The Prodigal Daughter

by Sixes_And_Sevens

The Prodigal Daughter Doesn't Do Much of Anything

Sunset skittered to a halt just before she would have crashed into a pile of debris that clogged the hallway. “What the—” she muttered, staring at the mess.
Construction-paper leaves in various autumnal shades now festooned the floor, and garlands of red and yellow paper chains were scattered everywhere. Hesitantly, she poked at the  mountain of arts and crafts. “How did this happen?”
A rustling noise suddenly caught her attention. There was something alive in this paper pile! Slowly, Sunset backed away, watching the moving area of papers carefully. No telling what it could be, after all. She lit her horn with a defensive spell as the mass of cartoony jack-o-lanterns and fall leaves began to rise up, falling away from the rising form of…
“Pinkie?” Sunset asked, blinking.
The pink party pony shook herself before looking at Sunset. She smiled. “Oh, hi Sunny! What are you doing here?”
Sunset allowed the spell she had prepared to dissipate. “I could ask you the same thing. What’s with all this?”
Pinkie glanced around at the piles of party decorations surrounding them, and slowly her smile faded. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought this was where I stored my emergency cake stash, but I guess that must be another closet. It’s funny though. I don’t remember hiding my emergency Nightmare Night party decorations in here…”
“Emergency cake stash?”
Pinkie brightened. “Mhm! I keep them hidden AAAALLL across Equestria, just in case I need to throw an emergency party! Or if I need a snack! Or I want to throw an emergency snack party!”
Sunset just shook her head in disbelief. “You’re going to be cleaning all this up, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” Pinkie agreed casually, glancing around. “You just leave all this to Aunt Pinkie.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m at least a decade older than you are,” Sunset replied, arching an eyebrow.
“Eh, potato, tomato, po-tah-to, to-mah-to,” Pinkie shrugged, before diving back into the chaos of the paper scraps.
Shaking her head and smiling faintly, Sunset walked back down the corridor, not noticing the orange paper leaf stuck to her hoof— nor the faint, angry hum that seemed to come from the walls themselves.

Flash parallel-parked the van right next to a fairly old neon sign which read ‘Hilbert's Hostel’. It sputtered, and one of the letters was still flickering on even in the middle of the afternoon. The girls stared. “Oh, my,” Fluttershy whispered.
“Honestly, it’s better than it looks,” Flash admitted. “The landlady is kind of crazy, but she’s nice enough.”
“Ah dunno ‘bout this,” Applejack said doubtfully, climbing out of the van and staring at the boarding house. It was a rundown old duplex, formerly 2A and 2B Tesseract Road, though some clever graffito had turned them into “2B” and “Not 2B”. The brickwork was decaying rather badly, and some of the windows were cracked in odd spots, reminiscent of lightning strikes. The yard, on the other hand, was well-maintained and trimmed.
“Aw, come on girls!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Look, it has a lawn gnome! Nobody bad has a lawn gnome, everyone knows that.”
“I didn’t know that,” Sunset supplied.
“Welp, you do now!” Pinkie beamed.
Flash, meanwhile, was heading towards the door, Dash and Twilight close on his heels. “Okay,” he said. “Just so you know, things are gonna get weird fast. Just smile and nod like nothing’s wrong.”
“Pinkie protocol, alright,” Twilight agreed.
Dash frowned. “Is this something we’re gonna need to rainbow-friendship-laser?”
Flash hesitated. “...Dunno. Ever look at anything by, uh, that guy that did the picture with the stairs?”
Dash looked blank. “Escher?” Twilight suggested.
“Yeah. Imagine if he went into architecture.”
“Pfft,” Dash laughed. “You’re making all this fuss ‘cause her interior designer’s a wacko?” She punched the boy in the shoulder. “You had me worried.”
Flash rubbed his forehead and rang the bell. The sound of knocking on a door echoed across the yard.
There was silence. “...What happens if you try to knock?” Rarity asked, cautious.
“I never want to know,” Flash said neutrally.
“Pinkie, no,” Applejack said.
The frizzy-haired girl pouted, lowering her fist as the door swung open with a slam.
A bright green woman of indeterminate age blinked out at them. Large, coke-bottle glasses hid much of her face. One lens was red, and the other blue. Wristwatches, both digital and analog, decorated her arms like bangles. “Oh. Hello again, Flash,” she said brightly, wiggling her fingers merrily at him. “Are we having a party?”
The blue-haired boy smiled tightly. “Not exactly, Miss Paradox,” he said. “We need to see Sunset’s room, please.”
The green woman cocked her head and raised a brow. “I’m sorry, but I’d need permission from Sunset herself, first. And no matter how convincing a facsimile that girl there is, she is no lodger of mine.”
Sunset blinked. “Wait. You can tell? You’re the first person all day who—”
She was cut off by an abrupt handwave from the landlady. “It was obvious. You were surprised by my appearance and manner. Not to mention, you didn’t just use your key to get in. And you have different hair.”
“Please, ma’am,” Twilight said, staring up at the woman. “Sunset’s run away. We’re her friends. We need to see if there’s any way to get her back.”
Paradox regarded the purple girl. “You. And the lookalike and Flash. You can go look. The rest of you, stay out here.”
“But—” Dash began.
Paradox shook her head. “Butts are for cannoneers and kindergarten humor,” she admonished. Then she looked over the crowd once again. “You. Pink hair, green sleeves, you can come as well. That’s a full half of you, and you can’t say fairer than that.”
“Fairer than that!” Pinkie chirped.
Paradox narrowed her eyes at the girl before her for a moment. “Hmm. I like you. You can't come in, but I like you. You four, come in. The rest, wait in the van. I don’t suppose this will take too long.” She pulled back through the door, followed by Flash, Twilight, Sunset, and Fluttershy. The door closed behind them with a creak.

The Doctor woke, muzzy-headed and woozy, to the sight of… nothing in particular. The sky looked nice, yes, but it was hardly anything to write home about, no indeed! He managed to stumble to his hooves. What in the world had just happened? Frowning, he reviewed the last several minutes. He had been running, but had gotten tired and fallen against the side of a shop. The pony inside had offered him a place to sit, yes, well done that mare, whatever her name was. After that… after that… ah. “Dear me,” he murmured. “Oh, my, regenerated again. How terribly inconvenient.”
He looked himself over. Old again, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just means you need to get someone else to do the running for you at times, hm? Green. Odd choice, that. Didn’t really suit him, and didn’t go with much of anything except black. And grey, perhaps. Something about  this seemed really quite familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his hoof on… and then he saw his reflection in the glass window of the flower shop. He blinked. There was no mistaking those eyes, that face, even on a different species. “Oh, dear,” the first Doctor said with emphasis.

The market square was quiet, all things considered. Lily was the sole exception, as she continued to gabble to anypony who would listen about how the Doctor had burst into golden flames right in front of her, but most either assumed she was exaggerating (as was her wont) or that the incident was just another normal Ponyville incident. After all, everypony remembered the time three years ago when Trixie, Twilight, and Starlight accidentally created an artificial, fire-based life form that tried to reproduce by burning the town down. Glowing repairmen just didn’t measure up, even if they also happened to be time-travelling aliens. Across the agora from the near-hysterical mare, Rarity and Fluttershy kept a sharp lookout. “Clear,” Rarity hissed.
Discord stepped out into the open, clad in a pink floppy sunhat, sunglasses, and an extremely loud Hawaiian shirt that Rarity had intended for her father. “Sunbutt’s here too,” they added, nodding behind himself. They frowned. “I think. Invisibility is boring.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” a voice whispered in his ear.
The draconequus jumped, whirling around and seeing… nothing. “Oh, hardee-har-har,” they grumbled. “It is to laugh.”
They glared at the others, all of whom were desperately trying to restrain their laughter. “Let’s go,” they growled, “Before I change my mind.”
The trio of ponies, along with the erstwhile reptile and their invisible friend set out across the square toward the flower shop.

Pinkie frowned at the pile of party decorations. There was something weird going on here— no matter how much she shoved back into the closet, the pile never seemed to shrink. In fact, she thought, it seemed to be growing. Something rustled in the pile, and her eyes flicked to the source of the noise like a pair of bright blue laser sights. She drew closer to the pile. There was something in there. Something alive.
Contrary to what others may have believed, Pinkie Pie was not quite as silly as she let on. Admittedly, she was still very, very silly, but buried deep beneath all those layers of parties and fun and icing, there was a rock-solid core of common sense. She just usually chose to ignore it. Much more fun that way. But there were times when a pony had to be sensible— like the parasprite infestation, or when that meanie-pants Chryssie attacked Canterlot.
Carefully, she picked up a plastic jack-o-lantern and threw it just a little beyond the rustling noise. It landed with a gentle thump in the pile. For a moment, all was still. Then, a green, vine-like appendage reached up and grabbed the plastic pumpkin, dragging it under.
Pinkie nodded slowly. Very quietly, she walked backwards down the hall. There was a crinkling sound. She looked down. She had stepped on a construction paper leaf. She snapped her gaze back to the pile of decorations. No motion. With great care, she lifted her hoof off the leaf. It rustled faintly. Still no motion from the pile. Pinkie let out a soft breath, turned, and walked straight into a suit of armor which clattered to the floor. There was a loud, enraged screeching, but Pinkie was already too far away to hear it.

“I don’t see him,” Fluttershy whispered. “Do you?”
“I can’t actually see anything,” Celestia admitted. “That’s the trouble with being invisible, all the light gets bent away from you.”
“You’d think a flaming alien repairman would be easier to find,” Discord mused. “The only pony I see is that little old stallion there.” Reaching out a tendril of magic, they grabbed the suddenly miniaturized pony and dragged him to eye level. “Hello there.”
“Discord! Put me down this instant!” the stallion squeaked.
Discord chuckled. “And whyever would I want to do that, my little pony?”
The mint green stallion glared. “I saw you put in chains back in Anubis' court. I'd be quite happy to see it again,” they threatened.
The draconequus gaped. “Doctor? Good heavens, I didn’t even recognize you. No, don’t tell me, you got a new haircut?”
“This is hardly the time for flippancy!” the elderly Time Lord grumbled.
“Doctor? What’s happened? Rarity, is it safe for me to become visible again?”
The unicorn glanced around. “Yes, I should say so,” she replied. Discord quickly dropped the Doctor and restored him to his normal size.
Celestia blinked once or twice, adjusting to the light. “Hate those illusion spells,” she muttered. Glancing up, her eyes went wide. “Doctor! You’ve changed!”
“Remarkably astute,” the stallion replied drily. “Something— or somepony, I suppose— has caused me to— well, there’s really no word for it, you see? Unregenerate, perhaps? Yes, yes, that will do for now. At any rate, between that and the events at the apple orchard, I strongly suspect— Sweet Rassilon! What’s happened to your coat?”
The pinkness had spread, in patches and spots, all across the princess’s barrel. It looked like she had been hit with a glass of strawberry lemonade that had been fired from a cannon. The Doctor glanced around him, taking in the inexplicable changes that the others had undergone. “Dear, dear,” he tutted. “I knew that mirror would lead to trouble, hm?”
“Mirror?” Rarity asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Mm. Quite so, quite so. Blasted Starswirl. Always sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, mm, yes indeed.”
Fluttershy blinked. “You mean— the mirror portal?”
“Hm? Well, what else would I mean, child?” the elderly stallion snipped. “We’d better get to the castle before any more damage is—” he was cut off as the ground shook ominously.
“We’d better go and make sure that nothing else goes wrong,” Rarity concluded. “Yes, I am rather inclined to agree, darling.”
The Doctor rubbed his chin. “Mhm. Quite. Celestia, you should go keep your student occupied-- I suspect she's more tangled up in this than even she knows. The rest of us will go ensure the safety of reality as it stands.”
Discord groaned. “Do we have to?” they asked. “Things are getting SO interesting…”
Fluttershy gave him a look— not quite a Stare, but an expression which indicated that one could be very easily arranged if a certain draconequus didn’t shape up quickly. Discord rolled their eyes. “Fine,” they muttered. “If we must, we must.”
The Doctor nodded. “Mm, excellent. Discord, you and Butterfly go around to the left. Miss Asperity and I will circle around to the right. We’ll meet at the mirror portal, hm?” He nodded, not giving anypony else time to object. “Well? What are you all waiting around for? Let’s be on our way!” With that, he trotted off in the direction of the castle.
Rarity watched him go. “What just happened?”
Celestia shrugged helplessly. "He's changed a great deal over the years," she said.

Sunset sat back in a comfortable chair, touching the journal’s cover gently with one hoof, tracing the design. Her eyes widened as it suddenly vibrated, letting off a brief glow. Someone had written in the journal. She let the pages fall open to the most recent message.

Hey, Princess, something really weird is going on. Sunset’s acting like she doesn’t remember me. Or Pinkie. Or AJ, Rarity, Fluttershy, anyone! Could you come and, I dunno, do some kinda freakycool pony friendship magic? We’re going to try to investigate on this end, but… I dunno. Just… I dunno.
—Dash

Sunset stared at the note for some time. It was so simple— a quick, slightly concerned note to a friend. A request for help, because everything can be solved by hitting it with a blast of friendship, right? Everything can be solved with a wave of a hand… Should she write back? Should she tell them the truth? Tell them that she would never be back, that this other Sunset had forced her hand?
Such a simple note. Such a difficult question.

Twilight blinked awake. “Wha— huh— who—”
“Twilight!” Pinkie gasped. “Monster— big scary ghoulie-ghostie— hiding in the party supplies! Chasing me!”
Twilight squinted. “Huh? Pinkie, turn the lights on, I can’t see.”
There was a long pause. “The lights ARE on.”
“Are they?”
“Mhm.”
“Ah. Then it would appear that I’ve gone blind.” Twilight was still. Very still. “I see.”
“No, you don’t,” Pinkie replied before she could stop herself. She winced at her own insensitivity. Twilight, however, seemed not to have noticed.
“I can’t see. How can I rule fairly if I can’t see?”
“Um, blind justice?”
“How can I do science? How can I write?” She gasped. “How will I be able to READ?”
“Braille?” Pinkie suggested weakly, but it wasn’t enough to be heard over Twilight’s incoherent ranting. The crashing of something very large crashing into the door, however, was.
Pinkie Pie cast about desperately for something, anything, to restore her friend’s vision. Suddenly, she spied something shiny lying atop a pile of books— a  pair of glasses! “Twilight! Twilight, calm down. Shh, shh,” the pink pony said, rubbing the alicorn’s back. “Let Aunt Pinkie take care of it…”
Twilight sniffled and collapsed back into her chair. “Now, let’s just put these on,” Pinkie instructed, placing the spectacles over the bridge of Twilight’s snout. “There! How’s that?”
Twilight’s eyes seemed to flicker momentarily. The banging at the door suddenly fell silent. “Better,” she said slowly. “Much better.” She rose from her chair. “I can clearly see what needs to be done, now.”
The glasses flickered, looking for the briefest of instants like a blue masquerade mask. Pinkie began to wonder whether she had made a very bad mistake. Twilight grinned broadly and levitated out something that looked like a powder compact. “For science,” she said, opening the case at Pinkie. There was a flash of light, and then nothingness.

Celestia inhaled deeply. She could do this. She could face Sunset again. In through the nose. Sunset had already forgiven her. Out through the mouth. She had already forgiven Sunset. Inhale. Sunset had forgiven herself. Exhale. She had forgiven herself. Hadn’t she? She paused for a  moment, considering that thought carefully. One didn’t get to be as old as she was without having a high level of self-honesty. Lose that, and you’d go as crazy as Discord did. Did she still blame herself for Sunset’s actions? As Luna had said, there was no point in blaming herself for her pupil’s actions, nor in bringing up the past. Regardless, she couldn’t help but feel responsible. If she had only trusted Sunset more, then perhaps things would have turned out differently. Perhaps if she had let Sunset in on the plans she had for her, she would have stayed. What would have happened then? Would Sunset now be a princess? Would she have been able to save Luna, stop Discord, Chrysalis, Sombra, Tirek, and all the rest? What would have happened to Twilight?
She suddenly realized that she had stopped breathing for the last several seconds and let out a choking gasp. She shook herself from her reverie. Luna was right. There was no point in being trapped in the past, caught up in the what-ifs and could-have-beens. She was in the present, and she would have to accept life as it came to her. She took a deep breath and walked into the central foyer of the castle. She took a few steps in before her brain caught up to what she was seeing. Thorny brambles coated every surface, twisting and winding around the room. One or two twitched slightly, as though interested in her presence. Celestia frowned. “No. Nope. Not doing this again,” she decided. “The Plunder Seeds were more than enough for this century, thanks much.”
She turned to go, only to find that the brambles had already grown over the doorway. She attempted to walk forward, but the thick thorny vines caught and tore at her fur, which had turned almost completely pink. Celestia scowled and lit her horn. “Very well. Hardball it shall be.”

Discord grunted as they hauled themself over the edge of an open window. “I— hate— this— body—” they growled. “No wings. Oof! No— paws— or claws. Barely any— magic.” They let of a grunt of discomfort as they fell onto the hard crystal floor. They straightened up and brushed themself off with a hoof. “And I’m so short!” they continued. “I mean, on you it works, Flutterbutter, but I am a lord of chaos. I need to demand respect at all times!”
Fluttershy decided not to point out that most of the town considered the draconequus’s childish temper tantrums to be among their chiefest features. Instead, she merely clucked her tongue and shook her head sadly. “Don’t worry,” she comforted. “I’m sure we’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
“We’d better,” Discord grumbled. “I mean, you ponies— so limited! I swear, I will never understand how you get around in these little bodies.”
Fluttershy smiled and nodded. It was a technique she had perfected over many years of dealing with Angel. Suddenly, she frowned, suddenly registering something.“What’s that noise?” she asked.
“What noise?”
“There’s this sort of… whistling sound. Like somepony singing, but pitchy.”
Suddenly, the noise stopped. There was a long moment of silence, and then... PITCHY?a feminine voice boomed. PITCHY? The hallway ahead began to glow an angry red.
“Ooh, THAT noise,” Discord nodded. “I think it might be ghosts.”
“Oh.” Fluttershy took a moment to absorb that. “Can they… hurt us?”
“Hm. Not sure. We should probably run.”
“Okay. As soon as I stop being petrified with fright, I will absolutely take you up on—”
The phantom musician let out an angry shriek and roared toward the duo. Fluttershy was already at the far end of the hall, with Discord close on her tail. “See?” they cried. “If I was still in my normal body—”
“Less talking, more running!” Fluttershy shouted.

Rarity was torn. On the one hoof, she wanted to maintain her dignity and appearance as a lady of culture and breeding. On the other hoof, she also wanted to punch this stallion in the throat and swear like a sailor, an urge that was growing with every second that he stood on her shoulders. “Just a little higher, my dear— yes, that’s the way, lift with the back.”
“Remind me,” she growled. “Why am I the stepstool in the situation, darling?”
“Well, I can’t do it— I’m too old, hm? As for your drake, well! Dogs aren’t exactly built for this sort of labor, you know, no indeed. So that left only you, you see. Would’ve been easier if I’d been my second self you know, he was a thestral. Will be a thestral? Would have been— no, no.”
“Are you almost in?” Rarity snapped.
“Hm? Oh, yes, this should be high enough. One moment.” There was a grunt and a heavy thud as the Doctor hurled himself through the window. This was followed by a pained yip from Spike, who had been levitated in already. “There we are. Now, just grab onto this, my dear.”
Rarity looked up to see levitating in front of her… “A walking stick? Wherever did you get that?”
“Hammerspace. Very convenient place, do ask your friend Pinkie about it sometime. Always kept my recorder in there, or my screwdriver. Handy thing— or is it hoofy, I wonder? Useful, that is to say.”
Rarity, struggling to keep the homicidal urges to a minimum, simply tuned out the Time Lord’s incessant chatter and grabbed ahold of the walking stick, which rose (with effort) through the air and in through the window. “There you are, my dear Austerity, safe and sound, hm?” the Doctor said, smiling broadly.
Rarity did not smile back. “Let’s go find that mirror,” she muttered as she trotted away, “Before it causes any more trouble.”
“Eager to have your young drake back, I suppose? Hoohoo!” the Doctor chuckled. “Yes, yes, you young folk, always in a rush…”
“And I suppose you’re eager to go back to your wife and daughter like that?” Rarity asked without slowing or turning.
The Doctor’s face fell. “Well, mm, quite,” he said. “Still, it’s nice to be back. All these young faces running about, I ask you. Wholly unreasonable. Particularly that nonsense about returning to Gallifrey. And becoming president! I— oh. Hello? Is that you, Miss Sparkle?”
Rarity turned in mild surprise. There, hiding in the shadows at the far end of the hall, was indeed a familiar purple figure, with horn and wings, and yet… "Doesn't she look a little taller than usual?" she murmured.
The Doctor nodded, his face suddenly grim. "Yes... perhaps we should go the other way," he replied.
The alicorn glanced up, and the Doctor, Rarity, and Spike all froze. She was mostly hidden in the shadows, little more than a silhouette, but light glinted off near her eyes. “You’ve got new spectacles, I see?” Rarity asked, trying to keep her voice light. “Very nice, librarian chic. Very you, Twilight.”
The figure spoke. “I am not Twilight.”
The Doctor frowned, leaning forward on his walking stick. “In that case, I don’t believe I’ve yet to have the pleasure, Miss…”
The dark purple alicorn stepped into the light, her mane flickering like candlelight and her horn glowing a blinding blue. Her eyes glowed with menacing, ethereal flame. “My name is Sparkle. Midnight Sparkle.”
“A pleasure, I’m sure, Miss RUN, CHARITY, RUN!”
“MY NAME,” his companion shrieked as she galloped alongside him, “IS RARITY!”
“I FAIL TO SEE THE RELEVANCE OF THAT AT THE MOMENT!”