So.
How did a train ride that was only meant to last a few hours start to feel like it's taken a full year?
Right. The smile that would give Golden nightmares for weeks. The fact that I may have done some hopelessly inadvisable sculpting of a mountainside. The knowledge that Fancy Pants… Let's move on from that until we know more.
That was more than enough to give a pony pause.
I'm still just feeling a bit unstable.
When I get back to Ponyville… I've got a ballot to count.
A vote. An election.
Not to oust me, no. I'd already won the popular vote on that—somehow—but instead to see if the town had accepted my new ideas, or wanted to stay in relative stasis and happiness.
It was a gamble. I was willing to risk everything that Ponyville was for a chance to make it everything it could be. I wasn't willing to make that decision alone, though, no matter how much power and money and power and so much money was given to me. Not when I wasn't the only pony who'd be affected by it.
Golden looked up at me every now and again, eyes shimmering with what I hoped was worry, and feared was fear. I don't think it was fear, but… Projecting. I'm just projecting. I'm scared of what I could do, so I'm putting that mindset onto the ponies around me. It's basic psychology.
Right. Just keep believing that.
Maybe I'm projecting more than that.
Maybe Golden doesn't like me because I don't like me.
…Wow, where did that come from? I like me just fine. I've just been under a lot of stress lately. Just really burned out. That'd mess with anypony.
I never did finish that book on the train ride here. I should probably do that. It might help. It really was a good book.
It's amazing how much and how little can change in such a short time. Ponyville still looked exactly the same. A still photograph would show no difference, certainly. But there was something in the air, something tense and electric. It affected how ponies moved, how they went about the mundane.
There was an air that it might be the last time they did things the same way. They were bracing for the push.
There was excitement, certainly, fear, possibly, but mostly just a sense of wonder.
It had all been done democratically, that much was certain.
All this I observed through the window. But it was certainly not enough for Golden to see what I did. She hadn't lived in Ponyville quite so long.
And what had been a huge marble slab at the edge of town when I had left was now a building of white marble and fluted columns about—let's just do the maths here—sixteen ponies tall. Maybe fourteen Big Macintoshes, or ten Celestia-heights. Nine if you counted from horn tip.
Big, then. Very, very big.
The dimensions strike me as mathematically beautiful. Did Pinkie insist on using the golden ratio wherever she could? It seemed so. The front of the building, conveniently facing the train as much as it did the town, was capped by a triangular roof… thing. What do you call it when the roof is slanted like that, level at the center but with a flat triangular face? Classical Pegasus? It looked Classical. From the height-to width ratio of it, though, it seemed to have fit a formula designed specifically to look as pleasing as possible.
Had Pinkie really designed so elegant and formal a structure? With Discord?
I have to give the slimy conniver credit where it's due. If given the chance to earn my trust and respect, and if given a suitably creative outlet and supervision, he definitely seemed to have done me proud.
I was, too. I was proud of him.
Huh.
Would he ever let me live it down if she told him that, though? He was already so insufferably smug…
Great. Now I’m thinking about Rainbow Dash. All I have to do is not think of her and everything will be fine. Hold my temper. Keep it steady. Deep breaths, in and out—
“Oh, look, Doctor Princess Sparkle,” Golden smiled, tilting her head against the window just-so, “our friends are waiting for us at the station.” A beat. Let her pick up on that in three… two… Golden flinched, recoiling against herself. “I mean, your friends. I don't mean to sound presumptuous, they're… oh dear. Did presumptuous sound too pretentious? It did, didn't it?”
Things would be so much easier if Golden would stop being so… herself, too.
But still. I twist in my own seat to watch the station approach. The great thing about ponies as a species is how distinct we are; you can immediately tell from a distance who's who. Griffons and yaks? Not so much. The vibrating pink blob is Pinkie Pie. The white one whose coat caught the sun just right was Rarity. Five will get you ten she chose where to stand based on how much she'd sparkle. Fluttershy's yellow emphasized by the blue sky behind her—why was she flying?—and… where were Applejack and Rainbow Dash?
Oh. There was Applejack. She wasn't quite as vibrant as the others, sort of blended into the background a bit. Was that a mean thought? Don't ask Golden—lie to yourself and everything will be fine.
So, was Rainbow just harder to see against blue sky? Or hiding in a cloud like the last time we’d seen her?
The train pulls ever-slower into the station. I know it's because of how negative acceleration works as a concept, but it does make pulling into the station an exercise in pulling teeth. Slower and slower still as it gets closer and closer.
I get more anxious.
Yes. Apparently this was possible. I'm as surprised as anyone, honestly.
They all look so expectant outside the train window. We move to the doors to get off.
I still didn't see Rainbow Dash, though. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms last time, but I don't… hate her for it or anything. It would have been nice for her to see me arrive, I mean. With Golden.
Okay, when she saw us off, she might have snapped at Golden and got super apologetic, but she didn't know Golden was harbouring a crush on her. Wait, why was Golden still harbouring a crush on a pony that snapped at her and got angry? That didn't make sense. Did Golden like mean girls? Was that healthy? Should I be meaner to her? Was that conclusion healthy?
The grey little thing looks out so hopefully and anxiously. She clutches at herself, wanting to reassure herself with the feel of the red dress Rarity made for her, grabbing only at her own fur instead. Her dress is in her suitcase, because it needs a wash real bad. She just keeps forgetting that.
No. I don't think I could be mean to her if I tried. If I wasn't trying, I might be all too good at it…
“They look excited to see us,” Golden whispers, twirling a hoof around the clump of fur she'd gripped.
“It feels nice to be wanted, doesn't it?”
She nods. Hesitates. “I don't see Rainbow, though. You don't think that's because of me, do you?”
“I really don't know. Probably not. She's… It's really not like her to not show up. I doubt it's because she overslept. Someone else would have kicked her out of bed—or cloud or tree— on the way here otherwise.”
Golden doesn't look reassured. I wasn't really being reassuring, though.
The train finally stops. Applejack, Rarity and Fluttershy wait outside the door with patient and excited smiles. I lug my suitcase out behind me and through the train doors.
“Hi, girls. Where did Pinkie go—”
WHOMPF
“We missed you so much! And Discord and I got so much done! All the ground floor is done, and now we're just putting job fliers out for clerks and stuff! And Spike wishes he could be here, but he's still napping with his hoard right now. I didn't want to wake him up. He gets a real grump.”
I don't say anything, so Pinkie continues.
“So we're going to throw you a 'Welcome Back!' party, and a 'Mission Accomplished!' party, and a 'Counting the Vote!' party, I was going to call it a political party but Rarity said—”
I hear Rarity outside the periphery of pink. “Ms. Pie, I think Twilight needs to breathe.”
“What? That's not what you said. You said a political party was already a different thing!”
“Ah think she means you need to stop huggin' Twi so hard, Pinks.”
I continue not saying anything, because that requires precious oxygen.
Pinkie looks at me apologetically and lets go. There’s a ‘popping’ noise when she does.
Gasp. Wheeze. Splutter.
“It's—” choke “—lovely to see you, too, Pinkie. It's only been a few days, though.”
“Well, yeah,” Pinkie rolls her eyes, “but it's felt like ever, ever, ever, ever. Count it, that's four evers.”
Fluttershy nods emphatically at that.
Rarity pitches in; “Quite a lot happened while you were gone, at that. I have a feeling things have developed in your absence.”
What even was that sentence?
Applejack gives Rarity a stern look and nudges her in the ribs. Rarity sticks her tongue out at her. So… it meant something, I guess?
Fluttershy looked at Golden seriously. “Things have gotten tense.”
Somehow, Golden looks more happy about being addressed directly, as an equal, than she seems worried about what was being addressed.
“Everyone still voted, though, right?” she asks, switching back from fiddling with her fur to pushing her spectacles up her nose. “So long as everyone knows this is going to be a fair and democratic process, we shouldn't have too much trouble on our hooves.”
Applejack nods. “Eeyup. So long as everypony thinks this is all above water and fair's fair, shouldn't be too much a hassle.”
Fluttershy nods again. “But I know how much this will be stressing you, Twilight, so you're invited to tea and cucumber sandwiches later. Discord will be there, but he's really very excited to talk to you about all the good work he's done. I think you'll be rather proud of him.”
You know, it's weird. I kind of am a little proud of him. Ever since he admitted he wanted to be here, to stay here, I've had a little more… tenuous respect for him. That's a weird thought.
Well. I should go do that. Later.
“Well. I guess this is like pulling teeth then, I guess. It's just going to be hanging over my head until it gets counted. It would be in everyone's best interest if I go do that now, I suppose.”
Rarity and Applejack share another look. A heavy one. Rarity hisses some air through her teeth.
“Perhaps not. As much as we trust you—”
“Completely, sugarcube.”
“—yes, thank you, if you count the votes, it might seem like the outcome was...”
“Tampered. Manipulated. That sort of thing,” Applejack finishes for her. “Like I said, whole thing's gotta look like it's above water, else there'll be problems.”
“I'll do it, then,” Golden states confidently, before collapsing under the weight of the sudden attention thrust on her again. “Well… I mean, that is literally my job, right? In the correct usage of the word 'literal'?”
“Ooh!” Pinkie squeals in delight, throwing a pink leg around her shoulders and walking towards the treehouse, Golden more or less willingly following behind her. “I'll show you how I set the ballot up, then. There are two boxes right, and we set them up in the book return slots, because nopony ever borrows books anyway. I don't think anypony remembers it's not just Twilight's personal bookshelf.”
No, that's back in secure storage underneath Canterlot, occupying H.S.A.M.L.S vaults fourteen through seventeen.
Wait.
What?
Fluttershy clears her throat. “Uh, sorry, Twilight. I'll go start making tea, okay? You be there soon, when you're done catching up.”
“It is Fluttershy’s job to keep you calm through all this, Twilight.” Rarity draws the attention back to herself and Applejack, the only two left of our little welcoming party. Applejack takes my suitcase before I can protest.
“I thought it was your job to handle the liaisons in Canterlot, though, Eques Rarity.”
“Yes, well.” Rarity coughs into a hoof daintily enough. “They were academics. Not in my wheelhouse, as it were.”
Applejack snorts at that as she starts following after Golden and Pinkie Pie. “Reckon your house looks more like a merry-go-round than a wheel, Rares. Anyway, Twi, I'm going to go deliver your bags to your room, you go catch up on things. We'll meet back up later.”
I'm left alone on the platform with just Rarity now.
“She does realise Carousel is just a fancy word for—”
“I honestly don't know. It's a coin toss whether she has genuinely been that ignorant for, oh, the duration of my career, or whether she knows and is just messing with us. Her pranks are far more subtle than Pinkie's, I fear.”
“Ah.”
“Now, go see Spike.” Rarity smiles. “He has rather missed you.”
The bank looms ahead. I had a long time to admire the view as I approached. Ponies seemed to be milling around it, keeping their distance, as if it might eat them if they got too close. It was intimidating, certainly, but it's not like—
Discord helped make it, right. All their fears were completely legitimate.
“Now, now, someone's thinking accusing thoughts,” a zephyr whispers in my ear, “but it is a sight, isn't it?”
Discord? I think, loudly, I didn't know you could read minds. That's… disconcerting.
“Oh, I can't,” the zephyr breezes again, “You're just incredibly predictable. Interest you in a tour later?”
“Please,” I say, out loud, still walking towards the big three-storey-high doors. “Though, if you could point me to how to get to the vault, now? Last time I entered, there was just a hole in the floor to duck down. There seems to be a building in the way, now.”
“That there is! An extravagantly magnificent one at that, too. Pinkie really outdid herself, don't you think? Simply marvellous!”
“That's unusually modest, Discord. I'd have thought you'd be trying to glompf as much of the credit for yourself as possible.”
“Glompf? My, my, your cynicism hurts me, dear Sparkle, but not as much as your word choice amuses me. Pray tell, do I find you in a bad mood?”
“Just stressed. Rainbow Dash is supposed to be my hype-pony, but she's apparently off sulking somewhere for reasons nopony will tell me. Fluttershy is hoping to fix it somewhat with cucumber sandwiches with you, actually. Said I was going to be very proud of you.”
“She did?” Discord asks, and he sounds genuinely confused. “Come, come inside, we apparently have much to discuss.”
The doors open for me ominously, like the entry to a great alien spaceship – from the planet Compound Interest – and of course I step inside. Discord always was one for dramatics.
Downstairs was all marble, reinforced with bands of wrought iron up and around the walls about two thirds of the way up, and feeling incredibly like a bank should. Upstairs is a deep red carpet, deep both in colour and texture. The walls were panelled with expensive woods—mahogany!—and stretched high to the vaulted ceiling above. Sunlight filtered down from steel-and-leaded glass skylights to brighten and illuminate the building as much as possible. The centre was filled with the strawberry milk fountain, of course, because every bank needs a central fountain.
There were discrete offices built into the walls, and past a barricade of teller-booths were plush chairs and sensible tables to hold consultations over. A cursory flick of my horn confirmed my suspicions that security was subtle but ever-present.
“Not the décor I had in mind, admittedly,” Discord spins around on a large, green-upholstered armchair that was clearly not designed with swivelling in mind, “but I must admit, Pinkie made a salient argument. People do like being old-fashioned with their money. The whole old-stallion's club aesthetic does seem to instil some sort of, how would Rarara put it? Je-ne-sais-quois? That the higher-ups know how to be sensible with silly amounts of money.” Here he raised an eyebrow at me, puffing on a bubblepipe. “The question is, Ms Sparkle, is the atmosphere a truth or a bluff?”
“Is that an accusation?” I ask levelly.
Discord laughs at that, warmly. “Come, now, dear, it's all a matter of perspective. You consider the potential bluff an accusation? Me? I consider it a game. Wonderful fun.”
“The kind of game where someone always loses.”
“All the best ones are. For a pony so inclined to chess, I had thought you'd grok that vibe.”
I shake my head, smiling a little myself. “I prefer it when it ends in a draw, I must admit. When both players are so equally matched, the game continues until the very bitter end. I should introduce you to One Stone, actually.” Be interesting to see how those two would get along. One Stone's such a fan of chaos theory…
“I cede the point. It never occurred to me to match myself with an equal. They're so very hard to come by.” Discord scritches his chin, smiling. “I think you were right to suggest I might have one in Pinkie Pie. She asked me a very interesting question, you know?” Before I can even politely ask, he surges forward, “Why not just make the universe a blinking flash of random geometry?”
“… what?”
“Chaos is just disorder, after all. A truly random everything, forever, would therefore be the pinnacle of chaos. Or so I had thought.” He puffs on his bubblepipe wistfully, gesturing to a seat across from him. I hesitate before walking towards it. I might as well be comfortable. “You see, it'd certainly be in my power to do so. Oh, now, don't look so shocked, it'd take me millennia, but time isn't really a concern for us, is it? So then, again, she asked me why not?”
“The destruction of all sentient life?”
“Exactly!” Discord nods, leaping out of his chair a little, before sinking back into it thoughtfully. “Well, not quite. And certainly not for the reasons you expect. You see, life is a funny little thing. It's the most chaotic chemical reaction I've ever seen, and I've seen fulminated mercury hourglasses. No, life is something… spectacular. Who ever thought a complex hydrocarbon would emerge with thoughts and feelings?”
“Well, the Red Princess hypothesis—”
“Don't get your boring all over my philosophy, yet, my Well-Read Princess, I'm waxing poetic.” Indeed, Discord chewed on a big gob of something, pulling from his maw what looked like a wad of gum caught with dental floss. A quick, revolting flick of it snapped it into the shape of a candle —the floss revealed to be its wick—engraved with prose. “No, she got it into my head that the most interesting, the most entertaining, form of chaos is that which derives from order. From a situation trying its best to change and evolve. Quite frankly, if everything were completely random all the time, it'd be random in the exact same way, and thus a rather boring kind of order with more snap and crackle to it. A lot more effort, too.”
“There ought to be a point to this, Discord. Not that I don’t appreciateall you've done, lately,” I say, gesturing around, “but you must understand: I get a little squeamish whenever anybody tells me the only reason they haven't reduced the universe to pure entropy is because it's less interesting.”
“Oh, yes, of course. How uncouth of me. I do seem to forget that you live here. All your stuff is here, and ponies do get ever-so-personal about their stuff.” A cup of tea appears in his hand and he leans forward dreadfully seriously. “I have a competing job offer from an old… acquaintance, by the name of Tirek. And his offer is very good.” And now Discord's wearing a white-collar shirt with a blue tie, and holding a mug that says “I hate days ending in Y”. I should ask for one, myself… “But I feel I have too much loyalty to my old employer, boss, to not propose a counteroffer first.”
“Oh?” I try to keep the panic out of my voice. If Celestia had gone straight to Discord rather than the Elements… “What was his offer, then?
“Friendship with an equal, and complete power. Nopony holding me back. The chance to let chaos reign free! And it was very tempting, I must admit, had Pinkie Pie's conundrum not still been rattling about between my ears at this point.” Here all the props are gone. The chairs and the table between us are all that remain. And Discord leans forward and says very seriously:
“You've been very kind to me, Sparkle. Shown trust in me that I would only consider from a fool… but you're no fool, are you, Doctor Princess?” He drawls. “You've obviously been trying to eke some kind of friendship out of me so I'm less likely to betray you, and I'm growing to realize Tirek is probably angling to do the exact same thing. Only you're far less likely to slot a knife in my own back, are you, you goody-four-shoes stalwart knight of Friendship?”
I feel offended for some reason. And flattered. Kind of? Probably. “So you're giving me a counteroffer, because I'm the one less likely to stab you in the back, when all's said and done?”
“Exactly!” Discord claps his hands together eagerly. “Honestly? Not something I had considered before having this conversation. It's genuinely amazing how getting thoughts out of your head —” here Discord gets out of his green-upholstered chair, reaching into an ear and pulling a string of 'thought bubbles' from his head, “—puts things into perspective, isn't it? But I knew I had to talk to you first, just in case, before I made any rash, world-ending decisions. My counteroffer is thus; I want to play a prank on you. It will be a large one, and you won't see it coming, oh no, because you think too linearly. You're predictable. Even now, you're just taking this simple statement as a personal challenge, aren't you?”
Who wouldn't? Who couldn't?
“Not you, my dear, not you. That's it. That's my request. You allow me this one prank, and I spare the world from not one, but two Big Bad Evil Guys this week. Otherwise…”
“Sure.” I shrug. “It's a deal.”
Discord snaps around. Or, at least, his head does. The rest of his body continues pacing away from me, as if having not quite got the message. “Excuse me?”
“If you're still up for cucumber sandwiches and tea later? I won't even tell Fluttershy about all the implied blackmail. You've got a deal.”
“What? Really? You're making it that simple?”
I get up out of my own chair, now, stretching. Letting a few things pop. Seriously, to Tartarus with long train rides. “Sure? Unless you were, I don't know, planning on using this conversation to justify to yourself betraying the few ponies who offered you redemption, and who—even now — are working out ways to keep you happy and allow you to express yourself, rather than bored and repressed? Absolutely. I have zero, repeat, zero problems, as long as nopony gets hurt. Then it's not a prank, it's a felony.”
Discord smiles wickedly. “Ah. So long as nopony gets hurt then?”
“Preferably nothing with self-awareness, thank you. That includes furniture you grant self-awareness for the purposes of the prank.”
“Now, that's an interesting loophole. I'll have to remember that one, Celestia's not half so clever at seeing through my shenanigans. She's all stern glares and self-righteous yelling.” He gags, rolling his eyes. “I'll see you later, Twilight. Perhaps I'll indulge a game of chess. Usually far too ordered for my liking, but I might be able to talk you into a game of Liar's Dice afterwards, I think. For now? I have a supervillain to thwart, for entirely selfless reasons, I assure you.” With an excited clap of his paws, and a little half-skip. “Oh, boy, it's fun being on the other side of it.”
“Wait! Before you go, where's the… vault entrance… thingy?”
Discord waves a disinterested hoof off towards an out-of-place rug sitting haphazardly in the center of the room. “Vault's under there. The lizard missed you.”
Bemused. I am bemused. “You mean Spike?”
“No, Spike was a little purple footrest who, at best, was a competent Rainbow Dash. The lizard can beat me in an armwrestle if I don't cheat. So, he can't, but it's repulsive to my ego that he gets close. Speaking of, I've a threat to national security to incarcerate.” He waves a paw over himself, and reappears as Super Discord in Tights apparently. Hardly flattering ones, either.
Then he's off in a bright puff of garishly-hued latex. I cough and splutter—he's left a cloud of talcum powder in his wake.
Well.
I guess I might as well check under the rug.
The door's still open. I guess so Spike could keep having company. It's relatively easy to be closed and opened from the inside—one of my personal nightmares is being locked in a bank vault over a bank holiday, anyway—and it's not like anypony's going to be fighting him for it anytime soon.
Dragons are notable for not giving hoards over easily. It's kind of their whole thing.
“Hey, big g—”
Snore!
Oh.
He's uh.
He's still napping.
I get a little closer to the vault entrance, climbing down a winding staircase from above, into the depths of the marble-and-iron. Spike sits on a throne of gold bars. He's apparently used his fire-breath to melt it into a cohesive whole—probably makes it a lot more structurally sound like that. He's even made an effort to shape it so it's not just a flat surface to sit on, it curves a little for his, uh, tooshie.
For the moment, though, he's piled a bunch of gold coins up like a beanbag, and is snoring happily on them, his huge bulk and sharp sharp sharp sharp sharp sharp—
Stuck in a loop there.
— sharp teeth are bared with every little snore. Looks more like a big kitten than anything else, especially all curled up like that. Also scary. Like a really big, scary kitten.
But he's still Spike, right?
He snores again, scratching his ear with a hind leg in his sleep. “Why, yes, Rarity,” he murmurs, “I do think this silk shirt you made for me is quite fetching. How could I ever make it up to you?”
Okay, yeah, no, definitely still Spike.
I go back out of the vault and teleport really quickly to the library, then right back to the vault. I'm not in any rush, so I can take my time with the spell and really focus on channeling it properly, so I'm not nearly as tired by it as I might otherwise be.
Let's see… Oh, Rainbow's flying away from the library. Would have been nice if I could have gotten here a few seconds earlier, then, and given her a piece of my mind. Instead, I get a piece for my mind.
A book. I'm getting a book.
Ooh, I've been meaning to get this one for a while now. “On the Intricacies of Clockwork and Watchmaking: A Beginner's Guide.” I've recently been on a little bit of a mechanics kick, and gears and clockwork is so interesting. It's interesting that, no matter how much power you put into the spring, it's regulated in such a way as to precisely measure it out for the lifespan of the wind, rather than slowing down as it gets weaker, like those wind-up foal's toys.
I've always wanted to know how they did that.
And now I will!
I focus on teleporting back to the vault.
BANG.
POP.
Oh yeah, I missed that. Wasn't paying attention last time, forgot to appreciate it. Darn.
Back into the vault I go, and Spike's still murmuring in his sleep. I sidle up next to him and kind of just whumpf, collapse against his side. It's nice to feel the familiarity. The warmth. Even after all this, after so long away, it's nice to come back to family sometimes. Family is—
“Why yes, my muscles have gotten bigger, Rarara… lemme just… flex...”
He twitches in his sleep.
Okay, yeah, family is mortifying, but you're stuck with 'em.
I crack open my book and start to read, resting against his side. It's really nice to just… have a good book, not a care in the world, and be able to just catch up on more intricate mechanical components of complex systems. You can do so much with the right combination of parts! I wonder if anypony has tried making a clockwork abacus before…
This is when I'm poked in the ribs with a claw and jump, like, three pony-heights in the air in surprise.
“YARGH!”
“Oh, hey. Whatcha readin' there?” He looks at the book and snorts. “Dork. Oh, man, you are the biggest nerd, you know that?”
“Bold words for a dragon who talks in his sleep.”
He at least has the common decency to blush.
I grin, and nudge him in the side too. My hoof bounces right off his muscles. “So, what have I missed?”
“Honestly couldn't tell you much,” Spike shrugs, “Fluttershy thought it'd be best if I stayed out of the public eye for a bit, because I'm kinda uh...” he rubs the back of his neck with a claw, and it makes a sound like flint on sandpaper, “terrifying?” He grins though, “Rarity thinks I'm handsome though.”
I grin. “I'm sure she does.”
Spike's eyes open wide, and his face falls. There's almost-panic in his voice. “No, wait, really, check it out.” He stands up to his full height, unfolding himself. He's still got that upside-down pyramid shape, but it's not that he's got stubby legs or anything. He's just got shoulders like… like he has a Big Mac on either half. He flexes a little, grinning like Pinkie on a sugar high, and thick cords of reptilian sinew slide under his scaley bicep. “Pretty cool, right? But I gotta do, like, hella pushups and weights to keep it up. Good thing gold's so heavy, right?”
I stare. “Okay, yeah, I really hate to say this, but I can kind of see where Rarity's coming from.” Really not my type, and not just because it's Spike, but I can see Rarity swooning over a big strong intelligent dragon like this. As long as he promised not to bite.
“Yeah, she brings it up every time she comes down here with more gems for me. Been promising to make some new clothes for me, now that I have a bigger frame for it. I'd probably need to rip the sail off a boat to have enough fabric for a toga, though, right?”
He says it as a joke, but… I mean, standing up like this, he's about a Celestia-and-a-half in height, and he's not exactly slim, either.
“Best thing I got was the Eye of Azuthris though.”
“The Eye of Azuthris?” I balk, “Spike, that's an incredibly rare magical artefact! Its power could be immeasurable! Who let you eat it?”
“Rainbow Dash gave it to me.” He shrugs. “Honestly, she's been super weird for some reason. I'd have thought she'd be excited about Daring Do coming to her personally for help.”
…
What?
“Oh, yeah, so that happened.” Spike chuckles self-consciously. “Probably should have mentioned it straight up, huh? But, seriously, Daring came here super panicked, said she needed a safe place to put it, and wanted Rainbow to fly as far and as fast as she could to where it'd be safe. Then Dash apparently just took her here and pointed at the vault. And Daring was like 'This isn't safe enough, you don't know how powerful the Eye is!' and Dash was all like; 'What? Oh. Yeah, no' and just threw it into my mouth. Then she just shrugged and said “Problem solved” and wandered off. Daring looked so mad, and Rainbow just didn't care.”
“Okay that's… not something I ever expected to happen. On so many levels. I mean, I know Rainbow can be irresponsible, but I've never seen her thrown so hard when it comes to a chance to hero-worship.”
“Like how you get for Starswirl the Bearded?”
I heft a gold bar in my magic and thump him in the shoulder with it. I smirk triumphantly when he flinches hard enough to have to rub it after. Take that! Big sister powers!
He pouts at me, this big mean dragon with too-much teeth, like a little kid again, and I giggle. Celestia help me, I giggle. Then it causes him to chuckle, and everything is perfect.
Then everything gets heavy again.
“Do you think everything's going to be okay?” I ask.
“In Ponyville you mean? I mean, if it isn't, that's why you're holding a vote, right? I'm sure everyone can't get too mad.”
I nod, pause, shake my head. In that order. Like my head's going through a traffic light—Green, yellow, red. “Demesnes can declare war on each other. Winner takes all.”
Spike opens his mouth. Closes it a bit. “O-oh. Well, this is just a temporary thing, right? Short-term? Celestia will get it fixed before too long. I mean… before anypony gets hurt right?”
I shrug, kicking at a gold brick Spike's wadded up into a ball for himself. My hoof clanks off it. I try not to flinch visibly. “Fancy Pants' lost his demesne, but he surrendered peacefully. I don't know where he is now. It's not good.” I frown, hard set lines cut into my face. “I don't know what would happen if anypony attacked Ponyville.”
Spike snorts and walks over to his throne. “What? Seriously?” He says, sitting down, picking up a sceptre he's made for himself out of melted and muddled gold bricks and coins. I need to tell him at some point that the treasury is not a toy, but as long as he doesn't get too bored.
“I really don't.”
“Twilight… you'd fight. Hands and hooves down, every time. And you'd win.” He grins, now, waving his sceptre triumphantly. “I'd make for one heck of a bodyguard, too, right? I mean, look at me.”
I'm about to laugh at the offer when I, again, look at him. I seriously need to start thinking of him like he is now, and not what he was before I left.
And what he is now is big and scary.
I hesitate.
You know what?
That actually makes me feel safer.
I will never admit this out loud, though.
“And Applejack and Rarity and Pinkie and Discord… I mean, we got Discord on our side right?” Spike shrugs again, tapping my head gently with his sceptre to emphasise the point.
“Good question. I think so? Honestly, Discord's on his own side. It's downright dangerous to think of him doing anything more than—”
“Twilight!” A cultured, refined and elegant voice shouts from the stairs back up, filled with panic and emergency. It's… not a good juxtaposition, I admit. “Oh, and Spike, too, of course.” The voice grows a lot more relaxed. “Hello again, dear, I do hope I've been bringing enough gems for our big, strong, handsome growing boy here?”
“Yes, Rarity.” Spike smiles drunkenly. “Thank you, Rarity.”
“Oh, it’s no bother at all, dear. But I’m afraid I must steal Twilight away from you again, yes? I’m so sorry to break up this little reunion of yours.”
“Why?” I ask, plodding cautiously out of the vault, away from a conflicted-looking Spike. “What's wrong?”
“Oh, nothing much, nothing much.” Rarity lies with a voice like syrup—she's laying it on too thick. Verbal baklava. “We may just have tallied the votes is all. Just need you to have a look over it, maybe announce the results? Shouldn't take but a moment.”
Oh.
Uh…
Oh.
Spike snorts. “Yeah, sounds about right. I'll see you soon, okay, Twilight? Be sure to visit me, okay? And bring some comics next time. Not fair to bring a book for you and nothing for me, right?” He's laughing as he says it, but the laughter doesn't reach his eyes. Poor thing's probably bored out of his mind. Explains most of the warped metal furniture he's made, obviously. I'll need to get him something to do…
“How about I bring you back some scrolls too,” I call over my shoulder as I march down the long marble corridor, “That way you can message me anytime you need something.”
“Personal Princess butler at my beck and call? Schnazzy.” Spike grins.
“Don't push your luck, mister.”
Rarity drags me off before I can hear Spike's 'witty' retort.
“So. Who… how'd it… What’s the vote?”
“Oh, I don't know.” Rarity waves my question off with a hoof. The town is weirdly quiet, but for a few shutters and blinds. Is this how Zecora felt? It's not a good feeling.
What are they all so worried about?
Silly question.
Rarity ploughs forward, both in conversation and down the empty streets. A store sign swings forlornly in the slight breeze. “There are far more important things to talk about, however. I have wonderful news!”
I furrow my brow. Furrow is a weird word, isn’t it? Almost as weird as my face feels furrowed. Furrow. “What news could possibly be more important?“
“Your unrequited crush situation seems to have... resolved itself somewhat.” She says with all the delicacy of a war crime.
We pass a vacant fruit stand. I can smell the pears and plums most clearly. Fruits that bruise easily. “Yes. She rejected me.”
That stops Rarity in her tracks for a moment. I keep walking while she stands stunned, then trots after me to catch up. “But I’ve been discussing with Rainbow Dash...? This doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it was a pride thing? She certainly has far too much of it. But—”
“Wait, Rainbow? I was talking about Golden. What does Rainbow have to do with anything?” I mean, besides Golden— But she said unrequited— Does Rainbow like Golden back? I hadn’t seen it.
Rarity is processing this too, it seems. “You had a crush on Golden?”
“Yes!” I shout, far too weary and exasperated, glad that while I’m in the center of Ponyville right now, we’re still rather alone. I don’t need an audience for this revelation. “You’re the one who pointed it out to me in the first place, remember?”
“Oh. So I did. It was Golden, now, wasn’t it?” Rarity murmurs. Now she starts galloping ahead, not even looking back. “Excuse me, darling, I need to go undo quite possibly the worst mistake I have ever made. Don’t worry yourself unduly, dear,” she’s now an ever-more-distant dust cloud with a voice that rises higher and faster, like a guitar string stretched to snapping, “try to forget this conversation ever happened, yes? Excellent! Ta-ta!”
Okay, I stop. Not to smell the roses, even though I am at Roseluck’s stall now. She’s not here, either. Nothing stopping me. No, I’m stopped because of what just happened?
Did Rarity essentially tell me Rainbow likes Golden...? That would be the situation resolving itself. And it would explain the mistake, if she got it the wrong way around. End result is the same though.
Oh well. They’d make for a cute couple. I guess. Be happy for them. I mean, Dash is... what does she have that I don’t? Besides athleticism, boldness, a larger than life feel to her and charisma?
“Oh, uh, hey Twilight” a scratchy voice says right in my ear and I jump like three feet. “What’s up?”
Speak of the devil!
“Rainbow!” I... scold? Scold. “Where have you been? Why have you been! I’ve been so worried about you!” And confused, annoyed, irritated, but let’s not say those things out loud, for the sake of diplomacy. She’s still hovering, twitchy, ready to take off at a moment’s notice. Let’s not scare her off just yet.
She at least has the decency to rub the back of her neck and look away, Dash-language for ‘yeah my bad’. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been kind of...” Shoulder shrug, still looking away. Dash-speak for ‘you know?’.
I don’t know.
“Since the stuff with the train and everything... Aw geeze. I—one sec.” She flies off at incredible speed, even by her standards, to stop in front of a cloud about seventy, eighty meters away as the pegasus flies. She appears to have an intense pep talk to herself. It ends with her punching the cloud into nothingness. Good talk, apparently. Whoosh back. “Okay, so, have you ever made a decision to do something, but then you were doing it and it felt really stupid, but you were already doing it so you couldn’t back out?”
I feel my eyes glaze over as much as anything else. “You have just summarized my week perfectly, yes.”
“Right.”
“Did you know I yelled at Princess Luna after facing down the Royal Guard?”
Rainbow Dash stops hovering tensely and places herself back on earth, solid dirt beneath her hooves. Wings pressed tight to her sides. Weird expression scrunched on her face. “Nope.”
“Because I did. It was a bad idea, but I was mad, and I went ahead and did it, and then she was all calm and logical at me and she said a whole bunch of things which, in hindsight, were probably completely wrong in every conceivable way someone can be wrong! But I was too mad! And then I shot lasers at a mountain!”
“You—”
I pre-empt her. “I was very stressed!”
Rainbow looks like a puppy I’ve beaten around the head with a newspaper. “Is that my fault? Did I mess something up?”
I realize I’ve been yelling at her. I should have felt it sooner, it’s hard work on my vocal cords. And now Rainbow thinks I’ve been yelling at her. Maybe I kind of was. It’s not her fault that I think it’s her fault.
“No, Rainbow. You did nothing wrong. I’ve heard you’re going to make a certain eggheaded bookworm a very happy pony indeed.” I force the softest smile I can muster. I’ve watched Fluttershy long enough to figure out the knack to it by now. “I saw you at the library earlier. Did you finally work up the courage to ask? It would be a huge weight off my shoulders.” I don’t want to think about this anymore. Ponyville needs me too much right now. I can’t be distracted, and this will clear my mind of the matter entirely. I can move on.
Rainbow’s scrunched up expression, though, explodes into a whole mix of other different ones. Relief, confusion, determination, more confusion, excitement, and then right back again. Mostly in her eyes, because the rest of her face didn’t quite have the agility to keep up with the sheer rush of those few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I did.” She looks around a moment, finds nopony at the stall, and grabs a bouquet of flowers and kind of awkwardly thrusts it at me.
I take it so she can free her mouth to explain.
“So I’ll pick you up at seven, okay? Is a picnic okay for a first date? I mean, I know the fancy restaurant is the thing you’re supposed to do, but I don’t think that’s very us, you know?”
What?
I don’t drop the flowers, but the telekinesis definitely fluctuates for a moment when my concentration takes a big hit.
Rainbow notices, and looks crestfallen. “Or, uh, I mean, fancy restaurant could work?” So, notices and misinterprets, then.
Shake my head.
“No, I was just... surprised.” The next few moments stop making sense to me. “A picnic sounds perfect.” And then I smile, and I don’t know why...
Rainbow smiles too, way too wide. Almost manic. The ‘almost’ is charitable. “Okay? Okay. Okay! Yeah. So it’s totally a date! I uh, gotta go get ready. I’ll see you at seven, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
Then she flies off leaving me alone to wonder what just happened.
To wonder why I just said yes.
Am I... is this just because I want what Golden wants, because I can’t have her? Is that what I am doing? Is it because I just couldn’t say no? Was I just surprised?
How am I going to tell Rainbow this was a bad decision I made, that this was a misunderstanding, that I thought she was asking Golden out?
Am I going to? Going by how nervous she was just now, and excited, I might crush her like Golden crushed me. I couldn’t do that to her! I shouldn’t have done this to her...
Oh.
Uh.
Wasn’t I going to the library?
Right. I was doing something wasn’t I? Something important.
I should... I should go do that. At least until I work out just how badly I just screwed up. I feel like I just got kicked in the gut by a snowman.
I’m still a bit shell-shocked as I enter the library. All my luggage has been taken upstairs by a very helpful Applejack, I take it, because there’s a very neat path from the door to the stairs that is the only part of the floor not covered in ballot slips right now.
“What in the wide world of Equestria is this?”
“It was close!” Pinkie laughs, rolling around in a pile of votes. Wait, is that… is that a federal crime? I mean they're already counted, and she's not damaging them, but… I've got to look into that.
Golden shakes her head from her great heavy wooden desk in the corner, flanked on either side by books on Equestrian laws and guidelines as thick as my forearm, tapping the rim of her spectacles against her desk. “Not quite, Pinkie. Even though they're only twenty percent different when viewed as a whole, it's… well. Six against four. It means half again. Elections have been won or lost on far smaller margins and still been called 'decisive'.”
“Right.” I say, massaging the bridge of my nose. “And there was no tampering?”
“None that we can detect. In any case, it's in your favour. Why would you rig an election when you had the power to just do it anyway?”
Pinkie just looks up from her papery pile, having collected them like a bed of leaves in autumn, and the serious look is kind of lost to the fact that she's still upside down. “Wow, Golden, you are a naive one. It's a common tactic employed by dicatorships to give the public a false reassurance that they still have agency within their system of governance, duh!”
She then proceeds to do a cannonball, sending the votes flying everywhere.
Golden looks as upset as she does confused. Having Pinkie outbrain you does that. “O-oh. Right.”
Pinkie surfaces from the pile again with a ballot stuck out of her mane. She tilts her head at me.
I pluck it out and read it. It’s an anonymous vote, but I immediately know whose this is.
The vote’s for change, but then scrawled in neat, fluid cursive on the back of it; “Can I at least have my chair back? I brought it from home.”
Darn it, Mayor Mare.
“Don’t worry, Applejack already went and sorted that one out.” Pinkie nods sagely. “Just thought you’d wanna know. Hey, even she voted for change though, so... hooray?”
Yeah.
Hooray.
Golden clears her throat. “Well, you’ve done everything you can to make it look impartial, Dr Princess. I guess all that’s left is the formal announcement to make everything official.”
Pinkie does the backstroke up to me, bumping her head against my shins, looking up at me from the floor. “So, get Rainbow Dash, Public Relations Extraordinaire, to round everyone up then?”
“She’s... busy right now, Pinkie. You think you can handle this one?”
She shrugs. “Okie dokie loki, I guess. When do you want to do this, then, oh cap’n my cap’n?”
Good question. Fantastic question, even.
Public announcement of large social upheaval first, or nervous breakdown and tea at Fluttershy’s first?
I need coffee.