Twilight sobbed as Rarity wrapped her wings around her guilt-ridden friend, nuzzling her even as she frowning slightly at the familiarity of the gesture. She had wings; real, proper wings, wings of muscle, flesh and feather, not the ethereal, gossamer constructs she’d experienced once before. If she was honest with herself, it was vaguely unnerving how natural they felt upon her back, how readily they responded to her, as if she’d always had them. That lack of novelty was an issue for later, as she focused on the crying alicorn, unsure what, if anything she should say to try to comfort her friend; considering what they’d been through, everything she could think to offer seemed woefully inadequate.
So she sat, her wings holding Twilight gently, a wet spot growing on her shoulder as the other mare wept, idly noting that the purple alicorn’s shimmering mane tingled as it brushed up against her coat, carefully keeping her own emotions contained as she comforted her friend; both of them being reduced to sobbing wrecks wouldn’t help anypony, and Twilight was, arguably, having a worse time of it than she was, her feelings of loss likely compounded by feelings of responsibility for their friends’ fates.
The designer’s ears twitched as her friend’s sobs became slower, growing more regular, patterns emerging as she was tried to speak through her sorrow. Rarity pulled back slightly, looking at Twilight, but remained silent, letting the lavender mare speak at her own pace. She drew a ragged breath and, with downcast eyes, choked out “I’m…s-sorry for this, Rarity,” through her tears.
Her friend shook her head, trying to smile for her friend’s benefit. “Don’t mention it, dear,” she replied softly as she pulled Twilight in closer. “After everything we’ve been through tonight, I think you’ve earned yourself a bit of a cry.”
“Not…not what I meant,” Twilight countered as she pulled away, still unable to completely control her tears. “I meant…I’m sorry for…for doing all this to you.” She gestured vaguely towards Rarity’s wings and her crystalline mane. “I…please, please don’t hate me,” she pleaded, once again devolving into uncontrolled sobbing.
Rarity blinked, taken slightly aback by her friend’s desperate request. “Twilight…I assure you, I don’t hate you for what’s happened,” she answered evening, finding it suddenly difficult to look at the weeping mare. “While I can’t…speak for the others, I don’t feel that you owe me an apology in the least.” She bit her lip, swallowing nervously. “If I’m to be quite honest, Twilight…I almost feel like I should be thanking you.” She tilted her head back, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t misunderstand, Twilight…I’m not…pleased, that things turned out the way they did; it breaks my heart to think of the others, to think of what their families must be going through right now,” she elaborated as she stared at nothing in particular, struggling to keep herself from picturing her only family’s response had she been one of the four who’d been lost.
“But…there’s really no way to express this that doesn’t make me sound heartless, I’m afraid,” she continued, finally looking back at her friend. “Twilight…when you reach the basest level of things, neither of us has actually lost anything tonight; rather the opposite, to be honest. The others are, after a fashion, still alive; nothing is stopping us from spending time with them, at the least.” She paused, swallowing nervously, worried what reaction her next words might prompt. “The others…I can’t speak for them, Twilight; I’m not entirely sure how I’d react, were I in their place. But I can hardly hate you for taking them from us, even unintentionally, if they aren’t truly gone.
“And as far as you apologizing for ‘doing all this’ to me...Twilight, what has happened to me, personally, that I should be angry about?” she asked, spreading her wings as she stood. “Am I to hate you for my wings? Am I to vilify you for my immortality?” She looked down at the still crying alicorn, barely holding back her own tears as she shook her head. “Please, Twilight, please don’t think I don’t care about the others. You and I both know we never asked for this, and I would gladly surrender it without hesitation if it would restore our friends, if it would restore even one of them.” She tried to smile reassuringly at Twilight, managing only a wavering upward twitch of her mouth. “But I swear to you, Twilight, that I bear you no ill will,” she assured, trying to read her friend’s emotions, silently dreading that she would misunderstand her acceptance.
There were no words as the lavender mare launched herself at Rarity, throwing her forelegs around her friend’s neck as she broke down again, sobbing now in relief. Rarity, for her part, simply nodded to herself, and wrapped a leg around Twilight’s back, careful to avoid pressing against her wings as she let her friend cry, glad that she apparently didn’t think ill of her acceptance of their fate. Before either alicorn could speak again, they heard a loud, wordless, rather high pitched shout, and they both spun to face the door as it swung open.
Luna stepped into the room, shaking her head ruefully. She opened her mouth, then hesitated as she saw the tear stains marring Twilight’s face, her red, puffy eyes. She looked sadly at the first mare to accept her after her return, once more cursing herself for failing to ensure that the scroll had been destroyed and the ashes scattered to the winds so long ago. There were, regrettably, more important issues to attend to, though she made a mental note to help the newly empowered Goddess of Magic adapt to her new life, and to be there while she worked through her feelings of self-loathing, when time allowed. She was, after all, uniquely qualified in that regard.
There were more pressing matters at hoof, however, and she suppressed her sympathetic urges as she focused on Rarity. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have encountered a…small complication,” she began, taking care to keep her voice calm and even. “Applejack’s young sister…did not take the news of her sister’s loss well; that was her you no doubt heard shout before I entered.” She struggled briefly as she suppressed the urge to grin; it always amused her to hear foals trying to sound intimidating, conjuring images in her mind of a kitten who thought herself a lion. Unfortunately, it seemed to her that this foal had the intent to act upon her anger, which drained much of the humor from the situation. “Celestia is with them now, ensuring nopony comes to harm, but she has decided it best we present you to your family first, Rarity, both to reassure them of your safety, and to see if your presence might…defuse the situation.”
The designer was nearly at the door before the Princess of the Night had even finished explaining, reasonably sure she knew the cause of Apple Bloom’s anger; no doubt Sweetie Belle had translated her earlier scream of joy for her young friend, filling the filly with hope which was subsequently torn away. She turned, looking back at Twilight apologetically, sorry to have to leave the distressed mare. Twilight simply shook her head, gesturing for her friend to go and be with her family. Without any further hesitation, the purple-maned alicorn was out the door, quickly trotting down the hall to the open door.
“Twilight Sparkle…forgive me, but if I go, will you be alright by yourself for a short while?” Luna asked, and was greeted with a nod, which she quickly returned. “My sister and I shall be with you again as soon as we are able, Twilight; you and your family have much to discuss, as do the four of us,” she promised, and spun around, her magic pulling the door closed behind her.
Alone, Twilight Sparkle slumped forward onto her stomach, her chin resting against the hard floor, wings tucked against her side. She closed her eyes, still unable to halt the flow of tears, not particularly inclined to try. Rarity had had a point; after the night they’d had, grief was certainly an appropriate reaction, especially when coupled with her growing sense of guilt and, much as she hated herself for it, a thoroughly selfish fear. Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash had been understanding enough earlier, but that had been before Celestia had explained the full extent of their fate. “I wouldn’t blame them if they weren’t quite so understanding now,” she muttered dejectedly, hating herself even as she said it, for considering how her friends’ suffering was going to affect her.
“Oh, come on, Twilight, what do you think everypony is going to say about that?” a voice asked, ringing in her mind, and the alicorn’s eyes snapped open, breath catching in her throat, pupils shrunk to pinpricks of fear…until she realized the voice wasn’t the taunting, twisted version of her own she’d come to recognize. The voice which had just ‘spoken’ was lighter, bubblier, almost like…
“P-Pinkie?” she whispered aloud.
“The one and only!” came the quick reply; even without being able to see the pink mare, Twilight was certain her head was a nodding blur. “Sorry if I scared you; I bet it must be weird having another pony talking to you from the inside, huh?”
“You don’t know the half of it, Pinkie,” Twilight answered, deciding to forego actually speaking; if they wanted to avoid seeming crazy in public, best to get into the habit of not talking to the voices in her head. “Wait…how does this work?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “I mean, I know Celestia said you could talk to me, but…you can’t…”
“Read your thoughts?” Pinkie prompted, and Twilight flinched at the idea. “Nah…well, not unless you let us, anyway. Oh, hang on a sec…” Twilight swore she heard muted whispers clouding her own thoughts, and had to admit she was more than slightly disturbed. “Sorry, Bridgy just wanted me to let you know that the Princesses are going to teach you and Rarity how to stop us from seeing and hearing everything, in case you want any privacy so you can…” There was a loud gasp of shock. “I’m not going to talk to Twilight about that; it’s rude!” Pinkie said, her muffled voice sounding more indignant than Twilight had ever heard from the party pony.
“Uh…Pinkie? Only getting half the conversation over here,” Twilight informed her friend, smiling in spite of herself; it seemed that, even without a physical form, Pinkie could still make a pony smile. “But, uh…thank her for the heads-up, and let’s not think too much about any activities I might or might not engage in that would require privacy.”
“Okey-dokey! Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Or think to you about? Talk-think? Think-talk? Thalk? Oh, I like that one!” Pinkie proclaimed cheerfully. “What I wanted to thalk to you about, is…Fluttershy and I…were listening to you talk with Rarity,” she continued, the mirth draining from her ‘voice’ with each word. “And we want you to know…we aren’t angry, Twilight,” she explained, her tone more serious than she could ever recall using. “Well…I mean, I guess I actually am angry, even if I don’t want to be, if I want to try to be happy for everypony else, and keep everypony else from being sad and mopey, but…that doesn’t mean I’m angry at you, Twilight.” There was a brief pause, and Twilight swore she heard somepony sniffle sadly. “So…don’t try to hurt yourself again, alright? Please? We…don’t want you to get lucky, and find some way around the ‘live forever’ thing…because then, we’d actually be angry at you. Because then, you really would have killed one of us.”
Twilight had heard Pinkie be serious before, when the situation was dire enough. She had seen her friend be afraid before, as well. But there was something, some desperate fear, in that request that she’d never experienced from her fun-loving friend. She gave a shallow nod to the empty room, ignoring the pointlessness of the gesture, as fresh tears streaked her cheeks. “I promise, Pinkie,” she said softly as she gently touched a hoof to her eye, a hint of a smile passing over her face as she felt the slight, familiar sting.
“Good,” Pinkie replied, still uncharacteristically solemn. “And Twilight…you should probably talk to Dashie and Applejack, too. They were really upset, and…I’m kinda worried about them,” she added.
“I will, Pinkie. I will,” she agreed, silently beginning to plan out what she’d say to her other two friends.
****
The three unicorns sat in the small room, mother and father on either side of their filly, watching the door expectantly; the adults were still not entirely at ease, curious what, precisely, the princesses needed to explain to them, but calmer than they’d been since arriving at the castle, reassured that their eldest daughter was safe. Sweetie Belle, for her part, had to force herself to stay seated and not skip around the room in her excitement; her sister was fine, she was going to be there when the princesses explained something important, and, as an added bonus, she was up substantially later than her normal bedtime. All in all, it was a fine night by the filly’s standards, lacking only ice cream and her friends to make the evening perfect.
As the door swung inward, three sets of eyes focused on it intently, expecting to see the Royal Sisters and the fourth member of their family. The look of expectation quickly turned to confusion, as the unicorn family refocused their attention significantly lower, on the small yellow filly standing in the door. Sweetie Belle’s smile widened, just for an instant, as she saw her friend…until Apple Bloom screamed. It was a wordless thing, more howl than scream, the sound a wounded animal might make as it struggled for survival. The young earth pony sprang across the room, faster than her small frame would have seemed to allow, faster than either of the adults could react. The furious child had collided with the unicorn filly, knocking Sweetie Belle onto her back, her head striking the hard floor with a crack, followed the sound of hoof striking flesh as Apple Bloom slammed a hoof into her friend’s cheek, raising her other forehoof to strike a second blow.
The blow never landed, a shimmering golden aura surrounding Apple Bloom and hefting her into the air and away from Sweetie Belle. Celestia strode wordlessly into the room, looking between the two fillies sadly; the young unicorn was largely obscured, her frantic mother tending to the injured child, her father crouching protectively between the fillies, his lips curled back in an instinctive snarl, watching warily as Apple Bloom flailed wildly, but from what the Princess of the Sun could see, and what a quick probe of her magic confirmed, Sweetie Belle had suffered no serious harm.
Meanwhile, the magical energy stretched around the thrashing child, allowing her to exhaust herself while still keeping her safely suspended away from anypony else. “Let me down!” she shouted, glaring past the two unicorn adults at the object of her rage. “She lied to me! She said the scream we heard was a good scream! She said it meant somethin’ good had happened!” she howled, tears finally beginning to stream down her cheeks as her anger, denied a physical outlet, began to wane, allowing the sorrow beneath to make itself known. “She said it meant everthin’ was gonna be fine!”
Celestia frowned sadly as the squirming filly descended into unintelligible sobs, still struggling against the magic, her punches and kicks lashing the air, angry tears falling to the floor below. “I can only assume she told you what she thought was true,” the princess said gently as she levitated the filly to her, holding her at eye level beyond the range of her short legs. “And I can understand your pain, little one, having once lost a sister myself. But this is not, I think, the time to be driving away those who are close to you,” she continued, reflecting sadly that the situations weren’t entirely equivalent, but hopeful the filly, even in her anger, wouldn’t have the nerve to argue with her.
The white stallion looked from his daughter, to Apple Bloom, and finally to Celestia, confusion on his face, panic rising in his heart. “I…what happened?” he asked, a sense of dread once more weighing on his shoulders. “Princess…you said our Rarity was fine…” he began quietly, his voice trailing off as the door, once again, swung open.
“I am fine, Father…for the most part,” Rarity replied as she stepped into the room, smiling sadly as she took in the sight before her. “Actually, I’m rather better than fine, physically,” she said with a wry half-smile, spreading her wings for emphasis. “I’m…sorry for worrying you all,” she offered weakly, finding herself at a sudden loss for words as her parents stared at her in awe.
Celestia stepped to the side, nodding to her sister as Luna quietly entered the room and stood beside her, Apple Bloom levitating between the Princesses as Rarity looked at her family, and her family stared back, trying to process the sight before them. Even the earth pony was still as she stared, unable to accept that what she was seeing.
The designer smiled as her sister twisted herself back into a sitting position, blinking in confusion, her cheek already beginning to bruise. “Sweetie Belle…are you alright?” she asked, growing worried that something had happened when she’d struck her head; the filly had an uncanny ability to avoid injury, but that didn’t mean she was unbreakable.
Sweetie Belle squinted, and tilted her head to the side as she looked over her sister, from the amethyst mane down to her hooves, her eyes lingering briefly on her sister’s back. “Umm…I’m not sure,” she said slowly, nervously. “Did…did I hit my head really hard, or…do you have wings now, sis?”
Rarity grinned at her little sister as she walked over to her family, kneeling down to nuzzle the filly as she draped her wings around her parents. “I have wings now, Sweetie,” she assured her sister, fighting against the urge to chuckle playfully as Sweetie’s face lit up.
“Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are never going to be mean to me again,” she said dreamily, innocently distilling the situation down to the most obvious, immediate outcome, as Rarity stopped stifling herself, tittering at the thought, idly wondering if the Princesses would allow her to prove her sister correct.
“There are some rather more significant consequences of this…addition, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity admonished her sister with a playful wink, leaning in close to the filly. “Though I’ll see what can be done about those wretched little beasts,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper, followed by another quick rub of cheek against cheek before she stood and stepped back, looking between her parents. “I’m…sorry for worrying you Mother, Father,” she said, tucking her wings back against her side as her parents stared at their transformed daughter in stunned silence. “It’s…been a rather busy night, as you can likely imagine.” Uncertain what to offer as explanation, she looked to Celestia for assistance.
“Actually, Rarity, the populace at large was not informed of the threat,” Celestia said, the lie coming easily as she stepped forward. “We saw no reason to worry our subjects needlessly, as neither of us expected there to be any complications.” She lowered her head, a shadow of sadness playing across her face as she looked to the three unicorns. “Earlier today, Luna and I felt an ancient ward, placed in ages past to contain a great evil, begin to weaken; thinking that it, like so much other magic, was merely succumbing to the ravages of time, I sent my student, Twilight Sparkle to perform a ritual to reinforce the spell, accompanied by your daughter, and the other four Elements of Harmony,” she began, careful to guard against any unintentional gesture that would betray her words as false.
“Regrettably, neither I nor my sister realized that the seal’s weakening was not a natural occurrence, but an overt attempt to free the creature by a coven of malevolent unicorns; had we realized, the full might of the Day Guard would have stood guard over them.” She sighed, just enough to give the sense of weariness, without going so far as to make her seem tired or weak. Realistically, she realized her current audience would soon have bigger concerns, and was unlikely to focus too much on her words and actions, but she still felt it best not to forego the pageantry of sorrow. “My student informs me that, just as the ritual reached its climax, they were beset by the unicorns of the coven, who cowardly attacked from the shadows, striking down the other four Elements of Harmony. At that point, things become…unclear.
“My sister and I both felt a surge of immense, wild power from the site of the barrier. Fearing the worst, I went ahead, while my sister rallied her soldiers in the event they were needed. But by the time we had arrived, everything had been…resolved.” The Princess of the Day considered allowing a single tear to run down her cheek, but decided that would be too melodramatic. “The ritual, no longer bounded by the four fallen mares, apparently ran wild; all but one member of the coven was reduced to ash by the unfocused magic.”
She grimaced as if she’d just tasted something indescribably foul. “One of the misguided fools survived long enough for me to question him; somehow my student and your daughter were able to reign in the wild power of the ritual by themselves, and refocus it, completing the ritual and undoing the damage to the wards. But…something changed them.” She gestured towards Rarity’s wings for emphasis. “What that something was, neither my sister nor I can say, not yet, but we are certain there is no darkness taint behind it.”
A pause, a practiced look to Luna, who nodded after a brief delay, struggling to keep her face impassive; she knew she shouldn’t be enjoying herself, not with the concentration of suffering not fifty feet from where she stood, but she had always enjoyed seeing her sister like this, weaving together bald-faced lies, half-truths, and reality to craft a fiction that their subjects would believe. She felt the occasional twinge of guilt after the fact, as the ponies who trusted them lived out their lives based on deceit, but the Princess of the Moon couldn’t deny that allowing the population to know what dangers truly lurked in dark, forgotten places was the greater of two evils.
“Indeed,” she began, primarily addressing Rarity’s mother, “we have sensed naught but pure magic from your daughter, just as we sense from each other.” She was still uncertain regarding Celestia’s request that she speak so archaically, but her older sister had insisted it would add a certain extra weight to the words, so she had acquiesced. “We are most certain that your daughter is now a unicorn no longer, but stands, alongside my sister, Twilight Sparkle, and myself as an alicorn. As a goddess.”
That final pronouncement hung in the air as five ponies stood gaping at the princesses. A swift application of golden-shod hoof to alabaster coat, delivered while four of those ponies stared at Luna, reduced the open mouths by one; Celestia truly had intended to tell Twilight and Rarity the cover story she and Luna had settled on in advance, to avoid that kind of potential mistake, but for the second time that night an Apple’s actions had forced the issue.
“Y…you mean that…that Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy, and Applejack…are gone?” Sweetie Belle’s eyes were watering, her lip beginning to quiver as the previous joy she’d felt quickly fading. The filly had only had to deal with death once before, years ago when her wizened old granddame had passed, an event which she had barely understood, and which her parents had met with a sad sort of relief, the old mare finally free from the pain which had plagued her final years. She had been sad, of course, but it was because her family had been sad, and she had cried when her sister had cried, but she hadn’t really understood it.
Now, she was older, old enough to understand the concept of death, but still young enough to believe that it was an affliction of age, or illness, something from which she and those she cared for were safe. Something that made sense. The idea that four healthy ponies, four ponies nearly the same age as her sister, had died, was a thought she struggled to comprehend fully, her young mind railing against the very possibility. In the end, she responded with the only gesture that seemed appropriate.
She threw her forelegs around her parents, and began to weep as they tried to comfort their child.
Apple Bloom, for her part, had felt the sting of death much more intimately than her friend; her sister’s loss had reopened an old wound, poorly healed but more readily understood. “Yeah, Sweetie, mah sister is dead,” she spat bitterly, her own tears hot and angry. “Y’all get a goddess, and Ah get one more grave to cry at. Sure am glad everything’s fine.” Sweetie shrank back from her vitriolic friend, holding her parents tighter while the adults looked at the floating filly sadly.
“Apple Bloom…” Rarity began slowly, taking a step towards the angry filly, her horn beginning to glow as she glanced quickly at Celestia, nodding towards the filly. The princess nodded in kind, and her golden aura faded away from the young earth pony, replaced by a light blue glow as Rarity took over. “I know you’re upset, and nopony blames you for that,” she gently explained, stepping between the two fillies, blocking Sweetie Belle from Apple Bloom’s line of sight. “But you mustn’t be angry with Sweetie Belle for…misinforming you, when she truthfully did no such thing.” She lifted her floating charge up to her eye level, blue looking into orange. “That scream you heard…she was right, if she said it was a good sign. When I first woke up, I didn’t remember what had happened. All I knew was that I had become…like this, and…I was excited.”
She took a hesitant breath, eyes beginning to tear up as she held Apple Bloom’s gaze. “Applejack…was standing next to me, when those wretched beasts attacked, Apple Bloom. She saw them coming, just before they attacked, but…it was too late to stop them. She…she threw herself in front of me; she blocked the magic meant for me with her own body. She saved me, Apple Bloom.” She blinked, and a single tear rolled down each of her cheeks. “Your sister died to save me, Apple Bloom. So if you want to be angry at somepony, be angry with me, not Sweetie,” she pleaded, and pulled the small filly next to her, retracting the aura from around her small forelegs.
There was the faintest tremor in her face betraying the lie, an almost imperceptible twitch that might have gone unnoticed by anypony not used to spending time around ponies who would lie as soon as breathe, ponies trained by experience to be wary of anything they were told. The two ponies with multiple lifetimes spent in the company of said ponies each glanced at the other from the corner of her eye, and gave the other a shallow nod, impressed by how quickly the designer had tailored the story to her likely purpose, and slightly unnerved by how convincingly she had lied.
Apple Bloom held the alicorn’s gaze, her own tears streaming down her cheek as she slapped Rarity across the face with the flat of her hoof, then again, and a third time, while Rarity looked on sadly, the filly’s angry blows causing no more pain than a gentle tap. She held up a hoof when her father began to rise, gesturing for him to stay seated as Apple Bloom continued to strike her. The filly quickly tired of striking with only one hoof, and began to strike with both, strikingly wildly as she closed her stinging eyes, while Rarity’s family looked away and the Princesses looked on approvingly.
The young filly’s blows gradually slowed, growing weaker, her anger no longer able to compensate for her exhaustion. Backed by what little strength remained, she struck Rarity squarely in the nose, and let her hooves fall limply beneath her hovering form. She reopened her still stinging eyes, and looked at Rarity’s face, no sign of her kicks apparent. “Why?” she asked wearily, resignedly. “Why did she have to die to save you? Why couldn’t she have saved herself?” She hung her head, no longer able to meet the alicorn’s gaze. “Why’d she have to leave me, too?”
Sweetie Belle shivered and pulled her parents closer at the suggestion, images of herself in Apple Bloom’s place springing, unbidden, to her mind. “Apple Bloom…you know the kind of mare your sister was,” Rarity offered with a small, sad smile. “I don’t think it even occurred to her that she might be hurt in the process; she just saw that she could save me, and reacted.” Her smile grew, ever so slightly, as she looked from Apple Bloom to Sweetie Belle. “Just, I suspect, as you would act to save one of your friends.” Her smile faltered, her gaze shifting towards the floor ever so briefly. “And Apple Bloom…she isn’t gone, not really.”
Both Princesses looked warily at the former unicorn, their faces impassive. They hoped that Rarity was simply going to offer the same platitudes she had scoffed at earlier, simple words to comfort the foal she still held in her magic; they feared that she was not, that she meant to reveal the secret they had kept for millennia, a secret each sister had long since agreed must be kept, to ensure the stability of the nation.
Rarity, ignoring the prickling sensation on the back of her neck, raised her right foreleg, and gently touched her hoof to Apple Bloom’s chest. “You remember her, Apple Bloom. You remember the time you spent with her, the lessons she taught you. And as long as you remember…she’ll always be watching over you,” she gently finished, and nodded as the filly through her legs around her neck and began at last to weep, her anger cooled, left only with the grief and sorrow she’d attempted to suppress with rage.
Wordlessly, Luna crossed the room to stand besides the pair, her horn glowing as a second, slightly darker blue aura overlapped the Apple Bloom. The filly’s hold on Rarity slackened, her eyes flittering shut, her sobs diminishing to whimpers, and finally to a slow, steady breathing. The Moon Princess nodded to Rarity, who released her own hold over Apple Bloom’s sleeping form. “A simple sleeping spell,” she assured the increasingly nervous unicorn family. “With her anger passed, it will ensure a restful night, and pleasant dreams.” She sadly nuzzled the young earth pony. “We shall return her to her family, now. They shall need time to mourn their loss, and the four of you have much to discuss in private, no doubt.” With a brief, regal nod, she turned and strode towards the door, Apple Bloom floating in her wake. Celestia bowed her head briefly, a careful gesture of mourning, before she followed her sister out of the room.
Rarity looked from her family, over to the exiting alicorns, then back again. “Mother, Father, Sweetie…just one moment. I need to ask the Princesses something.” She flinched slightly at the crestfallen looks she received in return; Apple Bloom’s sorrow seemed somewhat contagious. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, before running for the door, hoping to have a word in private with the other alicorns.
The Princesses stood on either side of her as she emerged through the door, Celestia to her left, Luna to the right. “You did well, Rarity, embellishing the story to calm the foal,” the Solar Princess commended the designer, her horn surrounded by a golden glow, which in turn surrounded the three of them. “Protection against being overheard,” she explained preemptively.
“Ah, so you weren’t bothered by my…amendments to your scenario? Excellent.” She smiled at the implied praise.
Celestia shook her head. “Quite the contrary, I was impressed with how easily you adapted it.” She smiled impishly. “Whoever taught you was quite the skilled liar.” Luna chuckled to herself as Rarity’s cheek flushed a light pink. “It’s a useful skill to have, when one must keep groups calm in the face of impending disaster, and it’s good to know you possess it,” she explained, using the same tone Rarity had heard her use to congratulate Twilight in the past. “Now go, be with your family. We can spare you a few hours for that, at least.” The brief moment of levity passed, she turned towards the doors leading back to the waiting room, Luna following behind with the sleeping filly draped over her back, their hoofsteps echoing off the marble floor.
Rarity’s smile faded once the Princess’s were no longer looking at her, replaced by a worried frown as she recalled that brief tingling sensation she’d felt earlier, wondering what it had been. With a shake of her head, she dismissed it as her own nerves, her lips once more curled in a slight smile as she stepped back into the room, to explain what she could to her parents and sister, and to reclaim some small semblance of normalcy from the confusion the night had brought.
****
Applejack stared angrily at the crystalline wall behind her, still flawless despite her best efforts to the contrary. Growling in frustration, she delivered another sharp kick to the wall, followed by another, and another. She knew she was acting like a foal throwing a tantrum; she simply didn’t care. The last time she’d been this angry, Granny Smith has taken her out to the boundary of the farm, to a large, solid boulder, and told the filly to start kicking until the boulder cracked, her legs gave out, or she stopped being angry. The last time, she’d given up after half an hour, her rear hooves throbbing in pain, and had broken down in tears as Granny held her, looking off into the evening sky as they each mourned in their own way. Delivering another firm kick to the diamond wall, her anger undiminished, she expected to be there a while longer this time; with eternity stretching out before her, she saw no reason to rush the process.
It was relaxing, after a fashion. Nothing to think about, nothing to worry about. Plant her forehooves, lift her hind legs, and kick back just as hard as she could manage. Plant, lift, kick. Just fall into the repetitive rhythm, and she could stop thinking for a time, stop worrying about her family. Plant, lift, kick. Let her mind go numb, and she didn’t have to agonize over the pain they’d feel, as they buried another member of the family lost too young. Plant, lift, kick. Forget, if only for an instant, the injustice of being forced to watch through Rarity’s eyes, to be unable to comfort them, unable to tell them that she wasn’t really gone. Plant, lift, kick. Tune out the unending stream of sensations streaming into her mind through her link with Rarity; she knew something was happening with Apple Bloom, and she couldn’t bear to know anymore and be unable to help, unable to influence that world except by causing her friend pain.
Her concentration on her movement faltered, a glimpse of Apple Bloom flashing through her thoughts, the filly’s face twisted with her own anger. Gritting her teeth, the farmer reared back and kicked with as much force as she felt she could muster, desperate to lose herself again. Her hooves connected with the wall…and kept going, the crystal exploding outwards from the force of her kick. She looked back over her shoulder, saw the gemstone shards flying away from her, gleaming brilliantly as they began to fall. She planted her rear hooves on the floor, staring at the hole dumbly, her mouth agape as the wall began to almost grow itself back together; within seconds, it was back to its flawless perfection, and Applejack began to wonder if she’d imagined the hole.
“Sorry about that,” a familiar voice said from the empty space next to Applejack, startling the orange mare. “I only meant to weaken it a little, so you could crack it a bit, maybe feel a little better. I guess I’ll need some time to get used to this place.” There was a soft sigh as colors began to coalesce in the open air, purples, indigoes, and pinks spreading like paint until Twilight Sparkle stood beside her friend, grinning lopsidedly.
Applejack glared at the unicorn briefly before pushing her Stetson forward, hiding behind the brim, unwilling to look at her friend. “I was feeling just fine without any help, Twi,” she snapped, a bit more angrily than she’d meant to. “I’m just working out some frustration on the wall, so I don’t end up using somepony’s face instead.”
“Somepony like who, Applejack?” Twilight asked, head tilted to the side as she watched the farmer. “If you want to hit me, go right ahead. The ritual is the whole reason you’re in this mess…really can’t blame you for being angry about that,” she offered, causing Applejack to push her hat back and look her friend in the eyes. There had been no hint of mockery in her tone, and the look in her eyes wasn’t one of mirth; that had been a serious offer. A largely empty one, considering she couldn’t be hurt anymore, but it still gave the earth pony pause as she considered it.
At length, Applejack shook her head, disgusted with herself for that brief consideration. “No, Twilight. I’m not…well, I guess I am mad at you, after a fashion,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. “If you hadn’t been so excited about the ritual, and so set on surprising the Princesses, you could’ve talked to one of them, found out what the magic would do to us, and not decided to cast it.” She sighed as she looked down at the floor. “But if I started hitting ponies whenever doing what comes naturally to them without realizing the consequences, half the ponies I know would be in the hospital more often than not,” she reasoned, followed by a bitter laugh as she recalled all of the problems Pinkie had caused despite her best intentions, or even the problems she herself had caused; poisoning and provoking a stampede jumped embarrassingly to mind.
The purple mare nodded thoughtfully, the corner of her mouth twitching as she did. “Well, that’s a bit of a relief, knowing I don’t need to watch my back around you, AJ. Though it still leaves the question of who you’d want to hit, unless…” her voice trailed off as realization dawned, an odd gleam in the unicorn’s eyes. “Celestia, Applejack? I mean, I understand why, but you really think trying to fight her will end well for you?” she asked, incredulously, shaking her head at the other mare. “Ignoring that you can’t really hurt her, and that she could just leave, while you’d still be stuck in here…what would you accomplish?”
Applejack glowered at Twilight, no longer quite as certain that she didn’t want to strike her. “Not much of anything, other than feeling better for a little bit,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “But it’s not like she could do much to me, either, so really, there isn’t much reason for me not to do it, is there? Pretty much the only upside of being dead; there’s not much anypony can do to make things worse for you.”
“Except make her dig her hooves in about not interacting with your family,” Twilight pointed out. “But, if that’s what you want…”
“She already made it pretty clear they can’t know I’m still around in here, Twilight.” She snorted in annoyance. “After all, if I told my family I wasn’t really gone, the world might end.”
“No, Applejack, if anypony else found out, the world might end,” the unicorn corrected, rolling her eyes as she did. “Be honest, do you think your family could really keep a secret this huge? Yeah, Big Macintosh probably could, but Granny Smith is half-senile already, and Apple Bloom’s still a filly; neither of them is particularly good at keeping their mouths shut right now.” She paused, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards again as she looked at her friend. “And, well …let’s not forget that Apple Bloom was involved the last time Discord nearly took over the world, and not in a way that would necessarily inspire confidence.”
“You’d better watch your mouth there, sugarcube, or I might just take a swing at you after all,” Applejack warned, scratching at the floor with her hoof. “I don’t much appreciate you calling my family untrustworthy. Least none of my kin ever mistook a shape-changing bug for the love of their life.”
“Oh, you’ve got me there, AJ. I’m sure a member of the Apple family would never be taken in by a changeling, and wouldn’t possibly side with the changeling over one of her closest friends,” Twilight shot back. “All anypony’d need to do is offer your family the chance to cater something, and they’d do anything the anypony asked them to-“ She was cut off by a burst of pain, and suddenly found herself laying on the floor, Applejack looming over her, hoof still raised, her breathing shallow. “And there’s the Apple family’s poor impulse control. No need to think things through and consider all the options and consequences.
“Two ponies you decide need to be together have no apparent interest in each other? Better whip up something you read about in a book to make them love each other; no need to actually read the entire book and find out you’re actually poisoning them. Somepony hurts your pride? Better agree to a bet that could bankrupt your family if you lose, while providing no real benefit if you win. Which, just as a reminder, you technically lost, even with the rest of us helping you, and you would have lost outright if we hadn’t been there.” Applejack took a step back as Twilight stood, contempt plain on her face. “And then, we have my personal favorite. ‘I didn’t place first in any events at a national rodeo? Better abandon my family and friends, then refuse to explain myself and lead those friends on a chase through the desert when they come looking for me.’ That was really well thought out, Applejack; real high level planning.
“And of course, we can’t forget about tonight, can we? You see a friend, obviously devastated by the unintended consequences of her actions, and what do you do? Try to comfort her, or at least stay quiet so you don’t make things worse?” The lavender mare laughed bitterly. “No, of course not! You tell her that yes, it’s absolutely her fault you’re dead, prompting her to try to destroy herself out of guilt.”
The earth pony turned away, unable to bear her friend’s withering glare any longer. Much as she hated to admit it, much as she wanted to reject her friend’s spiteful words outright, there was no way to deny the ring of truth to them. Her family did have a tendency to act without thinking, a trait which rarely seemed to serve them well. Maybe, she reflected, Celestia was right, keeping her family in the dark. “Twilight, I…I’m sorry about…”
“Save it, Applejack,” Twilight interrupted dismissively. “Apologizing now is pointless; I pointed out how badly you screwed up, how badly your entire family has screwed up in the past, so of course you’re going to feel sorry for yourself and ask for forgiveness. The trouble is I’m not in much of a forgiving mood right now. So stop talking. Think, Applejack. Think, then speak,” she instructed, sighing as she turned and walked away from the other mare. “Next time you see me, if you still feel like you should apologize, do it then…but you’d better apologize for the underlying problem, not just the obvious symptoms. Don’t apologize for hitting me; apologize for not being able to control your emotions better.
“And Applejack…Lovecraft was right,” she added without turning back to look at the orange mare. “You use the truth like a bludgeon, without regard for the consequences, and on the rare occasions when you try to lie, it’s clumsy and obvious. Rarity can be generous without giving away everything she owns; Pinkie can spread laughter without trying to turn a funeral into a dance party. Learn how to be honest, without being completely tactless.” Twilight looked over her shoulder at her friend, expression grim. “Otherwise, your only option is to figure out a way to take control of Rarity’s body and then beat Celestia, Luna, and me in a fight; probably the only way you’ll get to talk to anypony again. Though if you can’t control yourself, there’s not much chance you could control somepony else.”
Applejack turned to question Twilight, only to see her friend dissipate into a cloud of purple mist which quickly vanished blew past her, leaving her alone in the small chamber. Coughing from her friend’s smokey exit, she lay down dejectedly on the floor, thinking about what Twilight had said, admitting to herself that, despite her caustic manner, she hadn’t been entirely wrong in Her assessment. It was no secret that the Apple family had a tendency to rush into situations without thinking things through all the way, and even glorified that kind of behavior.
Sure, she reflected, sometimes it worked out for the best; if Granny Smith hadn’t been foolish enough to go into the Everfree at night to look for food, they might have never discovered the Zap Apples, and Ponyville might not be the town it was today. But that same attitude had helped put Applelossa in conflict with the buffalos, instead of taking the time to work the issue out ahead of time.
It was an Apple family decision, back when they had more influence over the town government, which had barred the use of magic during Winter Wrap-up, even though it slowed things down significantly; nopony really talked about it anymore, but she’d heard whispers that it was because her great-grandpappy begrudged unicorns their magic, and had imposed the rule to make himself feel superior to the first unicorn settlers. The rule only continued to stand because anytime anypony suggested changing it Granny Smith started shouting about tradition and respect for the ponies who founded the town until everypony let it drop just so she’d stop talking about it.
She had to admit, Granny Smith finding out would mean everypony would know within a matter of days, if it even took that long; everypony might not believe her, but a few might, and that could be enough. And, much as it pained her, Apple Bloom couldn’t be told, either; Applejack didn’t believe her little sister would tell anypony intentionally, but the filly did have a knack for making trouble. That only left Big Macintosh; granted, he knew how to keep a secret, but she couldn’t imagine burdening him with the task of lying to the rest of the family, with nopony to talk to about it. No, she’d defer to the princesses, at least for the time being, agonizing as it was to be cut off from her family. In a few years, when Apple Bloom was more mature, more discrete, maybe she could ask again.
“There you are.” The words snapped Applejack from her silent reverie, and she looked to the single door leading into the chamber, an ebon earth pony stood there, framed by the diamond, her face the very image of disinterest. “I’ll give you some credit, farmer. I wouldn’t have expected you to be able to hide from me for as long as you did, considering how little you know about how this place works.”
“And I’ll give you credit; not many ponies I know can make their compliments sound like insults quite so effectively,” Applejack replied, pointedly looking away from the new arrival. “You here to add more insults to the pile, make me feel worse about myself? Or did Celestia send you to watch me so I can’t do any more harm?”
Behind the farmer’s back, Lovecraft smirked. “Who’s to say it can’t be both, sweetie?” she asked, her voice dripping with forced cheer. The sound of her hoofsteps echoed in the room as she walked towards the prone mare, her gait measured and precise. Soon she stood next to Applejack, eyes straight ahead, declining to actually look at the other mare as she spoke. “I’m not going to apologize for what I said earlier. We should get that out of the way first, I think. The fact that you, of all ponies, were chosen as the new Honesty…it speaks volumes about the world Celestia shaped in our absence.”
“Not the first time you mentioned that. Want to explain it a bit, or is being cryptic and abusive your special talent.” The orange mare continued to stare ahead, sharing Lovecraft’s refusal to look at the pony she was talking to. “And what’re you talking about, absence? Get lost in here at some point?”
At that comment, the black mare did look at her counterpart, openly scowling. “I’d ask if you were being that dense on purpose, but I’m honestly not sure you’re clever enough for that; nothing I’ve seen of you gives me cause to believe it, at the least.” She pressed a hoof to her forehead, pressing gently. “In case you weren’t paying attention, I don’t have my own body anymore, same as you. You’re joined to your little friend with aspirations of nobility; I’m joined to Luna,” she explained, speaking at an exaggeratedly slow pace. “Now, would you care to guess what would happen to you if Little Miss Fauxbility was completely cut off from the outside world? If she was, oh, I don’t know…imprisoned on the moon for a millennium? I’ll give you a hint; you don’t get to stay in the comfy mental construct with the friends you’d been trying to destroy.
“So there we are, a thousand years without a true Element of Honesty, and Celestia…she did her best, I suppose, but there’s only so much she can do. The three of them had Kindness, Loyalty, and Laughter well in hand, so there was no problem properly instilling those ideals in the populace. Magic…Magic takes care of itself; it flows through the world as naturally as blood flows through your veins.” She heaves a wistful sigh, once more looking towards the wall, through the transparent crystal to the vast expanse outside. “As for Generosity, it seems there’s enough overlap between being kind and being generous that things have worked out. Of course, Dream Keeper isn’t thrilled that the richest ponies aren’t being robbed more often to aid the poor, but polite society frowns upon that kind of lawlessness these days.”
“Listen, I’m sure this is all really interesting, and I’m sorry to hear you got stuck on the moon with Nightmare Moon for a thousand years, but if you want to give somepony a lesson on history and politics, you want to talk to Twilight, not me,” the farmer said pointedly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone again.
Lovecraft snorted derisively. “So, patience isn’t one of your virtues, either. Fine. Though, as a point of clarification, we weren’t ‘stuck’ with Nightmare Moon; she was an amalgam of all three of us, acting as one, alongside certain…other factors. And those thousand years were very, very interesting.” She grinned at Applejack’s shocked expression. “But you’re not interested in history, so I’ll get to my point. These days…from what I’ve seen, ponies treat honesty as a binary state; either somepony is telling the truth, or they aren’t. Yes, you all tend to recognize that lies are sometimes necessary, but generally it’s all very…simple.
“I look at you, and see you as the paragon of that Honesty. That flat, black and white plane of truth.” She sighed again, stepping towards the wall, seemingly intent to speak to the walls of the room, as if Applejack was there by mere happenstance. “As we fought Discord, the truth was a razor’s edge we all had to walk. And I…” she paused again, smiling as she remembered the past. “I didn’t walk on it; I danced.” She glanced back at Applejack over her shoulder. “Representing Honesty wasn’t a hindrance as spymistress; it was an asset,” she explained, her voice softening, while Applejack listened with rapt attention. “Harmony protected us, and Honesty was part of that protection. A pony who lied too much, or too severely, wasn’t shunned merely because they couldn’t be trusted; they were a vulnerability. They were a way for Discord to gain an ally without our forces.
“We needed to hide the truth, then, without lying to our enemies. Or our allies, for that matter.” She looked away from Applejack again, eyes closed as hollow protection against the ghosts of the past. “Even today, the world is fragile, the forces of darkness prowling just beyond the light of civilization. You can’t even imagine how much worse it was back then, farmer. I stopped counting how many times we stood on the precipice of annihilation, or how many times we would have fallen over if Discord’s forces hadn’t turned on themselves at some mad whim.
“Special tactical manuals were put together on Celestia’s orders, shown only to the king, the queen, and the six of us.” She shook her head sadly. “There were ‘tactics’ concerning soldiers who threw down their weapons and fled in a mad panic, or who surrendered to the enemy. It even classified death as a ‘retreat from the world of the living.’ Just so we could claim any battle which turned against us as a tactical retreat.” The ancient mare sat down, head tilted back to look at the ceiling. “It was misleading, but it was also, technically, true. Truth, tempered by kindness.
“And what she learned to do, what she did with practice and planning, in the name of sparing her subjects the horrors of war, I did naturally,” she continued, pride mingling with sorrow. “In my entire adult life, I told four outright lies, and not a single one of them related to my duties. And despite that, I could convince sentries that I had clearance to enter the most closely guarded strongholds; I convinced trained interrogators that there were spies within their ranks, and watched as they turned on each other.” A single tear slipped from her left eye; she unconsciously brushed it away. “And I could make the most battle hardened general in Discord’s service believe that I truly loved him. I could even convince my own body of that long enough for him to fall asleep, so I could run a dagger across his throat.
“So, if it seems that I don’t like you…that’s why,” she concluded, head still tilted back. “I see you and…I mourn what I’ve lost. You remind me that Equestria moved on while I was away; that I’m a relic of an age long past.” She cast another glance behind her, smiling weakly as she saw the orange mare continued to stare at her in what could best be described as awe. “And, I’ll be honest; it disappoints me that you don’t seem to know that, when it’s a matter of sparing those closest to you, a lie can sometimes be more honest than the truth.”
Applejack didn’t know how to respond. She had expected the older pony to belittle her, had expected insults and arrogance, had expected flimsy justifications for not being able to interact with her family, and had been ready to respond with indignation and anger. Instead, a mare who was practically a stranger had opened up to her. True, she had still been somewhat condescending, but the orange mare, still feeling introspective after Twilight’s harsh assessment, had to admit there was a certain truth to what she’d said. And, she reasoned, if they were going to face an eternity with a limited number of companions, alienating one wasn’t an especially good idea.
“You’re not a relic,” she said at last, trying to sound cheerful, managing to barely sound less than miserable. “I’m sure plenty of ponies would love to be able to…twist the truth around like it sounds you could, and but still not actually lie.” She winced slightly, her words sounding hollow even as she spoke; she really was awful when she tried to lie.
Lovecraft shook her head, smiling as she did. “On second thought, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut, if that’s how well you can lie,” she replied, her words gentle, meant as a simple suggestion, not a veiled insult. “And even if you believed it…I have it on very good authority that I’m not honest enough for this new world. Good effort, though; there might be hope for you yet.” For a moment, the two shared an awkward smile, before the silver-maned mare turned away again. “There’s…something else,” she solemnly announced. “Celestia did send me to talk with you, farmer…Applejack. About your family.”
The farmer tensed up, the feelings of goodwill that had been building doused in an instant. “Of course she did,” she replied coolly, her gaze hardening into a glare. “So, was that nice little speech just supposed to make me feel bad for you, so I wouldn’t make a fuss about that again?” She climbed angrily to her feet and spun away from her companion, towards the door…only to face a smooth, unbroken wall.
Slowly, Lovecraft rose from her seated position, shaking her head as she turned to look at Applejack. “I swear to you, as an Element of Honesty, that everything I said was absolutely true,” she promised as she took a slow step forward. “Yes, I told you all I did because I wanted to develop a rapport, but it wasn’t so I could then exploit that bond and convince you that Celestia was right, or that you should never interact with your family again for the good of the kingdom. But please, believe me when I tell you that, even if her given reason may seem mad to you…it truly is for the best that your family, and especially your sister, think you dead.”
She paused, and Applejack turned to look at Lovecraft; her head was bowed as she walked, her shoulders slumped forward. The farmer watched cautiously, her impulse towards mistrust warring with a sense that the elder pony wasn’t trying to trick her. “Why?” she asked, her tone clipped and inpatient. “Why did she send you, if it wasn’t for that? What gives you the right to tell me what’s best for my family?”
Lovecraft looked up, and Applejack stepped back; the dark mare’s eyes were wet with tears, her face marked by an old sorrow still freshly felt; a pain Applejack recognized well, having seen it in the mirror more times than she cared to admit. “Because,” the other mare replied, able to keep all but the barest hint of her pain from her voice as she spoke, “I’ve seen firsthoof just what knowing can do to a pony. Because, millennia ago, I saw that knowledge destroy my own daughter.”