//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: Prom and Circumstance // by TheMessenger //------------------------------// Not everypony is destined for greatness. Some earth ponies never settle new lands and lay the foundations of future towns, there are unicorns out there who will not discover new spells or become magicians of great renown, and not every pegasus will become an aerial acrobat worthy of the Wonderbolts or wear the golden armor of the royal guard. And of course, with there being a limited quantity, not everypony can be chosen to bear the Elements of Harmony and go on to save Equestria numerous times. It’s not an all entirely comforting concept, one that many, with all their good intensions and lack of direction and foresight, try to shield the naive and innocent from with the empty promises that anything is achievable by any being while leaving the long list of caveats in the finest print possible. If all the world’s a stage, only a select few will be stars with actual lines to read while the rest play their roles as extras to fill the crowd in the background to be swiftly forgotten once they’ve made their exit. That’s not to say, of course, that the rest of the population is unimportant. After all, for Equestria to function as it does each day it requires the efforts of thousands upon thousands of normal, everyday creatures who will never feel the weight of an empire’s fate on their shoulders or brave the interiors of Tartarus. Somepony needs to be there to tend the fields and harvest crops, monitor the weather factory’s production, make sure the trains arrive with minimal delays, keep the groceries and bakeries stocked, run the cashiers at Rich’s Barnyard Bargains while placating unruly customers, and of course ensure the safe and timely delivery of the mail through rain, sleet, snow, eternal night, or monster attack, and they very well couldn’t do that if they were all off saving Equestria. Some members of the workforce need to remind themselves of that each morning before they can pull themselves out of bed, but the gray mare scheduled to carry today’s mail was not such a pony. She had no higher aspirations beyond the job she already secured and the friends she already made, perfectly content to spend her days in her peaceful little town, and though she took pride in her work on the days when she hadn’t dropped anything on anyone or crashed into anything, it was from the satisfaction in a job well done rather than any twisted sense of self-importance that a few of her more cynical colleagues shared after recognizing how vital their role was to pony society. It was perhaps due to this air of contentment she carried everywhere she went along with her eternally sunny disposition that won the hearts and favor of Ponyville along with hundreds of unknowable, otherworldly spectators. Alternatively, it may have simply been how amusing the results of her clumsiness were, as demonstrated by her collusion with the School of Friendship’s entrance emblem and subsequent fall to the ground. Quickly, the mare picked herself and dismissed the concerned crowd growing around her with a wave of her hoof and a series of assurances that she was fine, that that there was no need for a hospital visit. Those less familiar with her required additional promises that her eyes had always been like that and weren’t that way due to the crash before she was free to collect the scattered envelopes that had fallen from her bag. A few she found presented before her in the claw of Twilight Sparkle’s dragon assistant, which she gratefully accepted. She returned his smile and after thanking him for his help, took off. Spike shouted something after her, some form of salutations most likely, but she had a job to do and no time to spare for small talk. “Huh. Guess there’s no mail for us today,” Spike said to himself. He shrugged and turned, ready to reenter the school when his stomach began to rumble. A mighty belch escaped his mouth along with streaks of green flame, and a sealed scroll dropped into his outstretched claw. He spent only a second staring at it before he tore away the bindings and revealed the scroll’s contents. His eyes darted from one end of scroll to the other, reading the words faster than he could actually process their meaning. Only a few choice words stuck with him, but their presence was enough to calm him for a second, less frantic and more comprehensive read of the message. Spike put away the scroll with a relieved sigh and made his way back inside, continuing through the halls until he finally reached the door to the headmare’s office. He entered and looked around, needing a good couple of minutes to find the mares hidden within the forest of papers. Rainbow Dash looked up, her face covered in ink smears. “Is it lunch time yet?” she grumbled. Several stacks of papers towered around her, and several more stray sheets lay scattered beneath her, giving the impression of a bird in a disorganized nest. “Still early,” Spike answered, winning a loud groan from the pegasus. Carefully he maneuvered around the stacks of reports to the unicorn sitting at the desk in the room’s center. “How’s everything going?” “It’s coming along, I suppose,” Starlight said. “Could be worse, though when Twilight gets back we really need to discuss this whole thesis grading system of hers. Does she really need all of us to read through and mark up each one before giving a final grade? I get being thorough and all, this being the graduates’s final assignment, but seriously, this is a bit excessive.” “Can’t you, I don’t know, change it?” Rainbow called from a corner of the room. “You’re headmare now.” “Temporary headmare,” Starlight corrected. “Letting classes out early is one thing, that’s fine and probably justifiable to Twilight, but going against the instructions Twilight left behind for us to follow that’ll determine the fate of our first graduating students’s final grade? Yeah, that I’m not too comfortable doing.” As Rainbow sunk back with a groan, Spike looked around for a large hat, a blond mane, or an orange coat body, any sign of the mare that would have shamed such a dishonest act as going behind a trusted friend’s back had she been in the room like she was supposed to. “Where’s Applejack?” he asked. “Went to grab a dictionary,” explained Starlight. “We couldn’t agree on the spelling of ‘synergy,’ and Rainbow Dash’s convinced it’s a made-up word.” “Come on, it sounds like something Pinkie came up with.” Spike spared a moment to think. “Yeah, it really does. I know it’s real word,” he added as Starlight‘s eyes narrowed at him. “But you have to admit, it’s a pretty silly sounding one.” “It’s not that weird. I mean, sure, it’s not the first word I’d use when teamwork, unity, or collaboration all work in its place without making everything sound like a business presentation.” Starlight muttered the word in question under her breath a couple of more times, then shook her head. “Anyways, you get the mail? We’re still waiting for a response from Pinkie Pie’s expert and from the gala planning committee from Canterlot.” “Just this from Twilight,” Spike held up the scroll from earlier. Papers flew into the air as Rainbow shot toward Spike and the letter. The sudden motion caught the dragon off guard, and he would have tumbled into the stacks of papers behind him had it not been for Starlight’s magical hold on him. “What‘s it say?” Rainbow demanded, ignoring Starlight’s glare. “Finally, some action. She need us down in Tartarus with her kicking butt? Whatever she needs us to do, I’m in.” Starlight skimmed through the letter and smirked. “Says here Twilight needs us here running the school and grading theses.” The excitement burning in Rainbow’s eyes snuffed out. “Pony feathers.” Starlight’s grin lost some of its smugness. “And also we‘re to manage the final exams without her if she isn’t back before the scheduled start time.” “What? But the final exams aren’t until, like.” Rainbow’s mental calendar took a minute to find, and she spent a few additional minutes mapping out the distance between the current date and the date final exams were to begin. “Okay, so maybe those exams aren’t as far away as I figured, but that’s still a pretty long time for Twilight to be spending in Tartarus, and with Tirek of all creatures.” “Discord’s with her too,” Spike interjected. “Don’t forget that.” Rainbow Dash gasped. “That’s right, Discord’s there too! Nopony should have to spend that much time with Discord. Look, I don’t care anymore about the map’s rules or whatever the Tree of Harmony thinks—“ “Did anyone else feel that?” Spike asked. “Huh, thought I felt the ground quake.” “—I don’t care that I wasn’t chosen for this mission, we need to go support Twilight, and I’m not saying that just to get out of paperwork.” Starlight shared a look with Spike before sighing and passing Twilight’s message to Rainbow Dash. “As much as I’d love to get out of grading friendship reports, we can’t exactly all run off after Twilight and leave the school unintended when there’s so much to do. Twilight’s doing fine, she said so herself. The mission’s just taking a little, er, well, a lot longer than usual, which, considering the location, the likely subject of the friendship problem, and who her partner is, shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. If Twilight needed us with her in Tartarus, she would have said so in the letter.” “You sure this isn’t a trick?” Rainbow Dash said, tapping the scroll. “For all we know, Tirek could have sent this.” “No way. I got it through D-mail. You know, when I send and receive letters through fire breath,” Spike elaborated after Rainbow and Starlight gave him a questioning stare, silently repeating the unfamiliar term. “It’s short for dragon mail, me and Twilight came up with it after we, never mind. Anyways, not many beings know about that spell, and Twilight and Princess Celestia are the only ones with a direct line to me.“ “In other words, this letter had to be from Twilight,” Starlight concluded. “That or Princess Celestia has a strange sense of humor.” She clapped her hooves together. “Now back to work.” Rainbow Dash begrudgingly returned to her corner as Spike took a seat at the office’s opposite end and removed the first few pages from the nearest stack. The room became silent save for the scratches of pens against paper as they jotted down notes and pointed out areas of impressive writing or parts that left much to be desired, anything that would contribute to the thesis’s final score. Time chugged along, seconds, minutes, hours, Rainbow couldn’t tell. She squashed any urges to look up to check the clock out of fear of losing her place for the fifth time in the same paper. She began to fidget, her wings opening and folding in rhythm with her tapping hoof. The time Rainbow spent trying to study with Twilight for the Wonderbolts written exam was painless compared to this, and before she could wrangle her thoughts and return her focus to the very long, very wordy report before her, she began to consider the logistics of having Ocellus act out her thesis while the pegasus flew overhead. A loud thud broken the silence and everyone’s concentration. Both Rainbow’s and Spike’s wings sprung out to their full length, scattering papers much to Starlight’s vocally expressed annoyance. “What now?” she groaned, catching what she could with her magic as all three turned to window behind her where the sound originated. On the other side was the mail carrier waving to them and looking quite embarrassed. Starlight looked back at the clutter in the office, then back at the gray mare hovering outside. Her horn ignited, and a pink glow blanketed the papers. She pushed against one of the stacks on the headmare’s desk, and nodded in satisfaction when none of sheets budged before returning her gaze to the mail carrier. The window opened, and the three braced themselves, ready for a collision. When none came, Starlight, Spike, and Rainbow Dash opened their eyes and found several envelopes at their feet. The mare had flown off. “So, mail’s here,” Starlight stated, having little else to say besides the obvious. Spike and Rainbow, having even less to contribute, simply nodded. Starlight picked up the letters and looked for space on the desk. Seeing none, she looked for space on the floor. Seeing none, Starlight sighed. “How about a short break? Let’s meet back here in—“ Rainbow Dash was gone, leaving Starlight’s mane disheveled, but the papers stayed in place, held down by the unicorn’s spell. “—ten minutes,” Starlight finished lamely. “Come on Spike, let’s get through these quickly.” They stepped out and spread the letters out before them. “Alright, what’ve we got?” “Well, these two are bills,” Spike observed, pointing. “Ah. Leave those for Twilight.” “Right. Oh hey, an ad. Add six inches to your horn with six easy payments.” “Trash.” Flames turned the offending stationery to ash. “That just leaves these two,” Spike said, holding the letters up to read the addresses of their senders. “This one’s from Canterlot. Maybe it’s from that planning committee.” “Here’s hoping,” Starlight said as she ripped open the envelope and pulled out its contents. “To the esteemed representative of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship, we the members of the Grand Galloping Gala planning committee are more than happy to, okay, that’s a good start. Yeah, okay. Hmm.” “And I think this one’s from Manehattan,” Spike noted of the final letter. “It’s addressed to you. Oh, it’s from Trixie.” “Trixie?” Starlight looked up. “Right, she’s on tour. I figured she’d have left Manehattan by now. Nice of her to send a postcard for once.” She began to return to the letter from the planning committee, only to stop and turn back to the one from Trixie. “Maybe I should, I mean, it’s been some time since I last heard from Trixie in a while, maybe the prom can wait.” Starlight bit her bottom lip. “No, the entire graduating class is counting on this event, and besides, I’m already halfway through the committee’s response.” “What if I read Trixie’s message out loud while you finish with the committee’s?” Starlight stopped pacing to consider Spike’s suggestion. “Yeah, I guess that’ll work,” she decided. She settled back down with her letter and returned to where she had left off as Spike opened the one from Trixie. Instead of a postcard, two folded sheets of paper fell into Spike’s claws. “Go ahead,” Starlight prompted, absently waving with her view obscured by her own sheet. “I’m listening.” Spike’s mouth opened, but he thought better of it and said nothing as he unfolded the first piece of paper. “Salutations from the Great and Powerful Trixie to her most wonderful assistant and friend, the Pretty Okay Starlight Glimmer,” he read, rolling his eyes at the opening line. “Manehattan is a wonderful place. The ponies here love a good show, so naturally they love me. There’s so many sights to see and so much to do in this city, but I must admit I’ve gotten a bit lonely without somepony to share everything with. I only have two complaints with Manehattan. One, the lack of a true friend. While I haven’t forgot how you tried to trade off my wagon the last time we traveled together, there have been many times when I wished you were right beside me. Maybe then you’d have stopped me from biting that officer.” Starlight’s head jerked up. “What?” “And two, this city has the most asinine, tyrannical, backwards, unrealistic, completely and utterly stupid parking laws in existence, and the police force isn’t much smarter.” Spike winced. “And I’m no longer comfortable reading this out loud.” He passed the letter to Starlight who whistled once she reached where Spike had left off. “Yikes, that is colorful. Okay, rant rant rant, ah okay.” Starlight smiled as she continued the letter. “Don’t worry, everything is now under control. Your friend, the Great and Powerful Trixie.” “There’s more on the back,” Spike said, pointing. “PS.” Starlight’s grin vanished. “I’m in jail, need your help. Didn’t want to open with that. Get here ASAP. Trixie. PPS, just thought of third complaint, lodging’s super expensive and not worth the price. This cell is especially bad. Oh, sweet Celestia,” Starlight groaned as she pressed her hoof into her face. “This could not get worse.” Spike quickly read through the second letter. “This one’s from the public defender’s office,” Spike declared. “I think it’s saying Trixie is naming you as her representative in court. There’s something here about everypony else not being able to stand her.” The letter flew out of Spike’s claws. Starlight stared at the words inked on it in disbelief. “She can’t be serious. Of course she’s serious. And of course she had to scare off every local defense attorney. When’s her hearing?” She scanned the document for a date, and when she found it, her eyes grew wide. “Okay, Spike? You’re now in charge.” Starlight had nearly gotten to the end of the hall before Spike completely registered what she had said. Half a minute later, Spike was at Starlight’s side, half running, half flying to keep pace. “Wait, hold on, what do you mean?” “You read the letter. Trixie needs my help,” Starlight said through gritted teeth. “As much as she deserves it, honestly, who attacks a police officer then tries to incite a riot over a parking ticket? Trixie, that’s who, and her weird protective obsession with her wagon. And then she gets mad at the ponies trying to help her?” Starlight threw up her head groaned, attracting the attention and stares of those who weren’t already staring. “Trixie’s hearing is in a few days. I need to get to Manehattan, and I need to go now. As soon as I pack some law books, I’m gone.” “Okay, but back there you said I’m now in charge. What do you mean, I’m in charge?” “I mean, you, Spike the Dragon, are in charge,” Starlight said. “From the moment I leave to the moment either Twilight or I get back, you’re headdragon. You know all of Twilight’s instructions, how the school runs. Just keep doing what we’ve been doing, and you’ll be fine. Oh, and here.” Stationery suddenly appeared and wrapped itself over Spike’s face, forcing the dragon to stop and peel it off. “The date and time the gala planning committee will be here is in there,” Starlight called out as she grew further away. “Not negotiable so make some time in your schedule. Bring Pinkie when you meet them. Let the girls know where I’m going.” “Wait!” Spike shouted after her, but Starlight had already disappeared around the corner. He gulped. “Okay Spike, you’re headdragon. Just another position of power and authority you’re not exactly qualified for. It won’t be like last time, it won’t be like last time. It—“ Spike took in a deep breath and released. “It won’t be like last time,” he said noticeably more calmly. “It’s just the head of a school, no powers to abuse, and I’ve got my friends backing me up. It’ll be fine, just have to keep doing what we’ve been doing. The only thing new is meeting with that planning committee from Canterlot on...” He glanced down at the message, quickly scanning for a date. His body stiffened once he found it, making it difficult to continue those calming breathing exercises. His claws dug into the paper, threatening to puncture through. Spike reread the line, desperately hoping that he had just misread the date. No, but perhaps it would change if he reread it a third time. A fourth time. A fifth time. “Well howdy Spike.” Applejack’s appearance and greeting shook the dragon out of his stupor. With her was a large dictionary. “Say, you know what’s with Starlight? Just bumped into her on the way out of the library. She was running ‘round like she was being chased by a stampede. Didn’t even get a chance to say nothing before she grabbed a bunch of heavy-looking books and teleported to who knows where.” “She’s going to Manehattan to get Trixie out of jail. Look, it’s not important, have you seen Rarity?” “Should be in her class holding office hours,” Applejack said. “Hold on, what was that about Trixie?” “Okay, thanks!” came Spike’s reply from a distance that was rapidly growing as the dragon ran off in the path Applejack had directed him.