Twilight Sparkle sat, lost in thought, stewing in anger.
Twilight Sparkle, disgraced student of the Scholar Queen’s School For Gifted Scientists. Twilight Sparkle, who had been so unfairly expelled for such a small thing as ignoring the rules about reanimation of dead tissue. Twilight Sparkle, who had been so close to actually breaking the rule when she was interrupted by the police force. Twilight Sparkle, who had narrowly avoided jail time for grave digging and disturbing the peace. THE Twilight Sparkle who had managed to catch the Scholar Queen’s attention by modifying one of the attending castle servants so that he was now part dragon and had done so WITH his permission and WITHOUT any tragic side effects, no matter what the gossip papers said.
This Twilight Sparkle, full of potential and scientific fervor, now found herself being quietly transferred off into the outskirts of the Scholar Queen’s holdings on a trundling train of tremendous treachery.
Had she not dedicated her life to knowledge, just as the Scholar Queen had asked? Had she not risked everything in pursuit of it, just as her parents had? Had she not thrown care and worry to the wind to do that which had been sought from her? And now, now that she had done more than any other, now that she had come so close to breaking that which so many viewed as an unstoppable force, now she was being thrown away, tossed into the far reaches in hopes that she would cause no more trouble, would draw no more praise, no more ire.
As these thoughts burned inside her she lost track of her surroundings until she was suddenly called back to her senses by the only other passenger. The train, which had been silent as the grave since their departure, suddenly found itself hosting a voice of worry. A voice that cared. The only such voice that the exiled lady had ever had in all her life.
“Are you okay, Twilight Ma’am?”
Twilight’s gaze shot up from the floor of the train and into the slitted eyes of the only company she had been allowed to keep in the wake of her sentencing. They looked at each other for a long moment, neither blinking, until Twilight found her voice.
“Yes Spigor. I am fine. Merely plotting.”
Spigor turned away from her gaze, mumbling something under his breath, quiet enough that the noises of the train drowned it out before Twilight could hear it with any kind of accuracy, though she could guess it was some well meaning plea. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward, her leather boots creaking from the sudden stress of the movement. She narrowed her gaze onto the pattern of scales on the cheek of her assistant, waiting for his eyes to turn back in her direction. Spigor seemed to be resisting doing so, but eventually his resolve broke and he turned to face her once again. Once again, their eyes locked.
“What did you say?” Twilight had meant to say the words with a tone of curiosity, yet it instead held the weight and implication of a poorly veiled threat. Her anger problem was coming to a head again, she knew. She could feel her insides unraveling as they looked to vent some energy. A feeling it was far too early in the morning to deal with.
Spigor recoiled for a moment, though his eyes remained gazing into hers, fear blooming like a weed within him. His eyes began to twitch, both sets of his eye lids blinking randomly as his tongue started to clatter over his words. “I- I- I- I d- d- didn’t say anything!” He shouted, lying plain as day.
Twilight was standing now, though she didn’t know when she had started to. His gaze had followed her as she stood, her slight, frail figure managing to cut a fearsome form in the dark haze of the train car. Twilight felt her hand moving without her intent and looked to it, seeing it rear backwards as the fingers readied themselves to slap. Realizing the extent to which this little episode had gone, Twilight knew she needed to end it. With a gruff grunt, Twilight threw herself into the wall of the train car. The arm immediately collapsed limply to her side from the collision. After a moment, Twilight took the opportunity to slide down onto the floor. “Scholar Queen excise my mind, I’m losing it.” She mumbled.
“A- A- Are you okay Twilight?” Spigor asked, his voice full of worry for her, full of concern for the one who had almost hit him. It made the guilt in Twilight's gut roar ever louder. “Do you need me to brew your suppression draught? You usually don’t need it until much later in the day but you did a lot of self-augmentation last night and you’ve been stressed all morning and that definitely looked like the spasm of the muscles you said I should look out for.” Spigor rambled off as Twilight slouched against the cold metal.
“That’d be good Spigor. If you’d be so kind.” It was almost a mumble, but Spigor had heard it. His dragon senses proving their worth for the upteenth time. As he bolted off into the kitchen car to work his trade, Twilight relaxed her muscles. It was a larger task then it ought to have been, but she managed it eventually and let herself admire the chill of the metal on her burning face.
“I almost hit him.” Twilight said to herself, glancing to the now empty seat across from her. “The one good thing I have left and I almost struck him. I ruined his life and drug him along with me into exile and I almost hit him and he only worries for me.” She let herself slide from a sitting position into laying on the metal floor of the train car. “Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps I should cut down on the schemeing and the plotting and the self-augmentation and the dangerous chemistry experiments and the paranatural forays.” She took a deep breath and continued. “And the illegal research projects and the electrical applications to my nervous systems and the unsanitary grave digging and the occult biological work and the dearth of other mortally inconvenient work I continually press myself into.” She gazed up at the ceiling and tested the strength of her arm, feeling the refreshing strength of the muscles she’d installed within it the previous night. “Perhaps.”
She remained silent on the floor until the clatter of a spoon in a violently shaking bowl focused her attention on her returning assistant. The bowl would’ve been clattering even without the shuddering of the train car, nervous as Spigor was when handling her draughts, but the traincar added a new level of noise. Spigor’s slim tail swept back and forth across the steel floor as he approached, creating an off putting rustling noise that combined with the other clamor to fully pull Twilight from her reminiscing. Twilight pressed her good hand firmly onto the floor and pushed herself up onto her feet once more. Tucking her disobedient arm under her armpit, she gratefully took the wooden bowl in hand.
Sitting down, Twilight removed the spoon from the bowl and gazed into the swirling purple tar-like substance that roiled of its own accord within the dish. She set the spoon to the side, where Spigor quickly collected it, and tilted the bowl to her lips. She drank it as quickly as she could manage, shuddering in discomfort as she handed the, now empty, bowl back to Spigor. If the taste of the medicine was not bad enough, the texture of it was worse by tenfold.
“Thank you.” Twilight said, the words holding an apology that she hoped her assistant could pick up on as she wouldn’t have the courage to say what she truly meant. He nodded in return as he stowed the somehow completely clean bowl into a box by his feet, giving no evidence of his understanding either way, and the two settled into a familiar, comfortable silence for the rest of their train ride.
It was about an hour later that the train began to slow and the voice of the conductor, robotic and distant, rolled emptily through the car, causing the duo to begin to stir in their seats. “Now arriving at: Ponyville. End of the Line. All remaining passengers please begin gathering your belongings. All belongings left on the train will be used as test objects at the Scholar Queen’s School for Gifted Scientists. No matter what they are. If you later remember something you left on the train, do not attempt to reclaim it. We thank all our passengers in advance for any generous donations, intentional or otherwise, to the work of her highness and assure you that it will be used for the greater good.”
Twilight stood and picked up her briefcase. It was full of all her specialized equipment and she had wanted to personally see to its travel. Not that she doubted Spigor’s ability to see to it, of course, it was simply that she felt… safer… when she had it close at hand. Spigor, for his part, gathered up a pile of three boxes in his arms, filled mostly with amenities and ingredients for Twilight’s draughts, and waited for her to lead the way, which she did shortly thereafter.
As she exited the train it let out a cheery chime and thanked her for her patronage and she and Spigor set down their luggage. After the doors closed behind her, Twilight turned around to look at the departing train once more, it’s sleek black metal exterior beginning to rumble to life once again. She watched as it rolled off, and watched even longer until it had fully vanished into the fog,
Sighing, Twilight turned to see to the matter of finding her lodgings but was shocked out of that action as she was instead met with a face that seemed heavy with what could only be described as angry curiosity. Twilight took a step back in surprise and almost tumbled onto the tracks, but was steadied as Spigor’s tail whipped up to stop her stumble. Twilight gave a quick, grateful, nod to her savior before turning her attention back to the sudden arrival. The figure took a step back as if to get a better look at her and Twilight took the opportunity to return the act.
The most striking feature of her sudden company was her hair. It looked not unlike that of some of the gauche monstrosities that Twilight had seen behind glass back at the school. This one, however, was colored like in the manner of some kind of muted rainbow and seemed to be barely controlled by a thick band. Its length was about two thirds of its owner’s height and had somehow been restrained into the shape of a ponytail, though it had little in common with traditional ponytails at all. If it bore any resemblance to a creature’s tail it was closer to some carnivorous monster than to a small horse.
Dragging her attention away from the follicle-based disaster, Twilight turned her attention to the rest of the woman before her. There was little else of great interest among the figure’s other features save for two of note. First, the rather sleek and cutting suit she wore that seemed almost too high class given the hair and generally stance of the one who wore it, not to mention the rather unimpressive surroundings. Second was the badge that was pinned onto her lapel. It was composed of an image of the Scholar Queen’s profile silhouetted on a light yellow background. Encircling it were a cascade of streaming willow branches and a short motif, distinguishing the wearer of the badge as the leader of the local law enforcement. “Guardian of the Queen’s Holding.” Then, below it read “Ponyville”. This, Twilight supposed, explained the presence of the suit.
As they both finished up their examinations, the figure spoke. Her voice seemed bored as she repeated a phrase she seemed to have practiced many times. “At the behest of her highness, The Scholar Queen Celestia, I, Rainbow Dash, welcome you to Ponyville.” However, after managing to get this far, the aforenamed Rainbow Dash seemed to lose interest in the formality of it entirely and began to freeform the rest of it. “I will be giving you a quick tour, whether you like it or not, to get you used to the area. Don’t go near the Everfree or you’ll die a gruesome death. Questions will be answered at the end, are you ready?”
“Uhm,” Twilight glanced to Spigor, who shrugged, and then back to Rainbow Dash. “Yes?”
“Then let’s get a move on.”
Taking their belongings in hand, the pair followed Rainbow Dash into Ponyville proper.