//------------------------------// // The Question (Part 1) // Story: A Beautiful Night // by MrNumbers //------------------------------// Time passed, even if the night didn’t.  If Twilight had given up to Nightmare Moon on the first day, she could have been a librarian right now. She could have had friends in Ponyville, and lived a mostly normal life.  She would have to keep certain books out of the library, of course. And she couldn’t study the wrong kinds of magic. She couldn’t publicly have the wrong opinions. But as long as she kept within those borders, she could have been a normal pony, with normal friends. She could have been almost safe.  She could have woken up in her own bed, in her own library. But she didn’t.  Instead, she got to wake up in a royal bedchamber, in her stolen castle, next to Pinkie Pie.  Twilight would have been proud of her choice, but the honest truth was being normal was never a choice she got to make. It wasn’t a choice a lot of people got to make. Most of the resistance wasn’t rugged guerilla fighters or cool loners. It was the weird kids who got beat up a lot, who got suspended for fighting when they never had a chance of fighting back.  Or it was ones like Pinkie Pie, people so full to bursting with empathy that it hurt too much to do anything else.  That’s really what all this was about. The people who didn’t have a choice, trying to make their side the smart one to choose.  Twilight had plenty of time to be alone with these thoughts, because she was still in the favourite part of her day. The five minutes of pretending she was still asleep before she had to get up.  It was the five minutes she practiced being bored and alone with her thoughts, now that her head wasn’t an angry crackle of static. Five minutes of mental maintenance every day, curled up to a softly snoring Pinkie Pie, that she’d practiced every day for weeks now.   Being bored gets boring very quickly, though. Time to get up.  Twilight took the diary from underneath her bed, the most secure place in the entire castle. Enough enchantments to stop even Cadance from being able to crack it. It was thick enough that she could cut a section of it and hide something small and precious in its pages. The engagement ring was still there, and she was still the only one who knew about it. She took it, hid it on herself, listened to make sure Pinkie was still snoring.  She was. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken the ring out, since she’d made it. But every time she’d done it she’d planned a date that went so well... she felt like she didn’t want to risk spoiling it.  It was the same train of thought that had stopped her from just asking so long ago. Knowing that didn’t help now; knowing how it turned out last time just gave her the feeling she had more to lose this time. This time she had friends, and self-esteem, and had taken much better care of herself. She was happier, healthier, and perhaps most importantly, could make others hold her accountable if she wussed out again.  She closed the bedroom door behind her, as quietly as she could. Twilight got Octavia just as she was unlocking the music room. Twilight never had to remember where it was, she just had to follow the copper wires that Vinyl had rigged to the ceiling when they’d arrived. Octavia was still, key held in the lock. Her ear flicked as she heard Twilight approach.  “I thought you’d earned the right to sleep in by now. The only time I ever expect to see you or Vinyl up this early is when you’re up that late.”  Twilight smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her heart was in her throat, instead. “I had a request, for later today.” “You know I’m always happy to take requests. I reject them, sometimes, but I’m always happy to take them.” “Could you do something ‘romantic’, in about six hours?”  Octavia frowned. “I have managed to steal the violins from Pinkie Pie’s room, where she can’t hurt them any more. Maybe piano? It depends on what you mean by ‘romantic’.”  “I don’t know, just... romantic. I guess.” Twilight didn’t feel like a clever pony. “Pinkie’s the one who understands this sort of thing.” “I have to agree, I’ve seen your taste in music. So why don’t you ask her, and then come back to me?” “Well... asking her is what I want the music for.”  The silence was broken by Octavia’s key turning the heavy lock with a clunk, and she showed Twilight in. Then she locked the door behind her. Twilight looked around the instrument room, with its battered sound dampeners and tangled nests of microphones and stands. The work of a brilliant technician with more time than resources. A work of love in its own way, Vinyl’s gift to Octavia.  Octavia gestured to a seat at a jury-rigged mixing table, and went to put a coffee pot on. “You’re proposing?” “I’m trying to.” “Are you sure?” Twilight knew the answer she wanted to give, but she gave the honest one instead. “Not even a little bit.” Octavia’s smile was sympathetic. “I don’t know what that’s like. I was thinking about it, though... I thought I needed the perfect plan. For everything to go right. For everything to be perfect.” Twilight nodded. “What did you do?” “Nothing. Vinyl and I were walking down Canterlot’s high street after a concert I’d had. She’d sat in the front row, and she didn’t smile at all. Didn’t fidget, didn’t move all night. So I’m wondering what that means when we walk past a jeweler, and she basically drags me in. I go to look at the rings, thinking I was the clever one, taking the opportunity to do it while Vinyl is obviously too distracted by something to notice. Then she buys the ring I looked at the longest, and just gives it to me immediately, down on one knee, in that moment.” “What?” “She’d decided during the concert. She just knew. So why wait?” Octavia smiled, tried to be discreet about how she was wiping her eyes now. “Do you know what I said, when she did it?” Twilight hesitated. “Yes?” “That was the second thing I said. The first thing I said was; ‘I wanted to pick that one for you!’ She had no idea I was thinking the same thing.”  Twilight smiled. She understood. “She ruined a perfectly good plan.”  Octavia shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t think anything I planned would have been as perfect. Do you?” Twilight thought about that. “I don’t know.” “And now neither of us ever will,” Octavia agreed. “I’ll think of something, for you. In about six hours, I’ll announce an anonymous request.”  Octavia brought Twilight a coffee with more sugar than sense in it, and Twilight drank deep from it. “Thank you.” “Have you told anyone else?” Twilight shook her head. Octavia thought about that. “I understand. You should, though. They’ll all have good advice, in their own way. Take it how I take requests.” “Reject any I don’t like?” “You learn a lot about what’s right for you by knowing something’s wrong for you.” That seemed to remind Octavia of something. She frowned at the mixing board and started making adjustments. Twilight laughed. “Applejack?” “Applejack,” Octavia seethed. “I’m surprised she understood this enough to mess with it.” “She had plenty of time to experiment.” Octavia nudged the last lever back into its proper place, and sighed. “Another reason to tell everyone, even. They’ll know not to interrupt. Imagine trying to propose to country music.”  The Music Room Coup had been swift, brutal and total. “I had no idea Applejack could play guitar like that. Or that Braeburn could sing.”  “If they were playing anything else, I’d say they were quite good. I still wouldn’t call it romantic.” Twilight winced. “Point taken.”  “You have six hours to prepare everyone. Also-” Octavia was about to add, but hesitated. Twilight finished the rest of the coffee in a gulp, waiting for the end of the sentence that never came.  “Also?” “From one ‘control freak’ to another,” Octavia grimaced, “there’s two ways to say ‘no plan is perfect’, and both are true. No plan is perfect, but having no plan can be perfect, too.” Twilight thought about that. “I think that helps. Thanks”  Octavia just nodded, and went to looking at the instruments in the studio, testing them to see what she was in the mood for. Twilight stood up to leave her to it, but paused at the door. At the keys in the lock. “If you had to do it all again,” Twilight asked, “would you do anything different?”  “Yes.” Octavia said immediately, then paused. “No.” She corrected herself, “I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. We couldn’t save Photo Finish. I nearly couldn’t save Vinyl. But I have lived long enough to have those regrets, and I’m not sure I could say that if I’d done anything differently. Why?” ‘Why’ was a good question. “I don’t know. I’m just thinking.” Octavia was obviously thinking about it too. She let out a breath that she’d been holding in since Twilight had welcomed her to the castle, weeks ago. “Well. Thank you for asking. It might not have been an answer you needed to hear, but I think it was one I needed to give. But I also think we’ve let the others sleep in long enough.”  Octavia picked up a cello as Twilight unlocked the door, and closed it behind her. It stayed unlocked, for anyone else who wanted to join.  The radios around the castle sang with the first notes of the cello. It was time to wake up.  Applejack was already making breakfast, Twilight could smell it from all the way on the other side of the castle. It couldn’t be helped - there were a lot more to cook for then there used to be.  What surprised her was that Cadance was up too, eating pancakes the shape of love hearts.  “I know,” Cadance sang.  Applejack turned from the stove, where she was juggling four pans at once, her green apron splattered in all sorts of sauces. “Know what? Ah, mornin’, Twilight. What’ll it be?” “Fruit salad?”  “In the fridge, ladel’s still in it.”  Twilight went to the fridge, measured herself out a bowl, walked back to the smaller dining table they’d set up in the kitchen. If everyone ate at once they’d have to use the big dining room, the castle-sized one, but if everyone was still getting out of bed then it was nice to be able to keep the chef company.  The whole time, Cadance never stopped grinning at Twilight.  Applejack turned back to the pans, swearing under her breath. “Almost burned that one. What does Cadance know?” “Should I tell her?” Cadance asked. “I’m going to try to propose. Again. Today.”  Applejack turned the burners off. “You what?” Cadance squealed laughing and tipped back in her chair. At least someone was having fun. Twilight took a solemn bite of... whatever fruit they could get to grow out here. Applejack went to turn the burners back on, but stopped herself. “Hang on. Again?” Cadance stopped giggling. Twilight nodded. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I’m not very good at this.”  Cadance was not happy about this. “You tried before?” Twilight nodded again, taking another bite of fruit. “I got scared. You could only tell now?” “How long have you been working up to this?” “A while. I think I finished making the ring nearly two weeks ago, now, so that long.” Cadance sighed in relief. “That’s okay then. I was worried I’d lost my edge.”  Twilight nodded, paused. Her spoon clattered against the side of her breakfast bowl with an angry ‘clink’. “Hang on. Does that mean it feels like I haven’t been taking this seriously until today?” Applejack snickered, but Cadance shook her head. “You both usually glow like bonfires. Today you’re more like... a lighthouse. It’s a lot more focused. Like you’re on a mission.”  “Hold on,” Applejack left breakfast forgotten, even as a mollified Twilight picked up her spoon again. “You can ‘see’ love like that, now?” “Always could.”   “Well,” Applejack squinted at her, “What does Shining look like to you?” “A dork.” Twilight snorted. “I’m curious too, though.”  “He’s like sunlight catching a gigantic diamond.” Cadance took a messy bite out of her pancakes, careful to eat from the middle of it so she could keep the outlines. “I just don’t like to brag.”  This time Applejack laughed, and Twilight rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. How about me?” “You don’t like anyone, yet.” “Yet? What’s ‘yet’ mean?” Cadance shrugged. “It means you could, I guess.” “Is there a different way you could put it, for me?” “Seeds only become trees when you plant them.” “Now that makes sense.” Applejack gave a look heavy with meaning to Twilight, pointing to Cadance. “Now, why can’t you talk like that more often?” Twilight stuck her tongue out in response, because she was feeling clever.  Applejack was getting into this now, though. “So you can see if two folk love each other more?” “Sometimes,” Cadance admitted, though it made her look seasick to say it, “most of the time they just love each other differently.”  “Sure, sure,” Applejack waved that off, “But you could tell, like, if parents had a favourite, right?” That, Cadance gave a relieved laugh at. “I thought you were going to ask something else, but this one’s easy. Parents always have a favourite.” She corrected herself, “Almost always.” “Wait, so of me and Shining-”  “Almost.” Cadance chimed again. Twilight went back to her breakfast.  “How about them Manehattan musicians? Those two. I can never get a read on ‘em.” Cadance had to think about that, had trouble finding the right words. “Picture two very long, slow candles. Like, a candle the size of a grandfather clock.” “With you so far.” “Picture that, but the little flame on top is like a welding torch.”  “Huh.” “Huh.” Applejack and Twilight echoed each other. Applejack looked to Twilight.  “Jealous?” “Kind of.” “Hang on,” Applejack looked back to Cadance, who’d started stealing the strawberries out of Twilight’s fruit salad whenever she wasn’t looking, “you said it’s different, but you’re describing everyone in pairs. So which is it?” “I’m trying to describe colour to someone who’s colourblind,” Cadance rolled her eyes, “so it’s just whatever makes the most sense. With something like that, it makes more sense to compare them to, say, Twilight and Pinkie than to each other, right?” Applejack obviously didn’t like that answer, but it seemed like the best that Cadance was going to give. “Any other fun ones?” “Are you trying to gossip right now?” “Yeah, guess I am.” “Good, I thought you’d never ask, just turn the stove back on and whisper.” Applejack did as she was told. “Braeburn and Little Strongheart really are just friends, and Fluttershy doesn’t like anyone right now, but she wishes she did.” “That’s it?” “Who else were you thinking of?” Applejack thought about it as she flipped an omelette. “Spike?” “Not for a while.” “Huh. Who’d he like?” “Rarity.” Cadance winced as she said it, and Applejacked sucked air through her teeth. “Gotcha.” Twilight finished her fruit just as Shining stretched as he woke up, coming in for breakfast. She stood to leave. “Nobody tell him. I’m being petty” “Tell me what?” Twilight went to drop her empty bowl in the sink. “You’ll find out pretty soon, and you’ll know why when it happens.”  Shining shrugged and went to get his breakfast. “Surprised to see you up this early.” “I’m surprised you didn’t get up with Cadance.”  “I don’t have morning sickness.” Twilight looked back at the table just in time for Cadance to finish the last of her pancakes. She hadn’t noticed the two other plates it was stacked on. “Oh.”  Shining kissed Cadance on the back of the neck as he went past her. “Love you.” “You did this to me,” she groaned. “Sure did.”  Applejack kept her eye on the stove as she leaned to whisper in Twilight’s ear. “Mitts off the pickles and the peanut butter for a little while.”  “Got it.” Applejack flipped a pancake from the pan to the plate, immediately squirted more batter in. Shining came to take it, and they waited until he moved away before Applejack whispered again. “Don’t worry, I got a brother too. What’s the plan?” “Five hours. I’ll ask in the library.”  Applejack nodded, keeping her voice low. Shining’s ears were pricked up, but he looked too annoyed to be understanding them. “I’ll see if there’s anything good to drink in the cellar. Most of it’s vinegar, but some of it ain’t. Am I getting wine for asking, or bubbly for celebrating?”  “Wine. She might not say yes.”  Applejack nodded. “Get both, got it. I’ll find some place to hide it, and leave you to it.” “Thanks.”  Shining coughed. “Twilight?” “I’m going, I’m going!”  Next step; Clearing the library.  That wasn’t usually a problem, usually it’d just be her or Spike to worry about. But there was another arrival to worry about.  Only the fake-lights of the library were still on, the real candles melted to nubs. A pile of maps and books lay in the middle of the room like a burial mound, drawing equipment scattered in every direction.  “Deliberate?” A bearded face breached the pile of books, like a whale breaking the surface of the water. “Hello? Twilight?”  “Yeah, just me.” Twilight lit more of the real candles. “Were you asleep in here?” Deliberately Slow looked at the books he was immersed in. “No. I haven’t slept yet.” He stood up, and let the books slide off him a bit. “I think I figured it out. Maybe. I wanted to see what you think.”  Deliberately Slow - Deliberate - looked like how Twilight had always imagined Starswirl the Bearded to look, if he were a druid. He knew almost as much about magical theory, but he wasn’t a unicorn. He designed spells for other ponies instead.  When he’d showed up, Twilight and Moondancer both had a problem they’d never had experience having to solve; They could learn magic, but had never been very good at teaching it. But if Deliberate composed a spell, teaching it was the only way he’d ever see it cast. So here was the problem Twilight had gotten him to figure out; How did you co-ordinate that many casters? Even if they were all over Equestria? Twilight looked at the scroll he’d put his latest notes on, which was a scroll she’d originally written. His notes were mostly the mathematical equivalent of red pen and grammar corrections. She frowned. “Was the problem my spell being too messy to work with?” Deliberate shook his head, neatly stacking the books he was buried in until he had a way out. “No, yours was very good. Very efficient, very optimized.” He looked at the pile of books with a furrowed brow, and then plucked from it a book like a bear pulled salmon from a stream. He opened it to a page about the Crystal Heart. “So that’s what I changed.” Twilight looked back at the ‘red pen’ again. They were written like corrections, but he was right. He’d deliberately made the spell worse. “I don’t understand.”  He opened his mouth, closed it, thought. “I wish I’d been able to meet Starlight Glimmer.” He said, tapping the side of his head, hard enough to make his glasses shudder down the length of his nose. “I only ever heard about her, but I’m sure she would have been better at this.”  “I think that’s kind of one of the big tragedies of Nightmare Moon. There’s so much of what’s happened that we’ll never really know.”  Starlight Glimmer had apparently been a powerful unicorn that had founded a town of radical equality. How well she managed that, nobody could say; Rainbow Dash had found Deliberate among the ruins. There were no survivors; Just late arrivals, following rumours.  Deliberate ran his hoof underneath his beard, scratching. “The Crystal Heart. You’re igniting it in the Tree of Harmony, but after that, it’s going to be powered by...” he double checked the exact wording in the book, “The light and love of Equestria, right? It converts that into magical energy.”  “That’s the theory.”  He nodded, putting the book down and reaching for another one, this one from Vinyl’s collection. “We can treat that like a signal, then. We can read the energy coming in. Like, uh... we can use it like a microphone, I guess. “Held up to Equestria.”  “So, we make a spell that can read the energy coming in, like Cadance sees love?”  “That’s a good idea, I should talk to Cadance,” Deliberate tapped his chin again. “But I don’t think we need to. Make another spell, I mean. We already have one, we just need to make the Crystal Heart... leak?” “Leak?” Twilight frowned. “I don’t know what making a microphone leak means.”  “Ah...” he dug out another book, “The Crystal Heart is kind of like a transformer. Your spell treats it like a really good transformer - all the energy goes into making the Heart do what you want with the magic. But if you make a transformer ‘leak’, it makes a magnetic field. If you make the spell leak...” Twilight’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh. Equestria is the microphone, and the Crystal Heart is a speaker? Maybe?”  Deliberate smiled, slowly. “More like, every unicorn casting the spell gets to plug their headphones into it. I think. But that’s the idea.”  “It can’t be that easy.” Twilight’s eyes flicked up and down the modified spell.  Deliberate laughed bitterly, looking at the pile behind him. “It feels too simple, doesn’t it? I think it could only work with the Crystal Heart. When you think about what it is, it makes sense.” He shook his head. “I have no idea what that would feel like, though. ‘Hearing’ all of Equestria like this. It might not be useful, but it’s the best idea I have.”  Twilight nodded. “You’re right. I think we should ask Cadance.” Deliberate swayed on his hooves a bit, steadied himself. Frowned. “I think I should go to bed.”  “Were you working all night?” Twilight caught herself, “You know what I mean.”  “I think I’ve had dinner twice since I woke up.” He thought about that. “I definitely remembered to eat. I think.” “Wow. Go to bed.” “Right. Yes.” He started shuffling off. Stopped himself. “Could you do me a favour?” “Anything.” “Next time someone tells you that anarchists don’t read theory? Say something rude to them.”  Twilight blinked. “Who says anarchists don’t read theory?”  Deliberate had a quiet chuckle Twilight didn’t understand, and kept shuffling. This time, Twilight remembered the thing she actually came in here to say. “Wait! One more thing, too.”  He turned, took a long blink. Yawned. “Hm?” “I was going to propose to Pinkie, in a few hours. I wanted to tell you.” “Well.” Deliberate smacked his lips. “Just don’t have the wedding before I wake up. I don’t want to miss it.” Then, he was gone.  Twilight looked at the pile of books he’d left her and wondered if she was allowed to reshelve it. He had said he was finished... she could go ask permission, but that felt mean at this point. But it was way too much of a disaster area for the romantic mood she was going for.  Try somewhere else? But then she’d need to tell Applejack, and she was on a time limit with Octavia. Was that more rude than putting away all of Deliberate’s work? A hard question.  She should use her best judgement, then.  Using her best judgement was a terrible idea, as she expected. She was so stressed about the big thing coming up, that she was paralyzed about making smaller ones like this.  A reasonable decision was finally made.  “I’m going to ask Fluttershy what I should do.” Fluttershy was tending the garden with Braeburn. Well, ‘with’ might have been too strong a word for it. Braeburn was trying to keep himself busy in the long castle greenhouse while Fluttershy tried her hand at beekeeping outside.  Braeburn stalked the long rows of dug trenches and chest-high terracotta potting beds as Fluttershy flew above him, pointing out patches of flowers in the forest to the swarm. Apparently bees were just another animal to talk to. Still, every now and then, Braeburn checked to make sure all the windows were still shut tight.  “Hey!” Twilight shouted over the buzzing, which she immediately regretted when it got the bees attention as much as it did Fluttershy’s. Fluttershy shushed them, and skipped over.  “Hello, Twilight.” Fluttershy was upsettingly cheerful, “Are you here to ask if we’re open for buzzness?” “No.” “Because we are.” Twilight looked over to Braeburn, hiding in the greenhouse. He seemed to have the right idea of things. “I was just going to ask an etiquette question.” Fluttershy nodded. “I think I’m good at those.” “A friend left a shared space cluttered, and I think they’re finished with it. But they’re asleep now, so I can’t ask to make sure. Is it okay if I put their work away, if I need the space?” Fluttershy considered that. “I think so. Yes. Was that all?” “I was going to propose to Pinkie Pie in three hours. That’s what I needed the space for.” Fluttershy paused. “You are?” She asked in the same way Twilight’s parents had when she was going out in winter without a jacket.  “Is that a problem?” “I don’t think so.” Fluttershy said carefully, “I just didn’t expect you to make a decision like that so quickly. It’s very sudden.” The bees swarmed behind her, listening intently. Twilight frowned at them.  “Sudden ain’t a bad thing.” Braeburn shouted from the greenhouse. The bees flew back over to him curiously. They’d forgotten he was there. Braeburn looked up through the glass roof with a frown. “The best time to do the right thing is ‘now’, I reckon. Hey, Fluttershy, never asked. These are honeybees right?” “No, no. These are some wild bees I found who wanted to help out. They’re lovely, though. And they’ve promised not to sting anyone unless I tell them to.” “Terrific.” Braeburn muttered under his breath, so quiet Twilight barely heard him.  Fluttershy kept doing her best to be delicate. “I’m just worried when Twilight is impulsive.”  Braeburn rolled his eyes. “Twilight, I know how you tick. You’re going to hear that and think it’s a ‘you’ problem. Sometimes your friends are wrong, though, and you’re allowed to think it.” Fluttershy was silent. Twilight had no idea what to say to that. Fluttershy coughed into a hoof and looked away. “I’m not sure what you mean.”  “What did it take for you to finally join the winning side?” Now Fluttershy looked angry. “That’s not fair.”  “Ain’t it?” The bees buzzing got louder. Braeburn had mustered all the bravery of a man behind a glass wall, though. He stared the bees down and tapped it. “I mean, glad you did and all. Happy to have you around. But come on, Fluttershy! Everyone here knows the risks they’re taking. Everyone always knows it. You think you’re being the calm, collected voice of reason when you try to talk folk down like this?” “I just think-” Fluttershy jumped when she heard that she was shouting, she hadn’t expected it from herself. She calmed herself down. “I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt.” “I know you don’t, but you act like if anyone’s doing anything, it’s only because they don’t know the ways it could go bad and you gotta explain it to ‘em. It’s frustrating is all.”  Twilight looked between the two of them, at how Braeburn was glaring, at how Fluttershy couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. “This isn’t just about right now, is it?” Braeburn’s ear flicked, he looked away. “I suppose not, no.”  It was dark, and it was quiet. Fluttershy wasn’t going to speak up for herself. “Do you want me to leave?” Fluttershy kept staring at her hooves. “I’m sorry.”  “It’s fine, I can just-” “No,” Fluttershy raised her voice, but not her head, “Braeburn’s right. You must be really scared right now, and I wasn’t being a good friend. I should be hoping it goes well, and I should be here for you if it doesn’t. So that’s what I’m going to do.” Twilight was too shocked to be grateful. Braeburn was right; she had been second guessing herself just now. She had just assumed that Fluttershy was being more objective about this than she was. Braeburn looked more relieved than she felt, though.  He took a big huff, started walking to the greenhouse door out - but the bees were waiting for him. They were quieter now, but they filled the air around their side of the glass door. He stopped there. “I ain’t mad at you, you know.”  Fluttershy still didn’t raise her head. “You probably should be.” “I was. But I ain’t anymore.”  That got something out of her. Fluttershy cooed to the bees. “There’s still some flowers out there that need their attention more than me right now.” Braeburn didn’t chime in to tell them to buzz off, but Twilight could see him thinking it, watched him fight it down. The bees did as they were told, one at a time at first, then in bigger clumps and swarms. Finally it was just the ponies left.  Braeburn opened the door, came out. “Thank you.” Twilight, for her part, was just confused. “I feel like I missed something important.” Braeburn took the time to work out how to say it delicately, which is why Fluttershy was faster to say it. “I told him it was wrong. To burn Appleoosa like he did. I said it when he first came.” Twilight flinched. “Oh.”  Braeburn nodded. “That’s basically all of it, yeah.”  “Why?”  “I thought-” Fluttershy’s voice was raised again, but this time she didn’t notice, “that they could have talked it out. Without needing to do that.”  Twilight breathed in. To Braeburn’s credit, he really didn’t look mad anymore. Twilight was just hearing this for the first time, though. “Did you ever apologize for saying it?”  Fluttershy shook her head. “No.”  Twilight and Braeburn waited. Fluttershy didn’t apologize. Braeburn’s neck stiffened, he set his jaw. Fluttershy noticed, but said nothing. Then, Braeburn let the breath out again. “That’s why you said I should hate you, right? You never changed your mind on that one.” That made her look away again. She stood her ground, though, in her own way. “I didn’t.”  Braeburn nodded, looked back at the greenhouse. But he’d come out here, now, into the open. A bee had already come back, sensing the tension. “Twilight, do you think I did the right thing?” “Of course you did! It was the only thing you could do.” Braeburn shook his head. “I could have done nothing. Could have kept trying to negotiate. Could have just left and not looked back. There’d just be a lot more dead ponies, or buffalo, or both.”  “You don’t know that.” Fluttershy huffed. It was the same Fluttershy that had still been trying to talk the Shadowbolts down, to the very end. How much of Fluttershy’s idea of right and wrong came down to this? It was finally seeing Braeburn get scolded that made her appreciate that. How Fluttershy treated Pinkie Pie, too. Braeburn, though, just shrugged. “She ain’t going to change her mind. I’ve made peace with that.” He said to Twilight, like Fluttershy wasn’t there any more. “Just something to keep in mind. You can’t argue everything, though I know you got a hard time understanding that.”  “I’m still here.”  Braeburn grinned. “Didn’t think you went anywhere. Still reckon I was too hasty making the hardest call I’ve made in my life?”  Fluttershy paused at that. “You really thought about it?” “Heck, no. Snap judgement, spur of the moment, made it up as I went. I ain’t Octavia, bless her heart.” Braeburn sidled up beside Twilight, and pulled her into a sidelong hug. “Turns out, the right decisions can be the fastest. Because you know it the second you think it.” Fluttershy opened her mouth to say something, closed it, spun on a hoof and started off after the bees. Braeburn chuckled, just loud enough that Twilight could hear him. “Reckon I might need to stay indoors for a bit. What about you?” “I’ve got to clean the library, so I can propose to Pinkie Pie in it. Soon.” “Shoot, that’s right. You need anything from me?” “I did.” Twilight smiled. “Thank you.” “Don’t know what I did, but the pleasure was all mine.”  She should find Spike. He was good at cleaning up book-related disaster spaces. By the time Twilight had walked around the side of the castle again, the greenhouse was covered in bees again, Braeburn’s mad laughter echoing behind her.