The garden behind the library tree was small, but well-kept and drenched in leaf-dappled sunlight. Moderate Foxing, the previous librarian, had a pleasant if somewhat eccentric talent for landscaping. Neat flower beds in full bloom stretched out in parallel rows from the back door of the tree; tall hedges let in the summer breeze yet muffled the sounds of everyday life in Ponyville. Nearly every flower was attended by bees or butterflies, which flew off covered in pollen. The space was crowned by an absurdly tall and weathered garden trellis, nailed uneasily to the tree. It creaked gently as Twilight poured the Princess another cup of tea.
“Why thank you Twilight!” said the Princess, inhaling deeply and savoring the aroma. “I do love a good Darjeeling.”
Despite herself, Twilight smiled. It hadn’t been perfectly straightforward, but so far Celestia didn’t seem to pick up on anything being out of place. Thankfully she hadn’t asked why they were taking tea outdoors, or why all the library’s shades were drawn. A few minutes’ frantic scrounging had even turned up a clean tablecloth, and a selection of elderly biscuits she found in the broom closet.
The only downside was that every now and then, the sound of a snow shovel echoed faintly from within the tree. Applejack was very diligent.
“Now,” said Celestia, “returning to the topic of your last letter, I congratulate you again on having defused a conflict with the... what did you call them? The Spa Ponies?”
Twilight blushed. “It was nothing, really. Aloe just misplaced her hairbrush and, well, assumptions were made. Hardly enough for a friendship letter.”
"And by assumptions, you mean..."
"Personal judgements," replied Twilight, frowning. "Not everyone in Ponyville is fond of pegasi. I guess that includes Aloe's aunt."
Celestia nodded. "These are among the best times I can recall, but not everypony is on the same page, as it were. It must have been very hard to confront them."
Twilight nodded, and took a sip from her own teacup, trying to enjoy the fresh spring breeze despite the knot in her stomach. "I think... I think there's good in everypony. Anyone would have done the same in my place."
"Don't be too dismissive," said the Princess, smiling. "When you left Canterlot, the thought of even talking to ponies outside of your, shall we say, literary circle, would have been nearly overwhelming."
"I guess I wouldn't have seen the point," agreed Twilight.
"I am particularly glad you have chosen to make friends beyond the Bearers. Especially those who disagree with you. The most beautiful pearls are those plucked from reluctant oysters, as they say in the Grotto. Not every pony has the courage to do so."
Twilight fiddled with her lukewarm tea, and tried to concentrate on the sound of the wind in the hedges. Something was coming, she could feel it. The Princess sipped patiently as always, with that maddeningly knowing smile. Nothing could rush her.
“Now," Celestia continued, "shall we turn to the other matter?”
And there it was.
“Um, other matter?” Twilight asked, feeling flop-sweat already running down her neck.
“Twilight,” said the Princess, evenly. “The library is closed in the middle of the day, and every window shade is drawn.”
Twilight nodded shakily. “Um, right. Well... I mean, that is... what would you say if I had got into a little bit of trouble today?”
“I’d say that you’ve learned something this week after all,” said Celestia, levitating one of the biscuits. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
There was silence for a moment. In the warm sunny garden, so close to her trusted mentor, Twilight felt the knot in her stomach slowly dissolve.
“Oh, yes, Princess,” she found herself saying, in a rush. “I would very, very, very much like to talk about it. It’s kind of a long story, though. And... um, the short version is, I need help.”
Celestia nodded, still smiling that enigmatic smile. “Take your time.”
Twilight nodded, and let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.
As the Princess delicately nibbled on the biscuit, a few crumbs fell down to decorate the tablecloth. Twilight felt a sudden calm wash over her. The tea, the snacks, the light-but-directed conversation... after the chaos of the library, it was all falling into place. Like lining up the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle, or feeling the last thread of a difficult spell join the magical stream. With a dreamy sense of satisfaction, she levitated the platter. The platter. The one she had misplaced in the airing cupboard, where it had miraculously survived the alligator attack.
The one still bearing a single over-starched napkin, still defiantly rolled within a shining gold ring.
“Princess?” she said, beaming.
“Hmmm?” asked the Princess, still enjoying her biscuit.
Twilight met her mentor’s twinkling eyes, savoring the moment. In a few minutes, she would explain, and Celestia would help her fix everything. All was right with the world.
“Would you like a napkin?”
Celestia looked down at the table. “Oh!” she chuckled. Her horn lit up with a golden glow, and the fallen crumbs evaporated into sparkling mist.
Twilight kept smiling. Only a very, very, observant pony would have noticed the tiny twitch in her right eye, as she lowered the platter and its unused cargo back to the table. “Of course,” she said, a little too brightly. “Of course! Yes. Of course. Of course.”
“Are you all right, my faithful student?”
Twilight swallowed heavily. “Yes, Princess. Fine. I just remembered I owe Spike some rubies, actually. Absolutely everything is fine.”
From deep within the library tree, just on the edge of hearing, beneath the happy buzzing of bees and the fluttering of butterfly wings, came the faintest possible whisper. A pony with the most delicate hearing in Equestria, if pressed, might almost call it a sneeze. It was followed by the most miniscule pop, like a pixie secretly opening a cheap bottle of wine. Twilight’s ear twitched.
The Princess, however good the royal hearing was, didn’t seem to take any notice. Instead, she settled comfortably back and gave Twilight a patient look. The very look, in fact, that she had always used when the palace cookie jar was lighter than it should be, and a certain studious unicorn foal was brushing crumbs off her muzzle. And possibly explaining her theory of multidimensional chocolate vortexes.
“Princess...” Twilight began, and trailed off hopelessly. She put her head down on the crumb-free tablecloth and started a good mope.
“Again, take your time,” said Celestia, as the patient look melted into amused concern. “These biscuits are really quite excellent.” More faint sneezing issued from the library, followed by the unsettling sound of stomping hooves. Twilight’s ears wilted in depression.
“I had a special delivery today from Creased Page,” Twilight mumbled into the tablecloth. “And, well, things started going wrong almost immediately.”
Celestia smiled. “Am I to understand you have been falling into your reading?”
“Not me,” Twilight hastily added. “I’m always careful! Well, I thought I was careful. And now Rainbow... well, Rainbow seems to have been affected by the story. A bit. But I think we can fix it! I just don’t know how yet.”
“Thank you for telling me,” the Princess replied. “I’m sure we can put it right. And incidentally, this represents a major step forward for your friendship studies.”
Twilight perked up. “I... what? I put my friends in danger! I mean, nopony was hurt, exactly, but...”
Celestia nibbled the last of her biscuit, and looked straight down at Twilight. “Did you intentionally expose them to danger?”
“Well, no... I mean, I used a binding circle. But it turned out to be the wrong one, and anyway there was a mixup with the wrapping...”
“And you’ve been sitting on your hooves since it happened?” asked Celestia patiently. “Waiting for someone else to fix the problem?”
“Well, no... I, we’ve been trying to fix it ever since.”
“Because you were afraid of what I might say?”
“No,” said Twilight, surprised. “I mean, a little. Hence the garden. But I wanted to help Rainbow. I don’t want to see her like this.”
Celestia picked up her teacup, sipped delicately, and looked off into the middle distance. “Risk cannot be completely eliminated in life, Twilight. I look forward to a full explanation of what happened, of course, and I’m relieved to hear your friends are uninjured. But facing unexpected adversity is a major test of character. I am glad you worked to help your friend, and I am even more glad that having failed, you admitted what happened and asked for help.”
Twilight smiled. “Thank you, Princess. This entire day has just been awful, and I really do need help.”
“To that end,” said Celestia thoughtfully, “I am not entirely unfamiliar with the charms of a misbehaving book.”
“Thank goodness!” Twilight sighed with relief. “It’s the hardest spellcraft I’ve ever done and nothing seems to work.”
Celestia chuckled lightly. “I am no stranger to literary magic, Twilight. Why, I remember one of my younger students, early last century, managed to enchant the book we were using for story-time. Whenever I said the word ‘bunny’, a flower appeared in my mane! By the end of the book, we were practically swimming in daisies. It caused quite the commotion.” She smiled at the memory, and took another sip of her tea.
The stomping noise within the library grew louder now, clearly audible over the breezy background noises of the garden. A royal eyebrow raised playfully.
“Now, I expect Rainbow isn’t summoning daisies. What was this week’s release again? Temple Of The Sea Ponies? Are you suffering an avalanche of ancient artifacts?”
The garden suddenly seemed very hot. Twilight could feel sweat running slimily down the back of her mane. A thick, sour taste filled her mouth. The stomping sound steadily rose; it was definitely drawing closer to the garden door.
“Well, uh... I mean, Princess... the book was, actually, a little more, advanced than that, I think? And, um, there may have been some...” The stomping reached a crescendo, and the back door to the library flew open. Twilight boggled.
The thing standing in the doorway was recognizable as Rainbow Dash, but only barely. A wicked scar crossed her face, running through her left eye, covered by an eyepatch with a crudely-drawn rendition of her cutie mark. She was wearing horribly-stained armored... what was the word... barding? Nightmarish weapons poked from a dozen pockets. Her one visible eye was shining with righteous fury.
“Oh my,” said Celestia. “Was it a book about pirates?”
”YOU!” Dash shouted, pointing an armored hoof at the Princess. Twilight did her best to sink under the table, as Dash charged into the garden. Adorable woodland creatures scattered in every direction. “How DARE you show your face here!”
Celestia kept smiling. “There’s no need to be angry, my little pony.”
“No need to be angry?” hissed Dash. Twilight gripped the legs of the table, feeling faint. A collection of explosive-looking gadgets clinked worryingly, draped aound Rainbow’s barrel like a wreath. “After you abandoned us?”
“You may feel confused,” Celestia started again, patient smile undimmed, “after your little literary adventure. I understand there has been a small magical accident. Please be still and Twilight and I can reverse... can reverse...” Celestia trailed off as she finally looked past Rainbow and into the bloody chaos of the library.
Pinkie Pie smiled broadly, waving at the Princess. Applejack grinned weakly around the handle of her snow shovel, frozen in mid-scrape. And the carcass of the alligator still lay in the center of the room, entrails fanning out like octopus arms. Unspeakable goo dripped from every surface. Shrapnel and pulverized organ meat covered walls, doors, windows, and bookshelves. Not even the display stand in the center of the library had escaped unscathed, still unhelpfully offering a chance to Read About Ponyville History! From the looks of things, Ponyville history involved a surprising number of lung fragments.
Celestia looked down at Twilight, with the worst possible expression... disappointment.
“I’m sorry!” cried Twilight, still clutching the table leg for support. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! But you don’t know what she’s like! She won’t stop reading!”
Rainbow seethed. “You decided your pretty little heart couldn’t handle the war, so you dumped it on Luna! You b...”
“That’s enough,” Celestia interrupted, setting down her teacup so hard it splashed. Breathing deeply, she composed herself.
“Twilight, after cleaning up this... mess, you will spend the next six months visiting the Diamond Dog Kingdom. I expect a detailed report on their history, politics, and culture.”
Twilight hung her head. “Yes, Princess.”
Celestia gave Rainbow Dash a firm look. “As for you, my little pony, if I am not mistaken you are in dire need of a memory spell.” Her horn lit up with golden light as the spell took shape.
But Rainbow wasn’t finished, stomping closer with a furious look on her face. “You left us! You gave up and left us, and then THEY BLEW UP THE WORLD!”
Then it happened. As she stepped forward, the edge of her combat barding snagged on the weathered garden trellis. There was a horrible shrieking of rusty nails, and Twilight watched helplessly as it peeled off the library wall, collapsing into the nearest flowerbed with a solid thump. All three of them were instantly engulfed by a cloud of dry, powdery pollen.
Rainbow Dash blinked.
The entire world held its breath. Bees froze mid-buzz, and butterflies mid-flutter, in horrified fascination. A very yellow Princess stared down at Rainbow, an unreadable expression on her face. Only Twilight knew what was coming next, and did her best to squeeze another few seconds out of the table leg.
Finally....... finally............
............. finally...........
......the silence was broken.
As the garden spun, and Equestria dissolved into blueberries, Twilight mused that she had never heard a sneeze that was so earthquake-like. Or come to think of it, maybe an earthquake that sounded so sneeze-like? Despite herself, she began composing the letter in her mind. Dear Equestrian Physical Review: I have recently encountered a most interesting, if dangerous, magical phenomenon...