Rainbow Dash gnashed her teeth and pumped her wings and fought against the biting wind.
The blizzard had come over her without warning, a mile-high, howling thunderhead that chewed through her exposed coat with ice and sleet. She knew she was close to the Argo, having caught a glimpse of it cresting the horizon just as the storm wall overtook her.
She hoped they’d seen her, too.
Even with her magic warding off the worst of the storm, she was chilled to the bone. Her legs shivered violently with each flap and her teeth ached from clenching them to keep them from chattering. She wished she hadn’t lost Flint’s oversized scarf; oily smell or not, it would’ve gone a long way towards keeping her warm right now.
What if Sabre had ordered the ship up over the storm? As exhausted and cold as she was right now, Rainbow wasn’t sure if she’d be able to follow. It was hard enough just keeping her wings from buckling already. She gulped as she glanced downwards into the opaque white shroud that surrounded her in every direction. Perhaps she could find a mountain peak and take shelter in its shadow until the storm passed.
But who knew how long that might be? Rainbow shook her head. She wasn’t the type of mare to deny the truth to herself. If she let her hooves touch the deathly cold ice below right now, she’d never fly again.
Come on. She scanned her surroundings again, but all she saw was the same impenetrable whiteness. The wind howled in her ears, and she flinched as a sliver of ice cut into her cheek, drawing a thin trail of blood. Where are they?
Rainbow’s breath caught as she picked out a faint glow off to her side, below her. She bled altitude, praying to Celestia, and sighed her relief at the sight of the Argo’s bridge, the light filtering past its frost-coated glass with the promise of warmth.
A powerful gust of wind buckled Rainbow’s left wing, and she cried out as the storm dragged her along like some giant foal. Instinct honed over a lifetime of flying took over, and she closed her eye and tucked her other wing in, feeling the turbulent currents warring over her body. Blood pooled in her head as she spun, drawing what little warmth was left from her limbs. She didn’t know how far the ground was, or even whether the storm was dragging her downwards at all but she didn’t have time to worry about it.
She snapped her wings open almost without realizing, catching the wind again at the perfect moment. She opened her eye and pumped her wings hard, wrestling the storm, pouring her last reserve of energy into the battle. She was so close! She could see the shadow of the Argo’s hull, and then the shape of its propellers, and then the fluttering flaps of the torn canvas as she neared its envelope. The wind slapped her to the side, and she grunted as she bounced off the ship, nearly throwing her into a spin once more. Thinking quickly, she pushed herself deeper into the heavy canvas with one wing while tearing into it with the blade on her other.
One instant she was struggling to keep her wings open, and then she was falling through calm air.
Her grin of victory was interrupted by the impact of hard metal against her back. Stars exploded in her vision, and for a long moment she lay still, listening to her ears ringing and the canvas flapping and the hull groaning.
She’d made it.
As if there’d been any doubt.
Rainbow groaned as she rolled back onto her hooves. She was on the catwalk that ran the length of the ship’s envelope. The gas-filled balloons arranged around the space swayed with the wind leaking in through the tears.
She limped forwards, driven on by ragged determination. She just had to find Sabre and tell her what she’d found. Then she could rest.
She found the trapdoor that led down into the infirmary, and after a few tries managed to pull it open. She half-fell, half-fluttered down into the heat of the ship.
“S-Sabre?” Her voice came out in a barely audible croak. She licked her lips as she stumbled out into the hall and towards the bridge. “Sabre!”
A door opened behind her, and she turned to see Flintlock leaning out of the galley with a small frown on his face. He glanced back into the room, raising his voice. “Hey, Jackie, Dash is back.” He turned back to her and narrowed his eyes. “Without my scarf.”
“Rainbow?” Applejack brushed past him, rushing up to support Rainbow’s weight. “Tarnation, RD, y’all’re cold as an apple popsicle and shiverin’ like a leaf!” She wrapped a hoof around Rainbow’s shoulders, guiding her back towards the cargo hold. “C’mon, let’s get ya tucked in somewhere warm.”
“N-n-n-no.” Rainbow grunted her frustration at her chattering teeth and tried to pull away. “Gotta t-t-talk to Sabre. F-f-f-found something.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Sabre ain’t goin’ anywhere, filly! We need to get ya warmed up before y’all’s hooves start fallin’ off, and she can talk to ya just fine when you’re wrapped up in a warm bed.”
Rainbow growled, trying again to push the other mare off, but even on her best day she couldn’t beat Applejack in a real contest of strength. After a brief struggle she collapsed against her friend with a tired sigh, allowing herself to be carried down the stairs and into the cargo hold.
“Flint!” Applejack called back as they stepped through the steam of the door. “Bring Sabre back here, would ya?”
“Aye, ma’am. Whatever ya say, ma’am. I’m yer ever-loyal servant, ma’am.” The big stallion’s grumbling was cut off by the door hissing shut behind them.
Rainbow’s shivers grew stronger as the colder air of the wide, open cargo hold washed over her. “There’s a v-v-village. Airships.”
“Shh. Let’s get ya in a bed first.” Applejack led her through the curtain leading to Twilight’s vacant room. She flicked the neatly made blanket back with one hind leg before gently lowering Rainbow onto the bed. She frowned as she looked down at the cold steel fastened to Rainbow’s wings, the metal marred by black bloodstains. “Somethin’ attack ya out there?”
Rainbow grinned weakly. “Yep. K-k-k-killed it.”
Applejack rolled her eyes and pulled the sheets up to Rainbow’s chin. “Stay here. I’m gonna go stir up somethin’ warm for ya to fill up on.” She turned, pausing in the doorway to fix Rainbow with a stern glare. “And if ya ain’t in this bed when I come back, I’ll knock y’all’s lights out and tie ya to it myself.”
Rainbow opened her mouth to shoot back a retort, but the cowpony was already gone. She was left alone, listening to the sound of the cargo door opening and the rhythmic ticking of the Argo’s hull.
She could already feel the freezing chill beginning to recede. She rolled onto her side, wrapping her hooves up in the blankets and curling into a ball.
I should get up, she thought. I need to talk to Sabre, now.
She didn’t move.
Gathering all her will, she pursed her lips and resolutely decided to throw the sheets aside, hunt Sabre down, and report her findings—and fell into a deep sleep.
Ana shook her head in disdain as she frowned up at her sister’s extended wings. “Seriously, sis, I was only gone for a few days. What were you even doing to mess your feathers up like this?”
“Just stuff.” Gava shrugged, and Ana reached up to deliver a soft slap at the back of her head.
“Hold still, you. This takes precision.”
It had been a full day and night since Ana slipped back inside the city walls, but even spending nearly twelve hours dozing in bed with her sister hadn’t been enough to dispel the last dregs of her exhaustion. All the inn’s other patrons—and even the owner—had left last night, hoping either to avoid the chaos of the battle or exploit it, leaving them free to use the building as they saw fit.
Presently, that meant Ana preening Gava’s disheveled wings as they relaxed behind the bar. Two empty bowls sat on the counter before them, still carrying the faint smell of homemade rat soup.
Gava had never quite developed proper wing care habits in her youth. Sure, she’d twist around and pull a broken feather free or push one back into place if it was really bothering her, but she rarely spent time on them otherwise. It fell to Ana to ensure her sister looked civilized—or as civilized as she could look when she so often insisted on talking to ponies without cleaning the blood off her beak.
“Are you done yet?”
“Not nearly,” Ana said with an exaggerated sigh. “Would it kill you to do this yourself when I’m gone?”
“If I did it myself, you’d have nothing to do when you got back.”
Ana smirked, and she could easily imagine Gava’s self-satisfied grin as she leaned in and grabbed a feather in her teeth. Truthfully, she didn’t mind the work, and there was a part of her that enjoyed it. After the stress of her last mission, it was comforting to return to her sister’s side and know that, no matter how much chaos there might be surrounding them, Gava would always need her there to keep her wings neat.
“Hey, Ana?”
Something in the griffon’s tone gave Ana pause. “Yeah?”
“Let’s not split up anymore.”
Ana blinked. Her sister suddenly sounded tired, drained of all her usual bluster. She jumped up onto the bar and lay down, bringing herself to Gava’s eye level. “You alright?”
Gava clacked her beak. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh.” Ana grinned, nudging Gava’s leg with a hoof. “So that’s the problem.”
“I’m being serious!” Gava snapped, wiping the playful smile off Ana’s face. She sighed and shuffled her wings, looking away. “Dad always told us we needed to stick together, right? As long as we were together, we could do anything. Everything bad that’s happened to us? Losing the Screech, our crew, doubling our bounty, nearly dying, and getting stuck working for some stupid pony instead? It all started with us splitting up.”
Ana leaned into Gava’s shoulder, nuzzling against her soft plumage, and decided not to point out that just about all of those things were results of Gava’s actions. “Don’t worry, sis. If I’ve learned anything these past few weeks, it’s that you can’t be left on your own for long. From now on, I don’t care what the price is, I’m sticking by your side.”
Ana didn’t blame her sister for the consequences that had befallen them; she never did. She’d known since fillyhood that Gava was callous and overconfident, and that leaving her alone in any situation was liable to lead to violence sooner or later. She saw it as her role, almost, to be there to keep those wilder instincts under control until they were needed, like a hound on a leash.
It may have been Gava’s actions that directly led to the destruction of the Roc’s Screech, but Ana blamed herself. She should’ve been smart enough to realize that the strange Gifted were too powerful and forced Gava to back down. But she’d been cocky too, convinced that nothing could stand up to her and her sister united, and they’d lost something that could never be replaced.
Gava turned her head, resting her chin on Ana’s brow. “I’m sorry.”
Ana let out a derisive snort, but her smile was genuine. “Careful, sis. If you spend too long thinking you might turn into a pony.”
Gava sighed, and Ana imagined her rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I figured you’d say something smart about it.”
Ana grinned as she wrapped her forelegs around the griffon’s bulky shoulders and squeezed. “There’s nothing to forgive, sis.”
For a moment the two were silent, opting to share their affection without words. The wind whispered through the alleys outside, complementing the soft crackling of the fireplace.
There was a click from the door. Ana pushed off her sister hard, sliding a short distance across the bar and looking to the door with a well-practiced expression of distant curiosity. Gava grabbed a drink from under the bar in her tail and flung it towards Ana, and she caught it in a wing, popped the cap off with the claw on her wingtip, and raised the bottle to her lips.
By the time Whitehorn stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he was met by a pair of crude bounty hunters. Ana watched him approach with a skeptic eye as she nursed her bottle—plain cider, to her disappointment—while Gava made a show of scratching crude images into the cheap stone countertop with a talon.
“Ladies.” Whitehorn dipped his head, dislodging the thin powder of snow that had collected on his mane, and took a moment to adjust his clothes before taking a seat at the bar. “What happened to the innkeep?”
“We ate him.” Ana smirked, pushing her emptied soup bowl forwards. “There’s plenty more in the back if you’re hungry.”
Whitehorn grimaced as he glanced down into the bowl and spotted the last strings of bone and meat floating in the thick broth. “Ah, no, thank you. I’m afraid I’m here to talk business, and don’t have time for a meal.”
“We got you the surrender you wanted.” Even with a barstool beneath him, Gava still towered over the unicorn. “Our business is done, pony.”
He answered her with a polite smile. “To be accurate, when I clarified our terms with your cleverer sister, I said that we could revisit the negotiations once the city fell. I’m not releasing you from our contract just yet.”
Without warning Gava leapt on top of the bar, knocking dishes to the ground and buffeting Whitehorn with a powerful wind from her wings. He fell backwards with a strangled cry, and Gava was already crouching down to pounce when Ana spoke up.
“Wait.”
“Why should I?!” Gava countered. Her tail lashed behind her as she watched the unicorn cower on the floor. “He’s a snake!”
Ana fixed her with a stern glare, and after a brief moment Gava settled onto the countertop with a low growl. Ana hopped off the bar and circled around to Whitehorn’s head, gently pulling his hooves away from his face. “Seeing as you didn’t bring any guards and I know you don’t have a deathwish, I assume you have something else to say.”
“Yes, of course!” His words came out with an irritated bite. “I have no wish to hold you here! The job is done, and you did it well, and if you want to be on your way then I’m ready to provide final payment and leave you be.”
He glanced towards where Gava was still watching him like a cat sizing up prey, and Ana pulled his chin back towards her with a hoof. “Hey, eyes on me. I know you’re just dying to tell me the other half of your offer, so you’d better make it quick before the big bird gets bored. I can only hold her back for so long, y’know.”
“That much is clear.” Ana reached a hoof into Whitehorn’s vest, pulling out a bag of bits and throwing it back towards Gava. He wisely decided not to question her. “If you’re interested in more money, I’d be willing to draw up a more long-term contract for your perusal. Something written down and signed by all three of us, with rigid terms.”
Ana arched a brow at that. “Triple pay, and we reserve the right to break the contract if you try to send us on a suicide mission. Oh, and we’ll need a new airship.”
He laughed in her face. “I would be insane to sign such a deal! You can have a half-over raise, with adjustments at quarterly reviews. And I’ll put in a good word with a friend to get you a lease on an airship.”
Ana nodded. She had been hoping to maybe haggle him up to double, but she knew the longer negotiations went on the more he’d slide into his scheming mindset. The airship had been a stretch, too—no merchant lord would lease a ship out to a lying thestral and a savage griffon—but she knew Whitehorn’s influence reached far and carried a heavy weight. It was the best shot they had at regaining their freedom of movement without stealing a ship.
She extended a hoof and hoped Gava wouldn’t decide to interject. “Deal.”
“Ah. Well, then.” He accepted the hoof, groaning as she pulled him off the ground. “Excellent. I can have the contract drafted, though it will take some time, and I won’t be on Altalusia long enough to see it signed.”
Gava scoffed. “I knew you’d have some excuse, pony.”
Whitehorn glared at her as he straightened his vest. “This is no excuse, Gava. The deal is struck and I have every intent of seeing it through, but logistics won’t allow that to happen here or now. The Equestrian Parliament has already been in session for a week, and I need to be in Harvest at my earliest convenience.” He looked back to Ana. “All I ask is that you two meet me there. You can consider those bits you stole from me an advance payment, and I’d encourage you to hire passage.”
“We’ll find our way,” Ana said. She grabbed his shoulder with a wingtip, intentionally tearing into his vest with her claw, and began guiding him back to the door. “Any last scheming you wanted to get done before you go?”
He frowned, but didn’t resist. “I believe we’ve finished with our business for now.”
“Great. Good to hear.” Swirling motes of snow danced into the room as Ana pulled the door open and shoved him back out into the street. “If you need anything before the contract is assigned, don’t ask us. We’ll kill you.”
With one last, fanged smile, she shut the door in his face, cutting off his answer.
“And that, Gava—” Ana twirled back to face her sister with a little dip and bow “—is how you negotiate.”
“You didn’t even ask my opinion,” Gava said, tail still lashing slowly behind her. “I really wanted to kill him.”
“See, that is exactly why I didn’t ask your opinion,” Ana said as she walked back to the bar. “Thanks for not interrupting, by the way.”
Gava shrugged. “I figured you had a plan.”
“I did, and I’m glad I can always rely on you to stand in the background and look menacing.” Ana winked. “So, you wanna get a new ship? Good pay?”
Gava clacked her beak. “I don’t like being tied down.”
“Neither do I, but he’s our best shot at rebuilding. Hey, does this place have anything mango?”
“Ana, there’s nothing behind this bar but unlabeled bottles of cider.”
“Oh.” Ana sighed before hopping onto a barstool. “Whatever. Look, almost every airpony in Equestria hates us after what you did in Leviathan Wakes, and no merchant lord is gonna even talk about selling us a ship. Just look at us.”
Gava snorted. “We could steal one.”
“Yeah, and get even more heat on us.” Ana shook her head before picking her bottle back up and reluctantly taking a sip. “I don't know where or how he gets it, but Whitehorn has connections everywhere he goes. He can protect us. And we can use him to replace the Screech.”
“A pony ship can’t replace the Screech.”
Ana sighed again, frowning down at her bottle of tasteless cider. It wasn’t that she disagreed. The Screech was irreplaceable in so many ways. It was the ship that had saved her, the ship she’d grown up on, the ship where she’d learned what it meant to have a family again. It was her home, the only place where she didn’t feel like she had to keep a wall at her back. Almost every good memory she ever had was set against the backdrop of that ship, accompanied by the voice of the old griffon she’d called Dad.
And now it was gone, and all they had to remember him by was a bleached skull in a tarnished chest and a revolver older than they were.
When it was quiet, and Ana wasn’t immersed in the rush of violence or the strained tension of subterfuge, and the nights were still and there was nothing but Gava’s breath and a muffled wind to distract her, sometimes she wondered if they’d ever recover. Of course they would, she always told herself. As long as they had each other, they would survive. Like her father, the ship would always live on in their memories.
The wound was still fresh, and it wouldn’t stop hurting just because she knew it would heal.
“I’m gonna go check the docks,” Ana said, sliding out of her seat. “Wash your beak and chew some mint. No pony’s gonna take us on with blood on our breath.”
When Rainbow woke up, she was warm and comfortable.
She sighed and rolled over, snuggling a little deeper into the bed. The scratchy wool wasn’t nearly as soft as her cloud, but she was loath to drag her aching body away and abandon the precious heat trapped under the blanket tucked snugly around her shoulders. The quiet rumble of the engine drifted through her ears, lulling her back towards sleep with its vibrations.
Rainbow frowned, eye fluttering open. Sea Sabre was sitting attentively in front of her.
She was in Twilight’s room. Applejack was dozing next to the bed with her battered hat pulled down over her eyes. The curtain drawn across the empty doorway waved softly with the motion of the ship, and a bowl smelling faintly of apple and ginger was carefully squeezed onto the one space of Twilight’s old desk not covered in the unicorn’s abandoned notes.
“Sabre.” Rainbow’s throat was so dry it hurt. She winced, licking her lips.
“I heard you found something.” Sabre grabbed the bowl off the table and held it out. “Drink.”
Rainbow sat up with a groan, and a small shiver passed through her as the blanket fell off her shoulders. She accepted the bowl in silence, cradling it in her forelegs, and brought it to her lips.
Apple soup. Rainbow didn’t think it was possible to cook apple into a soup, but Applejack had apparently found a way. The broth was thick and creamy, with dried apple chunks mixed in among potato, celery, and carrot. She could still feel a bit of lingering heat on the bottom of the bowl, but the soup itself was only lukewarm. Warm or not, the smooth broth sliding down her throat was a welcome relief.
“The ship’s taken some damage.”
Rainbow frowned as she lowered the bowl, meeting Sabre’s steely gaze. “Huh?”
“Sunfeather spotted you right before the storm hit us,” Sabre explained. “We could’ve flown above the worst of it, but I expected you might have trouble tracking us after losing visual. We anchored to one of the mountain peaks, low to the ground. The envelope is in tatters, and our main propeller lost a blade.” She pursed her lips. “I hope you found something solid, because every day we spend out here we risk hitting another of those storms, or worse.”
Rainbow answered with a tired grin. “Well you’re in luck, because I found exactly where we need to go. Probably ten times faster than if I had stayed with the ship, too.”
Sabre narrowed her eyes, and Rainbow suddenly realized what the other pegasus had meant with her words. Sabre had put her ship—her crew—in danger for Rainbow’s sake.
Her grin faltered as she looked away. “I mean, uh, there’s a tower thing, north-by-northwest. There was an airship around it, too, so maybe we can get repaired there.”
“A tower? And an airship?” Sabre’s brow furrowed. “That can’t be right. There’s no settlements this far north. It’s nothing but ice.”
“I know what I saw, Sabre,” Rainbow said, meeting her gaze once more. “Someone is living out there, and whatever that place is, that’s where we need to be. I’m sure of it.”
For a long while, Sabre didn’t say anything. She sat in silent contemplation, one ear occasionally flicking. Rainbow continued to sip at her soup while she waited, already forming her arguments for why they needed to press on, why they couldn’t turn back and leave now that they were so close.
“Very well. North-by-northwest.” Sabre stood up, stepping towards the doorway. “And Rainbow?”
Rainbow sighed. No doubt this was when she’d get an earful about endangering the crew or the ship, or maybe another lecture on discipline. “Yeah?”
“Applejack cares about you.” Sabre jerked her head towards the sleeping cowpony. “You should remember that more often.”
Sabre left without waiting for a response, leaving Rainbow blinking after her in surprise. What was that supposed to mean?
Rainbow looked to Applejack, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She lifted the bowl of soup to her lips and took another long sip.
We’re coming, Twilight.
“Ah, finally!” Rarity let out a relieved sigh as she wiped a single, solitary bead of sweat from her forehead. “All done packing. Can you handle that, dear?”
Pontius grunted. He stood in the center of Captain Piaffe’s bedroom with a metal lockbox hanging from each flank like oversized saddlebags and several colorful bundles stacked up and roped together on his back. “Not a problem, my Lady.”
“Exquisite.” Rarity walked up and encouraged him with a chaste peck on the cheek before pirouetting back towards the door, her own, far lighter pair of saddlebags bouncing at her sides. “And so, away!”
She stepped into the hallway first, holding the door open for Pontius with her magic while he clenched his jaw and followed. She took one last look at the room where she’d spent so many hours agonizing over the siege—she’d ensured it was left exactly as it was when they’d arrived—and closed the door.
Pontius was already making slow progress down the stairs, so she followed patiently. Pinkie was recounting the story of the siege to Fluttershy in the common room, hooves flying with every dramatic turn while the pegasus listened with an attentive smile and scratched idly at Brownie’s tilted head.
“And I said, fine, I’ll take your bet!” Pinkie slammed a hoof against the table with mock fervor. “If you win, you get my wheels, but if I win, you turn them into rockets!”
“Oh, goodness.” Fluttershy glanced towards Rarity and Pontius with a welcoming smile. “So who won?”
“I don’t know!” Pinkie shrugged. “It’s kinda blank, and then I woke up snuggling with Piaffe on a roof somewhere. Let me tell you, sister, this city is not built for wheelchair access!” She giggled into a hoof before waving at the new arrivals. “Hey, you two! Finally done packing?”
“By Celestia, I hope so,” Pontius wheezed.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Pontius,” Rarity said, squeezing past him and opening the front door. “Let’s get going, girls. Whitehorn will be waiting at the docks, and I’ve had quite enough of Altalusia for now.”
They made a strange procession as they filed out into the street, taking a moment to organize and make final checks as citizens with bags under their eyes and patches in their clothes bustled through their afternoons. Pontius led the way with Brownie, his broad shoulders supplemented with heavy luggage serving as an effective crowdbreaker. He had done away with his usual breastplate in an effort to appear less foreign and confrontational to the city, replacing it with a very chic blouse-and-shirt combination in aesthetic shades of orange and white—Rarity’s own creation. As the finishing touch, he wore a band of blue and white cloth around a foreleg, a symbol of unity and peace.
Rarity followed close behind, a soft smile on her lips and head held high. She didn’t feel like standing out today—she’d had quite enough of being the center of Frieslander drama—and so she covered much of her distinctive white coat in a long, turquoise jacket that hung low enough to conceal her cutie marks. She wore her mane in a ponytail hidden under a matching tricorn.
Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie brought up the rear, walking to her either side. Fluttershy wore only plain brown saddlebags and a drab green cloak, while Pinkie wore a thin string around her barrel attached to a veritable fleet of balloons, tugging up on her rear enough that her wheels only occasionally touched the ground. Her luggage bounced along behind on their own miniature discs, forming a colorful pink train that drew many glancing looks from passers by.
“That Captain Piaffe sounded very nice, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said. “Especially letting you all stay in her home like that. How come I didn’t see her inside?”
Pinkie’s grin faltered somewhat. “Oh, well, um…”
“I’m afraid the good Captain Piaffe is suffering some fallout for what assistance she lent us, darling,” Rarity answered, looking back with a thin frown. “I don’t understand it myself, truthfully. She was only acting with the best interests of the city at heart!”
“Ye don’t understand because ye’re not a soldier, my Lady,” Pontius called back, voice muffled by the weights on his back. “The chain of command is not something any soldier may disregard lightly, well wishing or otherwise. The court-martialing is necessary, but with my new authority I will ensure she receives a fair trial as she deserves. Most likely she’ll only be sentenced to a dishonorable discharge.”
“Dishonorable?” Rarity scoffed. “She’s the most honorable bluecoat I ever met!”
“Aye. Which is why I fully intend to offer her a position in my administration,” Pontius said. “I assure ye, my Lady, ponies such as the Captain shall be well looked after as long as I have my say.”
“Good!” Pinkie brightened up again, shouting to be heard as a wagon laden with grain bounced down the center of the street. “She’s a good pony!”
It had only been a day since the signing of the peace treaty, and the city was already slowly returning to life. Those tradesponies least damaged by the conflict had already propped up their stalls and begun calling for customers, and crews of laborers had started cleaning the streets of rubble and detritus left in the wake of the riots. On some streets, burnt out buildings still smoldered as workers broke their charred skeletons into more manageable pieces; the homes of the wealthy were the most common victims, torn apart and looted by angry commoners.
Most notable was the absence of bluecoats. What was once a professional army supplemented by a well-drilled levy had been reduced to a small, supplementary police force restricted to only certain sectors of the city. Baronlander soldiers now stood on the street corners in their place, grizzled veterans in gleaming steel breastplates equipped with vicious melee weapons instead of slender rifles. They all still wore their house colors and crests, with little intermixing within each patrol, raucously heckling rival groups over the lowered heads of citizens or filling the air with loud, vulgar laughter. The animosity between the soldiers and the citizens was palpable, especially among the Frieslanders who defiantly insisted on wearing solid blue bands around their legs or their necks, proudly displaying their resistance, and Rarity could only hope that Pontius would be able to keep the rivalry from breaking out into fresh violence as time went on.
But there were signs of hope mixed in as well. Ponies wearing white scarves traveled in small groups of three or four, tending to injuries and passing out food to those most devastated by the siege. Rarity kept her head down when she saw them.
“Oh, Rarity,” Fluttershy said, “I think it’s just amazing what you’ve inspired in these ponies. I wish I could do that.”
Rarity shot her a sideways look and tried not to smile. “Please, Fluttershy, you must realize that you can inspire others just as well as I. I’ve seen the way that the soldiers look at you, you know. It’s almost as if you’re their adoptive mother.”
“O-oh, um.” Fluttershy looked away, hiding behind her mane. “I m-mean, uh, they just, um—”
“Shh. Relax, dear.” Rarity giggled, pulling the sputtering pegasus into a sideways hug as they walked. “Perhaps it’s not kind of me to tease, but I couldn’t resist. You seem so much more self-assured compared to when we first split ways. I admit I was concerned for how you’d fare on your own in a camp full of crass fighters, but it appears I’ve underestimated you!” She smiled as Fluttershy risked meeting her gaze. “Won’t you share some stories of your time there?”
Fluttershy looked away, her voice quiet. “Not right now, Rarity.”
Rarity frowned, feeling how the other mare had tensed under her hoof. Fluttershy had undeniably grown stronger from her time in the siege camp, but Rarity was beginning to suspect that strength was only the scar that had healed over some pain she wasn’t yet privy to. Well, if she isn’t ready to talk of it, I shan’t prod. She’ll share in her own time if she wishes.
“Oh, oh, look!” Pinkie’s excited voice drew Rarity’s attention. “Hey, River! How’s it going, filly?”
They were passing by the ruins of Old Westfort, its foundation cleared of most rubble, only a few waist-high stacks of stone left to suggest the old layout of rooms and halls. A half-dozen workers wearing white scarves were milling over it, erecting tents and clearing out more space, and all six of them looked up at Pinkie's shrill greeting.
At the head of the group stood River Pie, her pastel pink cheeks flushed with the winter breeze. She wore a simple cloth vest to ward against the cold, and a long white scarf that hung past her knees.
“Pinkie!” River waved before hopping down to the street and closing in for a quick hug. “I hadn’t been expectin’ t’ see ye today. What’s all that mess behind ye? Ye look like one of th’ trains th’ merchants from south talk about!”
“Choo, choo!” Pinkie giggled. “We’re actually going to the docks to get on a ship!”
River’s smile faltered. “Ye’re leavin’ already? But what about—” she looked to the rest of the group, eyes widened as she recognized Rarity under her hat. “Countess? I nearly didn’t recognize ye in that get-up!”
“Yes, dear, that was somewhat the idea, I’m afraid,” Rarity said with a wan smile. River frowned, and she rushed to clarify. “Not for you, darling! There’s just been so many emotions running high in the city of late, and I’d hate to disturb things now that we finally have some peace. It’s nice to see you, truly.” She nodded towards the bustling ruin, hoping to change the subject. “What’s going on here?”
“Oh!” River grinned, her enthusiasm returning quickly. “I got permission from th’ city t’ start my own guild, here in th’ ruins! Can ye believe it?”
“Your own guild?” Rarity frowned thoughtfully up at the ruins. Did River even have any trade skills? And even if the city was under baron control, she would’ve thought that would only make old prejudices dig deeper. How did she convince the pony in charge of such things, most likely a spiteful Frieslander, to grant her such a privilege?
“Aye,” Pontius said, drawing her attention. “A guild fer charitable acts. I pushed it through myself.”
“Mhm!” River looked to Pontius with a wide smile. “Th’ ponies at th’ governor’s house were turning me down, but Master Pontius overheard and came t’ my rescue.”
Rarity cocked her head as she took in the way River looked at the young stallion, the slight downwards turn of her head and the little flare of her nostrils. Is she…? “And what is your guild called, out of curiosity?”
“The White Scarves!” River used a hoof to wave the scarf wrapped around her neck. “Like ye like t’ wear!”
“Oh, goodness.” Rarity let out a little, flustered laugh. A guild in her honor? She’d been flattered when the protesters had first started wearing white accessories after her own fashion, and hadn’t particularly minded seeing helpful ponies in the street continuing the trend, but an actual, organized entity? Ponies coming to this old ruin to sign up and help others, all guided by an old bandit, the one mare that had embraced the lessons of the past and given Rarity hope when she’d thought there was no way she could ever turn back the darkness that had corrupted the heart of Equestria?
It was more than a little overwhelming. They hadn’t even asked her permission! For a moment she opened her mouth to politely ask River to stop, or to change the name or symbology to something else, but the words never came.
This is a good thing, she reminded herself. Even with everything lost, Equestria was still a big place filled with hundreds of thousands of ponies, and she was just one fabulous mare. Even if she hadn’t thought so initially, an organization dedicated to spreading and practicing old Equestrian ideals could only do good, right?
Surely she should be proud, to have inspired such a thing.
Fluttershy giggled behind her. “She’s very flattered, River. I’m Fluttershy, by the way, and this is Brownie. We’re old friends of hers.”
“Always fine t’ meet more of th’ Countess’ friends,” River said, extending a hoof. Fluttershy shook it with a demure smile. “So are all of ye leavin’ th’ city, then?”
“I’ll be staying.” Pontius shifted his weight, causing the hefty load on his back to teeter dangerously. “Just lending a hoof to help my Lady with her luggage, and see her off as I should.”
“How kind of ye.” There was that smile again, and was she blushing, or was it just the frost gathering on her cheeks? “I hope ye don’t mind if’n I accompany ye.”
“Of course not!” Pinkie said. “The more, the merrier!”
With their party strengthened by one, they continued west towards the dock. River fell in at the front of the group, talking with Pontius, who answered her questions politely but offered little in the way of conversation. The mare was persistent though, her ears swiveled towards him and her eyes wide, and now Rarity was certain of it.
River Pie had a crush on her husband.
In a vague, distant way, Rarity was somewhat offended. She should be offended, shouldn’t she? What right did another mare have to harbor such feelings for the stallion that was supposed to be sworn to her? It was disrespectful to her, and dishonest.
But far more practically, it was relieving.
Rarity had grown more affectionate towards Pontius since first meeting him, but she was by no means in love with him. She didn’t think she could ever come to see him that way. She had been forced into the relationship, and yes, so had he, but the fact would hang over any potential future they had like a shadow, keeping her distant. He tried hard to make them work, perhaps based on stories from his father of arranged marriages that eventually turned to love, but Rarity knew more than anything that she would never be able to put the origins of their empty marriage behind them.
And now here was this other mare, a mare whom Rarity considered a friend, who was younger than her and from the same culture as him, and she was about to leave the two of them in the same city together, without her.
A plan formed in her mind.
“River?”
River looked back with a start. Rarity beckoned her closer with a smile, and River slowed her pace to fall back to her side. “Aye, Countess?”
Rarity affected a conspiratorial glance around the street before leaning in, and River cocked her head before stepping closer. In a playful whisper, Rarity asked, “Am I right in thinking you have an affection for my husband, darling?”
River stiffened, face paling. “Uh, n-no, Countess, I swear! I just—well, eh, he’s very kind ’n strong, ’n it’s nice t’ have a baronlander t’ talk t’ and—”
“Shh. You’re fine.” Rarity winked. “I’m merely teasing.”
“Oh.” River laughed, doing a terrible job of hiding her anxiety. “Ye’re, ah, very funny, Countess.”
“Thank you, dear. But what I really wanted to talk to you about” —she straightened up, returning to a normal speaking volume— “is who’s going to take care of him during my absence.”
River blinked. She tried to keep the hope out of her voice, but not hard enough. “I don’t know what ye mean, Countess.”
Rarity smiled. The bait had been set. “You know how stallions are, I’m sure, always getting themselves into trouble. Well I won’t be around to watch him for a fair while, and I need a mare I can trust to keep an eye on him while I’m gone. You can do that for me, can’t you?”
A few seconds passed where River only stared. She yelped as Pinkie bumped into her rear with a giggle, shaking her head and focusing back on Rarity’s carefully measured smile. Her lips twitched up as if to return the smile, but then straightened out—no doubt she didn’t want to seem too happy about the request—and she jerked her head in a firm nod. “Aye, Countess. I won’t let ye down.”
“Wonderful.” Rarity didn’t have to fake her happiness; River had fallen into her ploy without resistance. “Having you around him will put my heart at ease. Ah, and here we are!”
The docks in Friesland were always busy, but they’d been strained beyond their limit after the lifting of the siege. Villages and noble houses across Friesland, cut off from the rest of Equestria with the only port on the island locked down and dedicated wholly to supporting the city, were sending tradesponies in flocks to acquire goods they couldn’t make with undeveloped land dedicated to agriculture. At the same time, opportunistic foreign merchants who’d been waiting for this very moment were already flooding in to exploit the stressed economy before prices settled back to their norm. Every pier was taken, some with multiple ships, and crews were working overtime to get cargo unloaded and packed away on an ever-cycling sea of wagons. Dozens of ships loitered ahead like hungry vultures, blotting out the sun and coming dangerously close to colliding as they all raced to be chosen whenever one of the city’s little tug skiffs floated up to choose the next in line.
It was chaos, and if not for the sight of Whitehorn trotting gamely towards them with a thin-lipped smile, Rarity might’ve turned and given up right there.
“Countess. Pinkie, Pontius, Fluttershy. And Miss Pie?” Whitehorn dipped his head in greeting, speaking loudly to be heard over the commotion. “I’ve already secured us transportation to Harvest, though I’m afraid we’ll have to room in the cargo hold. Come now, quickly, before the dockmaster grows impatient and shoos our captain away without us.”
Traveling in single file and with no small amount of pushing, the party navigated the tumult of the crowd and finally arrived at their destination: a wide-bellied trade ship so thick it appeared almost spherical. Pontius let out a sigh of relief as he set Rarity’s luggage down onto the pier, and a team of airponies showed up in short order to take it all aboard.
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye for now.” Rarity turned to Pontius and River Pie, Fluttershy and Pinkie at her sides. “Take care of yourselves, you two.”
Pontius lowered his head into a bow, but Rarity stepped forwards and pulled him into a quick hug. “Whatever you do, darling, remember the ponies at the bottom, and don’t let your father bully you around.”
He hesitated before returning the hug. “I will, my Lady. Yer trust in me will not go unfounded.”
Releasing him, Rarity turned to River while Pinkie and Fluttershy bid their farewells to Pontius. “And you remember what I asked of you, my sweet. He’s all yours.”
River blushed as she hugged Rarity tightly. “I’ll take care of ’im, Countess. Just make sure ye come take ’im back off my hooves before he gets too comfortable.” She laughed, looking away.
Once Pinkie and Fluttershy had finished with their goodbyes, all three mares turned and crossed the narrow walkway bridging the gap to the ship. The captain, a busy mare sporting a fluttering green shoulder cape, greeted them briefly before handing them off to an airpony who showed them to their rooms.
And by “rooms,” apparently, he meant little curtained off sections of the cargo bay, with stacked crates for walls and piled blankets for beds.
Rarity sighed as she settled down onto her makeshift bedroll, packed into a cramped space along with Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Brownie. They’d all had busy mornings making final preparations for the departure and seeing to the formal signing of the peace, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than to rest her head without having to worry about if someone might die if she relaxed too much.
She was glad to put Friesland behind her. No doubt Whitehorn would accost her within a few hours to begin planning out their arrival on Harvest and the inner workings of the Equestrian Parliament, but for now, at least for this short time, she could close her eyes as a pony instead of a politician.
She settled in with a contented hum, letting the rhythmic lurching of the deck beneath rock her to sleep.
It was definitely an airship—and it wasn’t the only one.
Twilight and Midnight floated silently just under the surface as Scylla dozed on the bottom of their magic air bubble. The ice was thick, thicker than a pony was tall, but some carefully applied heat from their horn had thinned out a small circle for them to look through without drawing attention by breaking the surface. Twilight could sense curious seaponies—as well as other, more foreign creatures—swimming up to leer, but she paid them no mind; a single growl from Midnight was all it took to send them away.
Instead she focused completely on her little looking glass, the heat-smoothed ice catching the glow of her magic and painting everything beyond it with a shimmering lavender. The huge spire in the center of the mysterious crystal city, aided by the plateau the city was built on, was tall enough to breach the surface and then some. It was hard to gauge its height from her perspective near its base, but it had to rise at least several dozen meters over the ice, its translucent walls catching the sunlight and funneling it down into the sunken city below.
And there were ponies living on it.
The tower itself was smooth and sheer, but platforms were erected on every side. She couldn’t tell what they were made from—most likely more crystal, she assumed, although most of the platforms were covered by some kind of coarse fabric—or what might be waiting above them.
Really, she couldn’t see much at all from beneath. What she could see was the pair of airships tied off around the tower. They were small and sleek, with angular hulls made of crystal and envelopes supported by curving supports reminiscent of a giant ribcage.
A thousand questions raced through her mind, but the one that frustrated her most was the question of what to do next. She would have to talk to these ponies if she wanted to learn anything, but her memories of the mining colony were still fresh. How would they respond to a stranger appearing in the midst of their far-isolated village, bypassing horizons filled with ice and a sheer crystal cliff with no discernible means of climbing it? Twilight knew, both from her readings and her own corrupted senses, that the ice was a dangerous place infested with monsters. The ponies living here would either be hardened and wary or, worse still, monsters of their own breed.
We can handle monsters, Midnight growled. It’s ponies that give us trouble.
Maybe we should try being honest? Twilight suggested. The miners became a lot more amenable once we came clean.
True. If we strike fear into these ponies early, they’ll know better than to threaten us.
Wha—Twilight looked to Midnight pointedly—That’s not what I meant!
Isn’t it? Midnight cocked her head. The miners only cooperated out of fear.
And they only imprisoned us because we lied to them, Twilight countered. If we’d been open with Bag End from the start, then it might’ve gone differently!
Midnight’s frown slowly stretched into a victorious smirk. If you recall, little flower, I had wanted to approach him openly. It was you that insisted on hiding our true nature.
Twilight looked away with a frustrated huff. It doesn’t matter! We’ll talk to them openly, and just hope they aren’t hostile. Wait. Her eyes shot wide open, as she saw movement along the edge of her little looking glass. Is that…?
Ah, excellent. Midnight appeared on top of the ice, craning her neck up to watch the Argo as it came fully into view. Our underlings have arrived.
They’re my friends! Twilight corrected harshly. Not underlings.
Midnight glanced back, cocking her head with a mischievous smile. Surely they’re our friends, Twilight?
Twilight pursed her lips. That’s not up to me.
Helpful as always. Magic began to pool in Twilight’s horn, slithering into the familiar form of a teleportation spell. Shall we?
Twilight’s pulse quickened. What if her friends didn’t accept her how she was? What if she arrived on the Argo only to find that they’d been hurt or killed in their attempts to follow her here as she asked, or if they had a trap waiting and tried to capture her in some misguided attempt to cure her? Would she be able to stop Midnight from fighting back and hurting them again?
And if they had somehow found some cure, and she was able to control her dark passenger—would she let them use it?
Midnight—
Midnight grinned down at her as she cast the teleportation, cutting off Twilight’s last-moment attempt to stop her and put together some kind of plan first. Twilight’s heart dropped as the distant airship disappeared in a flash of lavender, and she suddenly found herself in the cargo bay, eyes wide, hooves shaking, and breath coming in quick gasps.
Midnight!
Yes? Midnight cast her eyes around the airship with a casual smirk. Hrm. It looked different in our memories.
Twilight turned a quick circle. Princess Luna’s cot was missing from its former place against the far wall, and Rainbow’s cloudroom near the ceiling had been expanded and reinforced with more rigid lines. The ticking and hissing of the hull was overwhelmingly loud compared to the quiet rumble of the ocean floor, and she pinned her ears back and reached out with a hoof, grabbing Scylla and holding her close as the crystal spider chittered curiously.
Really, you reach for it?
“Shut up!” Twilight snapped. Sweet Celestia, she could barely think over that incessant ticking and the rush of her blood in her ears! She rounded on Midnight and jabbed a hoof into her icy cold chest. “I wasn’t ready and you knew it!”
What did she do now? Had anyone heard them teleport in? Maybe she could hide somewhere, or teleport back out, anything to give her time to come up with a plan! This was too important for her to go in without thinking it through first! She needed to make notes, an outline, chart out conversation paths and—
“Twilight.” Midnight’s voice had an unusual softness to it, and Twilight blinked as she suddenly found her doppelganger’s hooves wrapping around her shoulders. Instead of the icy frost she’d been expecting, the contact filled her with an ethereal, pleasant chill, and she found herself leaning in without thinking. “Calm down. If I let you start trying to plan this, you would never stop. Focus. Look at me.” Twilight looked up, staring into the slitted, bloodshot lavender eyes of her own face. “We cannot be defeated as long as we are together, and no ill shall befall us as long as I’m still here. No matter what.”
“B-but my friends.” Twilight spoke in a strained whisper, almost a whine. “You might h-hurt them.”
“I hurt your friends once, little flower, and it was not my intent.” Midnight glanced away briefly, tightening her lips before meeting Twilight’s eyes once more. “They—I was distracted. We were scared and angry, and I acted without thought.”
Twilight blinked, processing the words. Had that been an actual admission of guilt? She’d never heard Midnight speak like this before. It was always the world, or Twilight, or a thousand other things that had done wrong.
“No matter how meddling or soft, I would never intentionally hurt our friends,” Midnight said. And Twilight believed her.
Midnight had made a mistake back on Altalusia, when both of them had been stressed and caught up in fear for the lives of Twilight’s friends. And hadn’t it ultimately been that very fear, that urge to protect them, that had always spurred Midnight on? When she’d taken over on Gava’s ship, or when she’d assumed control during the fight with Philomena, it had always been with the lives of Twilight’s friends at stake. Any malice or hatred or bloodthirst had always been directed at the ones who had endangered them.
Was it right for her to continue holding Midnight accountable for a single rash mistake, even as terrible as it had been?
Didn’t everyone deserve a chance to redeem themselves?
“O-okay.” Twilight jerked her head in a hurried nod. “We can do this. I—” she gulped “—I’ll trust you.”
Midnight smiled, revealing a mouth lined with sharp fangs. Somehow, Twilight found herself tentatively smiling back. “That’s all I ask, Twilight.”
“T-Twilight?”
Twilight stiffened. Her blood ran cold. Slowly, she turned around.
Standing in the door to Applejack’s room, Rainbow watched with bated breath as her best friend slowly turned to face her.
Twilight looked as if she’d just spend a month trekking through the Everfree. Her coat was matted and stained with dark colors that Rainbow didn’t want to think about, and her cheeks were outlined in faded red trails. The tinny smell of dried blood was palpable even from across the cargo hold, triggering a flighty prey response that made Rainbow’s wings twitch. And her eyes. The strange slitted pupils had haunted Rainbow’s memories ever since Canterlot, but that didn’t stop them from holding her frozen in their reptilian gaze.
Movement caught Rainbow’s attention, and she glanced down to see the pony-sized spider cradled between Twilight’s hooves, its blue crystal body tarnished by swirling streaks of purple and red. It clicked its jaw at her in greeting.
And there was Twilight, gaping back at her with her fangs on full display.
Rainbow gulped. Slowly she forced her wings back against her sides and took a step forward. “Twilight? Are… you okay?”
Twilight let out a choked laugh. Her lips drew back into a nervous smile as she absently pet the crystal spider with a hoof. “Y-you have no idea how n-nice it is to hear your voice, Rainbow.”
Rainbow grinned. The sound of the unicorn’s relieved voice washed over her like magic, dispelling all her reservations. She rushed forwards, hooves outstretched, and tackled Twilight to the ground in a full-bodied hug. “Twilight!”
Twilight laughed again, harder this time, and returned the hug. “Rainbow!”
Her hooves were strangely cold against Rainbow’s back, but the odd observation was the last thing on her mind as she raised her voice in an excited shout. “Applejack, c’mon! Twi’s back!”
There was a dull thud from Applejack’s room, and scantly a second later the cowpony came stumbling out past the curtain, one hoof adjusting her hat on her head. “W-huh? Twilight?” She blinked, groggy green eyes suddenly brightening. “Twilight!”
Soon all three mares were wrapped in each other’s hooves, giggling and crying and mumbling each other’s names while the discarded crystal spider paced around the periphery chittering in excitement.
Even if she smelled like blood and her fur was coarse against Rainbow’s belly, Twilight was finally back in her life. In that moment, all the waiting and anxiety was forgotten, driven out by an overwhelming wave of relief.