//------------------------------// // No Regrets, Rainbow Dash // Story: Griffon The Brush-Off - Extended Cut // by AdmiralSakai //------------------------------// Rainbow Dash glided beneath the rusting archways of Innsbeak Station, dodging hanging tarpaulins and trickles of filthy rainwater, searching the grimy platform below. It was pushing six in the morning, drizzling again as it usually was, and the rising sun painted the city’s dome of smog a solid, oppressive red, without providing much actual illumination. The station lighting was spotty to nonexistent, but Gilda wasn’t hard to find- she was effectively the only griffon in the building who was on her way out, rather than panhandling or shuttling paltry amounts of cargo. Diving closer, Rainbow saw that her wing was bandaged up in a crude but effective splint, and her right hind leg was wrapped in gauze, but otherwise she looked unhurt. Dash stepped into a perfect four-point landing on the tile, and trotted over. Gilda whirled to face the sound, and when she saw the pegasus her whole face shifted from wariness to joy. “R… RD?!” she called out. The sight made Rainbow vaguely sick to her stomach. “Hi. I… uhhh… I brought you your pay,” the pegasus stammered. “for the couple days before… well, you know.” She unclipped a pouch full of bits from her saddlebag, and offered it to Gilda with one wing. Gilda grabbed it, peered inside, and then tossed it into her own saddlebags. “I don’t think Twilight, like, meant to stiff you, or anything,” Dash explained, “I think she literally just forgot.” “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Gilda chuckled, “So, did’ja tell her and Rari-dweeb you were gonna meet up with me?” Rainbow swallowed, hard. “… No.” “Hot damn!” the griffon took a few steps forward and leaned down, conspiratorially. “So, how’d’ja get the money off ‘em?” Rainbow, for her part, took another few steps back. “I… I didn’t. It was mine.” Gilda seemed to physically deflate a little. “Oh.” “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find you here, like, that you’d get stuck in the city somewhere, or back in jail or something,” the pegasus continued all in a rush, anxious to discuss absolutely anything else. “So… umm… where’re you going, once you get outta here?” Gilda looked away, and scuffed a talon on the grimy tiles. “Back to Trottingham, I guess, then maybe down to Manehattan or over to Neighagra, wherever it looks like there’s gonna be work. You?” “Back to Ponyville.” “Good choice. You made it sound like a pretty nice place,” the griffon looked up again, “Maybe I could come by and visit sometime, when I’m in the area? Meet up with that Pinkie Pie pony you were tellin’ me about?” Rainbow Dash swallowed again, the sick feeling in her gut redoubling. “I… don’t really think that’d be a good idea.” “Hey, all in all though, this turned out… pretty alright, didn’t it?” If she didn’t know better, Rainbow would’ve thought that Gilda’s voice almost sounded pleading, “Twilight got her meeting with that Gordon creep, and only I got hurt.” “Didn’t you knock Twilight unconscious first?” “Oh, yeah, shit…” Gilda shrugged, awkwardly, favoring her immobilized wing. “Well, she got better, didn’t she? And she kinda had it comin’.” There was a long, awkward pause. One of the cargo trains two platforms over wheezed into gradual motion and then disappeared into the damp, ruddy haze outside. “But yeah, Dash, I think we make a pretty good team.” Gilda’s voice sounded superficially casual enough, but Rainbow could spot the tension underneath. “I’ll be nosin’ around Rainbow Falls over the winter and into next year, there’s a lotta contract labor up there, some big sports thing that they’re tryin’ to set up. You should come join me. There’s gonna be money to be made!” “I… Gilda, I need to ask you something.” Rainbow tried to look her in the eye, couldn’t bear it for more than a second, and refocused on the ceiling arches. “Yeah, what?” “Did you actually have an exfil plan, or were you banking on us stepping in and rescuing you the whole time?” “Heh. Well, I didn’t expect to have that many guards on me, but I knew you wouldn’t leave me hangin’.” Gilda’s beak curled into a weirdly strained sort of smile. “You’ve always got my back, Dash.” “Yeah, Gilda, I’m…” Rainbow stared at the filthy tile underhoof. “I’m sorry. This time, I don’t think I do.” “… what? Whaddaya talkin’ about?” Gilda sounded scared, but not confused. Rainbow realized she had to have known this was coming. “Gilda, that big guard captain coulda’ killed me back there. She had armor, she had weapons, and I had… some tactical sandals, I guess. But you charged off anyway, following a broken plan without any support, and left me to deal. I had your back, but you sure as Tartarus didn’t have mine.” “Wait a minute, I did all the hard work…” Rainbow struggled mightily to bring her gaze back down to eye level. The twisting in her stomach was already starting to recede, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad. “If you’d actually spoken one word to me at that stupid party, ruttin’ asked me to back you up when you hit the chapel, I would’ve been so down there with you. But you didn’t, and I couldn’t, and it’s never gonna work.” “Why? What, you think you’ve got better plans with your new egghead friend?” Gilda scoffed. “Twilight’s got nothing to do with this, Gil.” “Then what’s wrong? We won!” “This is serious shit, and you need to grow up and start treating it like it’s serious. This isn’t flight camp, Gilda. We aren’t kids any more.” “Don't worry,” Gilda swiped her good wing out dismissively, “I'm not from some broken home, with a dysfunctional family, or anything. I'd have to’ve had a family for ‘em to be dysfunctional. Which means, hey, it coulda been worse!” “I didn’t think you did.” For the first time since Rainbow had set down, the griffon’s false confidence seemed to wear away completely. She cocked her head, genuinely confused. “Then whuzzat supposed to mean?” “It means we can’t just go out and pick fights and play stupid pranks and knock over vending machines all day anymore! There’s consequences to that kinda’ shit! Or do you really expect me to put my ass on the line for you every time you don't think this shit through?” The pegasus sucked in a deep breath, and let it out again. “Well, guess what? You’re not gonna have Rainbow Dash around to take the fall for you all the time anymore!” The only other passenger on the departure platform, a beige-coated mare with a pink-and-blue mane who looked vaguely familiar, peered at them in confusion and backed away a few steps. “Consequences. Heh, yeah, when you're right, you're right.” Gilda shrugged awkwardly, the movement seeming stiff and contrived for reasons Rainbow suspected had nothing to do with her bandaged wing. “This was actually… kinda supposed to be my big break, Dash.” Confused into silence, all Rainbow could do was tilt her head. “I wanted to prove I could get shit done, for the ponies with the money and gear and connections you need to make it in security. That I’m worth more than just a minimum-wage day laborer.” “Wait, I thought you said you were already working sec-” “I lied, Dash,” the griffon said, blunt and frustrated, as though she’d expected Rainbow to have known all along. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you made weather captain and got recruited into some super-secret government project and all that shit. But that certificate they gave me wasn’t worth the paper its printed on, because it turns out none of the Equestrian military academies admit griffons, and all the big regional weather services don’t wanna hire griffons.” She continued, seemingly all in one breath, her shoulder sagging lower and lower the whole time, “So I could join as an enlisted hen, get to skip, what, the first week of basic training, and then muster out at the glorious rank of staff sergeant; or I could try and find a small-time weather corps that’d take me on. And let me tell you. I tried. Last ten years, I’ve been workin’ whatever shitty jobs’ll pay me, because I get to stay in Equestria as long as I’m working, and, well, working a shitty job in Equestria still beats anything you’ll find back here….” Gilda finally stopped, not seeming as much out of things to say as simply out of energy. She bowed her head, breathing heavily. “So… yeah. That’s what I’ve been up to for the last fifteen years.” Rainbow Dash’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she found the words to put through it. “So…what…all this was because you wanted a better job? Gilda, why... why didn't you ever just. Ask. Me?” She wasn’t even sure what she herself was feeling now… regret? Anger? Sheer bewilderment? “I coulda’ found you something on the Ponyville weather team, probably. Notus's breath, Twilight's been scrambling for marepower running all her crazy projects out in the Everfree. If you needed help, you could've just written a letter! You could’ve just asked! But no, you just take whatever you’re after and move on, and damn the ponies you leave behind. No wonder you can’t even hold down a steady job.” “When did I ever take anything from you?” Gilda looked up and hissed, eyes narrowing. “All our time at Flight Camp, I never took a damn thing. And I coulda’, you certainly got enough care packages from your folks that you wouldn’t’a missed anything.” “So, what, if I help you get a job, you’ll steal from everypony but me?” Gilda’s eyes went wide again, and she backed away slightly. Then she seemed to steady herself, and spat: “Fuck you, Dash.” She turned around and padded off, towards the end of the platform, where there was no place else for her to go until her train came in. “Fuck you too, Gil,” the pegasus muttered, and turned back the other way. Rarity was standing about ten yards away, looking utterly baffled. Rainbow strode towards her as evenly as she could manage, even as her legs felt like they might shake themselves apart beneath her. “You know, I thought it’d be a cold day in Tartarus before you’d be the mature one in one of those arguments,” the unicorn sniffed, and then her muzzle shifted into a pained little grin. “You’ve surprised me, darling.” “Yeah…” Rainbow Dash nodded, “Yeah, I surprised me, too. Thanks, I guess.” The tailor cocked her head, ears folding downward in concern. “Are you… going to be okay?” “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. You’ll know if I’m not.” There was another long, uncomfortable pause. Rainbow realized she wasn’t fighting the urge to look back behind her anymore. “Rarity?” she asked, “Do you… think I did the right thing?” “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. You’ll know if you didn’t,” the tailor repeated back at her, and then after just a moment continued, “Rainbow Dash, if I may, there is one thing I’ve noticed over the course of our little… ahem…adventure, here.” “What’s that?” “In the entire time since you arrived in Ponyville, you’ve been loyal, to a fault- to your friends, to your weather crew, and now to Twilight’s search for knowledge. Gilda, though, I’m inclined to say, is only loyal to you.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “She was.” Rarity nodded again, and looked off to one side. “Ah, and there’s Twilight with our tickets. I daresay we’ve all seen quite enough of this miserable place, don’t you agree?” “Yeah. Let’s get to our platform, I… don’t wanna stick around for the three-o-clock again…” Twilight stepped out onto the Fillydelphia Harbor platform, to find Princess Celestia waiting for her. She reeled back slightly in surprise, and the Princess smiled ever-so-slightly. “You were expecting my sister, I take it?” “Well… umm… yes.” Celestia nodded. “She’s waiting in her study, but I asked her if I could speak with you first. I trust your visit to Innsbeak was… enlightening?” “That’s certainly… one way to put it, I guess.” “Good. I expect your report on Lord Goldstone’s Equestrian associates forwarded to the Commerce Minister by the end of this week.” Twilight cocked her head, genuinely confused. “… Excuse me?” Celestia just laughed. “Twilight, you didn’t seriously think that anything less than a Cabinet-level probe into unethical offshore business practices, which only you possessed both the ironclad loyalty, and the preexisting connections to Goldstone necessary to carry out, would justify pulling you away from Ponyville for so long, did you? I mean, you’ve spent the last five days completely unable to pursue any work related to your Lunar studies, or anything related to Academy business!” It took a few seconds, but the pieces finally began to fit together in Twilight’s exhausted brain. “… Ah. Yes, right. Really… a horrible inconvenience,” she said. “In fact, I’ll probably have to abandon my studies of the Great Canterlot Fire just to keep on schedule! I don’t think that’ll be a huge loss, though- all I found were a bunch of groundless conspiracy theories…” Celestia’s smile grew just a tiny bit wider. “As I expected. Of course, in a broad-ranging investigation like this one, nopony could really blame a mare somewhat out of her depth for conducting a few interviews with other influential Innsbeak residents, which turned out… not to be relevant. Nopony at the Commerce Ministry would want to read those, so there’s no reason to include them in your report.” “Oh, of course. It’d be… downright unprofessional to do otherwise, in fact!” “I’m glad we understand each other.” For just a moment, the Princess’s expression changed, somehow becoming harder and colder despite no muscles actually having shifted. “I think you’ll also be pleased to know that I’ve sent a few letters restating that your job for the foreseeable future is in Ponyville. I don’t expect any further expeditions to end up pulling you away again.” “I’m glad to hear that, Your Grace…” said Twilight, suitably chastised. She made to step past Celestia and off the platform, and then thought better of it. “Actually, I do have one question, though.” “Go on?” “Do you think we’ll actually be able to get Goldstone on any of this?” “‘Get’ as in prosecute?” Celestia laughed- faintly, but she laughed. “He isn’t an Equestrian resident, so I’m afraid our actions against him, personally, are limited to formal diplomatic requests or another military incursion. The former, he will ignore; and coming so soon after the intervention in the Parrot Isles, I don’t think the latter will be politically tenable for some time yet. But he has properties here in Equestria, and business partners, and with the financial data you recovered, we will be able to 'get' them. And without their support, I don’t think he’ll be able to bother anycreature for a very long time.” “That’s good to hear.” The Princess nodded again. “It took me a while to learn, but I've been playing the game for a long, long time, Twilight. I have had to agree to abide by certain... restrictions, it’s true. But there's more to politics than just invading your opponents. There are sanctions, protests, proxy wars- and proxy alliances.” Her smile faded, and she dipped her head just a little closer to Twilight’s level. “When a brute-force approach would end up getting my loyal subjects killed, sometimes I've had to wait, make a… subtler attempt later on, one that even those tasked to carry it out might not be allowed to know about… and set right what I can.” Quietly, Twilight nodded, utterly unsure of what to say. She was used to interacting with Princess Celestia as a mentor, scholar, engineer, and administrator- only rarely was she reminded that the alicorn was, more than any of those things, also a ruthlessly effective politician. The feeling was at once sobering and disconcerting. “I won’t keep my sister waiting any longer, Twilight.” Celestia stepped past the bewildered unicorn and back onboard the train. “She’d probably like to hear about where you’ve been these last few days.” Lord Gerald Goldstone XIII staggered back into his parlor in the eastern wing, throat still smarting from the spell Gina at the University had used to restore his voice. He didn’t bother with the lights as he headed straight for the liquor cabinet, and as a result he’d made it a good several yards before he realized he wasn’t the only creature in the room. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” He demanded, and then slid his enchanted dagger from the pocket of his vest. “Guards!” “We’re terribly sorry to have startled you, Lord Goldstone,” said a pony perched on the edge of his sofa. “We’ll show ourselves out, but we think you’ll want to hear what we have to offer, first.” “Forgive me if I remain… skeptical. That last pony who claimed to have an ‘offer’ for me-” “Robbed you blind and then humiliated you in front of your peers?” “And how is that any of your business?” “The group we represent could help you recoup some of those losses.” “Really now? What could you possibly offer me, the Marquess of the entire Northern Territory?” “Well, to start with, we also know that your investments in Equestria are about to come under some intense scrutiny by the Commerce Ministry. We can make that scrutiny go away.” Goldstone’s eyes narrowed, but he slipped the dagger back into his vest. “… and what, pray tell, does this get you?” “In exchange for our immediate assistance? We would just like you to provide us with information- Twilight Sparkle’s methods and habits, the names of her close associates, likes, dislikes, what she wants out of life, how she responds to pressure… that sort of thing. We’re sure you can understand why we might find that valuable…” Twilight Sparkle and Princess Luna sat across the low table from each other, on matching blue silk cushions. As per Luna’s preference only one lamp was lit, discreetly, in one corner, leaving most of the study outlined in dim silvery-blue radiance from the full moon outside. The big bay windows making up most of the back wall were open, admitting warm early-autumn air scented with wet grass and the far-away saltiness of the ocean. Even the sea smelled cleaner, here, without the omnipresent bite of sewage and smoke that pervaded everything in Innsbeak. “… it’ll take our alchemists a while to parse through Gordon’s notes, and then it’s up to Major Forward and the medical team to determine that any purification regimen we use is safe. But in total… I think we can remove any remaining selenitic matter from your system in… maybe four months?” Twilight concluded, a comfortable silence settling on the room. Luna nodded, and smiled ever-so-slightly. She resembled Celestia particularly strongly when she did that. After what she decided was a respectable period, Twilight spoke up again, “I do have some other questions I'd like to ask, though.” “You have delivered promising news, Twilight. Please, ask.” “It’s not the main thing that’s bothering me,” the unicorn explained, “but I suppose the best place to start would be with how you handled your time on the moon. Most ponies, after a hundred years straight without any sort of social contact… they wouldn’t be sane. You were isolated for a little under a thousand.” “I have seen those sorts of claims circulating in the papers, but I am sorry to disappoint you, Twilight Sparkle. They are untrue. I was not… awake… for the duration of my imprisonment.” Twilight nodded, and took a sip of her tea. That was consistent with her early understanding of Princess Luna’s condition, before the question of Nightmare Moon’s memories had caused her to temporarily revise her theories. “And none of the memories you’ve recovered contradict that?” “Nay.” The alicorn’s expression took on a strange, far-away quality. “And yet…” “Mm-hmm?” Twilight prompted, gently. “And yet neither did I close my eyes facing Celestia in the Solarium, and open them again in the tower with thine fellows standing over me. Neither did I dream, but my sleep was nonetheless… fitful.” “Go on?” The unicorn asked, trying not to let too much of her anticipation show through. “I could never… think clearly, not enough to remember who I was or how I had gotten there, but I remember… images: my sister, the battles of the Rebellions… they appeared before me, disjointed, seemingly of their own accord. I remember feeling… angry, and resentful, moreso even than when I’d first led what would become my Night Guard against the Council Hall to contest Celestia’s election as Speaker.” “How long would you say you experienced this semi-conscious state? Subjectively speaking, I mean, and in total versus being totally unconscious?” Asked Twilight. “‘Tis hard to say. Hours… days, perhaps. It… it blurs together, and I cannot say how long I was awake at any one time… save, perhaps, at the very end, I remember you, and the Elements. ‘Twas the first time in… well, I suppose in a thousand years that I felt afraid, not merely angry.” “I think I might’ve seen you do that, actually,” Twilight said, “Just before we used the Elements, part of the inside of Nightm- no, actually, part of yourhead was exposed. You looked at me, or at least your one eye that I could see was focused on me, and you said ‘No’.” Luna nodded, but remained silent. “Do… do you remember sensing anything else, externally?” Twilight prompted again. “Anything at all about the moon?” “No, I… wait.” Luna paused, seeming to look past Twilight and the book-lined walls of her study entirely. “I remember… cold, it was cold. And the sky… no stars, flat blackness, but… fuzzy, somehow, solid, like smoke. There was… an object, always just out of my view, crystal, perhaps, the light reflected sharply in a dozen different directions. I remember using my hooves and horn, carving something hard. I remember lightning, and the smell of æther.” Luna fell silent again, her gaze fixed on the door, which Twilight interpreted as her cue to leave. The scholar politely turned to leave, when she heard Luna mutter, under her breath, almost to herself, “And… I was not alone.”