spine against the couch and pulled all her hooves tight against herself. Stupid, stupid, so stupid, Silver why don’t you think? Now Tacks is home and I’m locked in here with this thing. Her open jaw trembled and a squeak of horror tumbled out.

The larger egg-yolk eye rolled towards her. “Company!” it cried. “And me without my good face on.”

The lion paw gripped one side of the horse head, while the eagle talon grabbed the other. The creature rotated its head around and around as if it were a giant crank. The horse mouth full of fangs curved upwards into what it probably considered a smile. The brown torso stretched up and up and up until the tines of the deer antlers bumped the ceiling.

“Hmm. Looks a smidge smaller than your usual friends—she’s travel size!” Blood-colored pupils focused on Silver’s drop-jawed horror. “One who obviously appreciates an impressive draconequus when she sees one. Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true, little filly! You’re in the presence of none other than ME!” Fireworks and confetti showered from its horns.

The fanged smile stretched as the thing’s spine contorted in a low bow. The lion paw gripped the antler and removed the top of the thing’s head the way a gentlecolt would tip his hat. “You’re honored, I’m sure.”

It came off. Silver blinked. It. Came. Off. She stared at the thing’s empty neck. No rips or tears, no blood or bones, nothing. It had popped off like the top of a cookie jar.

Did that thing expect her to actually address it? Was it mocking her before it ate her or whatever mismatched abominations did with small foals? “Uh, I…” Silver Spoon’s knees buckled. “I…”

Desperate, she turned to Fluttershy, wondering if she saw the malignant thing in her cottage. But the pegasus still held a pleasant—if slightly awkward—smile upon her face, so she must have not been able to see it, because who could ever smile in the presence of that?

Oh blessed sun and stars and sacred earth, does that mean I’m the only one who can see this thing? Am I going crazy? I’m too young for the asylum!

Fluttershy met Silver’s eyes. Her smile dropped like a stone. “Oh… oh, dear.” Her eyes trailed from Silver Spoon to the monstrosity’s broken face—apparently, she could see it after all—and back to Silver. She put a hoof to her mouth. “O-oh dear. Oh no, no, Silver Spoon, it’s okay.”

Lies. “Okay” was stubbing a hoof. “Okay” was parasprites. “Okay” was a train set on fire and full of orphans careening down the Canterlot mountains. Silver could call this patchwork of parts a lot of things, but the one thing it was absolutely, undoubtedly not was “okay”.

A soft wing draped across Silver’s back. “Silver Spoon, this is Discord. Don’t worry, I know he looks a little scary—”

The collection of fangs morphed into a pout. “Well, I don’t know if I’d say perfectly harmless. There’s still some spunk left in the old gizzard, you know! Humph.” The lion paw reached down and the eagle talon reached down and they both TOUCHED Silver Spoon and lifted her into the air before she had time to run away.

It pinched Silver’s hoof between two of its filthy lion toes—Oh Celestia, why did it have to touch her? Everything about this was wrong and bad and awful and antlers did not belong there and its breath smelled like a subway and it was still touching her!—and shook it.

“Hmm, Silver Spoon, is it?” Merciful heavens, it knew her name now. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. The name’s Discord! I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

“NONsense, I’m Discord!” It sprouted a peacock tail and preened. “Master and spirit of chaos? Freshly reformed and beloved by all? Delighter of all creatures small and fuzzy—” An eagle talon shut Silver’s mouth for her. “—that includes you, by the way—and twister of dimensions. I don’t do windows or birthday parties; I find the balloon animals personally offensive.”

Another terrible laugh tittered through the cottage. Its breath smelled of poison joke this time. It paused and waited for something.

The creature pulled a script out of its torso and flipped through the pages. A set of reading glasses flashed upon the horse muzzle. “Ahem—this is supposed to be the part where you introduce yourself.”

“Uh, hellooooo?” The horse head with horns and antlers tilted to the side. The snake tongue clicked against the fangs. “Hey Fluttershy, what’s with this kid?”

“Whoa!” The awful monstrosity yelped in surprise and nearly dropped her. “Hey, what are you doing? You’re going off script.” It shook her a little. “Stop that, you! Fluttershy, it’s not cooperating.”

Silver’s head rolled back and she sobbed harder. Great globs of tears rolled down her face, mussing her coat.

“But it’s not MY fault!” The creature frowned, more than a little uncertain. “I didn’t do anything, she was always this gray!” It cringed and drew back, leaving Silver to sob in the open air. It wiped mismatched paws on its furry, emaciated body. “I didn’t—this foal’s broken! She was like that when I got here.” A talon poked Silver’s braid. “Stop being broken, you’re upsetting Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy stomped her forehooves. “Discord! Put her down this instant, can’t you see she’s upset?”

“But—oh, fine.” The lion paw snapped its toes and Silver Spoon found herself in Fluttershy’s armchair. “You big crybaby.”

Silver snatched Ferdinand’s bowl from the table and huddled sniffling against the cushions. “I am not!”

The snake tongue flicked out and gave her a raspberry. The raspberry sprouted legs from its stem and ran off. “You are so!” It stomped its cow hoof and swung around to Fluttershy. “You saw, she started the whole thing by herself. I didn’t do anything. I’m TRYing to be nice, but apparently SOME fillies don’t know good manners.” It crossed its mismatched arms in a huff. “It’s obviously all her fault.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. You shouldn’t have picked her up without asking first; she was already scared half to death.” Fluttershy’s wings wrapped Silver in a hug. “There there, it’s okay, Silver Spoon. He doesn’t mean any harm, I promise. Discord doesn’t always know how to act around other ponies.” She nudged a box of tissues forward.

Silver sniffed and dabbed her eyes. She’d stopped sobbing, but tears kept rolling down her face. Why wouldn’t this awful thing stop looking at her? Why couldn’t it go bother somepony else?

“W-wait…” The rest of what Fluttershy said finally clicked. “Friend?” Still gasping for breath, Silver put her glasses back on. “That THING is your friend?”

The vile patchwork creature pulled a face and put a paw to its chest. How dare it pretend to have any right to be offended?

Well, fine. Let it be offended. Silver Spoon didn’t care. She felt her heartbeat return to normal. The fog of her terror settle. Discord. She knew that name. “H-how is that your friend? How can he be anypony’s friend? He—he’s bad! He’s ugly and terrible and bad and I hate him!”

Young ladies did not scream indoors. Young ladies did not lose composure in the presence of elders. Young ladies knew how to pick their battles. But those rules were never intended for abominations of harmony, and anyway, Discord didn’t follow rules, so it didn’t count.

Silver swallowed hard and hugged Ferdinand’s bowl close to protect him. Her poor betta huddled next to the sunken ship; he must have been terrified.

“You didn’t need to introduce yourself; I already know who you are. You’re the one who teamed up with Tirek.” The full scope of what this monster had done settled over her like a shroud. Rage welled in Silver’s chest until it pushed up her head to stare Discord in its disgusting, snaggletoothed, lopsided face. “You hurt ponies.”

Discord flexed its claws and looked away. Almost as if it had the decency to be ashamed. Almost.

“You hurt a LOT of ponies, a-and not just ponies in Ponyville—you hurt everyone! You’re the reason everything’s broken. You’re why Mother and Father and Cousin Silver Lining lost their magic. If it hadn’t been for you, Tacks wouldn’t have gotten hurt. My fish almost DIED because of you, and I bet you’re not even sorry about Ferdinand or Tacks or anypony else! You don’t even care!”

The draconequus said something in its defense while Silver rubbed her eyes. She wouldn’t have any of it and refused to look at him anymore. Silver stared at the spilled birdseed on the floor instead.

“You’re the ugliest, worst thing that ever existed. Everything about you is warped and bad and wrong. Go away.” Silver sniffed and took another tissue. “Fluttershy, make him go away.”

“He’s already left, Silver Spoon,” sighed Fluttershy. Indeed, not a trace remained of the draconequus, save the vague scent of subways and poison joke. Fluttershy tried offering Silver a cup of honeysuckle tea, but Silver didn’t want it anymore. “I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.” Her wings gave a nervous little twitch, and she stared at the teapot sadly. “I think you hurt his feelings.”

“Good.” Maybe now Discord would know how it felt. Maybe next time it would think twice before hurting other ponies. Silver didn’t want to, and she didn’t mean to, but she began crying all over again. “I hate him, Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy perched on the armrest of the chair, one wing still wrapped around Silver’s shoulder. She waited patiently and had the kindness not to look at the filly’s tears. “I’m sorry, Silver Spoon. I had no idea Discord would upset you this much. If you want, I can ask him to please not come by when you have an appointment with me.” Fluttershy offered a gentle smile and brushed one of Silver’s tears away with her feathers. “Would that be okay?”

It would be better for Discord to go to Tartarus and stay there forever. But Silver realized that Fluttershy was trying her best—despite an exceptionally bad choice of friends—and nodded anyway.

“And you know—and I’m sorry, I know it’s a bad time to point this out, but it has to be said—Discord isn’t the one who hurt your loved ones, Silver. Tirek did that.”

“Maybe.” Silver sniffed hard. “But none of it would’ve happened if not for him. That makes it Discord’s fault at least a little bit.” Plus, Tirek didn’t tromp around Ponyville taking bubble baths and interrupting tea. Locked up in Tartarus, Tirek couldn’t hurt anypony anymore. “Sweetie Belle says he was supposed to be helping you guys catch Tirek, but then he turned on you. Is that true?”

“It is,” Fluttershy said without pause. “He also learned a valuable lesson from that, and he’s very sorry. I know he is.”

As if that actually fixed anything. If Discord really felt any remorse, then he’d help fix the broken buildings instead of letting other ponies clean up the mess he helped make. “How can you be friends with him, even after what he did to you?”

“Because I know everybody makes mistakes. Discord realized his mistake, apologized to us, and we forgave him.”

It could not be that simple. Silver didn’t know an exceptional amount about Miss Fluttershy, but she knew for certain that an Element of Harmony couldn’t be that naïve or foolish. She’d been given a tidy, simplified answer: a pacifier. Silver Spoon had outgrown pacifiers.

“If someone realizes they’ve done something wrong, but still wants to become better, I think they should have the chance.” Fluttershy considered the filly frowning up at her, all fuzzed up and nestled in an armchair twice her size. Sighing a little to herself—out of disappointment, frustration, sadness, or some combination of the three—she folded her wings and grew quiet for a little while. “Discord’s never had a friend before, so he doesn’t know how to be one. In fact, I don’t think he truly realized what our friendship meant to him—to all of us—until he betrayed it.”

She stooped to pet a robin who’d come to perch on the chair. “He’s still learning, Silver Spoon. Like we all are. Have you ever done something you weren’t very proud of?”

As much as that amalgamation of fur and scales turned her stomach, Silver had to admit that he probably hadn’t meant to hurt her family. More likely, he just hadn’t cared. It didn’t matter how sorry he supposedly felt; he still deserved to be yelled at.

In all her life, Silver Spoon had never yelled at anything or anybody that way. It had drawn from wells of hurt and rage and fear Silver didn’t know she possessed. If Discord hadn’t left, she could have screamed his ears off for hours.

Silver’s eyes trailed down to her saddlebag. Does Diamond Tiara feel that way sometimes? Or all the time?

Fluttershy shifted off the armrest, one hoof still resting upon the chair. “Silver Spoon, may I ask you something?”

Silver’s gaze snapped up from the saddlebag. Her stomach clenched a bit. “Do… I have to answer?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Fluttershy offered another hug. Silver took it. “Oh, you’ve been through a lot lately, haven’t you?”

Instead of answering, Silver Spoon counted all the bands on the armadillo sleeping under the table. It had nine bands and a scar on its belly. “How do you know Discord won’t do it again? How do you know he won’t go back to hurting you someday?”

Another short pause. “I don’t. Not for sure.” Fluttershy shrugged her wings. “All I can do is trust him.”

Somepony knocked on the door. After half a second, the knock came again, faster and harder. The white rabbit jumped up and pulled the door latch.

An incredibly sweaty Applejack panted upon Fluttershy’s doorstep. Steam rose off her haunches, and she had crumbs from breakfast sprinkled across her muzzle. “Fluttershy! Twilight needs all of us t’meet her at the castle. We got us a surefire mountain of a monster problem comin’ in, and—oh.” She blinked at Silver Spoon, who stared back from the chair. “Didn’t know you had comp’ny.”

Applejack wiped her brow with the back of her hoof and fanned herself with her hat. “Naw, t’aint nothin’ to worry your head about, Silver Spoon.” She gave Silver a friendly wink. “Don’t look so glum! Us six’ll sort that crabby critter out in three shakes of a rattler tail.”

“Could it be two shakes, instead?” Silver followed Fluttershy and Applejack outside, frowning at the crystal spires shining above the Ponyville skyline. “I have a meeting with the princess today. It’s important.”

“We’ll do our best, Silver.” Fluttershy gave her one last hug for the road, then frowned in thought. “Ooh, your butler’s not back yet. I don’t want you walking home alone when there’s a monster out.” She waved at the bear dozing in the shade. “Excuse me, Harry? Could you do a teensy little favor for us?”

Of all the ways the Silver family expected their youngest to come home, arriving via grizzly bear surely hadn’t been among them.

Brass Tacks, who had been in the middle of loading luggage into the air carriage, nearly dropped Father’s bag in the street. Poor Father stared agog inside the carriage and suffered a minor conniption behind the soundproofed windows.

Silver Spoon waved over the bear’s furry arm. “Hello, everypony.” She waved down Brass Tacks, who’d lit his horn and adopted a battle stance. “I’m fine, don’t worry! Ferdinand’s appointment ended early, so Fluttershy asked Harry to give me a ride home.”

Brass Tacks snorted, and after a nod of confirmation from Mother, returned to loading bags.

“Well. This is a… surprise.” Clutching her shawl, Mother approached the bear warily. She glanced back to Father—who still looked two seconds from a heart attack—and motioned for calm. It did little to help. “Thank you, er… Harry, was it? Please pass our family’s gratitude on to Fluttershy when you have the chance.”

The fourth and eldest present member of the Silver clan sipped his coffee beside the fence. He observed the morning’s goings-on with little reaction, save a slight elevation of his snowy eyebrows. A standard reaction from Granddad Silver Tongue.

“Good morning, Silver Spoon.” Granddad’s pale gray eyes blinked at the bowl in his granddaughter’s hooves. “And… Ferdinand, I believe? I see you’ve both returned early.” The fluffy beard trailing his jawline twitched with his smile. In the sunshine, it shone bright against his storm-gray coat. “Excellent.”

“Yes, we—” Silver Spoon turned to Harry. “You can let me down, please.” The bear obliged and shuffled off down the road. Silver dusted herself off, smoothed her mane, and approached.

“Good morning, Granddad.” She smiled and bowed low to him. “I apologize for my unorthodox entrance. An emergency arose for Miss Fluttershy, and she had to arrange an escort.”

Silver Tongue met the bow with a respectful nod. “How considerate of her. Well, better early than late, yes?”

“Yes, sir. This way, I’m home in time to see Mother and Father off to Canterlot.” Silver Spoon approached the air carriage and rose to her back legs.

Father—still somewhat pale from fright—rolled down the window and met Silver with a nuzzle. “Oh, Brightness, are you sure you’re alright?” He stretched his neck out to search for scratches or signs of a sprain. “I don’t know why Fluttershy couldn’t have chosen a less predatory escort.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Silver’s ears twitched and flicked as Father inspected her mane for any bear fleas that might have hitched a ride. His nose tickled, and she did her best not to laugh. “Goodbye, Father. I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning, right?”

“Tomorrow morning, without a doubt.” A near-invisible frown rested upon Mother’s face, pretending to be a smile. It didn’t appear to be an expression of disapproval, and it didn’t seem like Silver Spoon had done anything wrong. Nonetheless, Mother had watched closely since her daughter arrived, and not because of the bear.

“Goodbye, Mother.” Silver Spoon kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Have a good time at the wedding.”

“So long, my love. I’ll try my best, but no promises.” She pursed her lips. “I hope Upper Crust keeps it short.”

“Let’s hope it’s under six hours, at least. Canterlot weddings go on for decades, I swear.” Mother picked up the ends of her dress so it wouldn’t catch in the door and slipped into the carriage. She nodded towards Granddad. “Beau-Père, are you sure you don’t want to trade? You know Jet Set from Frames’ art auctions, right?”

“Nice try, but I’ve had my share of Canterlot weddings for the year, Perfect.” The seasoned attorney smoothed his mustache. In the space of a blink, something loud and unspoken flickered between the three elder ponies. “Besides, I welcome a quiet time in the country and a chance to catch up with family. And Cranky, too, of course.”

The cab climbed into the clouds. Silver Spoon leaned on the fence, watching Mother’s handkerchief wave from the window until it became a green pinpoint in the blue. Out of the corner of her eye, Granddad admired the new snowdrops in the garden. “How do you know Mr. Doodle Donkey, Granddad?”

“An old client.” Before Silver Spoon could ask how Cranky could have possibly afforded a defense attorney of Silver Tongue’s stature, he added, “My good deed for that year. Wonderful fellow, Cranky; his steadfast romanticism puts me in the mind of our dear old Silver Swift, may she rest in peace. But nevermind me, Silver Spoon.” Granddad plucked a snowdrop and stepped closer. When he spoke again, the bass of his voice rumbled through the yard, kind but intent. “How have you been?”

A loaded question with an extensive answer, intricate and branching in ways Silver couldn’t possibly detail. Not in the few seconds she had to think about it, anyway. Not for the first time, she wondered what everypony had been talking about before the bear appeared.

“Oh, I see.” Granddad bent down and tucked the snowdrop behind Silver Spoon’s ear. “Am I to presume, then, that your eyes are red from tears of joy?”

Silver curled her tail with a wry smile. “I have been well. Several times.” They shared a small polite laugh at her icebreaker before she continued, “I saw something… unseemly this morning. It upset me a little bit, but I’m feeling much better now.”

Granddad accepted the answer with a nod. “Then let us hope the trend continues.”

The tumult of politics and the fickle balancing act of the schoolyard fell into the background and settled into something smaller and manageable. In Granddad Silver Tongue’s presence, everything snapped together, clean, smooth, and sensible. A perfect balm to Discord’s… everything.

“I’m glad you finally came to stay with us—oh!” Silver Spoon pranced up the path to the front door. “I can finally show you the new house!” She flicked her tail in thought. “That is, if it still counts as new; we’ve been here a year. Mother and Father didn’t show you already, did they?”

“Only the foyer and the guestroom. I would be honored to have you as my guide, Silver Spoon.” Granddad finished his coffee, gave the cup to Tacks, and let his granddaughter lead him inside. “Shall we, then?”

If Silver Tongue held any strong opinion of his son’s humble little home in the country, he betrayed none of it. He observed the miniaturized museum of art pieces and heirlooms, remarking now and then about a particular vase that had long been a favorite of Father’s, or a painting that Aunt Frames had suggested. Granddad smiled at the foyer’s masterwork crystal chandelier (a wedding present from Grandmare Shady Hollows, who sadly had to remain at the manor today, due to her eye condition) and agreed with Silver Spoon’s high opinion of the cozy living room.

“Your drawing room,” Granddad Silver Tongue declared, “is a precise copy of the one in Manehattan.” His gaze lingered on the pair of rapiers crossed above the fireplace. “Remarkable.”

“Yes, we got to keep all the furniture from the old drawing room.” Silver Spoon knocked upon an elaborate armchair leg. “I mean, if it’s not baroque, don’t fix it, right?”

“Ha, what a fitting joke for the room.” Granddad winked at her. “It’s an antique.”

He brought his head higher as they crossed the threshold into Silver Spoon’s room, listening intently while Silver explained how she’d begun saving her apprenticeship money to buy a special tea table that could fold out to sit more attendees. However, Granddad’s gaze lingered not upon the current (and sadly one-size-only) table, but the line of dolls upon the bookshelf.

Peering at the florid ruffles of Gingerbread’s country dress, Granddad Silver Tongue frowned a little. “I thought you had a larger collection than this.”

“Oh, I did at the penthouse, but Father said we all had to downsize.” Silver nodded to the cabinet of tea sets tucked to the left of Ferdinand’s tank. “I decided to prioritize.”

“Mm. Indeed. The importance of appropriate prioritization cannot be overemphasized. You have always been well aware of that fact—a great deal more than many fillies your age.”

Granddad gently tilted his head towards the atlas of popularity maps, straw polls, and schedule drafts upon what ought to have been a tea table. Hardly any room remained for a thimble, much less a teapot. “I admire your diligence. It is a remarkable quality in any pony, but especially in a young lady of the earth pony tribe.” His whisker fluff twitched in a smile. “I take great pride in you, my beloved granddaughter. We all do.”

“Thank you very much, Granddad Silver Tongue.” Silver Spoon smiled at the praise, but couldn’t help but feel that it spun a path towards a deeper subject. “However…?”

Granddad’s eyes sparkled. “You catch on fast. However, we have become somewhat concerned, as of late.”

Keyword: “We”. The smile drained from Silver’s face. “This is about Diamond Tiara, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He knelt, close enough for her to count the dark rings beneath his eyes. “I shall ask you once more: how have you been, Silver Spoon?”

“Busy.” Several words could have answered him and still been truthful, but that one fit best. “I’ve been so, so busy. I think it’s starting to get to me. I’m managing Diamond’s campaign for student pony president, and she’s not making it easy.”

“Both.” Silver set her saddlebag upon the floor and pulled out a schedule book bursting with bad news and unfavorable statistics. “The other foals don’t like her as much as they used to; Di’s reputation isn’t the best.” She ruffled her hoof through her bangs. “Awful, in fact. And I… I don’t know if I can fix it this time.”

Granddad’s eyebrows lifted and he blinked at “this time”. “A repeat offender, then.”

“Yes, sir.” Although Silver Spoon personally wouldn’t have phrased it that way. Yes, Diamond had her bad habits and unwieldy moments, but she wasn’t a criminal or a bad pony.

“Granddad? Di…” Her ears wilted into her mane. “Diamond’s a bad connection, isn’t she?”

Her grandfather turned towards a framed photo of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon posing outside the new Silver Ballroom at the Wisteria Annual Winter Gala. The gala where Diamond nearly went down in flames, no thanks to her new money heritage. No thanks to any help from Silver Spoon, either.

“Diamond Tiara.” He closed his eyes the way he often did when contemplating and untangling the specifics of a new case. “Daughter by marriage to the eldest daughter of the Rotten-Milk family, if I am not mistaken. Which I am not.”

Silver Spoon could understand Mrs. Rich’s name change. Spoiled Rotten-Milk. Gross. “Is it a good family?”

A row of bright teeth glimmered in what could have either been a smile or a sneer. One couldn’t tell with Granddad, sometimes. “It is a line of passable wealth and age—technically old money, though none can tell.” The curl of his mouth flattened into a neutral line. “A stench of desperation clings to that house; the Canterlot Rottens are not misnamed. In recent memory, I struggle to recall a single favorable word outside, perhaps, a commendable career performance. Of the Ponyville Riches, I have heard little. Business, nor the affairs of the new money set, is not my concern.”

Outside, a crowd of ponies passed the window. They seemed in a rush to get somewhere, though the wedding wouldn’t be for several hours. Granddad watched their silhouettes through the curtain. An eternity passed before he spoke again.

“My beloved Silver Spoon, understand that reputation is not self-contained. Reputation is inherited. Reputation is contagious. A pony may break away from ill-repute—fairly earned or not—but only through a great amount of effort. Your associate is still a filly; I cannot and will not call judgment on a child’s reputation.” Finally, he turned towards Silver Spoon again. “However, from what I have heard thus far of this filly’s history, heritage, and habits, no. I do not believe Diamond Tiara to be a bad connection. She is a potentially ruinous connection.”

When Diamond Tiara sank—not if, but when—she would surely drag Silver down to the depths of ruination with her.

Potentially, they’d both sink to a place so far below sea level, not even sunlight reached it. No hope of rescue, no hope of news until the day some lucky excavation team uncovered the wreck and made a killing off the tell-all book. By then it’d all be far too late.

“Oh, I am sorry, sweet child. I never wished to upset you, but you did ask and you’re old enough to know the truth. Come.” Granddad knelt and gave Silver Spoon a nuzzle. He smelled of zebra espresso and aftershave. “Would you like to help me choose a vest for the wedding?” He clicked his tongue at his current outfit, better suited for closing arguments than a wedding feast. “This is too formal, isn’t it?”

“For Ponyville?” It would pass, but he’d stick out like a diamond dog at a debutante ball. Silver Spoon nodded. “A little bit, yes.”

“Knew it.” Granddad stamped his hoof and tisked again. “I never know how to dress for country affairs.”

“The ponies here don’t wear much at all,” said Silver Spoon. She took Granddad’s hoof and escorted him to the guest room. “I think you’d do fine if you ditched—um, if you went without the suit jacket. I could help you pick a lighter waistcoat color if you want. And a tie.”

The small talk barely provided a distraction. “Unless” throbbed in the back of Silver’s brain ever since she’d listed her questions for Twilight back at Fluttershy’s house. Now, it drummed so loudly she thought her skull might crack.

Silver Spoon examined the alternate vests laid out in Silver Tongue’s suitcase. “I like the brown pinstriped one.”

The lighthouse is right there, but Diamond doesn’t see it. She’s going to ram your social standing into the rocks. And you’re going to let her.

“I also think the light pink one pops nice with your dark coat, plus it’s a spring color.”

“And the color of love, no less—ah, and the original color of your Grandmare Hollows’ mane. Marvelous choice, Silver Spoon!”

The old stallion’s eye didn’t leave the rainbow of ascots laid out across the bedspread. “Yes, love?”

“Did you ever have a problem like this with any of your friends?” Silver nosed the beige and gold ascot forward.

“With mine? Can’t say that I have, Silver Spoon.” Granddad smiled at her choice, holding the ascot against the waistcoat and nodding to himself. “I never made a habit of forming unwise alliances or friendships, and swiftly dismantle the ones that prove unwise.” He lightly kissed the tip of Silver Spoon’s nose. “I concern myself more with family. The answer is no, by the way.”

“The real question you want to ask concerns whether or not you should sever your connection with Diamond Tiara. My answer is no; I won’t tell you.” He buttoned up the waistcoat and looped the ascot around his neck. “The choice is yours to decide, and your burden to bear. Ladies and gentlecolts of society fight their own battles, Silver Spoon.”

A sour, rebellious part of Silver Spoon complained that it didn’t seem fair that she’d helped Granddad with his wedding outfit when he refused to help her back. She never asked much of him, did she? The natural and sensible course of action for a pony in Silver’s position would be to ask one’s elders; that’s what elders were for.

However, it was also not the place of fillies to question or contradict their elders, so she only bowed her head and replied, “I understand, sir.”

“For fifty-six thousand bits’ worth of Wisterian education, I expect that you’ve developed some skill in the art of problem-solving, yes? Here is the time to put it to good use.” Granddad’s comb threaded through the fluff of his sideburns until they curled lush and full. It looked as if a pair of ermines clung to his cheekbones. “I trust you are already aware of the potential consequences of your actions?”

“In that case, I do hope you remember what happened the last time a Silver favored a poor connection.”

The unspoken weight of the implication rumbled through the walls of the house. The smaller residence that Father purchased because they could no longer afford a Manehattan penthouse.

Outside, Mr. Time Turner rushed down the road. A green suit bounced upon his back, the sleeves flapping behind him like a pair of tails. The suit looked a far cry from Granddad Silver Tongue’s casualwear, much less his wedding ensemble. On a local eccentric scientist’s salary, Mr. Turner likely couldn’t do any better.

A set of hooves clicked behind her. Silver Tongue’s reflection joined Silver Spoon’s in the window. Together, they watched Mr. Turner until he vanished into the distance. When Granddad spoke again, his voice was soft. “There are those who presume we do the things we do for selfish ends. They believe we see other ponies as tools—ladder rungs upon which to elevate ourselves, and nothing more. We know that isn’t true at all.”

“No, it’s to survive.” Silver Spoon glanced back towards the hallway full of histories and legacies. “For all of us to survive.” Social connections threaded farther than one could see. The aftershock of strumming or cutting one could rattle walls miles and miles away.

“They’re kinda like a web or a little ecosystem; if you cut one thread, the whole thing could fall apart.” Silver fiddled with her braid. “We studied biomes and ecosystems when I first got to Ponyville. I got an A on that report.”

Diamond Tiara hadn’t wanted to do a report. She’d convinced Cheerilee to let her create a model and narrate it instead; Silver had helped gather materials and check the research. In the end, Diamond had gotten an A, too.

Granddad Silver Tongue gave one of his rare grins, so wide the molar fillings shone. “Precisely, and each web is unique to the place it is located, yes?”

“My webs are not your webs, Silver Spoon. I do not know what cutting Diamond’s thread will do, but I think…” Granddad regarded her with a long, respectful look. “I think that you do.”

The unicorn (who couldn’t hear through her headphones in the first place) waved to Silver Spoon and stepped out of the way as the filly raced past.

At the last second, Silver remembered that Miss Vinyl lived with the sister of Diamond’s opponent. Too late to double back for a kind word or two, she made a mental note to swing by Pipsqueak’s place before the end of the week. Common courtesy dictated the opponents should meet before the election as a show of goodwill, but if Di didn’t feel up to it, Silver Spoon could always share a cup of tea. Trottingham ponies valued teatime almost as highly as Silver did. Besides, the sooner the class secretary shook hooves with the potential class president, the better.

No time to worry about that now. Silver’s hooves skidded to avoid a passing mountain of baking supplies. A box tumbled from the top but got caught at the last second. “Sorry, Mr. Cake!”

In the midst of brunching with Granddad, the clock had struck three. The route from home to the library took fifteen minutes (without traffic) but all too late, Silver remembered Princess Twilight’s library didn’t sit in the center of town anymore.

The castle’s at the north edge of town, so that’s, like, five more minutes? Silver ducked to avoid a passing set of ladders. Eight? Ten? Her heart skipped fast. Too much extra time. Way too close to late. Silver Spoon tucked up her braid and kicked into a gallop.

This’ll pick up the lost time. Straight line from here to the castle if I cut through the market and I’ll still be on—

The crowd amassed around the mouth of the town square, murmuring to themselves and watching something. Wood snapped several feet away. Something scraped along the dirt, roaring and snuffling. It sounded kind of like a bear if it gargled a gallon of acid.

Smells like it, too. Wrinkling her nose, Silver Spoon tried to map out the rest of Ponyville in her mind. Okay, maybe I can detour through town hall if I cut through Berryshine's? She rubbed her temples and groaned. No, it’s closed today. What if—

Sweetie Belle’s head poked out from the middle of the crowd. “Hi, Silver Spoon. Wait up, I wanna talk to you for a sec.” She wormed her way out into the open, squeezing between Mr. Breezy and Lemon Hearts. When she finally reached Silver and noticed the breathless fidgeting, however, whatever she’d planned to say fell to the wayside. “Something wrong?”

“Running late.” Silver reared to see over the crowd, but only got a better view of Minuette’s ears. “Do you know a shortcut to the castle from here? I have an appointment with the princess at four.”

“I dunno what clock you’re using, Silver Spoon, but it’s only three-fifteen. You still have half—”

Sweetie rubbed the back of her neck with a sigh. “I guess you could cut through the Boutique. It’s locked, but I can let you in; Rarity won’t mind if it’s for an emergency. But I hope your meeting’s with Princess Cadance or Luna, 'cause…” she motioned towards the square.

The black and white head of a vicious panda drew back and roared. Foam dripped from its jaws, dripping across Applejack’s back as she rushed it. Her hooves smashed its nose, and the creature rose into the air on giant bumblebee wings, trying to simultaneously swat Rainbow Dash buzzing around its back. Rarity ducked a nasty-looking stinger and doubled back with Fluttershy.

As it buzzed into the sky, Silver Spoon caught a good look. The Elements of Harmony battled some sort of bizarre half-bee, half-panda… thing.

“…yeah, I think Twilight’s kinda busy right now,” Sweetie Belle finished.

Silver’s ears drooped as she watched Princess Twilight swoop overhead to blast a shower of magic from her horn. “I’d still like to be there early. You never know, she could always finish early with the…” She squinted at the garish stripes on the monster’s abdomen. Rings really did not belong on a panda. “What is that, a pandabee? Bumblebear?”

“Amethyst Star called it a bugbear.” Sweetie tapped Silver’s shoulder with her tail. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to the castle. I gotta return a book, anyway.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” said Silver Spoon, “but don’t slow me down. I want to be there at three-thirty.” She twitched her ears, squinting at the unicorn falling in step beside her. “Since when do you walk me places?”

Reaching into her mane, Sweetie Belle pulled out a little brass key as they approached Carousel Boutique. She shrugged with a little too much nonchalance and unlocked the door. “Ohhhh, no reason. I wanted to return a book, like I told you.”

Silver raised an eyebrow. Didn’t she say she wanted to talk like, two seconds ago? “Where’s the book, then?”

“Pff, in the house, obviously. Here it is!” Sweetie Belle swiped a dog-eared copy of Zippy Long: Stalk King from the table and held it up, triumphant. “See?”

Silver glanced at the inside cover. “Rarity’s name is written in it.” From the looks of it, she’d marked it over a decade ago.

“Uh.” Sweetie blinked. “It’s also a collector’s item. That’s why we’re donating it?”

The back door lay somewhere in the inventory room, if Silver remembered right. Navigating through Rarity’s new winter line—apparently, legwarmers came back in style—she ducked around the clearance shelf. “Sweetie Belle, just tell me what you want to tell me. I have to get somewhere.” Silver pushed through a pile of undyed fabrics barring the inventory door. “Also, you’re a bad liar.”

“I am not! It’s called ‘easing into the subject,’ so there.” More like dancing around the subject, but whatever. “Anyway, Silver Spoon, we thought… well, actually, I thought that maybe I should warn you.”

Under the shadow of a suddenly ominous ring of headless ponnequins, Silver tensed. “About what?”

Abandoning all pretense of a library trip, Sweetie left the book on the floor. “Pipsqueak asked me and Apple Bloom and Scootaloo to be his campaign managers yesterday.”

“Oh.” That could potentially mean a lot of things. Not many of them good. “Who was his manager before?”

“I don’t think he had one.” Sweetie Belle led them through the maze of inventory at a reasonable pace, weaving around a haphazard trail of belts, bobbins, and bonnets. Before long, they stood before the back door. “Why?”

Pip didn’t even bother getting campaign managers until the weekend before the election? That didn’t bode well for his planning or management skills. It’s sloppy, inefficient, and means he’s either a procrastinator, has bad foresight, or both. Terrible qualities in a president. Silver Spoon sighed. And if Ponyville Schoolhouse actually cared about any of those things, it might matter.

At best, Silver and Diamond could use it to cobble together an ill-advised smear campaign. That might have worked for a boost six months ago, but now…

Gritting her teeth, Silver glanced at Sweetie Belle. That’s not even counting the new wild cards on the table. With Diamond Tiara already strung tighter than a corset, the mere presence of the Crusaders could careen her into catastrophe. For all I know, they already have a devastating counter campaign ready to go. Crafting one wouldn’t be hard, either.

Still, at least now Silver could batten down the hatches and toss down some sandbags ahead of time. “Thanks for telling me, Sweetie Belle.”

They stepped into an overcut lawn webbed with clotheslines. Overhead, half-dyed tunics dripped into the grass, some still half hung in the dye bucket. Rarity must have left in a rush.

True to Sweetie’s word, the Castle of Friendship waited just a block away. Silver could make that in under five, no problem. “And thanks for the shortcut, too. I owe you one.”

“Sure thing, Silver Spoon.” An orange dollop landed on Sweetie’s shoulder. She glanced at it, shuffling her hooves and bouncing on her knees. “Hey, are you guys, like… okay? You and Diamond?”

“Of course we’re okay.” An automatic response, but judging from Sweetie’s skeptical frown, not a convincing one. “Well, I mean we’re going to be, after I see Princess Twilight.” A hopeful smile twitched at Silver’s muzzle. Of course she’d fix it; a princess of friendship not being able to solve a friendship problem would be like Celestia not raising the sun. It simply didn’t happen.

“She IS pretty good at this type of thing,” Sweetie Belle agreed. “Good luck, Silver Spoon. See you at the debate.”

Nothing in Equestria quite matched the Castle of Friendship. Although nopony could argue against the sleek majesty of the Empire’s Crystal Castle’s spires, nor the ancient power of Canterlot Castle’s rounded architecture, they still didn’t compare. Like a tree, Twilight’s castle twisted and branched into narrow curves and stark boughs of glass. A place that had been grown, not constructed. The architecture promised blossoms and fruit.

Standing before the tall doors of the castle, the fur between Silver Spoon’s shoulders fuzzed. A jolt of unpredictability—too close to chaos for Silver’s taste—ran through the contours of this place. For the first time that week, she realized that she didn’t quite know what would happen once she stepped in.

Glancing at her reflection wrinkling along the dark walls, Silver realized something else. “I look terrible!” Silver rubbed the dye and wet grass off the bottom of her hooves, slicked back her windswept bangs, and brushed the dust from her coat. “A little better, but…”

She checked her reflection again in the window. Nothing could be done about the bags under her pinkish eyes, nor the miserable hollows in her cheekbones. How long had she looked this way? Why had nopony told her?

“I can’t meet royalty like this.” But she couldn’t go back home so close to appointment time. What if the princess came looking for her? “Maybe if I—”

The door opened a crack, and a slitted green eye blinked at her. “I thought I heard someone out here.” The little purple dragon—Spike, right?—shoved the door all the way open with his shoulder. He held a roll of sparkly tape in one claw and clutched a giant sapphire in the other. A string of yellow ribbon spiraled up his left leg and around the base of his tail. “Didn’t you hear about the bugbear, Silver Spoon?”

In the distance, the monster roared as hooves bucked, horns flashed, and the party cannons boomed. Spike jabbed his thumb towards the commotion and chomped into the sapphire. Little blue sparkles tinkled down his chin. “It’s kinda hard to miss.”

“Yes, I saw it on the way here.” Silver rubbed a stray bit of fur that wouldn’t stay flat.

Spike scratched the ridge of spines on his head. “Then, uh… why are you here?”

Silver Spoon tilted her head to the side and blinked at him. “Did she tell you she’d canceled my appointment?”

“But Twilight’s not even here! She might not be back for hours.” Spike looked over his shoulder, as if he might find somepony to back him up, but he only found an empty foyer.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting,” Silver told him. “When the princess finishes fighting the bugbear, she’ll probably be wondering about me. This way, I’ll be easy to find.” She lifted her head and nodded, settling the matter.

Granted, a far better plan would be to turn around and go home. Silver’s home would be the most logical place to find her, and that way she wouldn’t be intruding upon the princess’s personal space. Appointment or no appointment, skulking about somepony’s home—to say nothing of royalty’s home—grossly violated proper decorum.

The rules of conduct had mapped out this exact situation: If, for whatever reason, the host cannot accommodate the meeting, thank them for their time and attempt to reschedule. A young lady, having done all she could, ought to accept her ill luck with grace and manners.

The rules of conduct also stated that in times of emergency, a young lady could ignore her manners. This counted as an emergency.

“Spike, I can’t reschedule, I HAVE to see Princess Twilight today! Di comes back tomorrow, and there won’t be any time between all the election stuff. I’ve run out of time, and…” Silver’s tail curled around her flank. “…and besides, I don’t really know what else to do. I’ll wait quietly, that’s all. Please?”

The sapphire crunched in Spike’s jaws as he considered it. “Ehhhhh… I guess it might be okay. C’mon in.” He stepped back and waved her through. “Thing is, I gotta lock up and leave at four. You’ll have to go if Twilight’s not back by then.”

“I understand.” Silver glanced at the door shutting itself behind them. “Are you going to the wedding, too? You’re normally not so… shiny.”

In the soft light of the castle, Spike’s polished scales twinkled like a nouveau riche jewelry drawer. Buffed, embossed spines flared down the ridge of his back. Spike tapped his claws along his belly scales. “Do you think I overdid the scale polish?”

“I don’t know, but I kind of like it. You’re like a crystal dragon.” He looked far more presentable for a wedding than Silver, in any case. For the third time that week, Silver Spoon found herself glad that she hadn’t received an invitation.

They followed the burgundy carpet down the hall, while Silver admired the handsome wall hangings and tall curvature of the ceiling. With the sea-green windows and crystal pillars, the castle reminded her of the hotel from the Crystal Empire, except stretched over the skeleton of the Golden Oak Library. As a result, the place felt far and away from both of those places.

It didn’t feel much like a palace, either. Even walking on carpet, Silver Spoon’s hoofbeats echoed through the barren halls. Castles and palaces were supposed to buzz with activity; they were supposed to have dozens, if not hundreds of ponies working and living within the walls—why else have so many rooms? Yet, the echoing Castle of Friendship sat hollow, stiff, and unused; a home with the price tags still attached. It didn’t look ready to welcome dignitaries or host a gala.

Silver felt the fur between her shoulders prickle again. “Didn’t you move the furniture in here already? It feels so… so...”

“Empty?” Spike shrugged. “Yeah, the castle didn’t exactly come fully furnished. We’ve got the rooms and stuff set up pretty nice and cozy, but nobody’s really gone through the rest of the place yet. Speaking of which…” They stopped at a set of double doors and he looked about, perhaps noting the lack of benches or sofas. “Not really sure where I oughta put you. I guess the thrones room, since that’s where I’ll be.” He tapped his chin in thought. “At least, I think it’s a throne room. Or maybe it’s more like an office? I gotta ask Twilight about naming this stuff.”

Silver Spoon raised her eyebrows at the tall set of doors before her and took a small step backward. She’d never been inside a throne room before. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

Spike’s skinny tongue swiped some sapphire dust off the tip of his nose. “Might as well; you already invited yourself in.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” Goodness, she had invited herself in, hadn’t she? Not only that, but if Princess Twilight walked into her throne room only to find Silver waiting, she might end up feeling guilty about being late, and then their meeting would start on an awkward foot. “I could always wait outside, if—”

“Joking, Silver Spoon. Joking. I’m sure Twi won’t mind.” Spike chuckled and patted her on the back. “Sheesh, every time you come over, you look like you’re gonna eat your own tail. Relax, it’s just Twilight; it’s not like she’ll banish you to the dungeon for using the wrong fork or tracking mud into the castle.”

He bobbed his head towards the rug. “Seriously, though, do NOT track mud into this castle. I just cleaned that, and velvet’s no picnic to clean.”

“You clean the castle, too?” Silver knew the dragon acted as Twilight Sparkle’s major (minor?) domo, secretary, and mail service, but she hadn’t known that Spike also handled cleaning duties. It sounded like Brass Tacks’ itinerary, except with less bodyguarding and more notetaking. “So, like, you’re her butler?”

“Um—not that there’s anything wrong with that! Some of my best friends are butlers.”

“I’m her Number One Assistant, thanks.” A jet of smoke shot from his nostrils. “A butler. Really.” He crossed his arms and marched inside, still grumbling under his brimstoney breath.

“It’s only a question; you don’t need to get all huffy about it. Cleaning rugs is usually a butler’s job, so—oh.” The doors opened in full. “Oh, wow.”

Warmth pulsed from the crystal walls. The scent of ozone, incense, and peat crackled through the air and bit at Silver’s nose. Great Uncle Silver Chalice’s workroom smelled the same way: of magic. Though much smaller than Silver expected, the thrones room didn’t feel cramped. Its businesslike coziness reminded her of their drawing room or Mr. Rich’s study.

A circular table dominated the room. Six tall chairs surrounded it, each one of equal size and tall enough to accommodate Celestia herself. The cutie mark of an Element of Harmony marked each one. Silver Spoon now understood why Spike called it a thrones room. A grand chandelier bedecked with dozens of strange crystals branched overhead. The room possessed a humbled and welcoming dignity that fit Princess Twilight Sparkle perfectly.

Silver Spoon twitched her ears at the sound of something crinkling underhoof. Her eyes followed vines of yellow ribbon across the floor, over a throne, and across the table to the jungle of wrapping paper, ribbon, and tape surrounding a plain white box. “So, this place is a… multipurpose thrones room?”

“Kinda, yeah. This is where you’d come to talk about your friendship problem anyway, so I figure it’s fine for you to hang out here ‘till Twi comes back.” Spike pulled himself into the chair with Rarity’s cutie mark, where the nucleus of wrapping supplies awaited him. His claws drummed across the top of the white box as he lifted it to show. Whatever it held inside sounded heavy. “You want to help me wrap Cranky and Matilda’s present?”

Silver paused to consider the austere seats. Feeling a bit awkward about imposing upon somepony else’s chair, she chose to sit in Applejack's. Applejack always seemed like the type who’d gladly sit on an apple crate, and never cared who took whose chair.

She shied from the bits of tape and paper stuck to the bottom of Spike’s palms. “Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather sit and go over my—” Silver’s hoof hit thin air when she reached down. “I left my saddlebag!” It must have still been at the tea table in her room, where she’d set it down talking to Granddad. “Could today get any worse? All my notes were in there.”

“What do you need notes for? All you need to do is tell Twilight the problem—trust me, she’ll take enough notes for the both of you and then some—and then she helps…” Spike tisked under his breath and tried to unspool the ribbon from his tail. His claws kept poking through the ribbon, and it ripped into yellow confetti by the time he got it off. It could fill a gift bag, but did no good for wrapping boxes. “…and then Twilight helps you solve it. Maybe you’ll also sing a couple of songs or have a wacky detour thrown in along the way to top it off.”

“But that’s the thing: I’ve got lots and lots of little friendship problems that’s really all part of one big friendship problem, but I’m not sure what that problem even is.” Silver slumped until her cheek pressed against the warm crystal. “I wrote everything down to sort out my thoughts, and it almost worked. Then new stuff came up.”

“What, in the past couple hours?” Spike frowned and lifted an arm. A string of white ribbon stuck fast to his elbow.

Okay, this bordered on sad. “Here, I got it. Stay still a sec.” Silver took up a pair of scissors, pinned the ribbon to the table, and sliced through it with one stroke. “My granddad’s in town for the wedding, but I’m starting to wonder if the real reason is because my parents wanted him to talk to me about Diamond.”

“Oh, because of how Diamond Tiara started giving you the business in the market the other day? Something about a speech or something?” Spike abandoned the ribbon and focused his efforts on wrapping. Reaching into a supply box, he pulled out a ruler and began measuring the box. A green eye slid up to Silver, who frowned indignantly at him. “It’s a little town, Silver Spoon; news gets around fast. Besides, Diamond doesn’t exactly have what you’d call an inside voice.”

Spike flexed his claws. “Lemme get those scissors, please? Thanks.” He double-checked the measurements and sliced off a panel of wrapping paper. “Roseluck says Diamond Tiara actually made you cry.”

Glaring, Silver lifted her head. “Well, she didn’t, first of all. Like, I didn’t enjoy it and maybe I felt a little upset, but I did not cry, because young ladies don’t cry in public, and I’ll thank you not to go around spreading slander, Mr. The Dragon, because slander’s totally illegal—don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

Spike took a sudden interest in re-measuring the box. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“You did so, I saw you.” Silver pursed her lips. The nerve of some dragons. “Roseluck needs to keep her nose in her flowers and out of other ponies’ business, because she doesn’t even know what’s going on.” Silver’s hooves braced hard on the table. Her legs trembled. “Neither do you, or Sweetie Belle, or Mother or Truffle, o-or anypony. They all think she’s mad at me because of the election, but that’s not it!”

Without looking up, Spike carefully wrapped the south side of the box and taped it down. For all the chaos of the wrapping space, the box itself didn’t have a single crease so far. “It’s not?”

Silver took a breath and thought about it. “Okay... it’s a little bit because of the election. I’m her campaign manager, and Di’s been… stressed lately.” What would poor Diamond say to her parents when the election results finally arrived? She’d bounced back from all the other losses, true, but a filly could only take so much. “She’s under a lot of pressure.”

“I don’t know, Silver Spoon.” Spike turned the box over in his claws to inspect his work thus far. Satisfied, he gently flipped it over and went to work pinning down the edges of wrapping paper on the north side. “Twilight’s stressed pretty much twenty-four-seven, but she never yells or insults me when I mess up.”

A proud smile flashed across his face. “Of course, when you’re as good as I am at assisting, there’s not much to complain about.” Spike shrugged, and slowly, the smile sagged into a frown. “On the other hand, when I do mess up, I mess up hard. Real hard. Like, for instance when I, uh…” He fiddled with the end of his tail and looked away. “I sorrrrrrta kinda almost broke the Equestria Summit last week.”

“By not remembering to buy earplugs.” Spike sighed and massaged his forehead. “It’s a long story.” The paper crinkled as he went back to work. “The point is, I almost wrecked a huge event, flooded the castle, and hurt Twi’s rep, but she still never yelled at me. She barely raised her voice, and she’s never ever made me feel bad for messing up. At least, not on purpose.”

“It’s not the same thing, Spike. Twilight’s a princess and a grownup; she’s supposed to be patient. Besides, it sounds like you just had an accident.”

“‘But still’, what? I told you, you can’t compare the two.” Silver snorted. “Not unless you ever sabotaged an amazing opportunity for her—one that Twilight really needed. Not unless you also never fessed up to it, and then you went ahead and let her ruin another friendship for no reason because you were too busy trying to save your own skin to do anything about it because you’re a big fat coward!” Silver leaned in so close, she could see herself in Spike’s shiny scales. “Well? Ever do anything like that?”

“Um.” Spike fiddled with his tail and cleared his throat. “No, not anything like that.” His eyes darted elsewhere, and his muscles tensed under his scales.

Silver withdrew to her chair. “I’m sorry, Spike. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It’s not your problem.”

“No, it’s okay, Silver Spoon. I’m the one who brought it up, and you already looked upset.” Spike bared his fangs in a sheepish apologetic smile. “How about I just go back to wrapping this and we’ll forget the whole thing?”

Silver Spoon folded her hooves and leaned back in Applejack’s chair, listening to the paper crinkle. In the silence, she heard the table’s nearly inaudible hum of magic. Curled against the backboard, she laid her chin upon the armrest. Her eyes trailed upward, tracing the wood vein paths in the chandelier.

Again, she couldn’t help but notice the chandelier’s uncanny resemblance to tree roots. Its organic look would fit better in a rustic hotel lobby, or a quirky clubhouse. She pricked her ears, squinting at a fat root dangling above her head.

A string of orange crystals shifted. Light washed across the wood, and she saw it: a crude little carving of an hourglass, drawn by an amateur horn or a young hoof. Above it, somepony else had etched two linked horseshoes. On a fatter root, Silver found a cluster of candies, a scroll, and a trio of smiling flowers. Cutie marks. Dozens of them.

“Spike…” Silver blinked, still searching for more cutie marks. “Did somepony make this from the library tree’s roots?”

“I saw it underground during Winter Wrap Up. It’s the only one with all the cutie marks and stuff drawn into it.”

“Oh.” The rustling paper paused a moment. “Yeah, we wondered what was up with that. Twilight said it looked like a code, but Applejack thought she’d heard something about ponies marking trees a long time ago.”

“We found tons of cutie marks under there. I think Dinky led a bunch of kids down there after winter so the rest of us could leave something. Not all of them got carved in the tree. Some ponies drew on rocks or the walls.”

That’s what Silver Spoon had done. Her cutie mark sat upon a rock in the dark, underground and far, far away from the Castle of Friendship. Maybe it belonged there.

A string of pink crystals shifted. For some reason, somepony had placed pictures from the talent show inside them. “Di’s not a bad pony, Spike. I know it doesn’t always look that way, I know she’s got a bad reputation, but she’s not bad.” Silver squeezed her eyes shut, slumping deeper into Applejack’s chair. But I might be. “I messed up. I had one job and I didn’t do it.”

“No. Connections. Make good connections.” Silver dabbed the corner of her eye with a handkerchief and sat up to look back at the little dragon.

He’d finished wrapping the gift. Despite the chaotic mess around it, the present itself could have come straight from a catalog. No wrinkles in the paper, no bumps in the ribbon, no signs of struggle at all. One would never know the trouble Spike took to wrap it.

A little card dangled from the yellow ribbon. Silver wondered whose name Spike had written on it. “You’re originally from Canterlot, aren’t you? Spike, how much do you know about society? Like, I mean, real society?”

Spike’s snout wrinkled a bit at the mention of “real” society. “I do okay at black-tie parties. I can get a decent laugh out of a few fancy ponies, and I know where all the knives and dessert spoons are supposed to go—more or less—and this one time, Hoity Toity called me classy, so I must be doing something right.”

“Eh, he’s okay. Got good taste I guess.” Spike reconsidered the length of the ribbon and bit off the end. “I dunno much about all that pecking order stuff with contacts and reputations and stuff, though.” He twisted his face. “From what I’ve seen, I don’t think I want to. Stuff sounds brutal.”

No argument from Silver Spoon. She could only shrug. “I don’t think anypony at school likes Diamond Tiara besides me. It’s going to cost her the election, which will only upset her more, and that’ll push everypony away even farther, and it…” Silver wrapped her tail around herself and stared at the table. “It makes me look bad.”

Now that she said it out loud, Silver couldn’t help but notice how shallow that sounded. Her hoof idly fiddled with her pearls. “Bad reputations are contagious. When somepony’s contagious, you quarantine them. You cut them off.”

Not for the first time, Silver longed for Manehattan. Lose one pony and millions more waited for you. Even more, she longed for Wisteria Academy, where something like this never ever would have happened. Ever.

Fluttershy’s voice echoed in Silver’s ears. “Two fish can’t share the same tank.”

At Wisteria, Diamond would have conquered the New Money crowd, while Silver hobnobbed with the Old Money, and never would the two cross paths. In time, both of them might have risen to the top of their respective pools. On the chance they did decide to join forces—for such things had been rumored to happen in the senior classes—the two of them might have formed an alliance. A powerful alliance bedrocked in experience and fostered by guile, without any emotional hurricanes churning the waters. A merger, not a friendship.

Mergers could break without anypony’s feelings ever getting hurt because feelings never entered the equation. I think I like mergers better.

Silver Spoon jumped. She’d almost forgotten Spike sat in the same room. “How come I didn’t what?”

“How come you didn’t cut her off?” Spike pushed off the chair and hopped onto the table, folding up slices of wrapping paper that could still be used. “Sounds to me like you didn’t figure out Diamond Tiara’s bad rep just this morning.”

“I don’t know.” Working by Wisteria’s standards, Silver had sought out Diamond’s friendship in the first place. The knot in her stomach tightened. Friendship. Not alliance. “Maybe I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten.”

On the other hoof, if she’d truly been working by Wisteria standards, Silver Spoon wouldn’t be bobbing in stormy waters and debating getting into the lifeboat at all. By Wisteria standards, she should have thrown Diamond Tiara overboard after the first hurricane. She should have gone solo the second she realized she didn’t need Diamond’s support to stay afloat. Gone solo, or else allied herself with a better choice.

A clever pony would have united with the Cutie Mark Crusaders—an ounce of pain in the short run, but pounds of payoff in the long run—ages ago. Or at least done so after realizing how stupid she’d been to attack family members of the Elements of Harmony.

Silver Spoon frowned at the trio of apples engraved in the top of her chair. At the very least, becoming friends with Sweetie Belle would have pleased Mother.

“My parents never did like Diamond Tiara very much. They never said it, and didn’t tell me to stop hanging out with her—except maybe that one time—but I could, like, feel it, you know?” Silver wrinkled her nose and stretched out in Applejack’s chair, two hooves flopping over the edge. “That or they just never liked Spoiled Rich very much.”

A flat laugh from Spike. “Big surprise. Who would?” He paused for a split second, perhaps realizing he’d said that out loud. He seemed to consider adding something to soften the comment, but in the end, Spike shrugged and went on gathering up the wrapping materials.

“On the other hoof, I don’t think they knew Mrs. Rich was Di’s stepmom until later. It might have been some other reason… Father’s always been an awful worrier.” Despite her mood, Silver smirked. “If he knew Diamond snuck me out on Nightmare Night, he would have totally lost it.”

A roll of ribbon bounced out of Spike’s arms and unfurled at Silver’s hooves in a little river of gold. Silver wound it up and knocked it back with her tail. It slid across the glossy table like an air hockey puck.

Moving fast, Spike caught it before it hit the floor. “You snuck out on Nightmare Night.” His arid stare could have evaporated Cloudsdale. “You. The filly who showed up a half-hour early for an appointment she knew Twilight’s not even here for.”

“Hey, being punctual doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun. I’m loads—TONS of fun!” Silver Spoon turned up her nose with a humph. “I’ll have you know I’m a certified party pony. Pinkie Pie said so.”

“Uh-huh.” A cat’s cradle of ribbon stretched between the dragon’s claws. He smirked. “So, Diamond Tiara’s the one who decided to sneak you out is what I’m hearing.”

“Technically, we both decided to use the wagon, so we both had a hoof in the decision.” Silver crossed her hooves. After a few seconds, she added, “But yeah, Di came up with it at first. She showed up at my house with a heist crew and everything.” In retrospect, Berry Pinch’s sad attempt at a gangster motif kind of made sense.

Right, details. “Nightmare Night happened the same month I got pneumonia. I felt a lot better, but couldn’t get out of bed, so Di put me in her candy wagon and snuck me out that way.” Silver Spoon grinned. “We ran her candy map and got a huge haul. Mine couldn’t even fit in the pillowcase.”

A spot of sunlight caught one of the pink crystals in the root chandelier. Sitting up for a better look, Silver realized somepony had placed a photo inside. Not-Yet-Princess Twilight Sparkle, dressed in a wizard robe, gathered around an apple bobbing game with Applejack and Spike, respectively dressed as a scarecrow and a—

In the background, Princess Luna played a spider toss game with Pipsqueak. Princess Luna only got back from the moon the summer before last. This picture had to be from that same Nightmare Night.

“My parents ended up coming back early that night. We had to rush back really, really fast so we wouldn’t get caught.” Silver Spoon’s eye didn’t leave the pink crystal. “We both could’ve gotten in big trouble, but since I was the one stuck in bed, Diamond could have gotten in way, way bigger trouble.”

Wondermint had been one of Silver Spoon’s closest friends since diapers, and Silver missed the filly deeply. However, Wonder wouldn’t have taken a risk like that in a million years. She might have brought back some candy, or opted not to go in a show of solidarity, but not snuck her out.

“I don’t think anypony’s ever done something like that for me before. She really didn’t have to do it, either.”

Brights Brightly and Primrose Path would have sent get-well presents and cards. Fair Weather would have offered an apology and well-wishes when Silver got back to school. Though if Silver had offered a bribe, or if somepony needed her to win first prize in a costume contest, one of them might have suggested it. Maybe.

“Di could have gone out with Pinch and Featherweight and still had fun. But she didn’t.”

In the same situation, Twist and Truffle Shuffle would have probably stayed in Silver’s room and played a board game. That might have been nice. Wonder sharing her candy would have been nice, too.

Nightmare Night’s not about the candy, though. It never is. Nightmare Night needed the thrill of adventure. It needed the creepy shadows of the trees, the scent of pumpkins and the glow of Nightmare lanterns. Without the almost-risk of sort-of-danger and spooky costumes and a full moon climbing over the horizon, it wasn’t Nightmare Night. It was Friday with extra candy.

Diamond Tiara didn’t want Silver Spoon to have Friday night with extra candy. In the name of a proper Nightmare Night, she’d risked life and limb… or at least a serious lecture and maximum sentence grounding.

Silver Spoon twitched her ears in thought. “I know Diamond’s not an ideal connection, but…”

But how many times had Diamond Tiara stuck up for Silver Spoon? Even against older friends like Berry Pinch, or older ponies like the Flim Flam Brothers? Diamond went to bat against her own stepmother for Silver’s sake. Even when they were right, even when Silver didn’t deserve it, Diamond had defended her.

“…but I never had a best friend like Diamond before. Not ever.” The clock struck four. Spike would have to lock up soon. Silver slid out of the chair with a sigh. “I don’t think cutting ties with somepony like that just because they’re bad for your reputation is what friends are supposed to do.”

“Friends aren’t supposed to yell or be nasty jerks to each other, either.” Spike crushed the remaining trash in a ball and tossed it into the air. A blast of fire breath incinerated it. “Just sayin’.”

Maybe some friends have a good reason for it. On the other hoof, Silver didn’t think that mattered. Nopony could change who’d done or deserved what. She could only deal with the situation now.

Nine hours after the realization that nopony liked Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon found herself in the same position she’d been in at the start of the day: in a leaking boat en route to a massive crash. Could the boat sail on without sinking? With work, maybe. Maybe.

Spike and Silver Spoon passed through the long, lonely halls of the Castle of Friendship. Their shadows arced behind them, stuck fast to their feet and billowing over the carpet like smoke.

If his claws weren’t busy carrying a wedding present, Spike might have patted her on the back. Instead, he only offered a sympathetic, noncommittal shrug.

The solution ought to be simple. The solution ought to be clear. Even if not, a young lady could always turn to her peers and betters for advice. Silver’s peers and betters all told her the same.

“My family wants me to make good connections. My other friends think Di’s a bad pony. Wisteria says new and old money don’t mix.”

“Okay.” Spike shifted the present to his shoulders and felt around for the doorknob. “So, then, what about you?”

Spike’s claw finally found the doorknob. “You already know what everypony else wants you to do.” Fresh autumn air rolled through the castle, brushing stray leaves into the hall. In the light of the late afternoon, Spike’s eyes sparked. “So, what do you want, Silver Spoon?”

“I—” Silver slowly closed her mouth. She paused in the doorway, staring at him.

With no time to stand around and wait for an answer, Spike quietly went his way down the road. His pace marched quick enough to get where he needed to go, but gave space for Silver to catch up. Without so much as a glance, he let her know she could follow along if she wanted to.

Silver trailed behind him in a trance. She unpacked the question and examined it.

Spike hadn’t asked what Silver had to do, nor what she ought to do. He hadn’t asked what the easiest, most logical, moral, or beneficial path of action ought to be. It wasn’t a question of safety or wisdom, nor cleverness or duty, nor foresight.

Nopony had asked Silver Spoon that question in years, and she found herself out of practice.

The road held no sign of the bugbear, nor the battle. The crowd had dispersed, save those on their way to the wedding. Somewhere in the distance, the heavy bass of a stereo pulsed through the ground and rattled Silver’s horseshoes.

Slowly, she stepped up to Spike’s shoulder and met his eye. “But it doesn’t matter what I want.”

Spike peered at Silver as if she’d worn a ball gown to a roller derby. “Well, it’s your friendship. I’d think what you want matters kind of a lot. It’s nopony else’s friendship but yours, right?”

The dragon had a point. Silver Spoon thought about it. “Well…” she spoke slowly, giving herself time to change her mind mid-sentence. “I’m pretty sure I know what I don’t want...”

“Hey, it’s a start.” Spike smiled with all of his sharp little teeth. “Let’s hear it!”

“I don’t want to stop being friends just because Diamond’s a bad connection. Even though she’s got a bad reputation, Di’s still my friend, and I’m hers.” Silver’s gaze drifted to the unoccupied town square. Indents of market carts marked the dirt.

At a glance, Silver could name the flower cart where they’d go buy snacks after school and review game plans. A few paces to the left stood Honeybuzz’s cart, where they’d gossip about whose hair looked dumb. There, where Big Macintosh parked the apple cart, Diamond once laughed at an inside joke until her face flushed bright red and she couldn’t breathe. Diamond Tiara had introduced Silver Spoon to Ponyville in this spot.

Above her head, the tatters of Silver’s speech struggled in the branches of a barren elm. “At least, I think so.”

“Sure sounds like a—” A block away, the bell tower chimed four times. Spike gasped and scrambled into a sprint. “Oh man, it’s gonna start soon! Sorry Silver, I really gotta go. Look, when Twilight…” He searched the sky, in case Princess Twilight had decided to swoop in last minute. No such luck. “Um, when Twilight gets back, I’ll tell her to drop by your place, okay?” Without slowing down, Spike pulled out a notepad, complete with pen. “She’ll wanna help with your friendship problem, first thing. You weren’t kidding, Silver, it sounds like a doozy.”

Silver shook her head, letting him pull ahead. “That’s alright, Spike. I think I’m actually good.”

“You go on ahead to the wedding, Spike. Congratulate Matilda and Mr. Donkey for me, okay?”

“Sure thing, Silver Spoon.” Spike waved as he turned the corner. “See ya!”

Turning to go home, Silver looked up in time to see an entire gallery of Ponyville’s best and brightest tossed into the air. She blinked. Had that been a… flying stereo?

Silver rolled her eyes and went home to finalize the election notes. Ponyville. Sheesh.

The Silver Standard

by PatchworkPoltergeist

Concerning the Proper Alignment and Dispersal of Lifeboats