//------------------------------// // Downpour // Story: Death Note: Equestria // by Nonagon //------------------------------// 28 *Downpour* Memories lost by giving up ownership of the Death Note can be regained temporarily by touching a Note, or permanently by regaining ownership of a Note. This can be done up to six times per Death Note. The rain in Ponyville, which had been going on lightly all morning, grew heavier as Colgate and Fluttershy walked past the post office. They shivered and huddled together, both trying to take shelter under Fluttershy’s umbrella. The chain linking their hooves coiled and dragged between them. The few other ponies who'd remained outdoors were scurrying quickly homeward, leaving the pair on their own as they trekked down the slowly muddying street. The postmaster's house was unremarkable, built so close to his place of work that at a glance it appeared to be a part of the same building. Colgate knocked politely, then hammered loudly on the door when her first attempt failed to create a response. "Boxy Brown?" she yelled over the still-increasing volume of the storm. "This is the police! Are you in there?" The door creaked open, and a large brown head nervously peeked out. "Hello, Colgate," Boxy Brown said quietly. "And Fluttershy, nice to see you. You want to come in?" "If we could," Colgate said, twitching her soaking tail. The large pegasus hustled them inside. While Fluttershy immediately began profusely thanking their host and shaking herself off, Colgate took a cautious look around. The large front room gave the impression of a fairly standard bachelor pad: a couple of sofas angled towards a large stratoscreen in the corner; a selection of hats and picture frames lying haphazardly about; a lingering smell of dust and old food. It was the house of a stallion who'd never been married and wasn't planning on settling down anytime soon. Something was off, however, and it didn't take long for her to realize what: it was too clean. Not properly cleaned, but subject to a hurried, just-shove-it-under-the-rug tidying-up, as though he'd been expecting some more ladylike guests to arrive. Boxy Brown seemed quick to confirm this, leaning against the doorframe and wringing his large cap between his front hooves. He seemed shifty, trying to keep a serious expression but not able to look either mare in the eye. Colgate watched him warily, which only seemed to heighten his nervousness. “So, uh...” He grinned cheerlessly. “You’re here for Ditzy, right?” Colgate nodded sharply, hanging up her umbrella on a hat rack. “Where is she?” “Upstairs. Sleeping, I think. That’s all she seems to do lately.” Boxy started to edge towards the stairs as Colgate’s expression became colder. “I can, uh, get her for you if you want.” “Not yet. Let’s talk, first.” “Right, right. Please, uh...” He quickly turned to Fluttershy as Colgate brushed past him, brightening up as his eyes drifted slightly downwards. "So you're one of, ah..." he said, gesturing towards his neck. "Oh, yes." Fluttershy smiled back, running a hoof along her silk collar. She seemed marginally more comfortable in his presence, but repeatedly gave him puzzled, concerned looks when she thought he wasn’t looking. "Are you as well?" "Been thinking about it." The stallion stumbled backwards, inviting the pair further into his home. "I was plannin' on going to one of the meetings this week, but, ah... things got a little complicated." He waved towards his living room, smiling desperately at Colgate’s increasingly dark stare. "Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? I've got a few drinks left in the kitchen." "Not now, Mister Brown." Colgate led Fluttershy away and took a seat on the nearest sofa, never taking her eyes off the large stallion. Boxy Brown fluttered over to the seat opposite, barely able to meet her gaze. From somewhere behind herself, Colgate had produced a thin notebook and quill and started to write. "Just the facts. How long has Ditzy been staying with you?" “Two nights.” The stallion finally seemed to notice the chain linking the two mares in front of him, but didn’t question it. “She said she didn’t want to be alone. She was in a bad state, so I wasn’t gonna turn her away. How’d you know she was here?” "Her friend Carrot Top found me yesterday and mentioned that nopony had seen her in a while. I asked around, and two of her coworkers mentioned that you'd started acting strange around the same time she vanished.” “So that’s that, then.” Boxy started to rise, eyeing the notebook nervously. “Look, I’ve got Raindrops covering for her, but it’s not good for both of us to stay holed up in here, so if you could talk to her—” “We’re not done here,” Colgate shot back at him. Boxy’s rump dropped quickly to his seat. “Keep talking. After Ditzy came to your door, what happened?” “Well, uh...” He shuffled in place. Fluttershy gave him an encouraging nod. “I brought her inside. She was crying, so I took her to the kitchen and gave her some juice to calm her down. She couldn't really tell me what was wrong, but I figured she'd open up when she was ready, you know?" Colgate nodded slowly, still writing. "What kind of juice?" "Apple. That's her favorite." "I see. And what then?" "Well... it was late, so I asked if I could walk her home, but she said she didn't want to leave. So I put her in bed and stayed with her until she fell asleep." Colgate glanced up. "Stayed with her?" She narrowed her eyes. "And is that... all... that happened?" "Well, yeah." Boxy glanced to the side, looking defensive. "Well, what was I supposed to do? Just leave her there? That wouldn't have been right." "No," Colgate muttered. "It wouldn't." She looked back down at her page. "And if we were to ask Ditzy about what happened, would her story match yours?" Instantly, a little colour left Boxy Brown's cheeks. "Well, s-sure," he said, glancing around again. "Why wouldn't it? I mean, she might, you know, she might remember some details that I didn't think were important. But she was pretty stressed at the time, and pretty sleepy. She might not remember it all that well." "We'll see," Colgate said acidly. Fluttershy put a steady hoof on her friend’s. "I'm sure everything will add up," she said, but she didn't sound entirely confident in her own words. Colgate didn’t look up. “Your family doesn’t have the best... history... with mares, does it, Mister Brown?” she continued. “It was just last year that I had to have a not all that pleasant conversation with your brother. In fact, a pretty similar conversation to the one we’re having now...” Boxy Brown gritted his teeth. “You’ve got no cause to bring Crafty into this,” he said. "What happened with him is none of my business. Besides, I... look, I slept down here, all right?" He held up a worn cushion in front of him. It was slightly stained and covered in long hairs. A hint of anger came into his voice. "See? I've been sleeping on this couch for the past two nights. Is that what you were looking for? 'Cause it's the truth." "Nopony's looking for anything," Fluttershy said gently. "We just want to make sure everything's okay." Colgate raised her quill pointedly. "Mr. Brown, how would you describe your relationship with Ditzy Doo?" "She's... she's a good kid. A little clumsy, but I'm always happy to have her around. I'm pretty fond of... I mean, she's a good worker... she's like a daughter to me, okay?" Boxy Brown was starting to redden. "I just wanted to make sure she was okay. That's all." "Is that so?" The policemare glanced up. "Because the pair we spoke to had a few other things to say about you. Allegations of... let's see... favoritism, unwanted attention, suspected 'creepiness'..." The stallion forced a chuckle. "You know how ponies talk." "Oh, I really do." Colgate snapped her notebook shut. "Now let me make myself clear, Boxy Brown. It's well known that you have some affection for Ms. Doo. An unrequited love — every day so close to you, but always just out of reach. And then, one night, she shows up on your doorstep in tears, completely defenseless, heartbroken by the loss of the one pony who had kept you from being with her—" "Wait, what?" "—and you take her inside, up to your bed, and keep her hidden for a day and a half? You can see why some ponies might start to think your intentions weren't entirely noble. In fact, some might say that for you, it was... a golden opportunity." Boxy Brown had stopped listening. "You mean Written Script is dead?" he asked, unable to hide a small degree of elation. "Mister Brown!" Colgate snapped. A blue spark momentarily ran along her horn. "I will be asking Ditzy about her time here, and believe me, she's a much worse liar than you. So tell me the truth." She raised herself up, now making no effort to disguise her glare. "Did you in any way take advantage of Ditzy Doo while she was staying with you?" The last of the colour drained from the stallion's face. "N—" "Because if you did, I swear to Celestia, if you've hurt even a single hair on that mare's head, then it won't be just me you'll be dealing with. I will bring the whole of Ponyville down on you." "No! I mean... I mean no. No is what I mean." Boxy Brown backed up as far as he could against the sofa. He looked desperately to Fluttershy, who was staring at the floor. "Come on, Shy! You know I'm a nice guy, right? I mean, we've met, right? You know I wouldn’t do anything like... that, right?" "I want to believe that, Mister Brown." Fluttershy sniffed. "I really, really want to." Again, she pressed a hoof against the band of silk around her neck. “Because I know what happens to ponies who prey on the weak these days. And I don’t want that to have to happen to you.” "No. I didn't do anything. I didn't!" He stomped ineffectually on the cushions. "I've always been good to Ditzy. I would never do anything to hurt her. You know that!" "Really?" Colgate flipped her notebook open again. "Did you kiss her?" The stallion choked on his words for several seconds before he was able to speak. "On the cheek. But that was it, honest!" "Was it?" Colgate pressed. Her left eye twitched. “The mare of your dreams, complete putty in your hooves, and you expect me to believe that all that happened was one chaste little kiss? When she turns up exhausted and defenseless, too shaken to put up any resistance, maybe not even understanding what was going on—” “Don’t you talk about her that way!” Boxy roared. He leaped up and flared out his wings, pointing accusingly. “Ditzy’s different, but she’s not stupid! She’s a strong mare and a good mother and she chooses who she goes to bed with!” There was a long pause. “I mean—” “So.” Colgate spat her words. “That’s that, then.” Boxy Brown shook his head. “No, it wasn’t like—” “I think we’d like to talk to Ditzy now,” Fluttershy said quietly. “Agreed.” The policemare stood, walking swiftly towards the protesting stallion. A twisting beam of blue light wrapped around one of his hind legs, then around the leg of the sofa he sat on, forming a pair of artificial hoofcuffs. She expected a triumphant smile to slip across her face, but none came. She had nothing positive to feel. “If you have nothing else to say, we can continue this conversation at the station. In the meantime...” She leaned forward, glaring daggers into his eyes. “Sit tight.” Boxy Brown shrank as Colgate turned away. “Wait,” he said weakly. Fluttershy bowed apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she said before following her friend. “No... please.” The last of the fight went out of Boxy Brown’s eyes. He slumped defeatedly against the sofa. “I’ll tell you what happened.” Colgate tried to keep walking, but Fluttershy had stopped. They looked stubbornly back at each other as the chain reached its limit, each wordlessly lifting a hoof to tug the other back in their direction. After a few seconds, Colgate released a sigh and turned back to the living room, though she didn’t return to the sofa. “All right,” she said. “Talk.” Boxy Brown was quiet for a while before speaking. “Look, it’s like you said,” he started. “I’ve always liked Ditzy. A lot of ponies think she’s stupid ‘cause she keeps messing up her eyes and her words, but underneath that she ain’t any different than anypony else. I gave her a chance when no one else would, and I’ve never once regretted it. She’s the best worker I’ve ever had, and just a joy to be around.” He chuckled. “And even you’ve gotta admit, that mare has one unbelievable pair of... I mean...” He faltered as two pairs of eyes narrowed at him. “That is... she’s got a real nice... I really like her mane,” he mumbled. “She doesn’t owe you anything,” Colgate hissed. “It’s not about that!” Boxy shouted back. “Anyways. After a while, along came this Written Script guy. He was a real piece of work. Good at making lovey-eyes, but every time he opened his mouth around Ditzy all he ever did was talk down to her, like she was a kid. And sometimes, she would come in extra sick, or limping around... I could never prove anything, but I had my suspicions. The both of them, they had everypony else fooled, but I always knew he was no good. Nopony else knew her like I do. “Things got worse after Dinky came around. This guy was always saying he was going to marry her, but he never did, even after she had his kid. After he got arrested, I thought she'd finally realize she deserved better than him, but she never did. She just kept moping after this stallion who was never coming back, and it hurt watching her beat herself up over it. I always wished she'd wise up and find somepony who would look after her properly — not, you know, anypony in particular. But somepony. "And then... yeah, it was like you said. She came to my door, and she was putty in my hooves. She was all over me, crying on my shoulder. I told myself nothing was going to happen, but I thought... I thought maybe this was my chance, you know? To show her that there are stallions out there who respect her, and she didn’t have to settle for some washed-up drug dealer who didn’t care about her feelings. “And things were going okay at first, but... she just kept breaking down, and I couldn’t get a word out of her, and she wasn’t listening to a thing I said. So... I spiked her juice. Just a little!" he quickly added as Fluttershy gasped. "Just to calm her down. It was... I told myself it was just to calm her down. And... it worked, I guess. It worked a little too well. She just went limp, and she fell over me, and she let me take her upstairs. She..." Fluttershy had gone very pale. Boxy gulped. "She never said no," he said. "I lay down with her. I said I wasn't gonna leave her alone. She didn't say anything. I kissed her and I told her everything was gonna be okay. She didn't move. She just let me get closer to her. All I was gonna do was hold her. That’s all. I just..." He looked at the ground, his breath becoming slightly labored. "I didn't want her for myself. I just wanted to make her feel better. I didn't mean... I never wanted..." The stallion took a deep breath, struggling to hold back tears. Colgate felt a deep revulsion well up inside her. She was about to spit at his hooves when he spoke again. "But then something happened," Boxy said. "Something different. Because every time I got close to her, every time I thought I was about to... start something... something stopped me. It was like there was another set of hooves holding me back, just out of sight. Because whenever I touched her, whenever I looked at her, all I could think about was..." Abruptly, the large pegasus rose. Colgate tensed up, expecting him to make a run for the door, but instead he lunged the other way towards a table in the corner of the room. He quickly reached the end of the magic chain binding him to his sofa, and the legs made a terrible, ear-piercing squeal as he dragged it behind him across the wooden floor. A strange desperation drove him until he reached the table and picked up a picture frame which had fallen on its front. He stared at this with glistening eyes and hugged it close to his chest, then held it out towards Colgate. "Here," he said. "Read it." Instead of walking across the room, Colgate reached out with her magic and levitated the picture frame towards herself and Fluttershy. As it came closer, she realized that it held not a photograph, but a hoofwritten letter behind glass. She held it up so that she and Fluttershy could both read it, both letting out involuntary gasps as they recognized the familiar, looping script. Hi Boxy! Wait, hang on. I've got to use my Angry Pencil. How dare you! Ditzy's a married mare, you know! Well, almost, but close enough that she might as well be. Even if you don't approve of who she's decided to marry, you should at least respect her decision. If you really care about Ditzy and think she's strong enough to look after herself, you won't try to force her to make a decision and you’ll leave her to choose who she loves all on her own. Aw, but don't feel bad. It's really cute how you get on with Ditzy, and you know she really likes you too — as a friend. No, don’t say only a friend. There’s no only about it. (I’m using my Happy Pencil again, by the way.) You already have everything you could ever need from a relationship with her. You work together, you play together, and Ditzy trusts you with her very life. So you tell me, Mister Grumpalump, do you really think that making babies with her is going to make either of you happy? Or is it time for you to be happy and find more new friendships, instead of dragging down the friendship you already have? Don’t break that trust, Boxy. Don’t you dare break that trust. Your bestest friend forever, Pinkie Pie "She was watching over us," Boxy Brown sobbed as Colgate and Fluttershy looked up at him, mouths agape. "Somehow, she knew. She saw what I was turning into, and she put a stop to it, just in time. She was always there for everypony while she was alive, and... and I can never thank her now that she’s gone. I never saw it, but... she was more than just a friend." He shook his head. “She was my guardian angel.” Colgate resettled her face, gently floating the letter back towards Boxy. “So what happened?” she asked. Although her voice was still stern, a little of the harshness had gone out of it. “What happened?” the stallion echoed. “What happened is I got myself out of that bed and slept downstairs, and I haven't so much as looked at Ditzy in any inappropriate way since, Celestia strike me down if I'm lying. Since then I’ve just been making sure she eats, and trying to build up the courage to say more than two words to her. Or... just two words.” He looked down, and his voice fell to a whisper. “I just want to tell her I’m sorry.” Fluttershy stepped forward. "You can thank her by living a good life," she said gently. "Pinkie knew you weren't a bad pony. I’m sure Ditzy knows that, too. You just made a bad decision." She tugged Colgate forward, and the policemare walked close enough to allow Fluttershy to rest her hoof comfortingly on Boxy Brown's shoulder. "Even if you’ve made some mistakes, it’s never too late to turn your life around." "...yeah." Boxy Brown sniffed. "I thought about skipping town... just to get away from things for a while. But that wouldn't be right, either. Friends don't give up on friends. There's a few ponies in my life I need to apologize to." He looked down. “All the same, if you want to arrest me... maybe that’s for the best.” Reluctantly, Colgate leaned down and released the magical band securing him to the sofa. "There will be repercussions for this," she said. "Possibly jail time. You drugged a mare and lay in bed with her, and no last-second change of heart will take away the damage you might have done with those actions alone. But we’ll talk to Ditzy first, and see if we can get her take on that night. And I'll try to keep you out of the news. I don't have to like you, but I don't want you to die." Boxy smiled gratefully. "She's welcome to come back to work whenever she's ready," he said. "But if she doesn't want to... I'll understand. You tell her that." With some final, whispered reassurances, the two mares left Boxy on his seat and walked upstairs. The door to the bedroom hung slightly open; the inside was dark. “I’ll let you handle this one,” Colgate whispered. “Avoiding one tragedy doesn’t make the other any weaker.” “Got it,” Fluttershy whispered back. She pushed open the door. Despite what the cluttered room below would have suggested, Boxy Brown’s bedroom was surprisingly well-ordered. It appeared to double as an office, with a neat desk and set of filing cabinets taking up most of the space near the door. In the far corner was a closet, as well as a bed built for a pony of an unusually large stature. A pair of thick curtains were drawn across the room’s one window, blocking out the sun but not the sound of rain. Peering in, Colgate and Fluttershy could just about make out a pony-sized lump curled up tightly in the middle of the bed, covered head to tail by the thick sheets. Fluttershy approached slowly, as she would an injured bird. “Derpy?” she said, as loudly as she dared. “Are you awake?” The lump didn’t move. Fluttershy trotted as soundlessly as she could, slowly reaching out comfortingly. “Derpy?” Colgate stepped in something wet. She flinched and looked down, seeing a thin, cold puddle trickling outwards from the direction of the window. A second later, Fluttershy gasped. Instead of meeting a sleeping body, her hoof had sunk deep into the shapeless mass in front of her. Both ponies realized at once what had happened. Fluttershy quickly pulled back the covers on the bed, gasping a second time as she revealed a bundle of spare sheets and pillows rolled up to look like a curled-up pony. At the same time, Colgate flung open the curtains. The window had been opened and then improperly shut from the outside, leaving it jammed at an awkward angle that allowed the rain to seep in. Fluttershy trembled as Colgate carefully slid the window fully closed. “Is this bad?” she asked. “It could be.” Colgate sighed, staring out at the impenetrable grey sky. “It could be very bad.” --- Lunch was difficult. The underground base was out of bread again, so Twilight had to make do with two leaves of lettuce to hold together her peanut butter and orchid sandwich; living with L had, among other things, given her more opportunities to practice her improvisational skills. Afterwards, she rested her head on the table and closed her eyes. Though she’d told herself it would just be for a minute, there was a thin sheen of drool on the surface in front of her when she finally jerked awake. When she returned to the main chamber, satisfied if a little guilty, she found it to be completely deserted. "...Hello?" Twilight took a few tentative steps in. Minty was buzzing contentedly, slowly churning through some internal calculation, but aside from the distant pounding of the rain up above there were no other sounds. "Anypony?" she called out, confused but not letting herself panic. From a corridor nearby she heard a faint, distant thud. With a shrug, she followed it. The layout of the base was simple — or at least, that was how it appeared, at first. It branched out into three long hallways, splitting and dividing at irregular intervals into further corridors and miscellaneous chambers. On her initial tour, Twilight had assumed that she would be able to map it out with ease. As the days went by and she started to explore further, however, she began to realize that finding any particular room without specific directions was akin to trying to navigate an ancient Discordian maze. The earth ponies who had originally built this place had been architectural geniuses; by some trick of the angles of the floor or possibly an ancient enchantment, hallways in the base didn't seem to line up with one another as they were supposed to, some branches occupying what Twilight’s brain insisted should have been the same space. After several minutes of what felt like aimless wandering, Twilight finally arrived at an open door leading into one of the base’s storerooms. She peered inside. Rainbow Dash was rummaging through one of a dozen identical crates, lifting up unfamiliar crystalline objects and giving them a cursory examination before placing them none-too-gently aside. Though she'd long since taken off her black suit, she'd stubbornly kept the belt with the grenades hanging from it. She hadn't offered any explanation for doing so, but Twilight hadn't pressed the issue. "Hi, Rainbow," she said, causing the pegasus to flinch and flatten herself against the ground. "Wow, jumpy much?" She smiled as she walked into the room. "What are you doing in here?" Rainbow Dash gulped. She slowly raised herself up and turned to face Twilight. Her friend was watching her with nothing but calm curiosity; there was no fear or accusation that she could detect. "Just... exploring," she half-lied, gesturing to the room around her. "Jazz said I could take some time off before tonight, so I thought I'd see some more of what this place has to offer." "Good idea." Twilight stepped a little closer. "So it's going to be tonight, then? How did— Oh my gosh!" Her eyes widened as she got a closer look at what Dash had been handling. "Are those what I think they are?" Dash looked down at the pile of lumpy objects she'd accumulated. Some smaller ones were all crystal, but most were built from wood or metal carved into animal and mechanical shapes, with round gemstones set into them. "These?" Twilight sprang forward excitedly, almost pushing the pegasus out of the way as she scooped up the object nearest to her. "I think these are first generation crystal bugs!" she exclaimed. "Made from early crystal mechanisms, bound together by some of the first magics of its kind. Look at the markings! These are genuine Crystal Empire imports, dating back to before the Crystal Hibernation." She sat back, clearly in awe. "Some of these could be over a thousand years old. They should be in a museum." "Huh." Rainbow Dash prodded one of the devices. “I, uh, wasn’t looking for anything in particular,” she quickly covered for herself. "I was just curious about what other tricks L has up her sleeves. I guess she's been using these things for a long time." "As soon as they were available, by the looks of it. I wouldn't be surprised if she had a hoof in refining these to the insect models that she uses now." Despite Twilight's elation, Dash couldn't work up any enthusiasm about her discovery. In fact, it was starting to depress her. Though her search had turned up all kinds of interesting things so far, from ancient tools of espionage to rooms filled with pages and pages of illegible writing, she'd yet to uncover anything that looked like it could be used as an instrument of death. From all she’d seen and heard from Applejack, one thing had been made clear to her: whether it was L, Twilight, or even some third pony that she hadn't considered, the real Kira — what the others mistakenly referred to as the "fourth" Kira — was one of the ponies in the base with her. That meant that, just like the Apple family, the real Kira must be keeping their God of Death's weapon somewhere close by. If Applejack was right, then the only way to stop the game once and for all would be to find said weapon and destroy it. But with every mysterious artefact that she uncovered, her hopes of getting the drop on the real Kira grew slimmer and slimmer. As long as she didn’t know what the darn thing looked like, she could have put it aside half an hour ago and not even realized. She hadn't gotten as far as searching Twilight's room yet. She kept telling herself that she would do it soon. Just... not yet. Finally done gushing over her find, Twilight turned her gaze back in Dash's direction. "Anyway," she said, blushing slightly. "We're on for tonight? Applejack didn't want to wait an extra day?" "No," Dash answered. "I even asked her if it was a bad time, but she said she'd be happy to meet up later. And no, we didn't talk about anything else," she added, rolling her eyes. "I was in and out in less than a minute. You can check the recording if you want." "I wasn't going to ask." "Well, thanks for that," the pegasus muttered. "L watched me as it happened, and she still grilled me about it for ten minutes when I got back." Twilight took a few steps back. Instinctively, she tried to straighten out some of the mess that Dash had left carelessly around the room, but the inner bubble around her magic once again refused to budge. Grimacing, she started to speak again. "Well, it's good for us, at least. That's one or two more nights of deaths that we don't have to worry about. Though it is strange that the Tri-Kira isn't trying to cover for itself..." She shook her head. "But you can let me and Harpy worry about that. What's important right now is... are you ready for tonight?" Dash tried and failed to hide a gulp. "I'll be fine," she said. "I mean, I've come this far. Compared to the first time we talked, this is gonna be a cakewalk." I hope. "Thanks for doing this, Dash." Twilight started to turn away. "I'd love to stay and help you look around, but somepony might start to wonder where I am. It wouldn't be good for both of us to go missing right now. Just make sure you're ready by tonight, okay?" She’s... not going to stop me looking? Dash’s heart jumped. Does that mean she’s not Kira? What does it mean if she is? "Hey, uh... Twilight?" Twilight looked back over her shoulder. Dash was staring at the floor. "Yes?" "If..." Dash gulped, and this time hid it a little more successfully. "If I asked you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you're... that you're not..." Twilight caught on. "That I'm not Kira?" "Yeah." Dash nodded, but didn't look up. "Would you be able to?" "Of course. Easily." She turned around and tilted her head to the side. "Would you feel better if I did?" "No. I mean..." Dash fidgeted. "You don't have to. I wasn't asking. I just..." She sighed. “You should go.” Twilight gave her a pained look. “Dash...” “I’m fine, okay? It’s just paranoia, like you said. I shouldn’t let it get to me.” She waved Twilight away, reaching back into the old insect crate. “Go find L. She’ll probably want to know where you are.” After Twilight carefully traced her steps back to the main chamber, she found Bon Bon scrubbing generous amounts of soap into L’s favorite chair. “Hello, dear,” the earth pony called as Twilight approached her. “Did you have a nice nap?” “Huh? Oh, uh... yeah.” Twilight blushed. “Where is everypony?” “Oh, out and about. Taking measurements, making arrangements, doing odd jobs.” Bon Bon pointed upwards. “Harpy is up there as well.” Twilight looked at the ceiling. Despite a roof of sheer dirt and stone overhead, she could still hear thunder crack ominously up above. “In this weather?” “No time like the present.” Bon Bon hummed cheerfully. “You can speak to her, if you like. I think... I know she’d appreciate the company.” Hesitantly, Twilight approached the base’s entrance. As soon as she pulled the lever for the trapdoor, she heard a river of mud and rainwater begin to flood down the stairs. She started to open the iron doors, but jumped as she felt a hoof on her side. Somehow, Bon Bon had cleared the space between them without making a noise. “If she starts to talk about Los Pegasus,” the earth mare whispered, “stop her. It’s not healthy for her to dwell on the past.” Twilight nodded uncertainly. “Anything else?” “Just...” Bon Bon’s smile flickered. “...don’t take her away from me.” With that, she gave Twilight a gentle shove out the door and started at a calm pace back to the chair. The storm wasn’t as bad as Twilight had feared, but it was enough to leave her spluttering as she emerged onto the surface. She winced again as her attempt at a magic shield died inside her skull, and leaped for the shelter of the nearest tree as the trapdoor slammed shut behind her. Oh, I hope Spike at least remembered to take an umbrella, she thought as she peered out at the dark and gloomy sky. He’s going to be miserable by the time he gets back. Just as Twilight was starting to consider turning around and diving right back into the base, a new sound broke into her consciousness. A faint melody carried on the breeze, soft and sweet notes piercing through the rain. Curiosity rising, Twilight crept from tree to tree before catching sight of L. The green mare was sitting beneath a tree at the edge of the grove in her usual slouching posture, staring up at the sky. A golden lyre floated in front of her, glowing in the sickly green of her magic. She ran a hoof lovingly over the strings; it was hard to tell if it was her leg or her magic making the music. Twilight stopped just short of her, taking shelter under a particularly leafy branch, and waited before the song had ended before stomping appreciatively. "So you do play the lyre," she shouted over the rain. "I was starting to think your cutie mark was just ornamental." L smiled. She rested her instrument against her lap and her horn lit up again, casting the translucent web of a soundproofing spell around them. The sound of the rain dropped to a dull hiss, and an additional greenish shield reduced most of the water dripping onto their heads to a fine mist. "Music runs in my family," she answered at last, leaning back and closing her eyes. "At least... I think it does. I think it used to." Twilight paused for a moment to puzzle this out, then shrugged and sat down by L’s side. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. "It's warmer inside. As well as... you know... dryer." "I like the rain." L strummed a few more notes, smiling up at the sky. "It seldom rains like this in Ponyville." "Yeah. Rainbow Dash said this might happen. She put in a request for clear skies this evening, so all the rain that was going to happen tonight has to come down at once. It'll rain hard tomorrow, too." "I'm glad." L sighed. She rested her lyre against the tree and continued watching the clouds. "When I was young," she said after a long pause, "I was only allowed outside when it was raining. I was sixteen before I saw the sun. When I first caught glimpses of it, back in Los Pegasus..." She chuckled, but then caught Twilight giving her a worried glance. She trailed off, the smile falling from her face. “But you don’t want to hear about my past,” she said dismissively. “No, I do,” Twilight encouraged her. “We’re friends. It’s okay to share things with each other. It's only that Bon Bon told me...” L looked at her flatly. “I meant,” she clarified, “that you don’t want to hear about my past because pressing me for information about my identity would only cause me to further suspect you of being Kira.” There was another lengthy silence. “But...” L looked down. “Thank you for not thinking I meant that.” Twilight briefly considered arguing for her innocence again, but decided to let the matter drop. “I’m sorry about how I acted last night,” she said once it became clear that L was finished speaking. “You were right. I let my emotions get the better of me. Rushing in blindly wouldn’t have helped anything. And even if that wasn’t the case, I shouldn’t have hit you like that.” “I accept your apology,” L answered without hesitation. “It would be rude not to. After all, we... both overreacted.” “Yeah...” Twilight gently rubbed the spot where her horn had been. Dark and cold memories surfaced in her. "That was another one of Sun Eater's spells you cast on me last night, wasn't it?" She groaned as L nodded. "I thought so. Devouring magic is banned for a reason, Harpy. You of all ponies should know that. If you’d lost control, I could have died.” “There was never any danger of that. Though I suppose you would have more reason to worry about that than most. After all, I’m sure by now you yourself are familiar with the high cost of needing to be in control.” Twilight frowned. “What do you mean?” Slowly, L swiveled. She finally locked eyes with the purple mare. “Tell me, Twilight, is there a single force in this world that you haven’t twisted to serve your own ends?” Silence. The two ponies stared at each other, barely breathing. The rain, though its flow didn’t change, seemed to fade away around them. All was still. Eventually, Twilight sniffed. “Do you push everyone away like this?” she mumbled. L’s ear twitched. “I—” “I’m starting to think you don’t even want friends,” she continued, looking away. She was starting to hunch over, but swallowed hard to keep her voice steady. “You just want little dolls that you can push around and play mind games with. I’ve tried to be your friend, Harpy, I’ve really tried, but all you do is push and push until something breaks. Sometimes I think you want me to be Kira... because it’s easier to punish an enemy than to put the effort into actually having a friend.” Silence fell again. It was just as long before L spoke, still in the same calm, emotionless tone. “I had a friend, once,” she stated, “a long time ago.” Twilight waited for more, but L had stopped. She stared up at the rain again, all traces of a smile now vanished. Twilight started to speak, then stopped as well as a grim realization began to rear up in her. Though she suspected that she already knew the answer, she followed through with her question anyway. “What happened to her?” “We parted ways.” L sighed. “And then she died.” Twilight took a few seconds to absorb this. “I know what you would say,” L interrupted as she started to open her mouth. “It’s better to have loved and lost than to spend a lifetime alone. But you have to understand, Twilight, that that’s all that friendship can be to me. Something to lose. As long as L exists, he will always have powerful enemies. Being a friend to such a pony can be very dangerous. Do you really think that when all this is over, we’ll be able or even permitted to stay in contact?” Twilight gulped. “You can still visit,” she tried. “I’m not going anywhere.” “No, but I am. There’s a high-profile case gaining momentum in the south, and a steady increase in smuggling to the north. Ponyville is too peaceful for me to stay here. As soon as the Kira investigation is resolved I’ll be leaving, probably never to return.” She shook her head. “The time is fast approaching when we will part ways. And yes, perhaps it would be easier for me if you were Kira. Because whether I win or lose, whether we come out of this friends or enemies, once this game is over I will lose you. And then I’ll be all alone again.” Twilight's breath caught in her throat. The detective had spoken the words completely flatly, but they had arrived with a weight behind them, like a freight train coming to a halt. "What about Bon Bon?" she asked. "You’ll still have her, right?" "It's her job to keep me happy," L said dismissively. "She thinks it makes me happy to pretend it’s more than that, but our relationship is and can only be a working one." Though she tried to keep herself blank, Twilight caught a hint of sadness and possibly longing creep into the detective's voice. "She only cares for me as much as her position requires her to." “Then...” Twilight paused. She blinked and silently repeated her thought to herself, just to make sure she’d actually had it, then spoke the words aloud with confidence. “Then quit.” L froze. “What?” “Stop being L.” Twilight sat up, her smile growing. “I don’t mean right now; you should wait until this case is over, so you won’t have that on your conscience. But it’s not like you’re the original L, right? You don’t look a hundred years old, let alone twelve times that. And if there’s been more than one L before you, that means that sooner or later there’s going to be one who comes after. So if this line of work means that you always have to be alone, then why not retire? What’s stopping you?” The detective hesitated. “It’s more complicated than that,” she said at last. “There must always be an active L, and candidates are hard to come by. It’s not enough to have the brain for it. He chose me, just as much as I chose him.” “Then choose me.” L let out an amused snort. “And what makes you think you’re worthy?” “Hey, I’ve solved a few crimes in my time. I’ve got a good story about the mystery of the missing Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness that I can tell you later. Besides, who says it has to be a lifelong deal? I could just take your place for a few weeks every time you need a break. So long as I never show my face, who would know? Or maybe I could just tag along. Instead of just repeating the legends of the past, you could form a new team and start really writing your own. Or maybe...” Twilight trailed off. L had started shaking. A long, low croak erupted from her throat, and it took Twilight several panicked seconds to realize that she was laughing. “Twilight,” the green mare said, putting on a rare smile. “I’m going to miss you.” “No, Harpy.” Twilight shook her head. “My point is that you won’t have to. I don’t care how long it takes or how many obstacles we have to get past. No matter how far away you are, I’ll always be there to fight for our friendship. And I can tell you now that I won’t be the only one. Locket looks up to you, Spike adores you, and even Rainbow Dash respects you more than you think. After an experience like this, there’s no way we’re going to let you just disappear from our lives, even if it is a little risky.” L looked hesitant. Something in her expression started to crack. “Do you mean that?” “Of course! Look.” Twilight straightened up as much as she could, holding out her forelegs to make the appropriate hoof gestures. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” She beamed. “No matter what happens, I will always be your friend. I promise.” The detective trembled. She looked down, breathing in sharply, and closed her eyes. When she looked up again, Twilight was struck by the impression that she was looking at a different mare. Some of the perpetually tense muscles in her face had relaxed, leaving her appearing, for the first time since Twilight had known her, genuinely at peace. “Twilight?” she asked, some of the harshness vanishing from her voice; she sounded a little less calm, a little more feminine. “Normally I’m only supposed to let Bon Bon touch me, but... when you hugged me last night, it felt... nice. Do you think...” A hint of colour came to her cheeks. “I mean... if you want to...” Needing no further prompting, Twilight shuffled forwards, starting to spread her forelegs. As soon as her hoof touched the detective, however, she flinched back in shock. Not only was L’s coat damp and dripping to the touch, she was also cold as ice. “You’re freezing!” Twilight stated uselessly, quickly wrapping the mare in a tight embrace to rub some warmth back into her body. “Why are you still out here?” “Hm?” L mumbled, resting her head against Twilight’s shoulder. “I hadn’t noticed...” “Come on. We need to get you in a bath, stat.” Twilight rose up, helping the detective stand on all fours. L quickly grasped her lyre and let Twilight lead her back towards the trapdoor. The magic shield collapsed as the pair walked through it, dumping the accumulated water on their heads and sending them scrambling for the base as the full force of the storm returned to them. The trapdoor sprang open as they approached, then crashed shut behind them as they threw themselves into the safety of the darkness. Twilight led the way a little more slowly down to the iron doors, careful not to slip on the damp and muddied stairs. “Hey, Harpy?” she asked as they approached the bottom. “Do you keep a Battleskies board stocked down here?” “Yes,” L answered after a pause. “But no one ever wants to play.” “Well...” Twilight halted with her hoof on the door, smiling in the dim light. “Once you’re warmed up, do you think we’ll have time for a game before we have to get going tonight?” “...I think so.” Invisibly, L smiled. “I think I’d like that.” --- Rain was not uncommon in Canterlot, though strictly speaking there was not much need for it at all. Clouds were brought to the tip of the Canterhorn on a regular basis to fuel the many rivers that ran around it and across Equestria, so after a good water harvest the storms would often spread to engulf the nearby city. Around five hundred years ago, however, a group of nobles had petitioned for deliberate rain to cover the city on a regular basis in order to keep their white marble towers sparkling. Since then, regardless of how much rain the city received before or after, on the first and third Wednesday of every month the Royal Canterlot Rain would wash the city clean. Normally, Canterlot ponies considered themselves above the weather, and would carry on about their lives with an unhurried grace. However, as neither umbrellas nor especially large hats were currently in style, the ponies in and around the Grand Palace contented themselves with locking themselves indoors and staring wistfully out of their front windows. The only signs of life were the Royal Guards stationed along the parapets, who remained vigilant even as the rain soaked through their barding and ran in rivers down their backs. One such pair, Bronze Weight and Liquid Veil, stood guard over the Royal Gardens. This was slightly more literal than either was entirely comfortable with, as a family of exotic rodents was taking shelter underneath the pair, apparently mistaking them for a set of new and slightly miffed-looking statues. Both were unicorns, and although they had spent the past three months at various postings together throughout the castle, neither yet knew the other’s name. They stood only a short distance apart at the bridge between the garden and the palace, each silently concerned with their posture, the time until the rain was due to stop, and whether the other had secretly fallen asleep. A full hour before the guards were due for their break, both were surprised by a sudden lessening of the rain. Although water continued to fall inches in front of their faces, it no longer seemed to be falling upon them, and a light warmth began to spread along their backs. Bronze Weight came close to breaking his stance, turning his head slightly to the side before catching himself and focusing his gaze straight ahead. His partner, however, was unable to show as much restraint. Liquid Veil glanced quickly over his shoulder and then did a distinctly un-guardly double-take, quickly turning around and backing away into the rain with his head bowed. “My Princess!” Bronze Weight’s eyes widened. Trying to move as few muscles as possible, he slowly turned to look behind him. A wall of whiteness and sunlight greeted him. He traced his gaze upwards, and his heart skipped a beat as he found himself face to face with the Princess of the Sun. Her wings were spread wide, one curled over him to shield him from the rain, and a growing beam of sunlight illuminated her from above. “Good afternoon, my little ponies,” she said, smiling kindly down at the pair as if they were her most treasured students. “What are you doing outside on a day like this?” Liquid Veil shivered, but didn’t move. Bronze Weight tried to stop himself mid-gulp and nearly choked. “I-it is tradition for the entrance to the Royal Gardens to be guarded at all times. Uh, Your Highness,” he quickly added. Celestia chuckled. “Oh, that old rule. I doubt the ponies who thought that one up had our rainy Wednesdays in mind. Still, tradition is tradition.” She stepped back, the sunlight spreading to follow her, and delicately tapped a gold-plated hoof twice on the cobbled bridge. In an instant, two streaks of white and gold lanced down from the clouds to Celestia’s side. They dropped like stones but landed with the weight of feathers, and Bronze Weight had to hold back a shudder as they immediately snapped to attention. Though he worked with pegasus guards indistinguishable from them all the time, this pair in particular carried an air of cold authority that most guards only pretended to possess. “Biggs, Wedge, kindly relieve these two gentlecolts until the rain lets up,” Celestia continued, still smiling. “I think they've earned a little respite from this weather." "At once, Your Majesty," one of the white guards — it was impossible to tell which was which — immediately grunted. Bronze Weight quickly moved aside as the other pegasus stomped forward into his spot. He glanced back at Liquid Veil, but his partner still had his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. "Y-you are very kind, your Highness," he stuttered. "What would you have us do instead?" The solar princess chuckled. "Well, if you feel you must guard something, the royal kitchens could always use some extra protection. The chefs are making mooncakes today, and you know how ponies are about taking treats that aren’t meant for them." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Although, just between you and me, I asked them to make a few more plates than we strictly need. I'm sure if one or two went missing while you and your partner were on watch, nopony would be any the wiser." The grey guard reddened. "Th-thank you, ma'am," he said. "I mean— at once, your highness." Snapping off a quick salute, he broke into a swift trot, which turned into a gallop as soon as Celestia was a safe distance behind him. Liquid Veil, turning a deep red as he realized the princess was now looking at him, shuffled in the same direction before sprinting towards the castle doors. Princess Celestia waited until both ponies were out of sight before continuing on her way. As her guards were no longer moving clouds to keep her in the sunlight, the rain quickly dampened her coat, though it seemed to pass through her perpetually flowing mane. Biggs and Wedge remained where they were, a family of chinchillas already beginning to regroup underneath them. The princess kept her benevolent smile as she spared a glance behind her, and though her face didn’t flicker, she allowed herself the faintest, most inaudible of sighs. Instead of clustering about her like moths to a flame as they normally did, the exotic fauna of the Royal Gardens seemed content to let their princess pass unhindered on this occasion. As she walked further and further, the many-coloured flowers of the garden slowly gave way to taller and bushier trees, and then to hedges. Grey statues surrounded the exterior of the royal hedge maze, each vastly different in appearance and meaning. Celestia halted in front of one in particular, slightly apart from the rest. While most of the statues were dark and weathered from age and rain, this one appeared perpetually new even in the storm. The creature it depicted was unlike any other in Equestria: a goat's head with mismatched horns sat atop a serpentine body, built in patches from any number of vastly different creatures. Unlike once, when it had been as still and silent as any other statue in the garden, its position changed at seemingly random intervals throughout the day, rarely adopting the same pose twice. Presently, it was reclined on a stone deck chair while wearing a broad sun hat and floral Haywaian shirt, grinning off into some imagined sunset. One paw held a tall, umbrella-topped glass, while the other claw was giving an unseen counterpart a hearty thumbs up. The plaque read: On Vacation. Celestia stayed still for several minutes, silent and unmoving. The statue did the same. Then, in a thin haze of golden light, a translucent force field appeared around them both. To a watcher outside the shield, all would have appeared normal. Within the bubble of protective magic, however, the sky appeared to darken. As Celestia watched, the light from her horn slowly growing brighter, the statue began to ripple. Stone flexed and distorted, then began to crack. Bright lights shone out from a blinding interior, growing ever more intense as the rest of the interior of the sphere blackened to a dark haze. There was a shrill ringing noise. Then there was another one. Five rings later, a loud click signalled that the spell had connected. The statue burst apart, scattering stone fragments that quickly evaporated into smoke, and leaving a transparent, shimmering image in its wake: not the true creature, but an image being broadcast from far, far away. Hovering an inch over its pedestal, the appearance of the Spirit of Chaos stretched, peered over sunglasses that had not been there a moment before, and then let out a bitter, disappointed groan. "Oh. It's you." Princess Celestia smiled. "How are you, Discord?" "Oh, don't give me that," the draconequus snapped back. His chair reappeared beneath him as he leaned back, and he pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them carelessly aside. They disappeared upon hitting an invisible barrier several feet away from the pedestal, but to Celestia’s right she could still hear the sound of something going up in smoke. “So, you’re crawling back to me already, are you?” he asked, alternating between concern and scorn with every word. “My, my. It hasn’t even been a century yet. You must be going soft.” The solar princess sat down. “I was hoping we could talk.” “Talk? Is that all?” With an indignant flip of his head, Discord turned back to his glass and took a long drink through the straw. The surface of the orange liquid quickly shot downwards, paused and wavered uncertainly, and then changed its mind and rose up again until the glass was more full than when he had started. “The last time you came to me ‘just to talk’ you turned me to stone. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that pattern recognition isn’t my strong point, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I haven’t been too quick to let that particular trick go.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You never just want to talk.” “I used to.” “Yes, you did, before you got boring. Now it’s always work this and responsibility that, never any time for play. Where’s the carefree filly I used to know, hm?” Celestia stood her ground. “She’s still here. And she wants to talk.” Discord waited a few seconds before sighing again. He put down his drink in midair, which was by now starting to overflow. “Look, Celestia,” he tried, “I know you see my ‘reformation’ as some kind of victory, and if it stops your precious little pony heart from hurting, you can feel free to tell everyone that we’ve patched things up and I’m your friend.” He glowered. “But don’t ever delude yourself into thinking that you are any friend of mine. So please, darling Tia, you can waste your breath all you like, but don’t waste my time as well. What is it that you want?” “I’m here for your advice.” The creature paused, mentally confirming that it had heard correctly, then doubled over in laughter. Celestia stared on impassively. “Oh, that is rich,” Discord chortled, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “You must be cracking up! Perhaps there’s hope for you after all. Shall I make a reservation for you beside the fountain?” Celestia didn’t move. There was a pause. Discord stopped. “You’re serious.” “I am. What do you say?” The draconequus sat back. He quickly grew a large beard and stroked it thoughtfully, his crafty smile returning to him. “All right, Celestia,” he said, kicking his chair away and floating into a standing position. His drink remained where it was, starting to bubble. “It’s been too long since I’ve played this kind of game. I’ll answer three questions truthfully, no more, no less, if — and only if — you agree to answer three of mine.” Without missing a beat, Celestia returned to her original question. “How are you, Discord?” “Oh, same old, same old,” the draconequus answered just as quickly. With a snap of his talons, his beard vanished and a ghostly chalkboard appeared floating in the air behind him. One side was marked with a picture of Celestia’s sun, the other, for some reason, by an octopus in a jar. A floating piece of chalk scored one mark under Celestia’s side. “I’m touring the mountains of the Griffin Kingdom right now. It doesn’t have the same view as Canterlot, but the climate is much more bracing. Ponies just don’t have the same tolerance for storms that griffons do.” “I’m glad that you’re enjoying yourself.” Celestia chose her words carefully. “I hope you’re making lots of new friends.” “Several. My fellow chimeras are so much more appreciative of my works than your lot ever were. I’m thinking of building a summer home here once I’m finished my travels.” He turned to the side and waved, not bothering to hide the smile that broke out across his face. “Hey, Guntram! Come and say hello to the princess!” There was a distant rumble. Discord stepped back and vanished from the pedestal, and a second later an expanse of feathery whiteness took his place. The living wall shifted back and forth, perfectly outlining a wide sphere around Discord’s pedestal, until a slitted eye larger than Celestia almost completely filled the frame. It blinked slowly, and a low, ear-splitting screech echoed around the inside of the dome. “Guntram, Titan of the Northern Hills,” Celestia said kindly. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” The colossal mass withdrew, and Discord reappeared back within his frame. “Griffins never stop growing, you know,” he said, “and Guntram here is almost as old as I am. He says I’m handy to have around the house, at least when he can keep a house without knocking it down in his sleep. He spends most of his time now rebuilding things. I tried to make him a more sturdy place myself, but you know how stubborn griffins are.” “I’m happy for you.” Celestia beamed. “And I’m glad to see you’re continuing to use your powers for good.” “...Yes, well.” The draconequus coughed, reddening slightly. “It’s not all good, you know. I still indulge in a good laugh every now and again. But I’m not breaking any of your ‘rules’ or playing any games with free will,” he added with an exaggerated sigh. “If I was, you wouldn’t be hearing about it from me.” “Of course.” The princess nodded. “You can ask a question now.” “Now, let me think...” Reaching down, Discord plucked the umbrella from his now-steaming drink and bit the top half off, chewing the little bundle of wood and paper like taffy. “Oh, now here’s a good one,” he said, gesturing with the remaining stick. The floating chalk placed a mark on Discord’s side of the board. “I heard a juicy little rumour that some giant clay monsters have been roaming around near Ponyville. Is it true?” Celestia looked down. She tried to keep up her smile, but it collapsed under Discord’s goading stare. “It’s true.” “Now that is interesting.” The draconequus spat out the gummied lump of paper umbrella, now several times its original size, and in a blur of activity sculpted it into a bulbous, bipedal shape. “You see, I was under the impression that the pony responsible for those delightful little toys was sealed so deep beneath Canterlot that even his own pets couldn’t find him. You don’t mean to tell me that he’s somehow escaped, do you?” Had the phrase come from Celestia, Discord probably would have counted it as a second question, but the princess decided not to argue the rules. “I’m surprised that you have to ask things like that,” she said, still looking at the ground. “I thought that you had eyes everywhere.” “Only most places, and fewer than ever. After all, if I know everything, then nothing can surprise me, and where’s the fun in that?” He tutted. The miniature golem dropped to the pedestal and started to scurry around in a small circle. The stone surface was now covered in a growing puddle of fruity, orange liquid as the frothing glass above it continued to drip. Discord grinned down at his creation, then turned a sympathetic eye to Celestia. “Now, I know the Age of Titans was difficult for both of us. For you, because you had to cope with centuries of chaos and conflict, and for me because I spent all the good parts stuck in your garden. But my dear, sooner or later you’re going to have to realize that you can’t solve all your problems my locking them away for thousands of years. It only backfires on you in the end.” Celestia’s head shot up. “I learned that lesson a long time ago,” she snapped, “and more than you realize. I’ve answered your question. I’d like to ask my own.” Discord pursed out his lip, then shrugged. “As you wish.” He tossed the umbrella stick down, bursting the umbrella-golem and causing it to fly out of sight with the sound of a deflating balloon. The princess took a moment to compose herself before speaking. “What do you think of Kira?” She leveled her gaze. “I think it’s safe to assume that you at least know who that is.” “Of course. But what do I think?” The chalk made half a mark below Celestia’s sun, then paused. “Could you be more specific?” “Are you... for, or against him?” “Now that is tricky.” Discord tapped his chin and leaned backwards, slowly flipping himself fully upside-down before vanishing in a flash and reappearing the right way up. Behind him, the chalk finished its mark beneath Celestia’s side. “You know,” the draconequus concluded, “I don’t believe I have any strong feelings about it one way or the other.” “No?” Celestia tilted her head to the side. “I’m surprised.” “Were you expecting me to take his side? This pony-killer of yours is causing a panic, but it’s hardly chaotic. What you’re really asking is a question of order and justice and the difference between right and wrong, and those are things that I normally leave for ponies like you to deal with. Besides, the least fun kind of pony is a dead pony.” “Yes.” Celestia’s face didn’t move, but for a moment an old resentment burned behind her eyes. “You never were very fond of killing.” “Indeed.” The creature grinned. “So, to answer your question, I am neither for nor against Kira. A question of order must be answered by creatures of order, and that’s a place a creature like me has no business being in. And no, I don’t know the real identity of this killer of yours, nor do I wish to. So if that was your intended third question, then I’m afraid you’re plum out of luck.” To demonstrate, he pulled a plum out of luck, which was very confusing visually. “Now, my turn. My second question is this.” Discord swallowed the plum whole, then widened his grin a little further. “Why are you so quick to assume that your Kira is male?’ Celestia blinked. “Well... I...” She sniffed. It might have been her imagination, but the air was starting to smell like mangoes. Discord chuckled. “Oh, I’m only teasing,” he said. “I already know the answer.” A second mark was scored on his side of the chalkboard. “It’s written into your culture. Mares provide and protect, stallions fight and destroy. Female good, male bad. I suppose I could chalk it up to a pointless bit of trivia... but then, most mares I know aren’t old enough to have heard their own language change around them.” He snickered. “And probably have a hoof in its development.” “The name and designation were chosen by ponies in the media, both male and female,” Celestia said carefully. “They have been adopted purely for the sake of convenience.” “Yes, that’s quite clear. I only bring it up as a point of interest. You see, the griffins I’ve come across have been much less divided on the matter than your ponies.” With a twist of his hands, he pulled a large, pink moustache into existence. Another flip, and it transformed into a lacy bow. “In the tongue of the Griffin Kingdom, Kira has always been female, and always a force for good. A divine warrior queen, some say. Do you know what they call her here? Ausgleich. The one who brings balance. In fact, I’ve heard of a movement to formally invite Ausgleich to cast her judgement on the wicked of the Griffin Kingdom and territories as well; they seem to think her brand of justice is wasted on ponies.” Any paleness that Princess Celestia experienced was completely hidden by her perpetually gleaming coat. “I would have no power to stop them from making such a request,” she said. “But I hope that the situation never comes to that.” “We’ll see.” Discord’s eyes sparkled. “Your turn.” Celestia closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. It wasn’t her imagination; the smell of mangoes was getting stronger. Putting this aside as much as she could, she spoke her third question loudly and clearly. “What is more important than life?” There was a long pause. Discord floated in place, for once completely motionless. The shadows around the inside of the dome appeared to darken. The chalk, moving slowly and hesitantly, drew a third and final line on Celestia’s side of the board. Then Discord laughed. A low chuckle built up in the back of his throat, rising into a harsh cackle, and then burst out as he threw back his head and roared with sadistic delight. Lightning cracked. Thunder boomed. A line of gumdrops launched themselves from behind his shoulder blades and exploded into confetti. Celestia waited patiently. When he was finished, the draconequus lowered his gaze and looked the solar princess in the eye. He spoke coldly, relishing the sound of every word. “I refuse to answer that question.” “What?” Celestia flared in anger. “Discord, you said—” “I know what I said,” Discord snapped back smoothly. “I also know what you said, and you’re not really looking for an answer, are you? You’re looking for validation.” He lapsed into another fit of laughter as the alicorn’s face fell. “My sweet Celestia, you’re as transparent as those silly windows you like to surround yourself with. Let me guess, you’ve locked up some poor, innocent pony in your dungeon, and you just can’t afford to let her stay alive. But — oh my! — that would be against your precious little moral code, wouldn’t it? “So you came to me, the spirit of chaos and disharmony, pretending to look for guidance. Any pony could give you a heartwarming speech about the greater good, but they wouldn’t really mean it, not if they knew the truth. You thought I would be the only one in all the world who would give you the go-ahead to stick needles through your little pony’s skin until she squeals. Well, I’m not going to give you the satisfaction.” The creature folded his mismatched arms and turned up his nose haughtily. “You got yourself into this mess. You can tell yourself whatever you think you need to hear to get yourself out of it.” Celestia stared at her ancient adversary in a daze. Slowly, her lips started to tighten. Her wings rustled, settling carefully against her back. She bowed her head again, and started to stand. “Thank you.” “I’m glad we have this understanding.” Discord smirked. The piece of chalk traced its way back up Celestia’s third line, erasing it from the board. “Since I wasn’t able to answer your question, I’ll let you ask another.” The solar princess considered this. She stood still for a minute, eyes closed in thought. Eventually she settled on a new question. “When is it acceptable to keep a secret from someone that you love?” “How should I know? I don’t keep secrets.” The chalk struck another line, then immediately erased it. “Since I wasn’t able to answer your question, I’ll let you ask another.” Something wet brushed against Celestia’s hooves. She stepped back, looking down in surprise. The orange puddle still growing around Discord’s feet had spilled off the pedestal and was spreading towards her, not vanishing but rapidly filling up the dome with its fruity sweetness. “Who can I trust?” she blurted. “Who can say? I can’t.” With a smirk, never breaking eye contact with Celestia, Discord reached out and tipped his still-floating glass of juice upside-down. Boiling liquid gushed out, splashing off the edges of the pedestal and flowing into a sticky, mango-scented tide across the ground. Celestia started to back up further, almost reaching the dark edge of the dome, but Discord shook his head. “Ah, ah, ah.” He warped the chalkboard in front of him and held it out tauntingly. The chalk moved up and down in one fluid motion. “Since I wasn’t able to answer your question, I’ll let you ask another.” Celestia scowled. “What are you doing?” “You know that even I can’t answer that.” Up and down. “Since I wasn’t able to answer your question, I’ll let you ask another.” Juice continued to pour out of the glass at an impossible rate. It cooled rapidly as it crawled across the dirt path, but was still unpleasantly warm as it began to swill around Celestia’s ankles, rising steadily higher. She pursed her lips and fixed her adversary with a glare. “What colour is the sky?” “I don’t believe in the sky. Since I wasn’t able to answer your question—” “Is gingerbread a biscuit or a cake?” “I’ve chosen to forget that fact. Since I wasn’t able—” “Will you marry me?” “Well, now you’re just not playing fair.” With an unnecessary double frontflip, the spirit of chaos dove off of his pedestal and into the rising juice. The sticky liquid now rose up past Celestia’s knees, and was starting to suck at her pastel tail. The draconequus waded forward, not disappearing as he passed through his own barrier, but striding onto Equestrian soil. “Since I wasn’t able to answer your question,” Discord repeated, holding his chalkboard in front of him like a shield, “I’ll let you ask another.” Celestia waited. She saw triumph in Discord’s eyes, a childish glee, the expression he put on whenever he thought that he’d outwitted somepony. No matter how much had changed about him over the many long years, that look of his had never changed. It was the face he’d made for her the moment that they’d first met. With slow deliberateness, she broke her gaze away and looked at the sky. “No.” The dome shattered. Golden magic split apart and vanished, letting daylight and the pounding rain back into Celestia’s darkened world. The tide of mango juice crashed away in all directions, beginning to be washed away in a matter of seconds. Discord remained where he was, scowling as the princess leisurely stretched out her legs to allow the storm to wash them clean. “We had a deal,” he growled, tapping irritably at the chalkboard. “I don’t care.” With the slightest nod of her head, Celestia sent out a pulse of magic that cleaved the chalkboard in half. Behind him, the floating glass exploded, and the flood of juice came to a halt. “You should go home. You’re no longer welcome here.” The draconequus trembled in fury. “Now you go back on your word?” he hissed, sarcasm hidden beneath a layer of anger. “I underestimated how low you’d sunk, princess. If you had nearly the power that you think you do—” Celestia met his gaze. “Now you listen to me,” she ordered. Words came out with the force of the sun, and Discord fell silent. “Do you know the real difference between you and me?” she asked. “I’ll tell you. It’s the reason why you’ve never been able to destroy me. It’s the reason why you’ve spent so much of what should have been your life trapped in stone. It’s the reason why a group of fillies, barely infants to our eyes, were able to defeat you. Because you — you, the spirit of chaos, of disloyalty, of disharmony — you, of all creatures, always play by the rules.” She lifted her head proudly and stepped to the side, as if about to turn away. “Now go.” Discord folded his arms. His legs reversed themselves and he walked backwards to his pedestal, keeping his eyes fixed on Celestia the whole time. “Harmony is broken,” he said as he stepped up, his body beginning to shimmer and darken. “I can taste it on the air. You can play your little game all you like, and I’ll watch eagerly. But no matter who wins, you’ve already lost.” His legs began to darken. Dust and stone swirled around him, slowly coalescing into his serpentine shape. “And maybe we’ll see what else you can break, before the end.” In a flash of light, Discord disappeared. All that remained was the grey statue in his place, frozen in the same scowling posture he’d left it in. Celestia waited several seconds before turning away. She adjusted her crown and started to walk, but then paused. “Thank you, Discord,” she whispered. She smiled softly. “You always knew how to cheer me up.” --- The two elder Apple siblings stood together in the doorway of their home, eyes fixed to the sky above. The storm was starting to break apart. Over the town hall, a growing circle of reddening sunlight flowed down as the weather pegasi branched out in all directions, calming the thundering clouds and herding them to the town’s outskirts until they would be needed again. Applejack shifted her weight uncomfortably from hoof to hoof as the wall of light crept closer, while her brother remained still. Big Macintosh spoke first. “Are you ready?” “You know Ah’m not.” The mare gritted her teeth, desperately scanning the cloudscape above. “Where is she?” “She’ll come,” Mac said calmly. “We kept our end of the bargain.” “And what if she doesn’t?” Applejack sighed as her brother glanced at her. “Ah know, Ah know. It’s not like we have a choice. But the whole thing falls apart without her.” “You’ll do your best.” He smiled, but kept his distance. “We believe in you.” Applejack looked back. Behind them, Apple Bloom was sitting in Granny Smith’s chair, looking blankly into space. She kept watching as the sound of rain got quieter, not moving until the sound vanished altogether. “It’s time,” Big Macintosh said. As the sunlight reached the farm, Applejack took a step back into the house. “They can wait a little longer,” she said. “Rainbow Dash isn’t going anywhere.” Her brother gave her a pained look. “We will see each other again,” he whispered. “Ah want to believe that,” Applejack whispered back. “But we can’t know it for sure. And Ah am not about to make the same mistake our ma and pa made.” She gulped. If Apple Bloom was listening, she gave no indication of it. Applejack took another step inward, and she motioned for Big Macintosh to follow. “Even if nothing does happen to me... Ah still want to give her the chance to say goodbye.” --- Dear Princess Luna, This is it. Be with us. Your loyal servant, Locket. Next episode: The beginning of the end.