The Once and Future Queen

by SaddlesoapOpera

Blue Flowers Five

“Don’t be scared, my little Pony,” Majesty crooned. “You’re safe now.”

Sweetie Belle stared wide-eyed at the statue that had once been Gabriella the Griffon. Faint flickers of lilac spell-fire clung to the stone, slowly fading into the setting sunlight. Tears slid down Sweetie’s flushed cheeks. When she tried to speak, nothing came out but a jumble of half-strangled noises.

Majesty stepped forward and stroked Sweetie’s mane with her magic — the same magic that had petrified her friend. “Awww, you poor thing! You’re shaking like a leaf!” She pulled the filly into a hug and gently rubbed her back with a hoof. “There, there. Dry those tears. The flying monster can never hurt you, now.” She looked over at the statue. “Is what’s left still frightening you? I can smash it to gravel quick as a wink!”

Sweetie stiffened in Majesty’s grasp. Panic finally forced words past the lump in her throat. “N-NO! No, please!” She wriggled to get free. “Please, don’t!”

“But why not?” Majesty asked with a quizzical tilt of her head. “I can see it’s got you terribly upset!” She ignited her horn and magicked up the solid stone like it was nothing. “Really, it’s no bother!”

Sweetie couldn’t watch. She squeezed her eyes shut and strained to think. “You can’t break it! Be … Because, you … I …” She swallowed hard. “I … I LIKE IT!”

Majesty raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

Sweetie nodded hard. Sweat beaded on her forehead. “It’s good that you kept me safe! I wanna keep it! As a … a memento!” She forced herself to look up into Majesty’s warm, wide, purple eyes. “Please, don’t break it!” She sniffled. “I’m fine! I’m just r-really happy! Honest!” Her stomach clenched as she forced a wide smile. “Thank you so much!”

The mare was silent for a moment, and then offered a cheerful smile of her own. “What a polite little filly you are! You’re very welcome!” She patted Sweetie’s head with her magic. “Why don’t you show me the way to your house, and I’ll put this little keepsake in your yard for you?”

Sweetie nodded and turned away. As soon as her back faced Majesty, her strained cheer crumbled into a distant stare and a slackened, hollow frown. Her hooves carried her back to her house on their own.

“Such a lovely home you have!” Majesty strode into the yard and firmly planted Gabby’s statue in an open space. “There we are. Now, you just forget your troubles and sleep soundly, my little Pony. I’ll keep you safe, come what may. I promise.” She opened the front door for Sweetie.

Sweetie said nothing. Her hooves kept moving, carrying her inside. She heard the door close behind her.

Home was dark. No lights on. She made her way through the gloom with the ease of familiarity. Mom and Dad weren’t in the hall or the living room. They weren’t in the den or the dining room or the kitchen. Just their echoes. A book of sports statistics, lying open on the floor in the den. A hat hanging on a coat rack. A spoiled bowl of unused flapjack batter in the kitchen.

She pulled a fancy, wispy scarf off the back of a kitchen chair. It still smelled of Mom. Sweetie didn’t remember crying, but nuzzling against it left it wet with her tears. She let it fall, and then plodded up the stairs and headed to her room.

Everything was as she’d left it. No laundry done, no sheets straightened, no toys or schoolbooks put away.

She went to her window and magicked it open, and then peered out. Down below, Gabby was her own tombstone. The memories of the past half-hour welled up inside Sweetie and spilled out as fresh tears. She choked up and found her hind legs unable to support her. Her horn scratched the heart-print wallpaper as she sat down heavily and pressed her brow to the wall.

The empty room was smothering. She squeaked as she struggled to breathe. She turned away from the window and staggered to her bed. She scrambled up onto the rumpled sheets.

Sweetie stumbled forward and fell with her face buried in her pillow. She shuddered, her shoulders heaved, and then she screamed and sobbed until her shrill voice cracked and failed her.

Apple Bloom carefully fluffed her plump pillow and put it at the opening of her sleeping bag. “Where’s Sweetie? She shoulda been here by now.”

“I dunno,” said Scootaloo. “Did anypony see her on the way back here?”

Ruby Pinch, Dinky Hooves and Pipsqueak all shook their heads.

Pip squinted at Dinky’s bright blue bedroll. “I say, Dinky, I think you’ve got that thing inside-out!”

“N-No I don’t!” she protested. She looked around furtively while she made sure that none of the sleeping bag’s repeating pattern of smiley-faced choo-choo trains was visible. “Also, it’s The Dink.”

“Ah, my mistake.”

Meanwhile, Pinch had already unrolled a worn and patched sleeping bag. She glanced out the clubhouse window. Her eyes widened. “Everypony! She’s here!” She frowned in worry. “I think she’s hurt!”

The group crowded out onto the deck as Sweetie Belle arrived.

She was walking with a heavy-hoofed, stumbling gait, and her reddened, dark-circled eyes stared emptily at the dirt road ahead of her. Her mane was mussed, her white hide was dusty, and her horn sputtered and flickered in distraction as she intermittently tugged a toy wagon heaped with bedding by magicking the handle.

“Sweetie Belle!” Bloom galloped down to face her. “What in tarnation happened to you? Are you okay?”

The little Unicorn only seemed to notice the group then. She met Bloom’s eyes. “Uh-uh. I’m n-not. I’m not okay. I’m not…” Her bottom lip quivered.

The others came down as well, surrounding her in a semicircle.

“Are you hurt?” Pip asked. “I brought a first-aid kit from home, just in case!”

“I dunno if this is the first-aid kind of hurt,” The Dink said gravely.

Pinch stepped forward and gently but firmly put her front hooves to Sweetie’s shoulders. “Hay. Sweetie, hay. Listen. You’re safe with us, okay? You’re safe. Just tell us what happened. Was it the monster? Did you see it?”

Bloom scowled. “Seriously? Again with this—” Before she could continue, Sweetie cut her off.

“Yes.” She gave a shaky nod. “I saw her. I saw the m-monster.”

Most of the group gasped in shock. Pinch and The Dink gasped in triumph. But all of them soon wore expressions of concern.

Pinch rubbed Sweetie’s shoulders. “What is it, Sweetie? What took our families? Is Majesty working for it?”

At the sound of that name, Sweetie trembled and let out a choked whimper. Fresh tears welled up in her stinging eyes. “She … M-Majesty IS the monster!” She buried her face in her hooves and sobbed. When she found spare breaths to speak, she softly squeaked: “Gabby! Gabby, it’s all my fault!”

“Wait, Gabby Griffon’s here?” Apple Bloom checked the skies. “She didn’t disappear?”

Scootaloo’s brows furrowed. “Where is she, Sweetie? Did she get hurt?”

Sweetie threw herself against Pinch and wept and whispered into her shoulder. Pinch stroked her back a little, but then her eyes went wide. “She says Majesty turned Gabby to stone.”

The foals sat in stunned silence for an endless moment. Somewhere nearby, a night bird called to its fellows.

“No …” Scootaloo sniffled. “Why? She’s so nice!”

Bloom sat down heavily. She covered her mouth with a hoof.

The Dink scowled. “Majesty. Rrrgh, I knew it! I KNEW that smarmy niceness was fake all along!” She stomped bitterly.

Sweetie drew back. “No! It wasn’t!” She swallowed hard. “She s-stayed the same. She didn’t turn into something else, or use dark magic, or anything! She was just like she was before. She didn’t even get MAD! She smiled after she did it. She SMILED! And she hugged me and I was so scared, so I … I … I thanked her!” Sweetie fell into haunted silence, staring at nothing. Her face was ashen.

Pinch stiffened. “She’s going into shock. We gotta get her inside. Calm her down. Keep her warm.”

Pip frowned in worry. “Oh, my! Is it serious?” He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know so much ab—”

The Dink pressed in close by his side. “Drop it.”

The foals crowded around Sweetie and helped get her and her bedding inside. Bloom and Scootaloo laid out her bedroll and wrapped her up in her blanket, while Pip lingered outside and set about lighting a campfire and making some hot tea. Pinch and the Dink stayed in one corner and half-heartedly talked about the ramifications of what they’d been told, but there was no glee in the debate. Not this time.

Sweetie rocked to and fro with the blanket draped over her like a hooded cloak. “Gabby warned me,” she whispered after a few minutes of silence. “She knew. She knew about her. Like she was the H-Headless Horse or something.” She pulled the blanket taut around herself. “It’s all my fault. Gabby surprised me. I got scared. I thought she was the monster. Majesty wouldn’t h-have … if I didn’t …”

Bloom nuzzled her shoulder. “Ya can’t think like that,” she said softly. “Wishes that things’d gone differently will fill you to the brim if you let ‘em, until there’s no room for anything else. And they don’t help your hurtin’ one bit, believe me.”

“Majesty’s the monster, you said it,” added Scootaloo. “She turned—” The words wouldn’t come out. “... She did this. Not you.” She wiped her eyes with a foreleg. “Besides, maybe we could … fix Gabby?”

Pip sighed morosely from the doorway. “I’m not sure that’s so, sadly. That sounds like some VERY strong magic. Grown-up magic.” He walked up with a cup of tea with honey carefully balanced on a saucer on his head, and bent to offer it to Sweetie.

Sweetie took the steaming cup; she offered a vague bend of her mouth, like she’d forgotten exactly how smiling was done.

Pinch and The Dink approached with no sudden moves. The Dink spoke in an uncharacteristically soft and gentle tone.

“Sweetie, you said your Griffon friend knew Majesty as a monster? Are you sure? I’ve read up on all sorts of scary stories, even from Griffons, and I never saw that name.”

“She didn’t call her Majesty,” Sweetie said. “But she knew her as soon as she saw her. She had these other things. Like … nicknames for her. Scary ones.”

The Dink’s eyebrows raised. She took a step forward. “Do you remember any? It’d help a lot!”

Sweetie shrank back, half hidden behind her teacup.

Pinch put a hoof to The Dink’s side. “Not tonight, okay?”

The Dink sighed. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry, Sweetie. You just try and rest, okay? We’ll get to the bottom of this tomorrow. She’s not getting away with this. I promise.”

Nopony else spoke while Sweetie finished her tea, and soon the foals settled down for a fitful and troubled sleep.

Dawn broke as always the next morning, and Apple Bloom was up for it. She was usually the early riser among her friends, but she found The Dink already awake and pensively staring out the window.

“Sun’s up,” said The Dink. She didn’t turn.

“Uh, reckon it is,” Bloom replied.

“Think about it. That means Princess Celestia is still around to raise it. Or at least enough grown-ups to raise it like they used to in the olden days.” She finally turned and dropped down to face Bloom. “And THAT means —”

Bloom’s eyes widened. “That means there are adult Pony folk outside o’ Ponyville!” She raced to the window and looked out at the distant peaks of Canterlot Mountain. “We could go an’ get help!”

“Nope,” The Dink said with a shake of her head. “How would we do that? Walk? Anywhere we headed to, it’d take WEEKS! No hot-air balloon pilots and no coach pullers to carry us, and no Pegasus Express to carry a letter. And even if any of us foals knew how to work a locomotive, the only one here’s wrecked.” She glanced up at the capital as well. “They might as well be on the Moon.”

Bloom’s frown pulled her body down into a gloomy sag. “Shewt. You’re right.” After a pause, she added: “But … somepony’s BOUND ta come along eventually, right?”

“Somepony like your Griffon friend?” The comment made Bloom’s eyes tighten. The Dink winced. “... Sorry. But that’s a bust, too, obviously. Anypony who showed up would have no clue what’s going on, and Majesty could … you know … if they tried to meddle.” The Dink rubbed her eyes and fought down a yawn. “S’no good.”

Bloom moved to brush aside a mussed lock to get a better look at The Dink’s sunken, dark-circled eyes. “Dink, did you stay up all night tryin’ to figure this out?”

“Maybe.” The filly turned away and propped herself up on the window again. “There’s always a way,” she said. “Sometimes you just can’t see it at first.”

Bloom nodded. “That another bit from Shadow Chaser?”

The Dink chuckled. “Nah. That’s from my mo—” A grey gleam caught her eye. She leaned out farther and looked down at a pale rock that stood out among the dull brown pebbles and earth surrounding the clubhouse. The little thing had a familiar shape.

Scootaloo grimaced and groaned in protest of the noise as The Dink galloped close by her on the way out of the clubhouse. The Unicorn snagged her saddlebags without stopping and then raced around the side of the building. On the way, she lit her horn to magic up the stone and opened her bags to bring out the one she’d found the other day.

Both stones were about the same size and colour, and while both looked like pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, they were slightly different shapes.

Bloom and Scootaloo were at the window and staring down at her, now. “What’re those?” Scootaloo asked. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Not sure.” The Dink narrowed her eyes at the floating stones. “The truth is never clear until the last piece of the puzzle is in place.” She stuffed the things into her bag. “That is from Shadow Chaser.”

Once the foals were all awake, the group teamed up to help Bloom finish the farm chores that couldn’t be put off. Sweetie opted to join in despite her lingering unease, and by the time the work at Sweet Apple Acres was done the exercise had purged some of the emptiness from her eyes.

After a breakfast of apples served several ways, they all took Stirrup Street back into town.

“If Majesty’s the one behind all this, we need to figure out what she’s planning,” The Dink mused. “We gotta find out more, and we gotta do it low-key. Subtle.”

“Does that mean we don’t have to keep bothering the other foals with questions?” Pip asked with a not entirely successful attempt to conceal his hopeful tone.

“We’re done with that angle,” Pinch said with a nod. “Now it’s time for research.”

“Oh, jolly good!” Pip chirped. “Some nice, safe books. That sounds simply smashing!”

“Mm-hmm,” The Dink said. “Once we infiltrate Princess Twilight’s castle undetected, it’ll be nice and easy.”

Pip tripped over his own hooves for a moment, and had to scramble to catch up. “H-How’s that, now?”

“Shewt, they’re right,” said Bloom. “We can’t just trot on in all obvious-like and start diggin’ for dirt on that mare. She’ll be onto us lickety split. She can’t know what we’re up to.”

“Bingo,” said Pinch. “We’re gonna have to split up. One team does the research, and the other creates a diversion.”

Up ahead, the town square was already crowded with foals putting the sunshine and lack of supervision to good use. Some dived into the now expanded wading pool, some raced scooters, some doodled with crayons or paint, and others ate doughnuts and drank milkshakes or read from stacks of comics liberated from the book shop.

“Whoa,” said Scootaloo. Her tiny wings fluttered. “I … I volunteer to lead the diversion team! If there’s one thing Cutie Mark Crusaders can do, it’s get noticed!”

“It’s true,” Bloom admitted. “We’ve got a knack. We end up right in the middle of everythin’ we get mixed up in.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said The Dink. “I’ll take Pinch and Sweetie and sneak into the castle. Scoots, you take Bloom and Pip and keep Majesty busy.”

Pip stared wide-eyed. “What? ME?”

“No choice,” Pinch said. “Even after the library burned, I bet the Princess has built up a BIG book collection. Me and Dink will know what to look for. And Sweetie’s got details we need. Plus, she’s been through enough for now, doncha think?”

Sweetie looked away sheepishly and fidgeted. Pip heaved a deep sigh. “Very well, then. I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“Atta boy!” The Dink said. She emphasized the sentiment with a chuck to his shoulder. “You’ll do fine — you’re a natural for this! Your weird coat and foreign accent really attract attention!” She softly cleared her throat. “... No offense.”

Pip frowned. “None taken…?”

“Okay, everypony,” said Pinch, “we’ve got our missions. Let’s—”

Pip cut her off. “Wait, let me. I might as well start things off right.” He cleared his throat and then pushed his thin, reedy voice as deep as it could go: “Let’s do this!”

The foals shared a resolute nod and parted ways — Scootaloo led the charge with Bloom and Pip toward the busy town square, while The Dink, Pinch and Sweetie turned and scurried for the gleaming spires of the crystal castle of the Princess of Friendship.

Sweetie craned her neck to stare up at the tallest structure in town. “This might take a while.”

“Just be grateful nopony’s decided to go skating in the halls, or something,” Pinch said. “Looks like the coast is clear.”

The Dink hissed for silence as she carefully eased a tall door open and slipped into the glassy shadows. The other two followed.

The dim interior was as silent as a tomb; their soft steps echoed, even on rugs.

“Any idea where Princess Twilight keeps her books now?” The Dink asked. When the others shook their heads no, The Dink frowned and then set about opening every single door and peering into every archway they came across. She found a linen closet, a pantry, the kitchen, and a cozy den, all silent and still and devoid of books.

When The Dink opened the seventh door, a sudden burst of hoarse, panicked screams and frantic action shattered the castle’s peace and caught her flat-hoofed.

“AAAGH! NO! GET AWAY!”

The Dink stumbled back and fell into a defensive cringe against a bruising storm of pots, pans, bowls, and other kitchen supplies from the storage closet. “Ow! Hay! OW! Quit it!”

Pinch and Sweetie dived out of the line of fire on either side of the door, but the cries from the room soon caught Sweetie’s notice. “Spike…? Is that you?”

The onslaught ended after one last thrown colander. “Sweetie Belle?” The purple Dragon toddler coughed dryly and then meekly stepped into view in the doorway. “Is Rarity with you?” When Sweetie shook her head, he sagged and sighed. His slit-pupiled eyes were sunken like The Dink’s, and dust and scuffs marked his scales. He wrung his tail nervously with both hands.

“I’m fine, by the way,” The Dink muttered as she gingerly prodded at a bruise on her shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry about that,” Spike chuckled anxiously. “I kinda panicked when you showed up — I’ve been hiding in here since yesterday!”

Pinch raised an eyebrow. “Hiding … from Majesty?”

“Is that her name?” Spike shrugged. “All I know is, she’s the scariest Pony I’ve ever seen — even scarier than King Sombra! It’s embarrassing, but as soon as she cast that spell on me, I ran as fast as my claws could carry me!” He trembled at the memory.

“Spell?” asked The Dink. “What spell?”

Spike rose up from his cringing. “This one.” He craned his neck to show his throat. Faint purple-white lines crisscrossed his scales like a wrapping of phantom twine. He took a breath and tried to puff out a gout of flame; nothing came out but a feeble hiss of black smoke. “She shut down my fire. It was during her song — she sang something about better safe than sorry, and then ... zap.”

“You were right to be scared,” said The Dink. “She’s done a lot worse than that. She’s magicked away all the grown-ups in town, and she turned Sweetie’s Griffon friend to stone!”

Spike squeezed his tail again. “Oh, no! Gabby?” He approached Sweetie Belle to offer a consoling hug. She accepted it. Just then, however, Spike drew back in alarm. “Hold on. ALL the grown-ups? Is THAT where Twilight’s been?”

Pinch nodded. “Majesty says they’re all on some kinda friendship retreat, but we know better.”

“At least I know something, now,” Spike replied. “I missed the rest of the song when I ran, and I was so worried when Twilight didn’t come back from going to the train station.”

The foals shared uneasy glances.

“What?” Spike asked. “What is it?”

“Okay, don’t freak out,” said Pinch. “But the train station kinda … exploded. A bit.”

Spike freaked out, more than a bit.

“It’s okay!” Sweetie insisted as she struggled to hold his panicked flailing in check. “We didn’t find anypony there! Twilight must have vanished with everypony else!”

Spike’s motions slowed until he slumped down and sat. “H-How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

The Dink shrugged. “Well, vanishing beats getting blown up, doesn’t it?”

Spike sighed. “I guess so. So, why are you here? Are you trying to get to the bottom of all this?”

“Bingo,” Pinch said. “We need to do some research. In a hurry.”

Spike hopped upright and puffed out his chest. For the first time since they’d found him, he shook off the pall of anxiety that had hung over him. “You came to the right Dragon. This way!” His claws clattered on the polished floors as he led the group toward the Princess’s ever-growing hoard of books.

“There’s gotta be an easier way to do this,” Bloom said as she offered Scootaloo her helmet. “An’ safer!”

Scootaloo strapped it securely and then shook her head. “After what Sweetie said, it’s clear this is what it’s gonna take to keep Majesty’s focus on us.” She pushed her scooter halfway up the thin wooden plank. It creaked ominously. “Stay sharp, okay? I’m only getting one shot at this.”

“Awright. Just be careful, ya hear?” Bloom carefully trotted up to the edge of the roof and peered down at the gathering of doodling and painting foals below. “Hay, Pip! How’re things?” She wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully.

Pip looked up from drawing a dancing teapot, and offered a semi-sly wink. “Everything is fine!” he said with stark clarity. “Nothing unusual at all!” Sweat shone on his forehead.

“Okay, good…!” Bloom replied. “I GETCHA.” She mimed a cut-it-out slash across her neck with a hoof and then turned back to Scootaloo. “Ramp’s all set and Pip’s in position.”

Scoots nodded. “It’s go time. Hope this works — I’ve never done this before.” When Bloom raised an eyebrow, she added: “... Not on purpose, I mean.” Once her friend was clear of the path, Scootaloo put her goggles in place, got settled on her scooter, and then pushed forward.

The wood tipped and clacked down against the rooftop. Scootaloo buzzed her wings full speed to pick up as much momentum as she could before the short, curved ramp at the roof’s edge.

She bellowed “LOOK OUT BELOW!” as she rocketed off the ramp and sailed into the air. Across the square, the wading pool waited. Her trajectory was perfect, describing an arc straight down into the middle of the pool.

At the peak of her jump, Scootaloo gritted her teeth and back-flapped hard. The braking spoiled her course and dropped her early; she braced a split second before impact.

Foals ran in a panic as the apple-bobbing tub smashed apart with a deafening crash. Scootaloo came to rest in an apple-strewn mud puddle, surrounded by broken wood. She groaned.

Bloom cringed at the sight, but then ducked down to whisper urgently to her comrade: “Pip! It’s your turn! GO!”

Pip snapped out of his shock and horror in the wake of the crash. He galloped up to the disaster site and let out a theatrical gasp.

“Oh, merciful heavens!” he wailed. “This is TERRIBLE! Help! Somepony help!” He sat down in the fresh mud and cradled Scootaloo’s head in his hooves. “Scootaloo! Speak to me!” He threw his head back and raged at the sky above. “WHY-Y-Y?”

“Nngh, laying it on … a little thick …” Scootaloo mumbled.

A blinding flash of lilac magic made them both squint, and then Majesty was looming over them both with a face full of motherly worry.

“Oh, dear!” She clucked her tongue. “You poor thing, let’s get a look at you! Where does it hurt?”

Scootaloo gave in to impulses she usually wrestled down; her bottom lip quivered and her eyes welled up with tears behind her goggles. “I h-hit my shoulder and my leg,” she whimpered. She fluttered her sodden wings feebly and made the most wide-eyed, pathetic, pouty face she could muster. “It hurts!”

“Scootaloo!” Pip rushed in close again. “Please help her, Miss Majesty!”

Majesty lit her horn and lifted Scootaloo up in a warm cradle of magic. The helmet eased off and thin tines of force brushed the Pegasus’s wet mane.

“Hush, now. All is well,” Majesty crooned. “I’m here. I’ll set you right and keep you safe.” Her horn glowed brighter; colours grew more vivid and the background noises of the foal-filled town assembled into a rhythm. Majesty hummed a clean, clear note to set a key.

All around, foals stopped their play and leisure and trotted into rows that swayed back and forth in unison.

Pip stepped back, his ears and tail drooping. The humming tingled in his bones and made him shiver. “Wh-What’s happening? A song? But, it’s … we didn’t…”

Scootaloo squirmed in the magical grip. “Something’s wrong! This —”

Bloom bit her lip. “Shewt, how’d this get started? We’re usually the ones who do that!” She felt the spreading warmth saturate colours and organize noise into melody around her. She shuddered. “N-No…! Stop! I wasn’t even talkin’ to her!”

She turned away and made to leap down to the piled crates she’d climbed to reach the roof. Her strides felt like wading through neck-deep mud. She strained to keep moving, hooves scraping on the shingles, but she soon slipped, tripped, and tumbled backward off the roof with a frightened cry.

“Ahhgh! This —”

The Dink heaved a frustrated sigh as she slammed a fourth volume of Griffonstone Gazette Archives closed. Spike walked up to the table she sat at and swapped it out for volume five.

“Nothing,” The Dink huffed. “Nothing in crime stories or wanted posters. No Pale Death, no Prey That Hunts.”

Pinch looked up from a stack of flyers and magazines in one corner of the castle’s library. “Nothing in the plays or recent short stories, either.” She angled her head to and fro, and her neck protested with a series of cracks and pops. “It’s lucky Princess Twilight is kinda obsessed with Griffons, but we’re getting nowhere!”

Sweetie frowned. “I’m sorry.” She hung her head. “She was so upset — I was sure it meant something! I’ve never seen Gabby like that, freaking out and ATTACKING somepony!” She hugged herself. “Going on about death and prey and blue flowers five …”

The Dink perked up. “Blue Flowers Five?”

Pinch leaped over the piled playbills. “You didn’t mention that one on the way.”

Sweetie tilted her head. “I didn’t? I guess it didn’t seem important.” She frowned. “I thought she was just pointing out Majesty’s Cutie Mark!”

“I’m sure she was,” The Dink replied. “We should have thought of it, too. She just looked so … so normal … that it didn’t even occur to me.”

“Mm-hm.” Pinch nodded.

Sweetie looked back and forth between the other fillies. “What didn’t? I don’t get it!”

“Five blue flowers is a bad omen for Griffons,” Pinch said as she nudged her half-spilled piles of papers back into order. “It means certain doom.” She put on a low, grim tone for a recitation: “The mightiest warriors alive —”

The Dink picked up where she left off. “Tremble on sight of Blue Flowers Five.”

“That doesn’t make sense, though,” Pinch mused. “That’s a really old superstition. Like, REALLY old. It CAN’T be talking about some mare Miss Cheerilee’s age!”

Sweetie’s pale hide paled further. “Wh-What if it was all a terrible mistake? What if Gabby saw Majesty’s Cutie Mark and panicked, and then Majesty went overboard to protect me? Oh, no …” A shiver went through her.

In the blink of an eye, Pinch was up close and tugging Sweetie into a tight hug. “Stop. Never, EVER blame yourself for the bad things somepony else does. It’s NOT your fault. You hear me?” She drew back and stared into Sweetie’s tear-glossed eyes. “Did you feel protected when Majesty did that? Did you feel safe?”

Sweetie sniffled and shook her head.

“Of course you didn’t. Just because a bad grown-up acts sweet and nice some of the time, it does NOT make him good.” Pinch turned away and dried her own eyes with a foreleg. “H-Her, I mean.”

The Dink reached out a hoof. “Hay, Pinch … you need a minute?”

Pinch took a breath. “I’m fine. Let’s just figure this out. Maybe the older history books?” She turned to Spike just as the little Dragon returned with still more contemporary tomes. “Change of plans, Spike! We need to go farther back. WAY farther back. The oldest stuff you’ve got.”

The Dink and Sweetie followed the others over to a different section of the castle library.

Sweetie paused; her right ear twitched. “Hay … do you hear that?”

The others turned back. “Hear what?” Pinch asked.

“Wait, yeah …” The Dink strained to listen. “Is that … music?”

Sweetie’s ears drooped. “It’s not just music! It’s a SONG!”

“Shoot, were out of time!” The Dink dashed over to help Spike gather books. “If they’re singing this way, they might find us!”

The candle-lit library grew brighter and warmer; the coloured spines of hundreds of books became a chaotic rainbow of hues.

Sweetie Belle swayed, staggered, and caught herself. “I… I don’t feel right,” she whimpered. All at once, recognition flashed in her eyes and snapped her stiffly upright. “It’s her! It’s her magic!”

“I’ll bet it is!” Pinch said as she magicked a pile of books into her saddlebags one by one. “She led one song, no surprise she’s leading another.”

The shuffle and slide of books and the clink of claws and hooves on crystal floors slipped into a regular backbeat. Sweetie fidgeted in place, but even her nervous steps matched the tempo. “No! It’s not just that! She’s doing something weird! Can’t you feel it?”

The Dink shivered. “Oh, crud. She is!” Her horn flashed, and Sweetie, Pinch and Spike all got a magical shove toward the side door. “All of you, scram! I’ll keep her busy!”

Sweetie’s voice cracked into squeaks as she spoke. “No! Don’t! Not you, too! ”

Pinch pushed at her side with her head. “No time! Help me grab the books, or it’ll be —”

The Dink shook her head to clear it. “You’ve gotta go NOW! The next verse is coming any second! Don’t worry about me! Far as we know, Majesty won’t hurt a Pony.” She hustled the group, books and all, toward the door, but then paused. “Hay, Pinch … if I don’t …”

Pinch put a hoof to her comrade’s shoulder. “Don’t get all gooey right when you’re doing something super cool, dummy.”

They shared a smile, and then Pinch, Spike and Sweetie hurried away while The Dink turned back toward the main door and stood firm, head subtly bobbing to the song’s beat.

As the magic of the moment faded and the music quieted, the gathered foals giggled and cheered and raced around the castle full of energetic glee.

All but four of them.