A request by Daedalus Aegle:
Twilight judges the apocalypse.
“Oh, my gosh. Spike!” Twilight shouted clear across the castle. “Have you seen my nice saddle? I’m going to be late.”
“Upstairs hall closet!” Spike shouted back. Twilight’s thanks echoed down the crystal halls, soon followed by grunts, crashes, swearing, and the clip-clop of fancy horseshoes on the hard floor.
“Alright, got everything. Back in a few hours, Spike!” Twilight flew to the front door, pausing to shout over her shoulder. “Dinner’s in the fridge.”
Then she threw open the door, rushed outside, and slammed face-first into Fluttershy. Fluttershy yelped in fear, and they went down to the steps together in a pile, ending up in a tangled mess on the ground.
“Oh my gosh.” Twilight was the first to her hooves. “Fluttershy! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Just a little startled.” Fluttershy took Twilight’s hoof and accepted the help back up. “Are you okay? I didn’t…” She paused. Her eyes flicked over Twilight. “Um.”
“What?” Twilight asked.
“Are you um… going somewhere?”
“Oh, yeah! I got a side job on weekends.” She fluffed up her wings. “Turns out there’s actually a law limiting how much of the royal treasury princesses can spend on themselves -- which is quite reasonable when you think about it -- but I want to get the castle professionally cleaned so Spike can have more time to himself and it puts me a smidge over the limit. It’s not too much though. I just have to go in every other Saturday.”
“Cool. Cool.” Fluttershy paused. “Are you working in a uh… dungeon? Or a…” She paused again. “Sexy dungeon?”
“Why would you think… oh!” Twilight laughed. “Right, the uniform.”
Twilight was clad in nothing but black and red. Her horseshoes were smoke-black, and oozed blood where they rested on the pavement. Her saddle was the color of midnight, and made from leather in which could be seen tormented screaming faces. She wore steel barding, like a warhorse, made from the same black metal as her horseshoes. It was covered in jagged spikes, and red banners hung from her sides.
“Anyway, it’s nothing like that,” she said. “I’m one of the steeds of the apocalypse! Specifically, I’m the steed of War. You know, like how soldiers will kill to protect their friends? The alicorn of friendship being ridden into battle by the avatar of conflict symbolizes how our best intentions doom us in the end.”
“Is that a… uh…” Fluttershy started to hyperventilate. “A good job?”
“Honestly? It’s a little cliche. And my boss is a huge jerk.” Twilight tapped her chin with a hoof. “But it pays almost double minimum wage, so I wasn't going to turn it down. Anyway, I need to run. Cya!”
Twilight spread her wings and flew away.
After that day, Fluttershy never once asked Twilight how she spent her weekend.