//------------------------------// // Chapter 17: Pronoia // Story: Pronoia/Paranoia // by TooShyShy //------------------------------// By Twilight's estimate, only two ponies knew the truth about Shining Armor's death: herself and the interviewer she'd shared the full story with. Even their parents were ignorant to some extent, although Twilight had been fairly open with them. But she couldn't stand breaking their hearts anymore than she needed to. Despite the horrible circumstances, she wanted everypony involved to be at peace. She wanted them to be able to move on. Twilight couldn't trap them in another spiral of misery. Shining Armor wasn't supposed to die that night. But that went without saying. In the stories, noble ponies with noble intentions hardly ever met their end, especially in such an unfortunate way. When the bad guy came back for revenge, the hero always had some trick up their sleeve. But Shining Armor had nothing except his own skills and an overwhelming desire to protect his sister. It was Twilight who found that one crucial piece of evidence, Twilight who was meant to testify at the trial that would land several of Fleur Dis Lee's associates in jail. Twilight who'd been told by Shining Armor that she couldn't expose herself to danger like that. He'd agreed to do it on her behalf. She'd let him because he said everything would be fine. Why wouldn't it be? He was an officer of the law. They weren't going to go after him, or at least that's what he told Twilight. Shining Armor protected her. He never wanted her be part of that world. He was a tough stallion, well-equipped and resourceful. More importantly, he had a mission. Nothing in Equestria was going to stop Shining Armor from cleaning up Canterlot. Twilight invited herself inside. If she ever forgot she was in Ponyville, the epidemic of unlocked doors should remind her. Even in a relatively safe community, this lack of precaution made her flinch. At the very least, it meant she didn't have to pick the lock or buck the door down. She'd nearly broken her back legs the last time she had to force a door open. She shut the door behind her. No need to leave it wide open. She wouldn't be fleeing anytime soon. Twilight wasn't even considering an escape route. Nothing scared her anymore. Much like Shining Armor, she was ready to put everything on the line. There were things—and ponies—Twilight needed to protect. Twilight raised the crossbow, even though she didn't expect to use it. This wasn't an ambush. She wasn't hoping to take anypony by surprise. There was no need for any of that. It would have been too theatrical. While Twilight could appreciate theatrics in small doses, she'd had enough of those for a lifetime. She could smell blueberry muffins and tea. As she trotted further into the room, Twilight noticed a small table set up in the middle of the room. There was a tray filled with muffins in the middle of the table, as well as a teapot and two teacups. Twilight approached the table. The tea had already been poured, one steaming cup for each place at the table. Instead of name cards, each place bore a hoof-drawn picture. A crow and a fox. Twilight picked up both cards and examined them. She smiled mockingly at the childish display. She was reminded of the tea parties she'd had as a filly. Even the teapot looked somewhat familiar, the floral pattern bringing back those half-buried memories. She'd sometimes wondered what happened to her old tea set. It was likely in the attic of her old house, rotting away among picture books and broken toys. Her fillyhood seemed so distant, almost like a dream. She found it difficult to imagine she'd ever been a young filly, had ever been naive enough to believe Shining Armor was indestructible. Naive enough to think she'd become a professor or an artist or whatever it was she'd wanted to be as a filly. She put the cards back and sat down. Twilight waited, crossbow lying beside her as she eyed the tray of blueberry muffins. She was surprised there wasn't a jar of raspberry jam to go along with the muffins. Was that too crude and obvious? Or was this simply because Twilight happened to like blueberry muffins and tea? Those muffins certainly looked delicious. Fresh from the oven. Just looking at them made Twilight's mouth water. But she tore her eyes away from them, even as her stomach growled in objection. She heard humming, followed by hoofsteps. A tune she'd heard many times before as a filly. One of Shining Armor's favorites. He'd been humming that song the day he was accepted into the police academy. Twilight closed her eyes. The word “guilty” flashed across her mind, along with Shining Armor's face. That photograph of the three of them, smiling but nervous. They'd been more hopeful than they looked in that picture, more proud of each other than they could put into words. Twilight's own photograph from a day very similar had just been her and her parents, her father attempting to smile while Twilight and her mother wore twin expressions of muted pride. Memories had sucked the joy out of Twilight's accomplishment. “I'm glad you could make it.” Twilight opened her eyes. She was no longer alone at the table. She placed one hoof on her crossbow. Even if she didn't plan on using it, she liked having the crossbow. Twilight thought of it as insurance. If things went completely south, at least she had some solid back-up within hoof's reach. Raven was sitting there, helping herself to a blueberry muffin. She was unarmed, a warm smile on her face. The same smile she'd worn while serving Twilight that hot cocoa. That entire night felt like a century ago, but Twilight realized it hadn't even been a week. Days felt like months, months like years, years like decades. Twilight felt like she'd been trying to outrun the clock. With so few days in between, Twilight could remember everything. She remembered that postcard she'd been looking at, the sample of raspberry jam, the magazine Spike had been reading. Raven probably felt it too. The bizarrely stretched passage of time, minutes like hours and hours like days. “You didn't invite me,” said Twilight. Raven shrugged. She took a big bite of the muffin, getting crumbs all over her face. Twilight cut right to the chase. There was nothing else for her to say, no preambles or apologies. She knew everything now, or at least everything she cared to know. She couldn't believe she'd been so blinded in the beginning. But in her defense, that was how this whole thing had been set up. She'd stumbled around in the dark just long enough to draw out the conclusion. It was almost too simple to be complicated, if that made any sense. “That waitress you mentioned,” said Twilight. “You said Bronze Hoof kept staring at her.” Raven said nothing. She took another muffin from the tray, continuing to smile warmly. “I thought about it,” said Twilight. “Something was off about your story, but it took me a long time to realize it.” Raven nodded as if she was interested, her eyes filled with curiosity. She reminded Twilight of herself in school. One of the few ponies not bored to tears by the teacher's lectures. Staring with genuine interest as she listened to the rambling of a bored-looking mare, filling up yet another notebook useless facts and figures. “I came to a conclusion about Bronze Hoof as a pony,” said Twilight. “I realized he was a very simple-minded stallion. He was attracted to glamor and the taboo. But of course that made sense. He was an actor, or at least an aspiring one. He needed some drama in his life, even if he had to create it himself.” Twilight picked up a muffin, but she didn't bite into it. She just held the muffin in her magic, examining it. Twilight knew the basic components of a blueberry muffin. She knew how to make one, at least in an abstract sense. But she never had—and probably would never—apply this knowledge to anything physical. It was just there, filling up a once-empty spot in her brain. The mind was an amazing thing. It could expand inward forever, big enough to hold an entire library while fitting comfortably inside Twilight's skull. She'd created entire worlds in there. In one of those worlds, she was always the hero of the story. She never made mistakes, never needlessly broke up families, always caught the bad guy. She was a character from one of her stories. But as she briefly considered the nature of a blueberry muffin, Twilight realized that she wasn't a hero. Even in her fantasy world, she had no concept of the self she wanted to be. She didn't want to always be the hero. She wanted to fight. She wanted to struggle. She wanted to fall into herself again and again, collapsing every egocentric fantasy until reality became Twilight's only escape from herself. “That was why you were staring at him that evening,” she said. “He was already thinking about it. You must have seen it in his eyes. All you needed to do was appeal to his vanity.” She returned the muffin to the tray without taking a bite. “It didn't take much,” said Twilight. “Bronze Hoof wanted to be an actor, but he was nothing compared to you. They say all the aspiring actors live in Manehattan, but that's not true. A few of them spend a little time in Manehattan, then return to Canterlot. Some of them become professors and dedicate themselves to unraveling the secrets of the equine mind.” She locked eyes with Raven. “You were obsessed with my brother,” she said. Raven gave Twilight a sympathetic smile. She'd been silent this entire time, chewing a mouthful of muffin and staring at Twilight as if she was a pony of interest. But Twilight was a pony of interest, at least in Raven's mind. Intelligent, driven, unrelenting in her goals. But deep down, there were cracks in the foundation. It was like throwing a marble statue against a wall until it crumbled into pieces. A pile of rubble was useless, as pointless as a detective so easily shaken. But that was where her and Twilight were noticeably alike. They both felt things more strongly than they were willing to admit. They were both cracked at their centers. However, Twilight never tried to explore that crack at the center of her being. She hardly realized it was there, with so many layers of righteousness between it and her hoof. But Raven had touched hers a long time ago. She'd opened it wider, letting the putrid scent of decay spill from her center. Unlike Twilight, Raven wasn't afraid of her own heart. “He was in love with me,” Raven said. Twilight's resolve withered a little, but she managed to speak. Her voice shook slightly as she replied. “Liar,” said Twilight. Raven raised the teacup to her mouth. She paused, eying Twilight with pity. She put the teacup back without taking a sip, letting out a long weary sigh. It could have been Twilight's imagination, but she thought Raven looked tired. Twilight could relate. She felt as if she'd been aging rapidly since this case again. She was sure that if she were to touch her face, she'd find at least one wrinkle that hadn't been there a few days ago. Raven looked more refreshed by comparison, but her eyes were clouded. “Cadence never understood him like I did,” said Raven. “There were things he could never tell her. But I always listened.” Shining Armor had never been able to tell anypony how difficult his job was. Not even Cadence, even though she would have listened. He did tell her some things, things that wouldn't weigh down her mind for too long. He wanted her to be happy, he wanted her to support him. But he didn't want her to know how the city had gotten to him, how broken he was becoming. It was a slow and painful process. But Shining Armor couldn't stop, even as the city's vile roots caused him to break down. He'd pledged himself to the city. His body and mind belonged to it, his own roots entangled with the mess at Canterlot's core. He was a part of the city, absorbed into the living organism that was Canterlot. The more he struggled, the closer it pulled Shining Armor to its pulsating center. Twilight knew all this because she too had experienced it. She knew what it was like. She heard the words Shining Armor had been shouting through those letters. Canterlot had been pulling him apart, much like it had torn Twilight limb from limb over the course of a few years. All for the greater good, or so Twilight and Shining Armor had told themselves. It was all worth it if Canterlot survived. “It was all your fault,” said Raven. “His death. If only you hadn't been such a coward.” Twilight looked down at her teacup. She noticed a folded piece of paper underneath her saucer, the edge poking out. She didn't want to look at it, but she pulled it out and placed it on the table. However, Twilight didn't unfold it. Not yet. Not until she'd said everything she came there to say. So Raven had drugged her hot cocoa. Clever. Something mild and slow-acting. Easily mistaken for booze. Just enough to make her pass out. Twilight had no doubt that the dosage had been carefully measured. Any more and her heart likely would have stopped. It probably should have worked much sooner, but Twilight was resilient. When her body tried to shut down, it didn't take much for her to keep the wheels turning. Even a highly dangerous magical drug was no match for Twilight's willpower. Twilight had once thought she'd be happier if Canterlot bled to death. She thought it deserved a grim fate after what the city had taken from her. But she realized that—for once at least—Canterlot was innocent. There had been forces at work, but they weren't simply the forces of a city contaminated by sin. They were the good and evil living inside of its citizens. The city itself had never been rotten. It had always been those who lived there. As much as Twilight tried to deny it, she'd brought that part of Canterlot to Ponyville. She'd caused this. “I don't like this town,” said Twilight. “I don't think I'll ever like it.” She thought of that sign: Welcome to Pnyville. Unfortunate and imperfect. A terrible first impression. But also charming, in the strangest way. Ponyville had character. It had stories. It was vibrant and alive despite having no right to be either. That was why nopony bothered fixing the “O” on that sign. The citizens of Ponyville knew their town was unfortunate and imperfect, they knew it was mundane and pointless. They stayed because that was what they wanted. “And I am a coward,” said Twilight. “I've been afraid this entire time. Afraid of myself. But I was never able to say it out loud.” She shrugged. “I can't go back,” she said. “Ponyville is my home now. I hate it, but it's my home.” Raven nodded. Ponies tended to have a strong sense of home. But what was a pony supposed to do when their home rejected them? Raven's had rejected her by not being what she needed it to be, while Twilight's had simply thrown her out. But Twilight never believed she had a sense of home. She thought her home was where Shining Armor had taken her on walks and Cadence had baked her cookies. Twilight thought it was her attachment to what she'd once thought Canterlot was going to give her. But it was really just a mundane attachment to where she'd grown up that made Twilight miss the city. She really was too sentimental for her own good. Smiling, Raven raised the teacup to her mouth and started to take a sip. Twilight reached out with her magic, knocking the teacup from Raven's grasp. She watched as it flew from Raven's hooves, the brownish liquid flying from the cup as it sailed through the air. The cup clattered to the ground, rolling an inch across the floor before coming to a stop about a foot away from the table. The remaining tea spilled over the rim, leaving a tiny puddle on the floor. “I'm afraid not,” said Twilight. Raven looked at the spilled tea for a second, then turned back to Twilight. She smiled again. She should have known. She had known, somewhere deep down. That was what made this game so interesting. It was knowing everything, yet still having enough wiggle room to hope for a different outcome. It was the feeling of the entire universe conspiring in her favor, endlessly looping the same consequences. Twilight poured her own tea back into the teapot. She realized she should have been happy. She was always cheerful at the end of a case, even if she didn't show it. But she didn't feel like getting a celebratory donut with Spike or grabbing a coffee by herself. There were even more ghosts inside Twilight's head, haunting the unexplored corners of the house. They were inside the cupboards, running through the walls, dancing in the attic. Twilight was never going to be at peace. “There are officers waiting outside,” said Twilight. She shouldn't have bothered. Of course Raven already knew that. But Twilight had taken the precaution anyway. On the off chance Raven tried to run, she needed some kind of back-up plan. She couldn't put so much faith in her crossbow, especially with her terrible aim. Even with magic on her side, she felt as if she needed help. But in hindsight, she'd been scared of an enemy that didn't actually exist. Raven and the masked pony were one in the same, but Raven was merely a pony. The phantom that had haunted Twilight's mind didn't exist. The ghost capable of bypassing locked doors and eluding detection was sitting across from her, as real and solid as Twilight herself. Raven looked down. Twilight had switched the hoof-drawn pictures marking their places. She'd missed that before, having been too focused on the conversation. But now that everything had calmed down, she noticed the crude drawing of a crow's head staring up at her. Its eyes bore into hers, piercing and unblinking. Raven was the crow. She'd been the crow all along. In the end, Raven got what she wanted. She'd wanted to torment Twilight, to punish her for taking Shining Armor away from her. That was all she'd ever wanted, her only goal throughout this little game of hers. Twilight had done the work without even realizing it, an unwilling agent of her own torment. A snake eating its own tail. But as Twilight watched a silent Raven being carted away, she realized that Raven hadn't won. Neither of them had won. This wasn't the type of game anypony could win. Even with the tables tilted in Raven's favor, she'd ultimately been setting herself up for a loss. This was all just a performance. And like all good performances, eventually the curtain closed and the actors trotted off-stage. The audience left their places, the lights were taken down, the costumes were stowed. It was just a sad empty stage. Spike reached over and placed a claw on Twilight's back. He was relieved when she didn't flinch at his touch. “We could go on vacation,” he said. “Las Pegasus is nice this time of year.” Twilight had thought about getting away, but for some reason she'd never started making plans. Perhaps she was afraid she'd never come back, even though she had no desire to live in Las Pegasus. But she should have known that was ridiculous. She wasn't going to escape Ponyville that easily. No matter how far she ran, this wretched boring town would find her. It was in her bloodstream, much like Canterlot had been for the past several years of Twilight's life. It had her in a vice grip, slowly strangling the resistance out of her. “I have some work to do,” she said. “Maybe in a few months.” Even if she just ended up coming back, she did want to get away for a while. Maybe not Las Pegasus. A brief trip to Canterlot so her and Spike could visit with Cadence. They needed to go there anyway. As soon as they found out where Raven had hidden that ring she'd stolen from Cadence, Twilight wanted to return it in person. Her and Cadence needed to catch up. Of course Spike would be coming along. Twilight needed the emotional support. Rainbow Dash and Rarity were standing on either side of Raven, each holding one end of the chains connected to Raven's hoofcuffs. Raven said nothing as she was marched into the police cart, an indifferent look on her face. Her smile didn't waver, even as Rainbow Dash shoved her into the cart. She seemed unbothered by the rough treatment. Twilight considered how long she'd been in Ponyville. She'd had ample time to get things together, but she'd apparently been slacking off. She'd believed Ponyville didn't need her. It probably didn't, but the events of the past few days had convinced Twilight that she couldn't let herself forget who she was. First and foremost, she needed a new partner. Somepony she could trust, somepony who knew how to get things done without question. But not Spike. After everything Spike had gone through, he deserved a break. Twilight did as well, the only difference being that she wasn't going to take one. She had no intention of letting herself slack off anymore than she already had, especially with new ideas on the horizon. The difference between Canterlot and Ponyville was that Canterlot hadn't really needed her. Everything was already in place long before Twilight arrived. She'd simply been an asset, a replaceable component of the law enforcement team. Moondancer might do a much better job than Twilight. But Ponyville was in dire need of a Twilight Sparkle, even if the town didn't know it. Fluttershy. She wasn't the best choice at a glance, but Twilight was confident. All Fluttershy really needed was some formal training and a bit more confidence, the former of which could be handled by Spike. Given a year or so, Fluttershy might prove herself to be a valuable asset and an excellent partner. Twilight had no way of knowing ahead of time, but she believed in Fluttershy. There was something there, something she could build off of. If Fluttershy was willing, Twilight was ready to see what the shy pegasus was capable of. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash were two different stories. They both seemed to have a knack for finding ponies, or at least they could if they applied themselves to it. Perhaps Twilight could use that. Maybe she could put them in charge of missing ponies cases? The town wasn't exactly known for missing ponies, but there was the occasional filly or colt who wandered off during a class trip or attempted to run away from home. In the meantime, there were plenty of teenage vandals and pranksters roaming the streets. Twilight would be interested to see how well those troublemakers hid from Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash. Rarity was securing the cart, making sure Raven couldn't escape. That seemed a bit unnecessary, given that Raven had so far shown no desire to escape. She'd walked out willingly, presenting herself to the officers waiting outside. Raven knew there was nowhere to hide. She could have run to the edge of Equestria and Twilight would have found her. Another admirable trait Twilight sometimes overlooked and Raven had come to deeply respect. Twilight admired Rarity's professional conduct and her attention to detail. No wonder her and Spike had done so well with their little investigation. Perhaps this wasn't the life Rarity had envisioned for herself, but she'd thrown herself into it. Twilight knew exactly who she was going to leave in charge while she was on vacation. “I don't think Shining Armor loved her,” said Spike. “She was delusional.” But Twilight shook her head. She's read those letters. There was no mistaking the intimacy and passion of the language, however clunky it sounded when spoken aloud. Some ponies could keep their hearts draped for years, even their entire lives. But Shining Armor had spilled himself into those letters. “He did love her,” she said. “Maybe not the same way he loved Cadence, but he loved her.” She pulled out the folded piece of paper she'd found under her saucer. She already knew what it was, but she unfolded it anyway. As Spike leaned in to see what she was reading, Twilight started to read it out loud. The final note. The last clue. The end of everything. But this isn't what I want. This was never what I wanted. I thought I'd lost something so valuable that nothing mattered anymore. I thought I'd let go of myself. But you know what? I found a little of myself inside of you. A part of me hoped I'd never find it. What was it? I don't know. Maybe it was that picture of me as a colt, all dressed up as a knight for Nightmare Night. I was so innocent back then. I just wanted to protect everypony. I still do. I'm sorry. The second half of that torn letter. Spike withdrew, lifting his claw from Twilight's back. He was silent, waiting for Twilight's reaction. He really hadn't known what was in those letters. He'd suspected the worst, but his imagination had stopped just short of reality. Knowing what they were must have shattered Twilight's heart. “He was sad,” Spike said. He instantly felt bad about his audacity. Spike knew he had no right to say that. That observation was for Twilight to make. If she chose to share it with him, he'd consider himself grateful. Spike wasn't sure she fully forgave him for sneaking around, even though it had been for a good reason. The trust between them had been restored, yet there was still the slightest bit of a gap left. No matter how they looked at it, Spike had lied to her. They still needed to recover from all of that. “That's no excuse,” said Twilight. It was to an extent, but she had to think beyond Shining Armor's mindset. How in Equestria was she supposed to break this to Cadence? Should she even try? A part of her believed Cadence had a right to know, a right to pass her own judgments. But another part of her wanted to let Shining Armor rest in peace. She wanted her parents and Cadence to believe Shining Armor had been the stallion they all wanted him to be. There was no point in digging him up so they could all weigh his sins. The image of Shining Armor—however false—was more powerful than any truth Twilight could give Cadence. But as long as Cadence didn't know, wasn't she mourning a pony who didn't exist? A false image of the stallion she'd fallen in love with? But no, that wasn't true. Shining Armor was still the pony who'd bought Cadence flowers, who'd taken her out to dinner once a week. He was also the same pony who had read Twilight bedtime stories and helped her with word puzzles. Twilight couldn't pretend the Shining Armor she remembered was some kind of elaborate lie. They were both one in the same, both sharing the same sins. Lyra sidled up beside Twilight. She was holding a folder, an apologetic smile on her face. “This probably isn't the best time,” she said. Twilight let out a long sigh. Of course she wasn't going to get a nice moment of reflection. “No, it is quite possibly the worst time,” she said. “But what is it?” Lyra gestured towards the folder held in her magic. It had a date on it, written in the worst hoofwriting Twilight had seen in her entire life. She could hardly tell it was a date in the first place. It looked like a bunch of squiggly lines. But when Twilight squinted, she realized it was a series of numbers that were evidently meant to be a date. “Um, you told us not to bother you with anything while you were investigating,” said Lyra. “But here's everything you missed while you were busy. We, um, couldn't take care of it by ourselves.” Letting out another long sigh, Twilight took the folder. Maybe she'd move up that vacation she was planning. Next week seemed more suitable. Resigning herself to a few hours of sorting through nonsense, Twilight flipped the folder open and scanned the first page. More petty vandalism. Some lewd drawings all over the exterior of the Apple family barn. Culprits unknown. Rarity and Rainbow Dash could handle that one. Rarity's powers of deduction and excellent eye for detail would come in handy. Whoever had done it, they wouldn't be able to hide from Rainbow Dash. Missing dog. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie could take care of that one. Fluttershy was officially being promoted from receptionist to officer. This little case seemed like a good start. Despite Pinkie's many faults as an officer, she was great at encouragement. Fluttershy was going to need plenty of that. Somepony stole Granny Smith's false teeth. Strange, but Lyra should be able to sort it out. If Granny Smith had just misplaced them again—this would be the third time this month—Lyra would probably find them within a few hours. Twilight shook her head. The force needed more horsepower. She should see about getting some more ponies to sign up. Just three or four to bulk them up a little. She wouldn't even need a decent pitch to attract attention. Ponyville clearly had no standards for its police force. However, Twilight already had someone in mind. She wondered if Zecora would be interested. She had her doubts, but it was worth just asking. The force needed somepony who knew the Everfree Forest. She rubbed her forehead. Maybe she did need a break. A few days in bed and some hot chocolate. A long hot bath and her favorite novel. Twilight watched as the cart pulled away, Raven's indifferent face peering through the bars. Eventually there was going to be a trial. An actual trial, not the sad equivalent Ponyville could have offered. Raven would be taken to Canterlot and escorted into a courtroom. There wasn't an abundance of evidence, but Twilight wasn't bothered by that. She knew Raven was going to confess. There was hardly even a point in having a trial. Raven would gladly take any punishment they gave her, however cruel and unusual. Raven had run out of steam. There was nothing left for her besides that ultimately hollow feeling of victory. Did she think it was worth it? Was she pleased with herself? She certainly didn't look pleased. Raven looked as numb as Twilight felt. Twilight had been wrong about the triangle. Cadence had never been a part of it. It had always been Twilight, Raven, and Shining Armor. Three ponies. Broken by the city, mocked by the life they wanted versus the life they received, adrift and sobbing too quietly for the world to hear. Twilight had given herself to Canterlot, but she'd ended up in Ponyville. Shining Armor had dedicated himself to cleansing the city, but he'd ended up dying to protect one of the only ponies who meant more to him. Raven had tried to hold onto whatever relationship her and Shining Armor had created, but she'd been thrown off. Canterlot sat between the three of them, blameless but watching. There was no telling who or what Twilight would have become if she'd stayed in Canterlot. Would she have ended up like Shining Armor? Or would she have turned into Raven? There were so many branching paths. She felt Spike's claw on her back. Twilight felt comforted by his touch. Perhaps their relationship would never be the same again, but they could start over. Twilight was never going to drift away. If she ever got too close to the edge, Spike would be there to pull her back. Twilight no longer needed the image of Shining Armor to keep her going. She didn't need to believe in the stallion she thought he was. Spike was there. He was and always would be the dragon Twilight met in Canterlot. “How about we get some coffee?” said Spike. “My treat.” Twilight considered all the work she had to do. The paperwork, the processing, the calls. It was going to be a mess. It would likely take at least two days to sort everything out. Then she'd have to arrange for Raven to be transferred to Canterlot for her trial. The weeks following that were going to be utter madness. The sheer surreality of this case meant the usual procedures couldn't be followed. Twilight needed to work overtime just to make sure everything went smoothly. This was the most work she'd had since coming to Ponyville. It was kind of invigorating, but also a little intimidating. Spike gently patted Twilight's head. He knew what she was thinking. “Let Rarity handle it,” he said. “I'm sure she's up to it. Fluttershy and Lyra can help her.” Twilight put her hooves over her eyes and sighed. The thought of letting somepony else handle this monumental task absolutely terrified her. But if she couldn't trust Rarity and the others with something like this, how was she supposed to keep the station running smoothly? She actually did believe Rarity could handle this, perhaps better than she could. If Rarity needed help, she'd ask. For the time being, Twilight could afford to take a step back, at least for a little while. “Fine,” she said. Why in Tartarus not? Twilight had earned it. All those years ago, Twilight thought Canterlot was going to eat her alive. But she'd survived and she'd escaped. She was happy about that, even if she was doomed to spend the rest of her life in this dead-end town. At least Ponyville had some damn good coffee.