The next morning found Twilight humming idly to her reflection as she ran a gold-handled brush through her mane and tail. Her reflection was, in turn, doing the same for her. Being unable to reflect in their bedroom mirror, they had quickly settled on the next best thing: each other. After all, nopony knew better than her exactly how she wanted her hair done.
“Perfect,” she murmured, smiling at the other.
“Me, or my hair?” the other said, giggling softly.
Twilight pondered the question for a moment, her magic reaching out to straighten a single out-of-place strand with a gentle tug. “Both,” she finally answered.
The other let out a soft giggle again, and Twilight met her eyes. They were her own eyes: a rich, deep violet, like the end of Celestia’s most beautiful sunset, and—hah—sparkling with an unmeasurable intelligence. She winced inwardly at her own pun. Outwardly, her gaze held her twin’s, and their muzzles drifted closer.
A hoof touched her lips, stopping her, and she dropped her gaze guiltily.
“No kissing,” the other murmured. “We agreed.”
“We agreed,” she acknowledged a little sadly. Her ears lost a bit of their stiffness, lowering toward her head as she began a quiet sigh.
Her twin’s cheek brushed against hers, making her jump. The sigh became a startled intake of breath, and her ears lifted back up as she felt warm breath against her neck.
“But nuzzles are okay,” the other said softly, perhaps even a little throatily. “Sisters nuzzle.” A blush began to spread across Twilight’s cheeks as she instinctively tilted her head to the side. Firm, warm lips trailed their way to the front of her neck, making her gasp as a shiver shot down her spine.
“S-sisters don’t nuzzle like that!” she protested breathlessly.
“Well, we’re not exactly sisters either, are we?” The other unicorn’s half-lidded gaze met Twilight’s, and she saw that the spark in her eyes had become a fire. A fire that was burning for her.
Someone knocked on the door.
The two unicorns separated guiltily. “What is it, Spike?” they said in unison, then looked at each other in surprise, and laughed.
“You got another letter from the Princess,” the dragon said from the other side of the door. “It says...” Twilight perked her ears forward with a frown. Was that muffled whispering she heard? “It says that she never received your last friendship report, and...” There was more whispering. “...that she’s very dis—”
Twilight’s bedroom door flew open with the distinctive crunch of a powerful spellcaster forgetting about a deadbolt.
“Let me see that!” A pair of frantic purple unicorns surrounded Spike. Both fixed him with a piercing stare when they realized he wasn’t holding a letter, as if their eyes might be able to bore into his soul and reveal the alleged message’s location. Then the little dragon was given at least a temporary reprieve as the two were startled by a burst of raucous laughter. They turned their heads in unison, shifting their gazes to its extremely colorful source.
Rainbow Dash was laughing uproariously, pounding a hoof against—of all things—a cloud that was for some reason floating in the middle of the library’s main room. “That was priceless, Twilight! You should have seen the look on your face... es...” The pegasus trailed off, blinking. “Whoa. You weren’t kidding, Spike. There are seriously two of her.”
“See?” The dragon crossed his arms smugly. “I told you.”
“That is so awe—”
“Rainbow Dash! You get that cloud out of my library this instant!” Before Dash could finish her sentence, both unicorns were down the stairs. Apparently not satisfied with waiting for her to respond, the pair took matters into their own hooves, horns flashing with magic. The cloud was obliterated by a sharp gust of wind, and its remains were telekinetically ushered out an open window.
The suddenly-seatless pegasus flared her wings as she dropped to the ground, slowing her fall enough to retain her dignity, landing smoothly. “Jeez, Twi,” she grumbled. “You don’t have to get all cranky about it.”
Twilight fixed her with two glares. “The moisture could have damaged the books. What were you even doing with that thing, anyway?”
Dash shrugged, looking warily between the twin unicorns. “Didn’t feel like flying around this early in the morning, but Spike dragged me in here when he found me. So I figured, hey, no reason I have to leave my cloud for this. Sure, I’ve still gotta use my wings to provide the initial momentum and to turn, but not having to fight gravity means not constantly having to exert upward force, so it really comes down to me versus air resistance at that point. And a cloud doesn’t exactly add that much extra mass I gotta move either, so... Bam! Instant easy travel for awesome pegasi.”
Twilight blinked, and out of the corner of her eye, noticed the same perplexed look on her twin’s face that she guessed was on hers. “That’s a... surprisingly technical explanation,” she offered.
Rainbow Dash huffed. “I may not know all your egghead stuff, Twi, but I’m a pegasus. I know flying. Anyway!” She perked back up. “The doubling thing! Would it work on other ponies? No, hold that thought. I gotta tell our friends about this. Just have it ready for me when I get back!”
Twilight tried to protest, but the rainbow-maned speedster was already out the door, and she got nothing but a few polychromatic strands of hair as the pegasus’s tail slipped through her magical grasp. She stared after her retreating friend in shocked silence for a moment, then rounded on Spike.
“Spike! What in the name of harmony were you... Spike?” There was no Spike. The little dragon had wisely taken the opportunity to vanish, and the two Twilights were left alone in the library.
Her twin sighed. “We don’t have time for this. We’ll never get the dig site cleared out if we get stuck here explaining this to our friends.”
Twilight nodded in agreement.
A few minutes later, a cyan pegasus entered the library, followed by four friends, but they found no one there but Spike.
The flash of a short-range teleportation spell lit the ever-present gloom of the edge of the Everfree Forest. A pair of lavender unicorns, each outfitted with matching purple saddlebags, began to trot down the path side-by-side. After a few minutes of silence, the one without the pith helmet spoke.
“How come you get to wear the hat?”
“Because you got to write the checklist,” the other answered firmly.
“...I suppose that’s fair.”
Silence reigned again for a few minutes. The branches above were thick enough now that there would be little visible difference between day and night. The unicorn without the helmet concentrated for a moment, and a small ball of light appeared, floating just ahead of the pair. Her companion glanced over at her.
“Do you think we did the right thing?”
“Of course we did. This is a very important archaeological expedition, and if we’re late with our survey, the entire schedule will be thrown off.”
“No, I mean about our friends. Not just... telling them in the first place.”
“Oh.” The other unicorn paused, then, “I don’t know. It’s too late now, though. They’re going to figure out that we’ve been hiding this from them for a while now, then it’s only a matter of time until they realize I was only half at the party, and only half hanging out with them...”
“I’m an awful friend,” the helmeted one said, sighing.
“Yeah,” her companion replied. “I am.”
Both ponies returned to silence. The path ahead of them gradually opened up into sunlight again, then abruptly halted in a jagged cliff edge. They trotted up to the edge, peered over it, and nodded in satisfaction. Landmark #1 was right where they had left it.
“It was a good idea Dash had, though,” one offered. “With the cloud.”
The other nodded, and her horn began to glow. Her companion’s hat glowed, the light of her magic shining out from under it. The moisture in the air began to gather together, and soon a fairly large cloud floated before them. The two hopped onto the makeshift platform, their hooves connecting firmly with the spongy surface. A slight push of magic sent the cloud drifting slowly down toward the ground below with its passengers.
“Sisters, huh?” the helmeted pony asked.
“Sort of...” the other replied.
“But not exactly.”
“No, not exactly. I... guess I understand why you don’t want to kiss though.”
“It’s just... weird. The whole idea of loving yourself. Touching is one thing, that’s just...”
“That’s just touching yourself.” Both mares blushed at the unfortunate choice of words.
“Right. But kissing is... kissing is different.”
The scenery drifted lazily by as the cloud floated along. It had almost reached the ground when the unicorns realized that things would not be going according to plan much longer.
“There wasn’t a nest of manticores at the bottom of this cliff last time,” commented the one without the hat.
“No, there wasn’t,” the other answered.
“And I think our cloud is about to fall apart.”
“I think so too.”
“You should probably teleport us. I’m still tired from the last one.”
A pained look crossed the face of the unicorn with the hat. “...I can’t.”
“What?!”
“I can’t. I think I used too much magic on the cloudwalking spell.”
“Oh feathers.”
The cloud below them picked that moment to dissipate into its component moisture droplets. With matching shrieks, which likely did nothing but further disturb the manticores below, the two ponies plummeted the remaining distance to the ground.
Twilight Sparkle ran. Sweat matted her hair and soaked her coat and stung her eyes, and her sides heaved with her panicked gasps. Unicorns, she had quickly concluded, were not built to outrun manticores. Librarians were definitely not built to outrun manticores. She risked a glance back and saw her companion, pith helmet fallen down almost over her eyes, galloping a few feet behind her. And less than a hundred feet behind that, manticores. Angry, territorial manticores.
“Come on,” she panted. “Only a little farther to the bridge.”
“And then what?” Her twin tossed her head to try to adjust her helmet. “Manticores can fly!” The motion only succeeded in jamming the brim down further, and the unicorn let out a cry of panic as her world went black.
Without missing a step, Twilight lifted her twin in her magic and set her on her back. “Then we follow Plan B!” she said through gritted teeth.
“I thought Plan B was to run!”
“It is!” She could see blackness creeping into the edges of her vision. The burning in her muscles had started to recede, giving way to a cold numbness. Paradoxically, her sense of smell seemed to have heightened as she ran. But the earthy scents of the forest around her were blotted out by a sharp metallic smell, like ozone after a lightning strike. She recognized the signs of magical exhaustion just as her rider stiffened and let out a strangled shout.
“Turn left!”
Only by sheer dumb luck did her skidding hooves avoid the great chasm separating them from the ruins of the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. She banked sharply left, and precious seconds were lost as she galloped along the edge of the chasm toward the bridge. She twisted as she reached the bridge, stumbled, then surged forward onto it, only narrowly dodging a swipe by the lead manticore. She heard the sound of their pursuers’ leathery wings beating behind them, but her vision was filled by the wooden planks of the bridge beneath her hooves.
She felt the familiar tug of magic being used nearby, and heard the fizzle of a weakening shield spell. “Do we have a Plan C?” she asked shakily.
“Yeah,” the unicorn on her back panted. “Them.”
Twilight looked up to see two huge birds lifting themselves out of the center of the ruins. They were clearly birds of prey, from their hooked beaks to their sword-like talons, but no bird of prey she had ever seen before had a fifty-foot wingspan. The creatures were massive, and beautiful, and deadly, and then they were diving right toward them. Twilight flattened herself to the ground, and her twin tumbled off her back into the dirt with a yelp. They both winced as the birds passed above them, then they heard the yowls of their pursuers as the rocs attacked. The two unicorns scrambled back to their hooves and risked a look behind them.
“That was Plan C?” Twilight asked flatly. “Fight angry territorial monsters with more angry territorial monsters?”
“Mhmm,” her double confirmed with a nod. “That’s... uh oh.” One of the rocs, sharp ears catching the sounds of their conversation, turned an eye toward them.
“Plan B!” Twilight made to break into a renewed gallop, but her weary muscles finally gave out. She tumbled back toward the ground, but was caught in the purple aura of her magic. Her twin set her firmly on her back and bolted in the only direction available to them: toward the ruins.
It was their good fortune that, although much of the castle had been destroyed by time and the unpredictable weather of the Everfree, they were near an area of relatively intact architecture. In fact, Twilight noticed through her dimming vision that it was not far from the place where she and her friends had defeated Nightmare Moon.
Her friends... if only they were here.
“Hang in there,” the other unicorn panted. They angled toward an archway that lead into what appeared to have been a dining hall of sorts. The roc halted at the entrance, unable to fit through after them, and began tearing at the time-weakened stonework in an effort to widen the door. Her twin continued running, carrying them deeper into the ruin.
The thought suddenly struck Twilight that she, or rather her other self, was now the bearer of a bearer of an Element of Harmony. For some reason, that seemed incredibly funny under the circumstances, and she started to giggle. Her bearer—a bearer bearer, she thought with a renewed bout of giggling—turned her head to look at her in confusion.
“What... the hay...” The question was interrupted by a dead end ahead of them. A single door, apparently made of thick iron and quite intact, stood at end of the hall.
And it was unlocked. Twilight’s double pulled it open and hurried through into the small, empty room beyond, Twilight still giggling happily to herself on her back, then slammed it shut behind them. There was a deadbolt, so she slid that into place for good measure. Then she turned again, fixing Twilight with a stern glare.
“Off.”
Twilight’s giggling stopped abruptly and her ears drooped, but she obeyed, sliding off her twin’s back and rolling onto the cold stone floor, letting out a small squeak of complaint as the chilly surface drew the heat through her damp coat. She let out a louder squeak when, with alarming swiftness, the other unicorn pounced, pinning her to the ground on her back with a hoof on her chest.
Twilight gazed down at her twin, still breathing heavily from the heady mixture of endorphins and adrenaline during their flight. The other unicorn’s chest rose and fell under her hoof, her breathing ragged and shallow. She peered into the violet eyes of the mare under her, searching, watching as they flicked back and forth, focusing on her one moment, then staring off through her the next.
There it was. Just as she had suspected, her double was being eaten alive by magical exhaustion.
“Wh-what?” the other mare murmured sleepily. “Is there something on my face?” Her eyes crossed briefly. “Oh, it’s my horn!” She burst into giggles again, only to be stifled by Twilight’s hoof.
“Ssh,” Twilight said firmly, shaking her head. “You really overdid it this time, Twilight Sparkle. You’re lucky I’m here.” Her twin’s eyes widened in alarm as her confused mind finally realized the extent of her condition, but Twilight shook her head again. “Shh,” she repeated. “You’ll be okay. Just lie still.”
The other mare nodded, slowly relaxing under her, and Twilight lowered her head. Their horns touched, first near the tip, then sliding down until the base of each unicorn’s horn made contact with the other’s forehead. Their eyes met again, then Twilight released her hold on her magic.
To her twin, it was probably a glorious, invigorating feeling, like stepping into a cool waterfall on a hot day, washing away the tiredness and the fog over her mind. To Twilight, it felt like having a piece of herself torn away and pulled out through her horn. Maybe a kidney, or a lung. She collapsed onto her double with a gasp.
A pair of forelegs slipped around her after a minute of silence, and she lifted her head to gaze at herself. She was smiling, and there was a look in her eye she hadn’t seen before.
“I could say thank you,” the mare murmured.
Relief flooded through Twilight as she inspected her twin. The other unicorn’s gaze was focused again, and her breathing was returning to normal. It had worked. She returned the smile with one of her own. “But you already know you’re welcome.”
“Mhmm.”
“So, do we have a Plan D?”
“Nope. We’re pretty much stuck here until the big bird gives up on getting to us.”
“Probably until nighttime, if we want to be safe. They’re diurnal, right?”
“Right. Until then we’re...” The unicorn underneath her paused with a coy smile. “Would you forgive me if I said, ‘stuck between a roc and a hard place?’ ”
Twilight considered the question for a moment, a serious expression on her face, before her lips curled into a smirk. “Only if you forgive me for one cliché.”
“Oh? And which one would that be?”
“ ‘Shut up and kiss me.’ “
She did. Twilight leaned down, and her twin lifted her head, their muzzles meeting and their breath mixing in the stale air of the room. The other mare was surprisingly aggressive, and Twilight began to wonder if she had allowed a bit too much of her energy to transfer.
She didn’t have long to wonder. A warm, wet tongue pressed against her lips, and as she parted them to express her surprise, her mouth was filled with its eager presence. Her own tongue fought against it, and every motion sent a shock of excitement through her body. She could tell it was having a similar effect on her twin, the other unicorn gasping softly in time with her. The forelegs wrapped around her midsection tightened. She responded enthusiastically, falling into the embrace of the mare below her.
If this was how it was going to be, Twilight Sparkle was fully prepared to give as good as she got. So to speak.