//------------------------------// // Girl, You Don't Know the Half of It // Story: 3:14 PM // by SugarPesticide //------------------------------// Twilight stormed upstairs, but Pinkie didn’t mind. If Twilight wasn’t throwing around accusations of everypony being Nightmare Moon’s minions, what did it matter if she was a little grumpy? The party went on, regardless. Without Twilight’s paranoia sucking the mood out of the party, everypony was happy to stay and socialize even without her. It helped that Spike, the other guest of honor, was willing and even eager to chat with the guests. His various tales of Canterlot drew many ears to listen, particularly those of a rare variety. “I’m glad everypony’s having a good time,” Pinkie said to nopony in particular. “It’ll probably help when she returns. And I bet that Twilight’ll still come to Town Hall; I don’t think she’d pass up a chance at running into Princess Celestia. Even if there’s actually no chance of that happening. Ah, how nice it must be not to know everything beforehoof.” She was correct. After the night had worn thin, the ponies made their way to Town Hall, and Twilight trailed after them almost reluctantly. Pinkie lagged even further behind, keeping an eye on Twilight as an excited Spike led the unicorn down the streets. Once everypony stood waiting in Town Hall, an air of excitement thickened around the chattering civilians. To the side, Fluttershy prepared her bird choir for the big moment, while Rarity discussed something with the Mayor at the foot of the balcony. Pinkie’s attention, however, was reserved for the balcony itself, where the princess was due to appear any minute now. Nothing stirred behind the curtains. “I’ll tell you what: this is pretty darned excitin’!” Applejack fanned herself with her hat. “I don’t remember that the princess’s ever been to Ponyville before. This night is gonna make history!” “It sure is.” Pinkie gulped. Twilight looked up to a high-set window, through which peered the shadowed face of the moon. “That’s assuming there’ll be anypony left to write down history, of course.” “Don’t worry about it, sugarcube!” Applejack clapped Twilight over the withers, making her wince. “What could be so bad about the princess comin’ here?” Twilight winced again. “Hey!” Dash hissed, gesturing toward the front. “It’s starting!” Indeed, after a brief burst of feathered music, the Mayor launched into a speech about how this was the thousandth Summer Sun Celebration; how they were so blessed to have Princess Celestia here on this occasion; how she was honored to have the unanimous support of Ponyville as an envoy to the princess … Pinkie didn’t remember voting for her, but she held her tongue. “And now!” The Mayor concluded with a sweeping flourish, ending with her hooves pointed up at the balcony. “Presenting our fair ruler, the most honorable being in Equestria: Princess Celestia!” Spotlights flashed. The curtains pulled back. The ponies waited … … and waited … Rarity peeked into the darkness. “She’s gone!” Gasps soon turned to screams as the air grew just a little chilly; a starry fog seeped in from the windows, coalescing into something resembling a pony. Pinkie was frozen to the spot as she watched dark wings unfurl and cold eyes glare, as the ethereal mane billowed from the helmeted silhouette, as fangs showed in a ghastly mockery of a smile. “It’s happening,” Twilight whispered. “It’s really happening. Princess Celestia, where are you?” “Do you think your precious sun will save you?” Nightmare Moon’s voice rang with power, though the words dripped down like oil on the shocked ponies. “I have dealt with her. Rest assured, little ponies: you are mine now. Or do you believe yourselves exempt from justice? Did you not see the signs of my return?” There was a moment of delicate silence. “I-I did.” Twilight did her best to stand tall, staring up at the thing that passed for a pony. “... Nightmare Moon. You’ve returned after a thousand years ...” Dash’s voice cracked. “What did you do to our princess?” “I don’t think you want to know, little foal.” Wind swept over them as the dark mare flapped her wings. “But come! There is reason to fear, but there is also reason to rejoice. Your rightful ruler has returned, and it will be your honor to serve her.” “I don’t see a rightful ruler anywhere,” Pinkie blurted. Nightmare Moon’s lip curled, and the air seemed a little heavier when she next spoke. “You resist. I expected as much. In time, however, you will understand your place. Hear my declaration, ponies: the night will last forever!” Lightning struck. When the afterimages had cleared from everypony’s eyes, a star-studded fog was trickling through the walls and out of sight. “Hey!” Dash’s voice rose above panicked shouts. “Come back here, you moonface!” And she shot out the door. Pinkie exhaled. The creeping terror still lingered, but now, although the warmth of the summer night had faded entirely, she felt a bizarre sense of relief. “I just saw Nightmare Moon and lived,” she said. A grin crossed her face. “I even mouthed off to her! That’s gotta be something.” She looked to Twilight, but the unicorn was gone. Puzzled, Pinkie darted in and out of the members of the screaming crowd — she had no desire to be trampled to death — and emerged into the unending night, where the light of the empty moon cast strange shadows. “She must be going to the library,” Pinkie told herself. “Of course! She hasn’t had a chance to study more about the Elements.” She smiled. “We just need to meet up with her. This’ll be a piece of cake.” “Ponies need to bear the Elements together?” Twilight rubbed her chin. “I guess that could happen. But what’s this about time loops?” “It doesn’t matter right now.” Pinkie flipped through the reference guide. “We saw Nightmare Moon fly off toward Everfree, right? Last time we went there, she was checking on the Elements. At least, I think that’s what she was doing. So she knows that somepony could pick them up and use them against her.” “Meaning?” “Meaning we’re on the right track. We need to head out and get the Elements before it’s too late.” “Okay then.” Twilight looked to the other four ponies. “What do you all think of this?” The ponies shuffled awkwardly. In a way, Pinkie couldn’t blame them. “Wait a minute.” Dash raised a hoof. “Back up. So you died? What was that like?” “Rainbow!” Rarity hissed. “Show some decorum!” Dash shrugged. “It’s an honest question.” “I’d rather not talk about it.” Pinkie shut the book firmly. “Are you all in?” The others exchanged glances. Ponyville was far behind when Rarity spoke. “You know, I still don’t understand what we’re doing here.” “We’re not explaining it again, Rarity.” Twilight led the way, horn lit. “And you already know what we’re doing.” “Well, yes. It’s just that it’s quite bizarre, really. Mares of darkness needing to be defeated with rainbow lasers … now there’s a phrase I never thought I’d say.” The words wafted around Pinkie’s ears as she looked around, following close behind Twilight. There’s no telling where Nightmare Moon is now. For all we know, she could be watching us. She eyed the twisted shadows in the trees. We have to be careful. Still, there was a sense of safety, despite the doom and gloom hovering around them. These mares … ponies who had listened to her story, even if it was with a grain of salt. They were an anchor in the sea of time. In some strange way, she didn’t feel quite so alone. It was almost like nothing bad would happen again, as long as she stayed with them. Pinkie was bizarrely lucky tonight. The cliff collapsed. Luckily, Dash caught her before she could get more than a few bruises from the fall. On the whole, nopony was worse for the wear, though Twilight and Applejack seemed strangely quiet. It probably wasn’t important, she decided. More worrying was that the cliff was unstable after Nightmare Moon had been freed. The safety of her friends still lightened her hooves, but she kept an eye out, just in case. The manticore was awake. Some of the others decided to charge it, and Pinkie, not wanting to be left out, galloped alongside them. Luckily, Fluttershy was able to calm the animal down and pull a suspicious-looking thorn from its paw. Everypony passed unharmed, but Pinkie cast a look back just in time to see a wisp of purple fog dissipate into the shadows. So when they reached the particularly shadowy grove, she could be forgiven for relaxing a little. She was almost skipping along as the others walked, though she naturally kept an eye about to avoid pesky branches and other things she could trip on. Ahead, Twilight’s horn flickered and went out. “Ack! Magic can’t die on me now!” Then everything was quiet. Around them, they felt a strange pressure building. Subtle at first, it grew in intensity until they could feel the glare of eyes boring into them. There was an unashamed shuffling of hooves as everypony drew in a little closer. “Twilight?” Fluttershy’s voice strained. “Please make some light?” “I can’t,” Twilight whispered. Her horn sparked and sputtered. “There’s something straining the magic. Or maybe it’s me. I can’t do this by myself. Princess Celestia, why am I alone?” “You ain’t alone,” Applejack said, almost firmly. “Now, we need to get outta—” It was when Rarity screamed that they realized the grove wasn’t in complete darkness. A deep red glow, nearly unnoticeable, emanated around them from the trees, and as their eyes adjusted they realized the cause of her distress. Faces had etched themselves on the gnarled trunks, twisted, uncanny visages from within the folds of dreams. Their primal designs spoke silently of rage and unsatisfied gluttony. Eyes burned; teeth gleamed; branches like claws cast scars in the darkness. Pinkie stared at the nearest face. It didn’t move, but as she kept her eyes pinned on it, she could have sworn that its mouth grew larger, wider, until all she could see were rows of hungry fangs that surrounded her with its impenetrable gullet. She was falling, falling, growing heavy and weary as her ears were filled with the deafening rush of howling winds. But her hooves tingled. Despite the deathly sensation around her, she felt the ground firm beneath her. She clung to that as the storm raged on, and slowly — almost too slowly — a familiar lightness crept up her legs and into her body. Somewhere in her freed mind, she felt the urge to sing. So the notes poured out, floating into existence for the sake of existing. Pinkie wondered if she should put lyrics to the music, and she wracked her brain in search of something that would fit. She looked around at Applejack, who stood frozen with horror, seemingly unaware of the red mist evaporating from her face and chest. “Applejack!” Pinkie sang. She swallowed, trying to hold in the nausea. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s okay! We’ll still be good pony friends anyway!” She let the music dissolve back into wordlessness, eyeing her fellow earth pony in hopes that this strange, strange magic was having an effect. The mist still wafted off, pulled relentlessly into the leering faces and coating them with a slick sheen. Don’t think about that. We have to snap them out of it. Pinkie plucked words out of the air, mind racing. “I remember as a filly, I would see the dark and sigh. But one day I asked a question, and the question was, ‘But why?’” The mist faltered. Then, inexorably, it reversed course and seeped back into its owner. Pinkie could almost hear ponies blinking around her. “Ugh.” Dash’s feathers rustled. “What happened?” “You’re okay!” Pinkie exclaimed, eyes alight with glee. The lightness in her hooves dissipated, but she paid it no mind. “Hurry, we need to get out of—” The red that burst from her face and chest wasn’t so much a mist as it was a bout of sideways rain. Around her, she dimly heard the faces redouble their unsettling efforts, and the roar pounded into her ears, into her mind, into her heart, until she could no longer feel anything but the growing puddle soaking her hooves and freezing her flesh. ∞ Mrs. Cake was alarmed. No, that was too strong a word. She was concerned, she would rather say, at the sight of Pinkie stuffing cupcake after cupcake into her own mouth, not caring that her muzzle was dripping with crumbs. Mrs. Cake’s hoof rose, and she began to say something. Then she stopped, weighed the words in her mind, and started again. “Pinkie, we need those.” Pinkie paused. She looked at the wrappers littered around her. “Oh yeah.” There was a sigh. “Dear, is there something wrong?” “No!” The response was a little too fast, a little too loud. “Absolutely not. I just have to not stop singing after I start.” She licked the crumbs from her face. “I have to be vigilant and so on.” Mrs. Cake watched her carefully. Pinkie just smiled back, blinking cutely. Eventually, the older mare backed into the dining room again, not taking her eyes off Pinkie until she was out of sight. Had she spent enough time with Pinkie lately? Maybe she should spend some time with her after the Summer Sun Celebration was over. This time, Pinkie didn’t stop singing when her friends looked around in confusion. She launched into more words this time, words she had been stewing over since that afternoon. The lightness buoyed her, carrying her beyond this place into a sense of hope. “When I was a little filly and the sun was going dow-w-w-wn ...” Twilight stared. “Tell me she’s not ...” “I’d think about a funny friend, a silly kind of clow-w-w-wn …” Rarity sighed. “She is. I — AUGH!” Pinkie eyed the ponies in confusion, never letting the song end even as her lyrics tapered off. They were all staring at her with wide eyes, like she’d grown an extra head or something. Why wasn’t the music helping? Wait … No. They’re not staring at us. She turned around. There, in the dim red light, a grotesque, painted visage grinned at her. “I … probably shouldn’t have mentioned clowns in a place like this!” She laughed nervously, casting ripples in the music. “Am I right?” The monstrous thing nodded. Then it snapped her neck. ∞ “But why?” Pinkie asked. “Why would a monster clown just pop up out of nowhere when I was singing about it?” The decorated library had no response. “It has to have been the song,” she said, settling into a pacing pattern. “Or the grove. Or both, even. When I sing, I feel lighter, larger, and other adjectives that don’t fit with the concept of singing. Is it magic? I don’t know a lot about earth pony magic, but even so I don’t know how singing would fit into it. And it all doesn’t explain the clown.” On a whim, she downed a cup of punch. “Then again, I was singing about a clown, so that’s obviously connected. Does that mean that if I sing about something else, it’ll happen? So maybe I should be careful about what I sing … What if I let the words just come? Maybe it’s like when I started singing with Fluttershy, since that time I just found myself doing it. It’d be a subtle thing. Like earth pony magic, right? Maybe I should ask Applejack or Twilight about this when the loop is over.” Thunderlane’s voice came from the open door. “Pinkie, who are you talking to?” “I’m just thinking out loud.” She trotted over to greet the arrivals. “How are you all doing?” When Pinkie sang this time, letting the words fall where they may, she sang of comfort and laughter. She sang of Granny Pie’s assurances that problems weren’t as serious as they appeared. And as she sang, the faces faded into nothingness, one by one, until the ponies were blissfully alone. Even the darkness of the grove seemed lighter, and when a laughing Twilight managed to light her horn, everything was cast in the gentle glow of magic. Five ponies chatted to each other as they continued on their way, letting slip a giggle every now and then. But Pinkie, alone in the midst of them, pondered on this. She speculated on where the words had come from and what they had to do with this strange form of magic. Glad though she was to have rescued her friends from the faces, she couldn’t help but feel a tide of unease brewing just below the surface of her thoughts, threatening to drown rational thought. Granny Pie, she knew, had never told her those words. The old mare had passed away before Pinkie had been born.