//------------------------------// // Sunrise // Story: A Bluebird's Song // by Ardensfax //------------------------------// A Bluebird’s Song ~~~ Silent night surrounding me On the shore of wistful sea Her kindest heart made me believe The world as I wish it to be ~~~ Sunrise It was strange how light the world suddenly felt. Fluttershy’s eyes cracked open, the morning light bedazzling. She let herself float for a few seconds in the hazing scents of jasmine and lilac, undercut by the tang of dried perspiration, its context made no less sweet by its earthiness. A warm body was curled up contentedly beside her, still snuggled into the grip of her forehooves, chest rising and falling with the regularity of sleep against the pegasus’s side. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted to the light. Dust-flecked spears of light broke the air above her eyes, and she registered that they were lying in her bed, apparently having made it upstairs at some point during the previous night’s events. She turned to look at Rarity’s sleeping form, her once-styled mane flowing out over the pillow in a beautifully unkempt halo of lavender, framing her delicate head. One by one, Fluttershy’s memories began to return to her, fitting into place in roughly the right order inside her mind. She expected to be overwhelmed with embarrassment or shame, looking back at all the things she had said; all the things she had done. Strangely, though, no blood rushed to stain her cheeks, and not even a tinge of that horribly familiar shriveling sensation gripped her chest. Instead, she let out a small sigh of contentment, cuddling closer to the alabaster mare. This is what happiness feels like. Real happiness, without any worry or repression. She knew that she had succeeded. Despite her fear of herself, despite the shyness brought forth by years of weakness and bullies and pent-up anger, she had fallen in love. She had been able to place her complete trust in the unicorn beside her; able to believe that Rarity would be willing to guide her first, fearful steps into the enticing, frightening world of intimacies, knowing full well that her lover would not hurt or abandon her. Rarity shifted a little, apparently woken by Fluttershy’s movements. She mumbled something incoherent, still for the most part asleep. Giggling quietly, the canary pegasus leaned forwards to nuzzle the pearly mare’s cheek and ear, then edging downwards to leave soft kisses just above each of the unicorn’s eyes. Rarity gave a contented little nicker, her eyes drifting open and alighting on Fluttershy’s smiling face. “Hello, darling.” She yawned luxuriously, planting a kiss on the pegasus’s nose, her cheeks blooming a delightful pink. Fluttershy felt her cheeks redden a little in response, but the blush was a response born of happiness, not of shame. She held the unicorn a little tighter, stroking a lazy forehoof down her back, running her fetlocks over the soft curves that she now knew so well. “Oh, Rarity… Th-that was…” “I know, dear… I know. Thank you.” Rarity traced a hoof along her love’s wing, and Fluttershy felt herself shiver as the caresses slipped beneath the warm feathers. The unicorn met her gaze, biting her lip a little bashfully. “Are you still… alright with this? With us?” Fluttershy nodded, emphatically. “Of course I am, Rarity. When I’m with you, I feel…” She sighed, breaking off, unable to quite explain the thousand different facets of emotion that set her stomach whirling at the sight of the fashionista. “I… I don’t know what I feel. All I know is that I don’t ever want to stop feeling it.” Rarity smiled delightedly, unable to resist leaning forward to draw the pegasus into a deep kiss, their lips meeting with a slow, deliberate passion. She hitched Fluttershy’s hind leg up, cupping it with a forehoof and draping it over her the subtle rise of her pearly-white hip, before continuing her feather-light touch up along the curve of that primrose-yellow thigh, brushing her fetlocks over the butterflies adorning the canary mare’s flank, knowing the reaction that the sensitive spot would produce. Fluttershy did not disappoint, moaning sharply into the kiss, the sound shuddering into the unicorn’s mouth. Recovering quickly, she playfully clamped Rarity’s tongue between her lips, and they struggled back and forth for a few seconds, each tug drawing out a little coo of pleasure from one or the other. Eventually, Fluttershy let the taut connection slip, pulling back a little to meet her partner’s half-delirious, smoky gaze. It all feels so… so overwhelming… “I wish I could have fallen for you years ago,” Fluttershy panted, flopping back onto the pillow beside her lover. “I wish I’d not been hurting you for so long.” Rarity laughed, quietly. “You are utterly worth the wait, darling.” She smiled at the pegasus, her eyes a little questioning. “You know, you seem somehow… different.” The pegasus’s ears tipped back a little fearfully. “Is… is that bad?” “Oh no, Fluttershy, of course not,” Rarity hastily clarified. “You’re still every bit the mare I fell in love with, but now you’re something more, as well. You always seemed so… repressed, I suppose. Sometimes I’d see it; I’d see the anger in your eyes. I’d see everything you were hiding.” Fluttershy sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I scare myself,” she admitted, in a small voice. “When I was a filly, the first rule was to show no real emotion. If you let the tiniest hint of your real self out, you’d be pulled to pieces for it. I was already such a weak flyer that nopony needed much of an excuse to pick on me. I… I felt anger, love, and lust, and I didn’t dare tell anypony. Eventually, I guess I convinced myself that it was wrong to feel like that, as if I were a freak because I loved and hated. It became something to be ashamed of, so I hid it all away.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as she arrived at a still more unpleasant memory. She felt Rarity squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “Then sometimes,” she continued, “I’d leave it to build up for so long that I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Something would happen to push me over the edge. That’s… that’s when I’d hurt somepony.” She turned to Rarity. “But I was wrong… I can see that now. Thanks to you, I can love again; I’m not ashamed anymore.” “Darling, don’t sell yourself short.” Rarity stroked the pegasus’s cheek, her gaze almost reproving. “All I did was tell you how I felt, and rather a rude and ill-thought-out admission it was, too. You were able to unpick all of the puzzles; you were the one who realized what was going on in that beautiful head of yours.” For a few moments, she looked thoughtfully into Fluttershy’s eyes, as if wishing that she could read the mare’s mind. “The truth is, Fluttershy, you’re still a pegasus. All of that hot-headedness and brashness and determination; it’s all in there somewhere, no matter how much you repress it. The way you bottled it up for years, there’s no wonder you had… outbursts.” Fluttershy suddenly looked a little frightened. “But… I remember what I was like after Iron Will’s lessons. At the time, it… it felt good. I was so horrible, but what if that’s what I’m really like? What if that’s what I’ll become if I let myself too much off the leash?” Rarity rested a hoof on her cheek, looking into her eyes with the utmost seriousness. “You’re not a horrible pony, Fluttershy. Don’t even suggest that about yourself; power can make a fool of anypony. Of course it felt good; you were bullied and pushed around for so much of your life, I can see why the chance to reverse that position was irresistible to you. But… even if that Fluttershy is in your personality somewhere, surely she’s what gives you your courage. Iron Will’s lessons just let her… take over, I suppose. As long as you don’t let any one part of you take control, I’m sure that every part has something useful to offer you.” The unicorn’s eyes suddenly twinkled mischievously. “Besides, she hasn’t put in an appearance yet, and you were most certainly… ‘off the leash’ last night, weren’t you?” Fluttershy blushed, but smiled nonetheless. “I suppose so… Thank you, Rarity.” “Maybe that’s all you need,” murmured the alabaster mare, snuggling up against her pegasus once again. “A way of letting your inner pegasus out of her cage for a while, but without needing to turn all of that trapped emotion into anger. And believe me, darling,” she dropped her voice, biting her lip and gazing at Fluttershy with half-lidded eyes, “I’m more than happy to be that outlet.” The pegasus felt herself heat up inside at the sensual voice breathing in her ear. She forced herself to hold onto coherent thought, a tiny seed of worry picking at the back of her mind. “Rarity, I… I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. But… I care about you. I love you, and I don’t want this to just become something… physical.” Her voice trailed off into blushing inaudibility by the end of the sentence. Rarity frowned, concerned that her love had misunderstood her motives. “Fluttershy, dear, do you think I’d have made that offer if I didn’t love you just as much? I don’t think for a moment that you would’ve let me teach you all of… all of those things if you didn’t put such trust in me.” She sighed. “I’ve heard ponies say that love and lust aren’t the same thing, and… I think they’re right. But that doesn’t mean the two can’t co-exist together; even compliment each other.” The unicorn rolled onto her back, and Fluttershy draped a wing around her shoulders. “Look at it this way,” she continued. “I look at you, and I want you. I want you more than anything; the feeling of your wings around my back, your breath in my mouth, your lips…” She paused, stopping herself before she could become too distracted from her original intent. “…You must have seen what you do to me.” “Y-you do the same to me,” Fluttershy admitted, her voice barely a whisper, her cheeks pink. “Exactly,” Rarity nodded. “But it’s not just that… When I’ve been in relationships in the past, I always felt that I’d wait and see how they panned out; as if it didn’t really matter if they worked out or not. With you, I don’t feel like that. I want to do all I can to make this work; I can’t bear the thought of you leaving.” She smiled, but her eyes were suddenly tearful. “I want to cry with you when you’re sad, I want to just walk in the hills with you and not know where we’re going to end up… I want to wake up each morning and know you’ll be there beside me. Not just somepony; you. That’s why I love you, and that’s why I know that what we have is never going to become just an expression of lust.” For a few still moments, the mares simply gazed at one another, blue into turquoise and turquoise into blue. Fluttershy knew that there was nothing more that she needed to say; that there was nothing that she could say make the moment any more complete. They understood each other perfectly. She realized something else, as well: The little voice at the back of her mind, her companion, her devil’s advocate, had fallen silent. The one she had created to respond to her lonely thoughts, whenever the walls began to close around her. The one who had been by her side through solitude all the way along the years. How like her to leave in this way; to slip quietly away when she knew that she was no longer needed. Thank you, she thought, quietly to herself. Thank you for everything. No reply came; her mind was silent and untroubled. She allowed her eyes to roam in lingering sweeps over the mare in her forelegs, leaning forward almost unthinkingly to nuzzle her cheek in a moment of blind affection. The unicorn giggled, and a realization came crashing into place in Fluttershy’s mind, so utterly obvious and yet so persistently invisible that it took her breath away. It had been Rarity’s voice. It had been Rarity’s voice for so many years now; her subconscious recognizing just how much she needed the mare, before the idea had so much as impinged as a spark against her well-defended conscious mind. Rarity’s voice, coaxing her out of bed on those mornings when the world did not seem worth re-entering. Rarity’s voice, pulling her back to herself after her outbursts, setting her gently back on her hooves when the road she had chosen left her too tired to continue. Her voice of reason. Perhaps once it had been Rainbow Dash’s voice, or maybe even her own, without the shakes and whimpers of her eternal nerves. She did not know. It had always been such an integral part of her that she had never thought to question its familiarity. Now, she understood why her companion had left her; why her voice had changed to represent what she could never, for so long, see that she wanted. It was not just because Fluttershy no longer needed to fear a lonely life; it was because she no longer needed to fear a loveless life. “I love you, Rarity,” she whispered, her voice almost awed by the truth of the words, the back of her mind pinpricked by bitter regret that she had not been saying them for years. The alabaster mare’s smile widened, her eyes lighting up just as they always did when she heard those words. She leaned forwards to whisper directly in the pegasus’s ear. “I love you too, Fluttershy. I promise you; I’ll never leave you, just as long as you want me by your side. I won’t let you down.” Perhaps she would have said more, but suddenly her lips were otherwise engaged. In a single, smooth motion, Fluttershy pulled her into a spine-tingling kiss, rolling atop her lover and bearing down into the smouldering connection, letting the heat of the moment grow to fill the space between them, robbing them of the faculties of thought or breath. The pearly mare’s hooves rose to caress over her sides, before pressing without warning into a spot just below the first joint of her wing. Fluttershy felt herself exhale sharply, her back arching downwards, and she gripped the unicorn’s flanks tighter between her knees. Obeying the whims of the spur of the moment, she bit down on Rarity’s lower lip, toying with the warm, rubbery flesh held between her teeth, and drawing a loud and unsuppressed groan from the unicorn. Momentarily, she panicked a little inside at her own audacity. Oh Celestia, did I just do that? But Rarity was looking up at her with smouldering eyes, her gaze suddenly alight at the stinging pleasure singing in her veins. “Oh, do that again, darling…” Grinning down at the mare she loved, her fears allayed, Fluttershy wasted no time in complying. Breakfast could wait. Breakfast could wait forever. She was awake; she was alive. At that moment, she was a pegasus, and was utterly unafraid of that fact. She knew that her shyness and nerves would never truly leave her, and she knew that some of her memories would never truly stop haunting her. There would be bad days; she knew that perfectly well. There would be days when her fears and faults would bring her low. There may even come a day when Rarity was no longer at her side to take her hoof, to hold her tightly through whatever storms the world could hurl her way. Today, though, it did not matter. Impermanence only ever added to the present’s beauty. Today she was in love, and was free to explore that love without falling into the tangling snares of fear. Today, idealism did not seem such a fool’s errand. Today was a good day. * It was strange how dark the world suddenly felt. Drip. Cloudshine stared up at the ceiling’s damp lime-sheen, her head pressed morosely back against the packed lump of straw that served as her pillow. Drip. The clockwork-regular drops of water spattered against the floor, providing some semblance of the passage of time. Drip. With a snort of frustration, the olive-green mare got to her hooves, seizing a pile of straw and dumping it angrily beneath the falling water, masking the sound. Time was something of which she had in far too much abundance these days; it was not something of which she wanted to be reminded. She knew that they could not keep her in this cave-like dungeon forever; that eventually their trials would roll around, and she and her colleagues would doubtless find themselves imprisoned elsewhere; perhaps one of the more modern prisons in Manehattan or Las Pegasus, somewhere where the world could be safe from their activities. At that moment, she had accepted the fact that she would never taste free air again. She almost welcomed the fact that her sentence would likely begin so soon; anything was better than being buried alive, down here under the mountain. Of course, one of the greatest hardships of solitude was the time for thought that it allowed. When left alone, when forced to live with nothing but its past decisions for company, a mind will begin to pull itself apart, wondering what might have been done differently. Time and time again, she cursed herself for ordering Dusk’s death in a moment of anger. He should be here beside her, trapped with her in this lifetime of meaningless nothingness. At the time it had felt like revenge, but now she realized that she had given him freedom. That, naturally, was not her only concern. Why in Equestria did you tell Celestia about Quintus? You were helping her screw Dusk over, why did you blurt that out as well? I’m already buried deep enough that admitting what I did to him won’t make my life any worse. But why did you do it? The answer took its time coming, but in the end, she could not deny it. She’s my sister, even if she is a pegasus. We’ve dragged her through hell, and I don’t even know if she’s alive. If she is, I’m not going to let her be brought up for murder on top of all that. Do you even care anymore? The unicorn cause; all of those things you believed? She sighed, falling back onto the straw, lying once again on her back and idly tracing the tip of her wooden-sheathed horn against the black stone wall. Was there ever a cause? Maybe we believed in something once, but in the end, nopony needs a good reason to hate. Besides, what does it matter? Sparkle’s research is out there now; we’ve failed. What happened to you, Cloudshine? What the hell happened? Is this how you got to be a leader? She looked around at the dank cell, and snorted derisively. Look at where being a leader left me. I’ve had enough; I don’t even care if I was right or wrong. Whatever I believed, it’s not worth fighting for any more. Idly, she ran her hoof again over the yew-and-silver cone that was clamped down over her horn to dampen her powers. A small smile tugged at her lips, despite herself, knowing that one small victory had been handed unwittingly to her. They had fitted her with a new damper the previous day, because the suppressing powers of yew diminish as the fresh-cut wood begins to die, and as such all unicorn prisoners had their cones replaced every few weeks. This cone, however, was flawed. A hairline crack ran up the surface, nigh-invisible to the naked eye, but enough to allow a single spark to worm its way through the deadly dousing influence of the silver-laced wood. It was, of course, useless. She could do no harm with such a miniscule force as was available to her. But, as she channeled her full and considerable magical capacity into worming the field of energy through to the outside world, she was rewarded by the sight of a single straw, as it detached itself from her bedding and rose, shimmering with the faintest of near-colourless auras, to her eye level. It allowed her some sense of retained identity, of freedom to act within her confines, no matter how crippled her actions were. It seemed almost fitting, in a way. Her domain was now barely five paces from side to side; a dank black cage, buried deep beneath the city of those whose interests she had tried for her whole life to protect. How right it was that her powers should equally wither. Above her came the now-familiar creaking groan of the dungeon door swinging open. Twin, synchronized cracks of hooves saluting on stone accompanied by muffled, respectful voices told Cloudshine all she needed to know of her visitor’s identity. Her heart sank a little; the princess was not often one to bring good news to those she had hidden away. Perhaps Rainbow Dash had awoken from her coma… or perhaps not. Either way, this is Dusk’s fault. If things ended badly, I don’t need to feel guilty about it. You’ve done so much in your life. Are you seriously judging what you should feel guilty about now? She did her best to quell the nagging voice, attempting to focus on the approaching metallic hoof-falls. This is different. How many is it, Cloudshine? Quintus and Dusk; they make your tally up to… what is it now? Seven? Eight? How many of their names do you even remember? I didn’t kill Quintus. That’s no excuse, he died because of your orders. Face it; you’re starting to grow a conscience. After everything you’ve done, and with all the years you’ve got left ahead of you, a conscience is really not something you want to develop… She shook her head slightly, trying to dislodge the thoughts that clung like lichen to the inside of her skull. The miniscule flow of escaping magic was broken, and the straw fluttered silently to the stones below. A few moments later, the telltale golden glow splashed over the corridor wall outside her cell. With a rattle of magically-levitated keys, the door swung ajar, and Princess Celestia stepped into the oppressive stone cage. Cloudshine turned her head to look at the princess, and nodded slightly, acknowledging her. She did not, however, rise from her prone position on the straw, the deliberate implication being that her co-operation should by no means be taken as an indication of respect for the alicorn. She gestured carelessly at the balled-up lump of straw on the floor, into which the ever-regular drops of water still fell. “Still got that leak in here.” Celestia ignored the jibe, not quite meeting the mare’s eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, and a little sad. “Do you ever think that maybe there was another way?” The olive unicorn raised an eyebrow, and her reply came short and defensive. “I’m not here to talk philosophy.” “Nor am I,” the princess replied. “I’m merely curious. Do you… regret any of it?” Cloudshine snorted. “Don’t try to act holy. You’ve killed more ponies than I have.” “That’s exactly the reason I’m asking.” The unicorn sighed. “Of course I regret it; it landed me in here, didn’t it? It’s weird… I was fighting for what I believe in, but looking out from in here, it all seems kind of meaningless.” Celestia turned away a little, eyeing the open door, a little wearily. “You know that’s not what I meant. Ponies have died because of me; directly, or on my orders, or because of my negligence. Sometimes because they needed to, for the good of everypony… sometimes because they wanted to. Sometimes I had no choice or chance to save them. They… they haunt me. I was wondering if anypony ever visits you when you try to sleep?” Cloudshine was silent for a few moments, avoiding the alicorn’s gaze. “Not yet,” she replied, eventually. There was no point in lying anymore; not now. “Maybe they’ll start to, someday. Probably soon.” She shook her head. “I dunno why. I feel like I’ve been running for my whole life, but being in here… it’s a brick wall. There’s nothing to distract me, nothing to stop me from thinking. Even so, I can’t see why things feel so… different for me now.” “I think I know. May I?” Celestia gestured to the bedding where Cloudshine sat. The unicorn grunted indifferently, and the princess leant back on the straw, resting without quite sitting. “Think about it. Your entire life, you’ve been taught to believe that pegasi are barely equine. You’ve been surrounded by unicorns; you’ve never been exposed to any other point of view. Your father was a unicorn supremacist, and your mother hated pegasi just as much. Sunset was involved in your life from an early age; all in all, it’s no surprise that you fell into crime. Killing a pegasus would seem no less morally excusable than trapping a rat to you. Combined with your mother’s intelligence, and your father’s ruthlessness… no wonder you were good at it. In the long run, it’s no wonder that you are where are now. You never stood a chance.” The alicorn sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m not surprised it’s starting to hit you now. This is almost the first time that you’ve been faced with being separated permanently from your family or Sunset; it’s the first time that you’ve truly been allowed to have your own thoughts.” Cloudshine eyed the monarch, torn between suspicion and acceptance. It made sense; she could not deny that much. “So… what are you offering? Why tell me this?” “Because I don’t like to see you here,” the princess admitted, bluntly. “You’re young; this is no place for you. Had you not been raised so neatly into the role of evil, you would be utterly unrecognizable. In a way, you’re not so very unlike Rainbow Dash.” Her eyes seemed genuinely saddened. “But you have to understand that I can’t let you go. You’ve done too much; you’re too damaged. If I thought that you could change on your own, if I thought I wouldn’t be putting my subjects in danger, I would give you a second chance. But… I don’t believe you can. Not as you are, not with the personality that’s been beaten into you.” Her voice took on a low, dangerous undertone. “I’m not going to lie to you, Cloudshine. I hate the pony you’ve become. You’re an irredeemably evil, twisted mare, and if I must lock you away until the end of your life, if that’s what it takes to ensure that you never harm my subjects again, then so be it.” The anger dimmed a little in the alabaster princess’s eyes, and she looked at the floor, as if ashamed of her outburst. “But you could have been so, so different. I pity you, Cloudshine. It’s remarkable how harsh a hand the world has dealt you.” Cloudshine looked up, her interest momentarily flaring. Celestia had not told her anything that she was not already aware of, but a certain name had caught in her mind. “You mentioned Rainbow Dash… is she alive? Did she wake up?” The alicorn stood, turning to face the green mare. “Yes. Yes, she did. She’s alive.” The unspoken qualification hung in the air between them, tempering Cloudshine’s relief with apprehension. “…But?” she prompted. Celestia paused for a moment, as if weighing up the best way to approach the matter. “Have you ever heard of Death’s Tally?” “The spell?” Cloudshine thought back for a few moments, trying to recall why the name seemed familiar. “Oh yeah, I heard about that. It was in the news a while back, wasn’t it? The one that lets somepony trade their life to bring somepony else back from the…” She stopped, her words grinding to a halt as she realized the implication. “She died?” The princess nodded, gravely. “As I told you, she was in a coma. She just… slipped away.” “But… but who…?” Cloudshine’s eyes widened. “It was Twilight Sparkle, wasn’t it?” “No… she wanted to, but I refused to allow it.” “Well then, who else cares for her enough for it to work?” Cloudshine felt her heart accelerate a little, a fear that she did not quite understand encroaching on the corners of her mind. “Is there anypony else who…?” For the second time, her voice trailed off into silence, as she fitted the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind. There was only one possible answer. “Oh no,” she whispered. “I’m sorry,” murmured Celestia. A swell of anger and grief rose in Cloudshine’s chest at the sheer unfairness of the situation. She could have dealt with the news of Dash’s death, but this… this was cruel. “That’s not possible!” she exclaimed, leaping to her hooves, her cheeks stained with tears. “You… you killed Mom. Anypony else, I could have dealt with, but… but this… how did she even get out of the psychiatric hospital?” “I’m sorry,” the princess repeated. “I truly am, but I promise you that it was her choice.” Cloudshine’s eyes narrowed, and she turned on Celestia, furiously. “It was you, wasn’t it? Yeah, right, of course she’d turn up at the exact right moment. Do you think for one moment I’d believe that? You were pulling the strings all the time.” She suddenly gasped, horrified. “I… I told you. I was the one who told you where she was. What did you do? Kidnap her?” “I had nothing to do with-” the alicorn began, but the olive unicorn cut across her. “You tricked me!” she screamed, her voice suddenly rising, echoing off the walls and filling the cramped cell. “You twisted bitch! You planned this; it was never even about Dusk… you used my mother like a bargaining chip, in case anything happened to your precious Element!” The fury at this betrayal was boiling in her stomach, and clouding her mind. It was suddenly uncontainable. Subconsciously channeling her anger, a pulse of magic beat with a deep, bass rumble inside her horn, roiling against the magic dampener clamped into the fluting. It would have held up against the onslaught, were it not for the hairline flaw. The wooden cone shattered, shards of silver and yew peppering the walls with a rain-like rattle. Cloudshine knew that this could all too easily be suicide, but she did not care. At that moment, she could not think; she was acting on instinct. A second pulse of magic rapidly coalesced at the end of her horn, and before the princess had time to recover from the surprise, she flung the crackling ball of light with all her might at the alicorn, an inarticulate cry breaking from her lips. Of course, she never had a chance. In a single motion, Celestia dipped her head, flicking a single golden spark from the tip of her horn. It intercepted the projectile at the last moment before it struck the princess’s chest. The sphere of light imploded with a dull thud, tearing itself into charred, glittering shreds which began fluttering gently to the floor. Cloudshine saw the princess raise her head again, her horn beginning to glow. The next thing she knew, she had been picked effortlessly up in the tingling grip of magic, and slammed like a ragdoll into the wall. Her head struck stone, and stars burst in her vision, the world’s colours shifting momentarily to sparking blackness. Her horn was grasped in an iron grip of magic, and she felt a great wrenching tug, the force twisting her head to the side so that her cheek was pressed against the cold cell wall. “One more twist and you’re an earth pony,” Celestia warned in a low, cold voice. “You’re going to listen to me, Cloudshine.” The olive mare groaned, still pinned to the wall, throbbing pain burning in a dozen places, her dirty face streaked with tears. The princess took a step towards her, and when her words came, they were quiet and carefully measured. “I planned none of it. I only knew that Rainbow Shine was coming at the moment she walked through the hospital doors. Dash’s life was hanging in the balance, and there was a pony trying to reach her. One of two ponies in the world who loved her enough; who was prepared to give her own life to bring her back. She could have arrived too soon, or too late, but she was in the right place at the right time.” Cloudshine snorted, the sound turning into a hacking cough. “A miracle, huh?” Celestia sighed. “If only. The Elements of Harmony have a way of protecting their bearers; of keeping them alive and well. They cannot, as you say, perform miracles. But, if somepony needs to be at the right place, at the right time… I doubt that such a manipulation of chance would be beyond their influence.” The alicorn turned away, the light of her horn dying. Cloudshine dropped the few feet to the floor, collapsing with a grunt of pain, and nursing the back of her head with a hoof. “Don’t blame me for this, Cloudshine. I may have cast the spell, but it was truly what Rainbow Shine wanted. Besides, I am a ruler. Without Rainbow Dash, the single most powerful tool I have to defend my realm would be crippled. The Element of Loyalty may have taken years to choose a new bearer, and I could not risk that. Not if I had any possible alternative. You must understand that, no matter what else I may have done, I did not trick you.” The unicorn half-stood, staggering over to the straw and collapsing down onto it. Her anger was gone, replaced with a cold emptiness. She did not want to believe the princess, but she had no idea who or what to believe in anymore. She felt utterly defeated. “I don’t want to live like this,” she murmured. “I just wish I could start over, but it’s like you said. I can’t change now; I’m in too deep. I’ve done too much.” For several long minutes, there was silence. Cloudshine half-expected the alicorn to turn and leave. Indeed, that was what she wanted. She wanted the silence to stretch out forever, and simply wallow in the cruel wanting for the life she could have had; for the pony she could have been. Celestia, however, stood where she was, statuesque. “This is my fault,” Cloudshine whispered, eventually. “I recruited Root Blacksap… if it hadn’t been for him, Dusk would never have been able to kill Dash. Mom would never have needed to die.” She looked up, and saw an expression of indecision in the princess’s face. A moment later, she nodded almost imperceptibly, as if coming to a conclusion. “You know,” she began, a little tentatively. “I don’t see why you can’t start over.” Cloudshine looked up, in surprise. Pain flared in the rapidly-swelling lump on the back of her head at the motion. “I thought you said that I couldn’t change?” “And I stand by that,” replied the princess. “I don’t think you can. But that’s not to say that you couldn’t start over. There is a choice that I’m willing to offer you.” “What do you mean?” Celestia’s horn flared, and she drew a small crystal phial from beneath her wing. It sparkled in the light from her horn, the viscous amber liquid within swirling sluggishly from side to side. “I trust you recognize this.” Cloudshine’s own horn began to glow, and she took the phial from the princess’s grip. Her eyes widened a little. “Forgetfulness,” she breathed. The alicorn nodded. “Made by your very own Root Blacksap. It’s part of a batch the guards picked up when they raided your safehouse. Extra concentrated.” The olive unicorn eyed the phial, suddenly fearful at its implication. “How concentrated?” “It’ll wipe out everything; your entire life,” replied Celestia. “It only blocks long-term memory though; you’d still be able to speak, and so on. You’d be able to function normally in society, but have absolutely no memory of your earlier life.” Cloudshine looked down at the floor, deliberately avoiding looking at the terrifying, tempting liquid. “So, that’s my choice, huh? Lose everything I am, or live out the rest of my life behind bars, wishing I’d done things differently?” She sighed. “How would I be supposed to survive? I might be able to speak and find my way around, but I’d have literally nothing.” Celestia raised a calming hoof. “We’d set you up with a house and enough money to start you off. You’d be somewhere up to the north; well away from here. I have the advantage of enough resources to be able to reconstruct you. We’d write you a new history. From your point of view, it would have been an accident, perhaps some kind of head injury that made you lose your memory. The doctors would tell you who you were; an entirely ordinary unicorn who had lived an entirely ordinary, if rather solitary, life. Your brain would be trying to fill in the gaps, so you wouldn’t find any difficulty in believing it, or any reason to question what they told you. Maybe we could change the colour of your coat, just to make sure you’re not recognized.” The unicorn looked up, meeting the monarch’s gaze. “Why?” she asked, simply. “Why are you offering me this?” “Because I believe that some ponies are born with the seeds of evil naturally and permanently embedded within them,” replied Celestia, “and I also believe with equal conviction that you are not one of them. Your fellow leaders, I think, are truly irredeemable, but you… I don’t know. Call it an instinct, but something tells me that you were driven to this life; you never had a choice. Left to normality, I expect things would have been very different for you. Look at your sister.” She sighed. “I wish there were a better way; I’m not going to lie, it would be a terrifying road for you to take, at least at first. There would be some very bad times ahead for you, but you would have a life. It would take time to build it, and to settle into it, but you would have a life. You could have at least some chance at the youth you were denied.” She took the phial back with her horn, and dropped it into the straw beside the unicorn. “The choice is entirely yours.” Cloudshine closed her eyes, nowhere near a decision, the facts of her choice still too loose-weave and ill-understood in her head. “But… you said you hated me. I’m one pony out of billions, why give me a second chance?” “I’m not giving you a second chance,” replied Celestia, and her voice was momentarily icy. “I’m offering you the death you so obviously want. The potion will obliterate everything you are, every event that shaped you into the pony you are today, and you will effectively cease to exist.” Her tone dropped to a murmur. “But, years ago, your parents took a young foal and set about turning her into a killer. I’m giving that foal a second chance.” She turned away, swinging the cell door ajar with a flick of her horn. “Your trials begin in a week. You have until then to make a decision.” “And what then? If I choose to begin again, what will the world hear?” Celestia halted. “Nopony will know the truth beyond myself, and those who help in your rehabilitation. To the rest of the world, you will have killed yourself. A suicide pill, smuggled into your cell.” Cloudshine did not quite know why her next words came blurting out, but blurt they did. “If I go through with this… I’d like for Rainbow Dash to know the truth as well. Twilight Sparkle too, because I know Dash would just tell her anyway.” The princess nodded once. “Very well.” She walked from the cell, closing and locking the door behind her. Turning, as if seized suddenly by an afterthought, her horn glowed once more. With a rattling chink of wood and metal, the shattered shards of the magic damper picked themselves off the floor, forming themselves in mid-air into a cloud of fragments, before coalescing into a crack-crossed cone once again. There was a blinding flash of light, and when it dissipated, the damper was whole once again. Cloudshine felt it click down over her horn once again, twisting into place around the fluting. “I hope we need not meet again, Cloudshine.” Celestia turned away, turning to leave her alone in the cell with her thoughts, and the phial. “Princess!” Cloudshine called out suddenly, as the alicorn began to make her way along the corridor. The alabaster monarch halted, turning her head. “Yes?” “Why… why do you care? Like I said, I’m one pony among billions. I understand that I’ve been robbed of my life, but… but it’s just one life. Why go to such lengths for that? You’ve lived so long, you must have seen so many lives.” Celestia faced her, looking her in the eye. “Because some lives, I remember. I care about them all, but I can’t save them all. Sometimes I feel like I can’t go one more step, or sleep one more night, without doing something to prove to myself that time need not kill kindness. I have to save just one.” Then she turned away again, and a moment later she was lost in the blackness, and Cloudshine was left quite alone. She picked up the phial, drawing it out from the straw, and cradled it carefully in her hooves. What I wouldn’t give to see the sunrise again… You know. You know what you have to give. You have to give everything. Her heart was pounding, the blood roaring in her ears. She stared, almost hypnotized, at the shifting amber liquid. She turned her head, and looked at the cold metal bars, and at the wet black blocks of stone that made up her cage. That would always be her cage if she did not act. I have to give everything. But what is my everything worth to me anymore? She looked back to the phial, and smiled slightly to herself, despite the fear of the unknown that flowed like ice floes in her veins, despite the sensation of standing wingless atop the tallest of ledges. She smiled to herself, because, in a way, she was grateful. Had it been a cyanide capsule cradled in her hooves, it would have been equally tempting, equally worthy of her gratitude. She smiled because, in the end, there had never been any choice at all.