//------------------------------// // Tidally Locked (The Motion of the Stars) // Story: The League of Sweetie Belles // by GMBlackjack //------------------------------// A portal ripped through the fabric of reality, depositing four Sweeties on the ground: Celia, Cinder, Blink, and the ever-grumpy Squiddy. The moment the portal behind them closed, they realized the world was dark — and not in the sense of night, but rather a night not fully realized. On one horizon they could see the edge of a sun, though whether it was soon to rise or set was impossible to know. On the other there was a deep midnight dotted with stars, the slightest hint of light at the horizon implying a moon. “...Convenient timing,” Cinder observed, observing the chromatic nature of the sky. “I remember when the sky looked like this. The Everfree Forest was growing out of control and the princesses were gone…” “The sun and the moon were up, then,” Blink said. Cinder looked at her in confusion. “...How would you know?” “I was a standard Sweetie, once.” Blink said, cocking her head in such a way that implied a wink behind her shades. “My timeline diverged… oh, shortly after Twilight’s Castle showed up. Never got my cutie mark, ended up in a series of universe-creating games, became a ghost.” “Universe… creating… games…?” “Read up on Skaia’s Dream sometime,” Celia said. “The history behind that dream-world is exceedingly complex.” Blink stood up on her hind hooves and struck a pose. “But oh-so worth it. Witch of Void, at your service!” Cinder sighed. “...Squiddy, remind me to look all this up when we get back to Swip.” “Nah,” Squiddy said. Cinder let out a groan. “Fiiiine… Leave me in the dark, unwitting.” “That is rather topical, considering the world we’re in,” Celia observed. “The world’s tidally locked. The sun and moon don’t move across the sky, staying in place forever. One side of the planet is going to be a scorching wasteland while the other is likely frozen over. We’re somewhere in the middle.” “Huh,” Cinder said, glancing in the direction of sunlight. “Do we want to burn or freeze?” Squiddy shivered. “Burn. Freezing is an inkling’s worst nightmare. Frozen ink… does stuff.” Cinder felt a chill run up her spine at the thought of Squiddy’s squishy body freezing solid and shattering. “Right…” Blink lowered her head to the ground, examining a tuft of dry grass. Frowning, she looked up and checked the skyline, a suspicion forming in her mind. She found what she was looking for. “There. Canterlot castle.” The three other Sweeties followed her gaze to the dark form of a many-spired castle jutting out of the side of a mountain. There were no lights coming from it, making it look dead even from their distant viewpoint. “This world isn’t supposed to be like this,” Blink concluded. “The plants are struggling to survive. Something happened to this world’s Princesses.” Celia nodded. “We’ll need to direct some free Princesses to this world, see if they can get the day back to normal.” “...We see too many of these,” Squiddy muttered. “It’s all too easy to take out the Princesses and send the entire world into a downward spiral.” “E-easy…?” Cinder said, haunted. Squiddy looked at her with an unreadable expression. “They may be immortal, but they’re not unkillable. Hell, even Equis Vitis’ Celestia wasn’t immune to the dangers of existence. If an evil force takes them out and there are no others to take their place in moving the sky…” “Either they start moving on their own or they stop,” Celia said, placing a hoof on Cinder. “The Princesses are just ponies, Cinder. Powerful, wise, and benevolent. But sometimes things happen. Evil, accidents…” She trailed off, clearly leaving other things off that list. Cinder looked at the stark sky, furrowing her brow. She’d never really thought of the Princesses as… vulnerable at all. They may get captured, bested, or fooled — but they always came back and saved the day. ...Or Twilight and her friends did, but Twilight was a Princess too. Eventually. My life was filled with a lot of unasked questions… she noted, not sure what to make of the revelation. “We should head to Canterlot,” Celia said, tossing her mane back. “We might be able to find out what exactly happened there.” “Agreed,” Squiddy said, hefting up her gun. “Be on the lookout for random raiders. Dark, desolate worlds like this tend to be filled with th—” Four unicorns brandishing rusty blades in their magic jumped out from behind a pair of large rocks, screaming in rage. Cinder jumped in fear while the rest of the Sweeties audibly groaned. “Idiots…” Squiddy muttered, whipping her gun out and coating one of the attackers in her ink, getting enough in their eyes and mouth to burn. The stallion slipped and fell, yelling in pain about ‘my eyes!’ Blink vanished, re-appearing behind another attacker. It was as simple as a swift kick to the back of the head combined with a pulse of Void energy, and they were out. Celia thought a sleep spell would do it — but her chosen raider’s mind turned out to be remarkably robust, resisting the compulsion with minor effort. Luckily, Celia had a backup, and the raider was not able to resist the razor-top to the face. Cinder let out a yell and launched a fireball into the last raider’s chest, lighting her jacket on fire. The attacker dropped to the ground and rolled out the flames, standing up to find Cinder pointing a flaming hoof in her direction. Shakily, Cinder spoke. “D-don’t.” The mare looked ready to attack — but then she noticed that all three of her companions were down. With fear in her eyes, she fled. Celia wasn’t about to let her go call for help. She teleported directly in front of the fleeing raider, prompting the mare to crash unceremoniously into Celia’s impressive frame. The raider looked up at Celia’s serene expression and gulped, holding her hooves up in surrender. “Good,” Celia said with a smile. “Is there anypony else here?” The raider wordlessly shook her head. Celia nodded to herself for a few moments. Then she forced the mare into sleep. Blink clapped her hooves. “Well done, Cinder. You won all on your own!” “But Celia…” “Caught an enemy fleeing from you!” Blink put a hoof around Cinder, grinning. “You’re coming into your own, Cinder. Soon you’ll be an utter badass just like the rest of us.” “Eheh… sure…” She shook herself, trying to regain full control over her emotions. “...Should we be expecting more?” “Always expect more raiders,” Squiddy said, cocking her gun. “Let’s hurry and tie these guys up so we can get moving.” Celia nodded. “Bink, do you mind surrounding us in unimportance as we move?” “Don’t mind at all!” ~~~ As they traveled, they realized the world had more problems than a simple loss of Princesses. Given the craters, loose magical shards, and blackened ruins, it was easy to tell that this world had gone through a war that destroyed most everything. Cinder shivered as they passed a pegasus skeleton. It was curled up in a sleeping position, as if the very flesh had burned off of it while laying in bed. Squiddy put a hand on her as they moved. Without saying anything, she was able to give Cinder enough comfort to keep her legs from shaking as they continued on. Celia would occasionally glance back at Cinder, checking to see if she was okay. There were a few times Cinder thought Celia would send her back, but the elegant pony would always give her a comforting smile before returning her gaze on what was ahead. I need to learn how to deal with this, don’t I? Eventually, Cinder cleared her throat. “Celia, why would ponies do this?” “Might not be ponies,” Celia admitted. “There are often invading forces like changelings, yaks, centaurs...“ She stopped in front of a skeleton with two horns sprouting from the skull. “If I had to guess based on the evidence we’ve seen so far, this world had caprids, and they were the invading force. As to why… some are just full of hatred, some want power, some are fighting because of some tragic event in their past, and some are doing it for a multitude of other reasons. ” She stared at the ibex, a grimace forming. “We really can’t know for sure what caused this unless we find someone that was there. And given the state of the world… for all we know there’s nobody left who remembers.” Cinder shivered at the thought. Could this have happened if they had handled the diplomatic fallout on that space-era world badly? Entire stellar civilizations going to war might actually be worse than this… They continued on in silence for a bit, eventually cresting a hill. Looking down, they could see a long, flat expanse of land between them and Canterlot. If there was ever any doubt there had been a massive war here, it was gone now. Large catapults and magical war machines were strewn across the divide along with many piles of bone, ash, and humming magical crystal that looked ready to explode at any moment. Cinder froze, unable to take her eyes off the destruction. “Wow,” Blink said, without much emotion in her voice. “This is mildly impressive.” “Mildly!?” Cinder and Squiddy shouted at the same time. “You’ve seen a lot worse,” Blink told Squiddy automatically. Then she winced, turning to Cinder. “I… I’m sorry. I’ve just been around wars that ended in much worse than this. It is possible to destroy entire universes, Cinder. It… it’s never easy to see. But you end up comparing things regardless.” Cinder looked at her and sighed. She knew Blink was telling the truth. She didn’t have to like it though. Celia looked about ready to say something — but then a confused expression crossed her features. “...I sense something. Something… different. Magical…” Blink furrowed her brow, lighting her horn. “Huh… Yeah, that’s not from the crystals…” Cinder followed their gaze, looking away from the destruction and Canterlot Castle to a small ruin on the opposing side of the divide. Once, it had been a keep, though whether for the invading or defending force, it was impossible to tell. Now the stone had crumbled away and the wooden supports had rotted to dust. There was a small crevasse right next to it, glowing eerily from the light of loose green crystals. Celia turned toward it. “It’s worth checking out.” With a breath to calm her nerves, Cinder set off after the others, keeping her eyes off the warzone to their side. As they approached the keep, they noticed the density of crystals embedded in the ground increasing. Blink had to take point, clearing away the path with Void so they wouldn’t cut a leg open on one of them. “A truly horrible weapon,” Celia said with distaste. “Shards left for eternity, an obvious yet easily underestimated trap…” “They don’t even look that sharp…” Cinder commented, poking at one with a small fireball. Blink purposefully stepped on one to make a point. She let out a pained hiss as she forced herself to internalize the pain, subsequently lifting up her limb to reveal a shard embedded two inches into her hoof. “If I wasn't a ghost, I’d probably split my hoof in two. It’d be worse for Squiddy and Celia.” Squiddy shivered as Blink tore the crystal out of her hoof and tossed it away. Eventually, they made it to the keep’s ruins. The keep itself was useless to them — there weren't even any identifying flags or emblems on it, though there were a copious amount of both pony and ibex bones. Somehow, the fact that there were so many made them seem less… personal in Cinder’s mind. Blink trotted to the edge of the crevasse. “It’s down here.” She said, pointing for the others to see. Down the far side of the crevasse, nestled among several glowing crystals, they saw an ornate crown studded with gemstones of all colors. The gems flickered different colors when Blink had pointed at them, but otherwise it had not responded. “An artifact of some sort…” Celia mused. “I wonder why nopony has claimed it…” “Most ponies don’t exactly have Void powers to get through a field of razor crystals,” Blink pointed out. “Plus, something tells me those crystals are explosive, or at least deadly in some way.” “So you should have no problem getting it,” Squiddy said with a smirk. Blink rolled her eyes. “Stand back in case this all goes south.” After her teammates had backed up an appropriate amount, Blink focused her magic around the crown. She carefully pulled it up, using all her effort not to touch it to any of the glowing shards around it. All her effort wasn’t enough. “Careful, you idiot!” the crown suddenly snarled in a reverberating — and decidedly cranky — way. “YOU’VE TRIGGER—” The crystal she’d brushed exploded, sending out a small shockwave. The crown went flying and the ground beneath Blink began to crumble. The ghost had to scramble up the receding rock, trying her best to ignore the crystals embedding themselves all over her ethereal limbs. More crystals began to explode as the rock slide upset the ground around them, giving Blink a rather painful boost into the air and away from the continued explosions. “Somebody catch me!” the crown shouted as it tumbled end over end. Celia obliged, grabbing the artifact with her telekinesis. “I thank you, fair one, for saving me from that perilous situation,” said the crown, its tone silkier, gentler. “Alight me upon your head, and I shall grant you wh—” “Not happening,” Celia said, not even bothering to look at the crown, instead checking to see if Blink needed any assistance. “Excuse me?” it rasped. “I’m not putting some strange talking magical artifact on my head just because it asked me to.” Celia helped Blink stand back up. “I’ve seen too many attempts at possession, mind alteration, and the like.” The crown’s crystals shifted to a dark purple-reddish color, but it said nothing. “Oh, don’t be worried,” Celia rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to judge you just because of one little thing. For all I know you’re conditioned to find ponies to trick.” “No one has conditioned me.” “Who are you?” Blink asked, wincing as she pulled a crystal out of her side. “I am simply a Crown. A lost artifact of this war, doomed to sit, trapped in that crevasse. Until you came along. Now that I have spoken of myself, would you return the favor?” “Certainly.” Celia introduced all of them by name and gave a short version of the League’s mission statement. The Crown mulled this over, its multicolored crystals shifting through greens and blues. “I would welcome you to our world. But as you can see there’s a distinct lack of world or welcoming committees. Luckily, we don’t need them — you’ll do well enough.” “...We’ll do?” Squiddy balked. “Yes,” the Crown said, not missing a beat. “We must head to Canterlot — I am terribly low on power, and there will likely be an artifact there I can recharge off of.” Squiddy raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to snack the magic of some pony?” The Crown shifted its colors around for a moment. “...No, I doubt that would be appropriate.” “Oh, do drop the act,” Celia said. “I know when I’m being manipulated — or at least when the attempt is made. You’d like nothing more than to take magic from us, likely by getting on one of our heads.” “I’m sure you understand my previous desperation. That said, you have my full assurance that I have no intent of taking magic from any of you.” “I do understand, but I also know your kind. Give me one good reason why we should give you magic that you might use against us?” “I am the Capricious Crown, sovereign entity of Capra, one of the major nations in this war. Assist me and I will tell you the secrets of this world, as well as give you good standing with whatever loose tribes remain of my nation.” The Sweeties stared at it, dumbfounded. “...That sounds like a pretty good reason to me,” Cinder offered. “See? The small one gets it.” ~~~ “Do you mind?” Squiddy looked down at the Crown held tightly in her hand. “Mind what, your majesty?” “You’re holding me like some common trinket found on the side of the road.” Squiddy gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Here, I’ll be sure to hold you upright and level, in front of me so as to not harm your presence. I’m sure we can scrounge up a royal pillow or something, though it will clearly not live up to your regal stature.” “Very goo—” Squiddy proceeded to sling the Crown around her finger like it was a miniature hula-hoop. “Hah. Like I’m going to do that.” “Squiddy!” Celia hissed. “Respect the leaders of other worlds!” “But he’s an asshole!” Celia ripped the Crown from Squiddy with her magic. “I am terribly sorry for Squiddy’s behavior, I will be sure to hold you myself. I, unfortunately, do not have access to a royal pillow at the moment.” The Crown paused, weighing its options. “I will take this compromise, so long as the squid is punished for her appalling acts.” “It will be done the moment this mission is completed.” “Wh- HEY!” Squiddy waved her hands. “You can’t…” “Oh yes I can,” Celia said with a smile. “You clearly won’t,” the Crown said with obvious distaste. “Your relationship is clearly not one of punishment and subservience.” Celia raised an eyebrow at the crown. “I assure y—” “I have played the game a long time as well, Miss Celia. Call it even.” Celia nodded at the Crown with a modicum of respect. “Very well.” “Wh… did you just let him win!?” Squiddy shouted. “It’s politics,” the Crown said dismissively. “You wouldn’t understand.” Squiddy’s eye twitched. “When you end up being the villain of this adventure, I am going to ink you so much y—” Cinder put a hoof over Squiddy’s mouth. “Please ignore her, mister Crown, sir. She’s, uh, having a bad day.” Squiddy tried to tear her off, but Blink rushed to Cinder’s aid. “We only have the utmost respect for you!” “Yeah!” The Crown radiated dubiousness, inasmuch as it could, but it still seemed to accept this. They continued their walk around the battlefield toward Canterlot — walking along a cracked, worn path that had somehow survived the bombardments. With Squiddy calmed down and the Crown falling silent, Cinder found herself staring at the destruction around her again. She’d been told about these worlds. Worlds ravaged by war. She’d read about them in Swip’s databases, and had even met a mare who called herself ‘Pippy’ during a visit to Celestia City who had told her stories about Equis Regarden and Equis Fallout… Naturally, she’d been horrified then. She wasn’t sure what she felt now. The fear was numbed, and the horror was dissipating somewhat quickly as she saw more and more bones. This was what Squiddy had warned her about… The Crown broke the silence, shaking her out of her thoughts. “So, Miss Celia, you are clearly a mare of state,” the Crown began. “Indeed,” Celia said with a nod. “I am trained and licensed with the Relations Division.” “Ah, yes, a Division. Such a generic word. What does it mean in your context?” “There are twelve Divisions within Merodi Universalis, each with an Overhead,” Celia explained. “We have no king, president, prime minister, or overarching artificial intelligence like many other worlds. The twelve Divisions work together to run our hundreds of united member universes while ensuring no single individual has all the power. Each Division handles decisions that concern it on their own, with Divisions working together on grey-area issues. For instance, the League of Sweetie Belles is technically under the direct supervision of the Oversight Division and Overhead Sarsaparilla Fern.” “Oversight Division?” “Handles most of the inner bureaucracy and law enforcement, making sure the laws of member universes meet our guidelines. The members of the League who are Agents are technically employed, usually called upon to keep Celestia City in check. That said, we are not part of the LSB’s local operations, instead we are managed more closely by the Expeditions Division and Overhead Renee Belle, with minor influence from other divisions. I have authority of the Relations Division and the blessing of Overhead Evening Sparkle, while our captain has the authority of the Military Division and the blessing of Overhead-General Jack O’Neill.” “So you have a military aspect to your mission?” Celia smirked. “Suzie has the authority to carry out full-scale military engagements, yes. She’s only exercised this power once during the expedition, however.” The colors of the Crown shifted as it pondered. “We are not warmongers,” Celia said, attempting to respond to an unspoken thought. “We value harmony, progress, and assistance. We have been known to engage in war to further those agendas, but we vastly prefer all other methods.” She looked up at the sky. “For instance, here we’ll just have one of our Celestias move in and take control of the sun again.” “Celestias? Plural?” There was a hint of worry in its voice for the first time since they’d found it. “Celestias exist in the vast majority of Equis universes. And no, Capricious Crowns do not.” The Crown fell silent once again, needing time to process this. The colors in its gems shifted from purple to blue to red in a strange, mesmerizing churn. Cinder thought maybe, for a moment, it would be quiet until they arrived. She was, unfortunately, wrong. “Is there any way we could move a little faster?” There was, but none of the Sweeties wanted to call a wormhole from Swip just to cut off twenty minutes of walking. Not that they told the Crown that. ~~~ Canterlot was clean. There were few, if any, bones on the surface of the city. Cinder had spied a few inside houses, or hidden away in alleys, but for the most part the open streets of Canterlot were just empty. She would have expected the gardens to grow out of control, but then she remembered they were struggling to even survive in this level of light. An empty Canterlot was somehow worse than the obvious destruction of the battlefield outside. She didn’t feel small out there. Here, she was insignificant, nothing more than a fly crawling across the page of an immense tome… “...I can make this work,” the Crown said. Squiddy glared at the offending artifact. “This place isn’t yours.” “There’s nobody here. I am laying claim to it. There are no other sovereigns worthy of such a place.” “...Do any of us have royal blood?” Cinder asked. “Unless you’re hiding some major secret, no,” Blink said. “...Actually, I wouldn’t know if Nira is or not. But if she was some kind of princess or something I frankly wouldn't want to know what of.” “I visited Equis Lesionull before it was destroyed,” Celia said, a grimace crossing her face. “...Everything about that world was just… wrong.” “Wait, what!? You went there!?” Squiddy gawked. “Why haven’t you said anything?!” “It hasn’t cropped up.” “But… Nira never answers any questions! Come on, spill the beans!” Celia shook her head. “That’s her story to tell, should she wish it.” “She doesn’t.” “Then let her have her secrets.” Squiddy twitched while Blink chuckled. Cinder put a hoof to her chin. “I thoughts friends were supposed to tell each other their secrets?” Celia’s amused smile faltered. “Yes… it probably would be best for Nira if she got everything off her chest. The level of trauma that poor mare has suffered… but I am not going to betray her wishes. It’s the way she’s chosen to live her life. We should be proud of her finding any stability at all.” Cinder frowned. She looked at the twilight sky and the abandoned city around her. Somehow, she knew Nira lived through things a million times worse than this. She wasn’t exactly sure if that put things in perspective or just replaced her fear of the world around her with the fear of worlds yet to come. Eventually, they reached the main doors of Canterlot Castle, hanging wide open. The interior was dark, the stained glass windows completely lacking their usual awe-inspiring luster, instead serving as grim reminders of a lost glory. Several had been shattered, though even this didn’t provide enough light to see by. Cinder offered herself up as the torch, lighting the tip of her horn on fire. The light brought bones back into the forefront of everyone’s sight, which was somehow a relief to Cinder. What in Celestia’s name am I doing!? ...There’s no Celestia here. Not anymore. The Crown spoke up. “Can any of you detect magical artifacts?” Blink grunted. With a quick light of her horn she found a magic signal. “Yep, this way.” “An artifact of the Princesses, most likely…” Celia commented. “I wonder what sorts of secrets they held in the center of their power…” the Crown said. Squiddy shrugged. “We’re about to find o—” Then they heard the fighting start. Somewhere in the castle, blades and staves were smacking into each other and ponies were yelling, fighting for their lives. “I hear one of us!” Cinder shouted, catching the distinct vocal tone of an adult Sweetie Belle in the midst of the fighting. “We’ve got to help her!” “It is not our conc—” the Crown began. “Shut the hell up,” Squiddy growled. “We helped you, we’re helping them.” Blink listened for a moment before pointing. “This way!” she shouted, taking off at a gallop, the rest of the team running as fast as they could behind her. Celia soon overtook the ghostly filly with her longer legs, handing the Crown off to her mid-run. “Careful!” the Crown shouted, not that anyone paid it any attention. They heard clash after clash. A mare’s scream filled the air — not Sweetie. It was not a scream of injury, rather a scream of rage. The sounds of combat rang out through the long, acoustic hallways, almost as if it were two ghosts fighting. “Brood mare!” they heard from down the hall, clearly from the same mare who had screamed earlier. They couldn’t make out the other words over the echoes in the halls and their own clacking hoofsteps. And then there was silence. They came to a split in the hall, looking at three different ways they could go. “...Shit,” Squiddy cursed, looking around frantically. “Where…” Blink swiveled her ears around. “The fight’s over… I’ve got nothing.” “Did… did they kill each other?” Cinder asked. “Maybe…” Blink said with a frown. “There’s got to be some indication of where they went…” Celia lit her crystal and focused. She stood perfectly still for a while — Cinder didn’t know how long, but it was too long. Celia let out a ‘tch’ after her spell ended. “I tried triangulating the position of the sound from my memory. I’m… not certain enough of the direction.” “Which way is most likely?” Cinder asked. “Just go there!” Celia thought for a moment and galloped into the far-left hall. They passed two sets of doors before Celia gasped. “Aha! We are going the right way! This is the way we sensed the magic artifact!” “At least we’re doing something worthwhile,” the Crown commented. Now that they had a defined direction, it took less than a minute for them to arrive, finding two dead raiders on the ground, soaking up their own blood. Cinder gasped and looked away, clutching her stomach. Bones were one thing. This… this was recent. Blink trotted over to the bodies and hid them from sight with her Void. “You can look now.” Cinder, shivering, turned back. She knew the bodies were still there. She couldn’t un-see them. But this was… better. She could still see some of the blood — trailing into a door marked with Celestia’s Sun. Celia was already at the door, opening it wider with her magic. Everyone froze. There was a small library through the door filled with all manner of ancient tomes and spellbooks, a few of which were strewn about the floor, open to images of the sun and moon. A Sweetie stood in the middle of the room — middle-aged, scarred, and bleeding heavily from a few places, though she didn’t appear to care about her injuries. She was lying by a blood-covered, gold-tinted sword and crying profusely, her tears falling onto the cold, lifeless body of a Rarity. The Rarity was old. Unlike her sister, who had clearly toned muscles and a powerful form, her legs were thin and weary. The bags under her eyes were far too worn, even for someone of her age, and the green crystals embedded in her sides had been there so long parts of her flesh had grown around their edges. Despite this… she had a smile on her face, as if she had done something worthwhile in the end. The sun rose, sending its light through a window behind the League, moved by the light of Generosity. Celia looked from the dead mare, to the books around her, to the rising light and understood the sacrifice that had taken place here. Cinder snapped first. “RARITY!” she screamed, diving for the mare that looked like her sister but wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. But her mind wasn’t able to draw that connection yet. The injured Sweetie couldn't either. She took one look at Celia and gagged. “R-R-Rarity…?” “No, no, no, I am not,” Celia said, shaking her head. She lifted up her mane to draw attention to her crystal. “I’m not even a unicorn, dear.” “B-b-but… I… She…” The Sweetie swallowed, looking out at the sun. “She… why… she didn’t have to… the sun...” “Raritys are generous,” Celia said, holding a hoof to the Sweeties chin. She didn’t flinch from the touch. “They… they choose to lay themselves down for their friends. She has given life back to the sun and your world. We h—” “THIS DIDN’T HAVE TO HAPPEN!” Cinder shouted, shooting an angry fireball between Celia and the local Sweetie out of reflex. “IF WE HAD GOTTEN HERE A FEW MINUTES EARLIER!” Celia’s face shifted to panic. “Cinder, calm down, we d—” “We could have fixed this!” Cinder screamed, tears rolling down her face. “We should have brought a Celestia in the moment we arrived, but no, we had to research! Had to figure out what this world meant! Had to find out its history! And now Rarity is dead! Do you see this!? DEAD!” “You… could have fixed this!?” the injured Sweetie shouted, recoiling from Celia. “You could h—” It was at this point she saw the Capricious Crown. The Crown flashed blue. “Now, I understand you may b—” “YOU!” The Sweetie hefted the sword in her telekinesis and, despite her injury, swung the thing down on the Crown. Blink pulled the artifact out of the way, subsequently making herself and the Crown intangible, impervious to attacks. “YOU DID THIS!” the Sweetie raged. “YOU ATTACKED US! YOU DESTROYED THE WORLD!” “That was not my intention.” “SCREW YOUR INTENTION!” She kept swinging even though it was completely pointless. Everyone stood back — even Cinder, whose anger had boiled off quickly in the presence of this mare’s unbridled fury. Eventually, the mare’s injuries caught up with her, forcing her to slump to the ground, clutching onto the sword as if it were her only connection to life. She breathed heavily, taking her gaze off the Crown. Her face betrayed her shame. “I understand that this means nothing,” the Crown said. “But I regret the entire war. The pain of ponies and equines was not worth what I sought to gain. I have lost my people and my friends — the closest I have to a family. I am alone.” “You… you’re apologizing!? You’re the Capricious Crown! You never go back on anything!” “I have been alone at the bottom of a crevasse for decades, watching the world decay around me. That would make even ancient artifacts re-evaluate their position. I have no kingdom, Sweetie Belle. I have lost everything. We are in the same boat.” The Sweetie glared at him and turned away in disgust. At least the murder is gone from her eyes, Cinder thought. Cinder realized she’d spoken too soon when the Sweetie glared at Celia. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. You could have fixed this, and you didn’t. And now she… she…” Celia sighed. “Sweetie, listen to me, and listen closely.” “I don’t want t—” “We might be able to bring her back.” Sweetie’s eyes widened. “Wh…” “Celia…” Blink cautioned. “There is a spell,” Celia said, tapping her crystal. “Not very many mages know it, but it has the potential to bring anyone back to life.” The Sweetie dropped her sword. “...Do it. Bring her back. I… I don’t care if it stops the sun, just bring her back!” Celia gulped. “I have to warn you, it doesn’t always work properly. Sometimes ponies Come Back Wrong.” “W-wrong?” “Roughly half of the time, the spell brings them back without a problem. But the other half of the time… they can come back as soulless husks, enraged monsters, or… something worse.” “Just do it! I don’t care if it goes wrong, do it!” Celia nodded. “Cinder, you’re going to have to leave.” “No,” Cinder said. “Cinder…” “I SAID NO!” Cinder smashed her hoof into the ground. “I’m. Not. Running. Away.” “Cinder, if this goes wrong, we’re going to have to kill her again,” Squiddy stated bluntly. “You don’t want to be here for that.” “I’m not going anywhere,” Cinder said, folding her hooves. “I’m seeing this through. This is our fault.” “It isn’t,” Blink said. “We could have done something!” “And in another world, if we had done something a different pony would have died.” “Wh… I…” Cinder shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.” Celia sighed. “If you must…” Celia kneeled down next to the mare that looked a lot like her, although smaller and much frailer. Her crystal sent out three cascading circles of brilliant white magic, centering around the form of Rarity. With a pulse of soft energy, Rarity’s chest began to rise and fall with the motion of breathing. One of her legs twitched, and her eyes focused. It took a few minutes, but the unicorn was brought to a standing position. “Remarkable…” the Crown said. But there was nothing in Rarity’s eyes. The orbs glanced around the room with a vacant, lifeless nature to them. Celia sighed. “I… I am sorry, she h-” The Rarity let out a scream of anguish and charged Celia, trying to bite into her leg. The thing that had once been Rarity found it impossible to break the mare’s unusual skin, but Celia still screamed in surprise. Cinder readied a fireball, Blink entered a fighting stance, and Squiddy took out her gun. The local Sweetie hit the thing upside the head with her sword, hacking the skull hard enough for everyone to feel the bones inside cracking. The white unicorn teetered back and forth before it slumped to the ground, just as dead as it had been before. The Sweetie said nothing. She could only wail as the light of the sun poured over them all. She didn’t even notice when Celia started healing her… Cinder didn’t notice either. She couldn't take her eyes off the dent in the Rarity’s skull. That was her sister. Blink and Squiddy tried to console her, but she didn’t register their presence. She was barely aware of being led back to Swip... ~~~ Equis Solarity, they’d decided to call it. Of course the name was unofficial, but these things tended to stick. The world was to be named after the mare that gave it life. Sweetie Belle hated that. It would be a constant reminder of something that didn’t have to happen. She was currently standing on the top of a hill, overlooking the rural area outside Canterlot where the Sweeties had set up an ‘Aid Division’ camp. There were already a half dozen tents and one ‘insta-hospital’ on the ground, and numerous teams had been sent out to find survivors. Those who fought were easily subdued, usually without injury, and treated at the hospital regardless of which side they had been on — or if they were monstrous raiders or little kids. The Crown had been partially recharged with a magic book and was set up on a pedestal outside the camp, a simple word from it being all a caprid needed to stop fighting and help with the relief efforts. As much damage as the Crown had caused, Sweetie had to admit it seemed to be trying for peace now. It really had suffered just like the rest of them had. Perhaps more so, since it could blame itself for most of that suffering. Sweetie couldn’t exactly say it was her fault that the war happened or so many ponies died, as much as she wanted to. She could, however, blame herself for the loss of Rarity. I could have made her wait five minutes. Could have made her rest another day before going to Canterlot. Could have gone into the library with her… Could have stalled for time… They could have acted faster. Sweetie kicked a rock away with her new stave. She watched as it rolled down the hill, glinting in the sun before it embedded itself in the muddy ground. “Sweetie?” Sweetie turned around to see a small alicorn — clearly one of the Sweeties, but also… Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. She hadn’t thought of those names in years. The memories were so distant she struggled to dredge them out from the depths. All those years crusading seemed… dulled, now. Almost as if they had been something she read about rather than lived. “Yes,” Sweetie said, fixing the alicorn with a confrontational gaze. “You too?” “Partially. I’m Sweetaloo Blume. Can I sit?” Sweetie really didn’t want her to. “Sure.” The two of them watched the bustle of the camp. They saw ponies run back and forth, fights break out and stop, and a few interdimensional portals open to deposit supplies and more personnel. The orange-gold symbol of Merodi Universalis began to spread across the wastes, bringing with it hope and relief — as well as the story of a mare who gave everything to return the sun to them. A lie, Sweetie knew. One of omission if nothing else. “Why do you do this?” Sweetie asked Sweetaloo. “Why do we do what? Help?” “No. Why do you tell them Rarity’s sacrifice mattered?” Sweetaloo looked at Sweetie with sad, tired eyes. “Because it does.” “You could have just fixed it with a clap of your hooves!” “We could have, yes, but it wouldn’t have been meaningful if we had done that, not in the same way. We would be heroes, we would be worshipped… but we would have risked nothing, and it would have been just another day at the office. But her… she became Generosity, proving to you all that your world wasn’t dead. That you could bring life back.” Sweetie glared at her. “It’s a tragedy, Sweetie. But we’re not going to disrespect her further by robbing her of her legacy.” “You already have,” Sweetie growled. “...Are we to blame for our existence?” “YES! NO! I…” She kicked up some dust and ran away from Sweetaloo. Why does it have to be so complicated!? Why can’t it just be simple!? Why can’t they be evil!? She glanced behind her. She saw a pained Sweetaloo standing at the top of the hill — letting her go. Chase me! Do SOMETHING! Sweetaloo did nothing but look hurt. Sweetie let out a tear-filled shout and kept running, almost blind, until she tripped and fell flat onto her face. “I have to admit, I was not expecting you to bow before me,” the Crown said from its position on the small pedestal she’d tripped over. Sweetie stood up, wiping her face. “S-shut up.” “I would never have gotten anywhere in life if I meekly shut up.” “You destroyed the world, you overglorified hat.” “...True,” the Crown admitted. “I’m surprised nobody’s smashed you yet.” “I’m hard to break. And besides, Celia’s given me asylum, and now that my caprids are returning, there are many who are still loyal to me.” “How many?” Sweetie sneered. “Did watching the world decay around them for a few decades make them re-evaluate their position?” “Yes. Same with you and everyone else on this planet.” Sweetie found herself reluctantly nodding. “Yeah…” “I wonder what Capra looks like,” the Crown said softly. “I know it was deeper into the darkness than Equestria all these years. If I return home, will I find dust? Will I find ghost towns? A remnant of a nation? Or, by the time I return, will these Merodi have already taken control and usurped my nation from me?” “They’re helping,” Sweetie pointed out half-heartedly. “Of course they are. They are also a multiversal alliance that contains hundreds of worlds. This is certainly a clever way to get our world to join ‘by choice’. Many will believe we could not have survived without their help, and will naturally be so enamored by them there will be no chance of refusal. We will join — this entire planet — and anything we had that was our own will become theirs. We will be the backwater planet everyone pities.” Sweetie’s anger returned. “You’re… you’re right! They’re just going to ignore everything we had here! Look at this camp — helping everyone regardless of what they’ve done! Do you see that guy over there?” She pointed at a massive stallion with numerous tattoos all over his coat and scars on his body. “I bet he’s killed and raped dozens of ponies. And they’re treating him just like everyone else.” “They are forcing our world to reset, in a way.” “Yeah! They may be trying to make Rarity’s sacrifice mean something, but what about all the others? All those who died fighting these horrible ponies? All the victims? Are we just going to forget about them!?” “It appears so. Crimes — and not just war crimes — have been wiped clean in this sterilized tent gathering.” “This needs to stop,” Sweetie said, stamping her hoof in the ground. “Or be mitigated. Or… something.” The Crown shifted its colors around for a moment. “I may have a solution.” Sweetie glared at it. “No.” “It’s not a war. I learned my lesson in that regard.” The Crown paused for a moment, making sure that no one was around to listen. “There may… be a way to unite our two peoples. If we refuse their help, we can still have our own greatness. Work our way forward on our own. The sun’s moving, the world’s no longer in danger of dying.” “...We can’t just tell them to go away,” Sweetie pointed out. “I don’t think they will.” “They definitely won’t, unless our people as a whole refuse them.” “And how would we do that? You’re the only leader left as far as I know, and most of your people are… I don’t even know.” “We can rebuild. Together. Instead of rising out of the ashes bitter and spiteful, we can work together. The two sides of the war can rise up. Capra will follow me — but Equestria will follow you. The sister of the savior of the world.” “M-me?” “Yes. You. Sweetie Belle, the younger of Generosity. The one who helped the great Rarity on her journey to set the heavens in motion. Your influence could spread beyond just these lands to the world over, if you let it.” Sweetie looked at her hooves in disbelief. “All you need is a crown.” Sweetie glanced up at the Crown. Emotions swirled inside her — anger, fear, sorrow, pride, devastation, hope… Somewhere in her mind, she knew she wasn’t in the emotional state to make this decision. But that part was easily pushed away by the screaming everywhere else in her mind. It didn’t even occur to her that she was being manipulated. She grabbed the Crown in her hooves. Its jewels gleamed a triumphant gold. “Don me,” it whispered. “SWEETIE!” Celia shouted, running toward her at full speed. Sweetie froze, the Crown inches from her head. “I don’t have time for this,” the Crown hissed, using some of its magic to move itself onto Sweetie’s head. Sweetie was startled as the magic of the Crown shot into her mind: not exactly painful, but definitely disorienting. She felt her muscles start to lose sensation and her mind began to drift… ...and then Celia crashed into them. Her crystal and the gems of the Crown flared brightly as they came into contact, enveloping the three of them in a burst of light. Sweetie could hear the voices. The Crown most of all, screaming in rage at the assault. Celia’s voice broke in, telling Sweetie to fight, telling her to come out, to reject the Crown. Sweetie shouted at her and at the Crown — not wanting to listen to either of them! She just wanted this all to be DONE! And then it was. The burst of light faded, tossing two forms out. The first was Celia, her body weak and unstable. The second was Sweetie, whose head was swimming. Despite this, she managed to stand up, stretching her legs. She looked up, taking in the presence of the Crown on her head. The Crown looked down at the Sweetie it was resting on. The vision of the two was one and the same. There was an awkward spark, and then a pained, almost psychotic laugh emanated from both the unicorn’s mouth and the Crown’s crystals. “What a good start this is. I’m built on a failed lie,” she said, waving a hoof in the air. “A manipulative monster using a pathetic emotional wreck. I failed to see the trap, I failed to execute it. How’s that for a paradox?” A pair of wings appeared at her sides — made of light rather than feathers, floating a few inches from her body, reminiscent of the way Celia’s weapons were formed. As ‘Sweetie’ looked at these, the crown’s jewels shifted to a deep purple, flecked with red. Celia looked at her in horror - but tried to talk anyway. “Y-you’re something new now, you can forge your own path. You don’t have to be either…” The crystals of the crown turned into a bright, fiery red. “I think we both know that isn’t true.” She stretched her wings out, sending sparks in both directions. “For all their problems and faults, they both suffered here. I carry that suffering with me.” She pointed a hoof at Celia. “You will leave this world.” “No,” Celia said, forcing herself to stand strong. “I don’t care if you are somehow sovereign over this world, the ponies here need help, and I’m not going to let you interfere with that for any reason.” The new pseudo-alicorn scowled — then sighed. “There was no way out… was there?” “You can come with us. We can help y—” “I DON’T WANT HELP!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, sending cracks through the earth around her and toppling the pedestal the Crown had sat on mere minutes before. She spread her wings, tapping into the magic memory of the Crown to find a certain spell it had developed while watching the Merodi open and close portals. A tear in reality appeared in front of her, leading to an expanse of stone. “I want… I want…” She let out a scream and jumped through the portal, closing it behind her. On the other side, wherever that may be, she sat down on hard ground, tears rolling down her face. She was alone again. She was alone for the first time. Restore the Capric Empire. She pushed the thought out of her mind. She’d get to that eventually. She needed… some time, right now. ~~~ A few relative days later… Cinder trotted through a hedge maze, a bored expression on her face. ‘Stick together’ they’d said. ‘It’ll be easy if we all tie each other together’ they said. ‘This’ll be fun’ they said. She hadn’t seen another Sweetie for a solid fifteen minutes and she hadn’t found anything in this maze yet. No treasure, no monsters, no nothing. It was… annoying. And it was leaving her alone with her thoughts, something she didn’t like to do these days. Bad things popped into her head when she was left alone with her thoughts. Sweetaloo had told her the images would fade eventually, and Rarity had been as supportive and concerned as always… But she could still see that Sweetie hack at her sister. Hear that sickening crunch… Rarity had said Cinder would never do something like that. But why did she have this nagging in the back of her mind? Something that… pulled her to the event. The bodies of the raiders had slowly faded as more excitement occured, as had the remnants of war… But that single moment, that cracking skull, that had stayed with her. “I’m sorry.” Cinder whirled around to see the Sweetie she had just been thinking about behind her. She looked at the crown and the magical wings in fear. “Wh… Wha…” “It’s okay,” she said with a sigh — Cinder noticed she was speaking just through her vocal cords, not using the Crown’s synthesizer at all. “I’m not here to hurt you, kidnap you, or anything. I just… I remember how you were in… there.” Without warning, she pulled Cinder into a hug, folding her shimmering wings around the unicorn. “You’re not like the others. And I wanted you to know that. I… I don’t blame you, okay?” “I…” “Shh…” she said, putting a hoof to Cinder’s mouth. “I don’t need to hear anything.” She spread her wings and looked to the sky. “...Don’t let them destroy who you are like they did me, Cinder.” Cinder stared at her, dumbfounded as she flew into the sky, opened up a dimensional portal, and vanished through it. Briefly, she wondered if she should tell the others. ...No, that would ruin what she just did. She came to me. She didn’t have to. A smile appeared on Cinder’s face. Maybe she isn’t as bad as they think... ~~~ A few relative days later… Equis Solarity was green. It had taken a lot of plant magic and some industrial biodiversity transports, but the world was green once again. Birds chirped, squirrels ran through the trees, and there were even children playing outside in the newly refurbished gardens of Canterlot. There were ponies, ibexes, griffons, donkeys, and many others walking around the streets of the once-abandoned capital. A few Merodi ships hovered in the air around the city, watching over it while their sisters slowly cleaned up the battlefield outside, moving slowly so as to not explode anything. Just through the Canterlot gates, there was a statue of a beautiful mare. Despite the crystals jutting out of her sides and the sagging of her face, she looked powerful. Her eyes were directed toward the rising sun, and a hoof was outstretched as if she were the one lifting it up. Rarity, Element of Generosity. One of the ponies looking at the statue furrowed his brow. “...You know, she had a sister too. I heard that Rarity would not have made it without her constant support. Why don’t we have any statues of her?” “Good question…” a mare said, turning to the rest of their group. No one — pony, sheep, ibex, or otherwise — knew anything further. They all heard a weary cough, and an old ibex in a white robe stepped out from behind the statue. “The story of the Crown Princess is a complex one that the Merodi would rather you not know... would you like to hear it?” Fascinated by the words ‘Crown Princess’, the entire crowd eagerly agreed to listen to the tale… Hiding in a nearby tree, the Crown Princess looked upon the enamored crowd - and smiled. Most would ignore the story. But a few — a select few — would be hers. She knew she could not rebuild the empire anymore, it was impossible with the recent events. But why couldn’t she start from scratch? She spread her wings and left the universe.