//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Taking Sides // Story: Twilight’s Final Exam // by Pascoite //------------------------------// Twilight Sparkle awoke to a gentle but insistent shaking. She blinked a few times, squinting into the expected darkness, but… light. Bright sunlight flooded her vision, leaving yellow blotches dancing over everything. Wait, why would it be dark? Middle of the day, outside. Except… how exactly had she gotten… wherever this was. It didn’t look familiar, but she couldn’t quite picture “familiar” anyway. Something about stone and castles, but the more she chased the thought, the further it retreated. Celestia. She loved Princess Celestia, her mentor. “You alright, sugarcube?” said a blonde pony, wearing a cowpony hat and leaning over her. “Best not to stay here too long—the law don’t like it much.” Twilight sat up and rubbed her head. It seemed like she should know this place. It looked like Ponyville, but… not. There stood the boutique, the town hall, the library, and down the street, the bakery. But they looked off somehow. It should be rural here, thatched roofs, farmland and forest around, bustling with ponies greeting each other. Why couldn’t she remember? Ponyville shouldn’t look like this, she loved Celestia, and… nothing. She sat in a small grassy town square populated by an assortment of benches and statues. A border of granite blocks lined the edges of the square, and past those, cobblestoned streets ran among groups of tightly packed buildings, largely of masonry and exposed timber construction. Dormers atop tile roofs overlooked the avenues and boulevards lined with broad, shady elms and willows. Rather urban and developed for Ponyville, but the trickle of thoughts her mind had doled out told her that everything was quite as it should be and fought the shred of memory that insisted she shouldn’t trust her eyes. What was wrong with it again? It looked… okay. It looked okay. It would have made for a beautiful city, if not for the utter emptiness. And upon closer inspection, many of the buildings had broken windows, crumbling stonework, scarred doors sagging open. Several even appeared near ruin, with gaping holes and collapsed roofs. What had happened here? The last time she’d seen this town, it had such vibrant… life to it. The mare’s fidgeting grabbed Twilight’s attention back from the past; she kept glancing between Twilight and one of the side alleys. “C’mon,” said the strange pony, “there’ll be another patrol comin’ by soon, and if they see you’re unregistered, you’ll be in a heap load o’ trouble.” Twilight brought her hooves back down from rubbing her head—the stranger gawked at her… forehead? “N-no way! A unicorn!” She whipped her gaze around at the few buildings that still had shadowed interiors and backed away. “I didn’t do nothin’ to you! I just found you out here like this, and I tried to help you. You saw it, right? I didn’t hurt you one bit!” Twilight shoved herself against a nearby bench. That mare had freaked out so quickly, like flipping a switch. What about unicorns had scared her? And no telling what she might do about it. “No, no!” Twilight said. “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Okay? J-just go. Just go away. Leave me alone.” Quickly, the mare turned and took a step away, then peered at Twilight’s forehead again, pursed her lips, and let out a sharp sigh. “Nasty… nasty bump you got there. Maybe I… maybe I should…” She kept shaking her head at the ground and biting her lip. “Can’t just abandon somepony out here,” she muttered. Twilight clenched her teeth and forced her eyes to stay open. In the warm sun, she could fall asleep again, so easily. “What? Can you tell me what’s going on here? This all looks… weird.” “I-I ain’t fallin’ for no tricks!” She punched a hoof at the dirt and leaned in for another look at Twilight’s side. Following her gaze, Twilight asked, “What, my cutie mark?” “Naw, just makin’ sure I saw right the first time. You’re not registered. I ain’t never seen an unregistered unicorn.” Her wide eyes soon gave way to an easy smile, and for all Twilight knew about her, she seemed so… simple, straightforward. Twilight couldn’t help but trust her. But—“Registered?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you know… Oh, horseapples, here they come. You’d best make yourself scarce.” Following the pony’s ashen gaze to the street behind her, Twilight stood and gulped down a wave of nausea before steadying herself on her hooves. Several uniformed stallions had entered the square from the main thoroughfare, heading directly for her. And by the time she looked back to her mysterious helper, the mare had gone, already galloping down a tight alley barely wide enough for her and her saddlebags. “C’mon,” she shouted as she gained the shadows, and Twilight bolted after her. Normally, she’d have welcomed the chance to have law enforcement sort all this out, but the way the leader had stared at her… And he’d drawn a shortsword. Stone walls rushing past her, Twilight raced through the passageway, but she had no idea where to go. She was running blind! But no, up ahead! The blonde mare had stopped to let her catch up, and then they both surged forward, away from the shouts and clanking armor behind them. Twilight hadn’t gotten a good look at them, but if none had taken to the air, maybe she could… Wait, what made her think she had wings? Unicorns didn’t have wings. And even the little magic charge she’d tried sending out to enable flight felt… stifled, less plentiful, like a normal— She was a normal unicorn, so what kind of daydream kept telling her otherwise? “Keep up, sugarcube!” the stranger hissed ahead of her, and Twilight nodded, digging as hard as she could against the stone pavers and clumps of rubble. Twilight might have followed her for an hour through constant twists and turns—she could barely maintain a good canter anymore, but the mare held up a hoof and peeked into the sunlight streaming in from an intersection. The sounds of pursuit had faded into the distance, but still her guide held a hoof to her lips and shifted her eyes across the line of derelict storefronts. Finally, she beckoned Twilight forward and slunk along to an empty lot a few doors down. She ducked behind the remains of a low wall, sidled against a trash pile, and pulled Twilight to her. Surely anypony out there could hear Twilight panting, but… the stranger’s chest heaved, too, as she caught her breath. “Takin’ a big chance by helpin’ you,” she wheezed, “but if you’re for real, we could sure use somepony like you.” She tipped her hat back. “Name’s Applejack, by the way, but folks call me AJ.” Twilight smiled and tried to swallow, but her dry mouth had nothing to soothe her scratchy throat. “Twilight Sparkle,” she croaked. “But can you tell me what’s going on here? I don’t know where I am. I come from Ponyville.” With a shrug, Applejack waved a hoof at the surrounding town. “Well, this here’s Ponyville.” She leaned in closer and squinted. “You sure you’re alright? Whoever conked you on the head must’ve done a number.” “I’m fine. I think. I just feel really tired,” Twilight replied, holding a hoof to her temple. Clicking her tongue, Applejack shook her head. “Wrong place for sleepin’, sugarcube. And you prob’ly shouldn’t in your condition anyway.” She craned her neck over the wall and surveyed the road, then ducked down again and swung open a piece of sheet metal on the garbage heap. “C’mon. Follow me. You shouldn’t stay out here.” Twilight crawled after her, down a set of concrete stairs, but she stopped at the bottom when she heard Applejack fumbling around for something. She closed her eyes lightly and soon coaxed a soft purple glow from her horn; when she opened them again to see where Applejack had led her, a gaping face stared back. “Land sakes! You… you are for real! I assumed you were one o’ them duds, but you got it for real!” She shook her head and chuckled, staring a bit longer, but she soon slid a cabinet aside to reveal a tunnel behind it. Twilight trailed her in, and then… another maze? At least the cool air helped keep her awake, but she’d never remember enough of this to find her way out again, and… well, that was the point, she supposed. More tortuous wandering, seemingly mile after mile, and right when Twilight nearly sank to the ground for good, they emerged into a large cavernous room, probably the basement of a warehouse. A crowd of earth ponies rushed up to greet Applejack, but one by one they all turned to gawk at the purple light source bobbing along with their friend. “Yee-haw, looky here! I found me a real honest-to-goodness unicorn!” Applejack said, and the other ponies immediately scattered for what little cover the room offered. “Hang on, hang on! She’s alright,” Applejack called out. “The soldiers chased her, too. She ain’t one of ’em.” At first, a few intrepid souls ventured out to have another look, and low murmurs started up from the shadows. She couldn’t see all the way to the room’s end, but by the way the voices echoed, it must be a couple hundred feet in either direction. At the edge of her horn’s light, along with the few candles lit, a small number of faces showed. How many more couldn’t she see? In particular, a very large stallion separated from the group and walked up to Applejack’s side. Like the rest, he leaned forward and peered at the spark burning on the tip of her horn. His mouth hung open. “This here’s my brother, Big Macintosh,” she said, then poked him in the shoulder. “Big Mac, Twilight Sparkle. She’s got herself knocked on the ol’ coconut or somethin’ and got no clue what’s goin’ on. Look, she ain’t registered!” He peered at her side and perked his ears. “Eeyup.” With a tousle of his mane and a grin, Applejack leaned against him. “Big Mac here’s kinda my general. We’re the underground, quite lit’rally, it seems.” Twilight slumped her shoulders and sighed. “Underground what? Can somepony please tell me what happened in this town? I don’t remember it being so big, or run-down, or… dangerous.” “You really don’t know?” Applejack scratched her head. “No,” Twilight said, frowning at the couple of dirt-streaked foals who poked their heads through the press of ponies for a better look. Applejack flicked an ear. “Well… c’mon over by my spot, and I’ll give you the highlights.” She weaved her way through the parting crowd with Twilight in tow until she squeezed into a small alcove with a bedroll, a firefly lantern, a small alcohol burner, a few cooking utensils, and a battered, mostly empty crate of first-aid supplies. She beckoned toward the ground, and Twilight sat while Applejack undid the string holding a canvas flap back. It swung into place, muffling the outside sounds. “As you can see,” Applejack said, squeezing into the bit of floor space still left, “we got a small conflict goin’ on. Us earth ponies got a little tired o’ doin’ all the grunt work without much reward for it. Celestia’d have none o’ that, though—she made all sorts of laws about when ponies had to work, and what jobs they could do, and what became property o’ the state. It went on to no end. We got plumb tired of it and told her we wouldn’t take any more. Then the few who spoke out the most found themselves under arrest for sedition. Lots of ’em wouldn’t step up and help—they feared for their loved ’uns and thought we shouldn’t make trouble. But for the sake of Big Mac, my little sister Apple Bloom, and all the other earth ponies, I couldn’t stand by and let it go on.” Twilight sank against the scrap-wood wall. Celestia was the gentlest pony she’d ever known! No way she could have done any of that! Applejack had some vendetta against her, some reason to lie, but… Applejack shook her head, tossed up her forelegs, and let them fall into her lap. Not the posture of someone eager to make a convert. It was a lie. It had to be. But Applejack believed it. “We started fightin’ back, refusin’ to work. Had whole cities shut down, workforce on strike—” she smiled and sat up straighter, but soon slumped again “—still, too many couldn’t bring themselves to oppose the throne. Celestia recruited them for her side and put her sun on ’em, down by their cutie marks, to show who was loyal. Fightin’ their own kind…” She pressed a hoof between her eyes. “We hide out now, underground, which suits us fine. There’s magic in this here earth, and we’re stronger for it.” Twilight glanced at her own cutie mark. No sun there. Still… There must be some mistake. That didn’t sound at all like the Celestia she knew. Applejack peered at her strangely, so Twilight gave a quick nod. Just play along. If she started arguing, she might never get out of here. “We must be doin’ somethin’ right, ’cause there’s nary a unicorn or pegasus around much anymore. We outlived ’em all.” For a moment, she brushed at a trace of gold beneath the three apples on her flank. “Heh. She started markin’ ponies loyal to her so she could tell the difference. We can fake it sometimes, but the real ones are put on by magic, and unicorns can detect it.” And Twilight couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why? Why would Celestia do that? I’ve never seen her be anything but kind. I can’t believe she’d be responsible for this!” Applejack stared at her, and a few gasps sounded from outside the curtain. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just wanna be able to walk free, up in the sun, and live like any other pony.” Shaking her head, Twilight muttered, “I don’t know. I-I don’t know.” “Tell you what,” Applejack said, smirking as Twilight’s head bobbed during a particularly long blink. “Why don’t you sleep on it? You can use my bed.” “I-I guess. It’s… it’s a lot to absorb.” Twilight let her head drop onto the folded cushion, as if she could have actually stopped it. “I promise—” she yawned “—if what you say is true, I’m not your enemy.” “Fair enough. You look like you’re gettin’ over that knock to the head, but I’ll check in on you a couple times to make sure.” Applejack beckoned to somepony and slipped through the canvas flap. Soon, a very large silhouette took up position right outside, but Twilight didn’t have long to watch it before she drifted off to sleep. A hum of conversation and the distant sound of pots clanking together roused Twilight from her sleep, little by little. Did somepony have guests for breakfast downstairs? Wait— She jumped to her feet and banged her head on a small bookshelf, knocking its contents off. She’d managed to get most of it replaced when a familiar blonde head stuck through the curtain. “Awake, I see.” Twilight nodded and slid the last trinket into place. “S-sorry…” “Never you mind about that,” Applejack replied, gesturing for her to follow. “We got some oatmeal ready. Ain’t much of it, but it’s better than nothin’.” When Twilight stepped out, the small amount of daylight streaming through the slitted windows against the ceiling illuminated more of the room than she’d seen the previous night. She’d guessed right about the size of the room, but not the number of inhabitants. There had to be close to a hundred. Well over half of the residents were children, wearing a few tattered scraps of clothing, if any. Grimy coats, protruding ribs… and yet bright smiles as they tumbled over each other for a closer look at the new curiosity. Applejack followed her gaze. “Yeah, the young ’uns been askin’ after you, too. Most haven’t seen a unicorn before.” “Why?” Twilight stopped and cocked her head. “They don’t come here?” “That’s some of it,” Applejack answered, swiping a hoof across her nose. “Just ain’t that many of ’em around, though.” Twilight’s face ran cold. Was there a plague or… something worse circulating? Could she be in danger, could she… infect these ponies? “Why?” But Applejack only shrugged. “I dunno. Been that way for a while. You’d have to ask Celestia about that.” “I just might…” Twilight muttered. Applejack gave her a sidelong glance. “How’d you even do that? ’Sides, you’re stayin’ here for the time bein’. Until we know you’re alright. And until we have reason to trust you.” Down on her foreleg, a small hoof prodded Twilight. The offending filly immediately raced off with three or four more in tow. “See?” she shouted. “Told you I’d do it!” Twilight chuckled. But her smile faded as she looked over the few adults watching the children. If the foals seemed at all malnourished, the parents even more so. Near the center of the room, a cauldron steamed, and behind it sat a row of beat-up metal lockers with a dwindling supply of food. One of the mares dipped a pitcher into a barrel and drew out a scoop of brown-tinted water. By the looks of the pipes, it was some sort of rain-catch cistern fashioned from the downspouts of the building above, but not a very clean one. She shook her head and followed Applejack the rest of the way to the pot, where she served Twilight a heaping bowl, far more than any of the other ponies had. “No, no, I couldn’t. Not when—” “We show hospitality. It’s part of what makes us earth ponies. We start givin’ that up, and what comes next?” A pointed stare followed. So Twilight mumbled her thanks and took the steaming bowl. It tasted of rust as much as grain, but at least it silenced her grumbling tummy. And another gaping crowd of children formed to watch her levitate her spoon back and forth. Before long, it had gotten a little too repetitive for them, and some game had occupied their attention. Twilight leaned closer to Applejack between bites. “How do you live like this?” “Better than the alternative, sugarcube, though enough have gone that way.” Twilight finished her meal in silence, and Applejack took her bowl off to a far corner. She didn’t have to do that—Twilight would gladly clean up after herself. Maybe it was another one of those earth pony things. She stood to walk over there anyway, but a filly, maybe two years old, sidled up to her and stretched her forelegs up that way children had. So Twilight cracked a smile and levitated the filly onto her back. “What’s your name?” Twilight said. “Sweet Pea,” she replied, and pushed her doll toward Twilight. Stringy mane, button eyes, and even dirtier than its owner. Twilight gave it a pat on the head. “Miss Smarty Pants likes you.” “Seems you got a fan.” Applejack smirked at her. “Tell you what—I gotta go on a raid today, food runnin’ low an’ all. I’d be much obliged if you’d help watch the kids till we get back. And don’t try escapin’. We leave a few guards behind, and they’ll have their eyes on you.” Twilight nodded quickly and gulped. “I-I wouldn’t. I don’t want to cause trouble—” “Good. And you can mull over your answer while you’re at it.” “Answer?” Applejack jabbed a hoof toward her. “You with us or not?” “Oh…” Hours later, after many imaginary tea parties and rounds of bouncing a ball with the few children who would actually come near, Applejack, Big Macintosh, and a half-dozen other ponies marched in, each with a bag or two draped over their backs. Mostly rice, but a couple of oats, and one with wheat flour. The foals all jumped around, and the adults shook their hooves in the air, but it was all… strangely subdued. Of course. They had to keep quiet. After dropping off her cargo, Applejack made her way over and winked at Sweet Pea, perched on Twilight’s back with Miss Smarty Pants. “Why don’t you go fetch your brother for dinner?” she asked. “Aww,” Sweet Pea replied with a frown, but she hopped down and galloped off. Applejack hooked a foreleg around Twilight’s neck and steered her to an empty spot by the wall, away from all the ponies organizing their spoils. “So, you got an answer for me?” Did she? Twilight sighed and sank to her haunches. She could agree to it all, play along, bide her time. But Applejack had quite possibly saved her life and had treated her very well. Lying to her seemed… wrong somehow. “I-I don’t know if I can defy Princess Celestia,” Twilight said. Applejack’s face instantly darkened. “I don’t know why she’s done this, or if it’s even her doing it. I’d like to find out if I can. But this is no life for these children. Can I do anything to help them?” Applejack’s frown soon faded. “Fair enough. But if you ain’t bringin’ the goods back from our raids, then… to be blunt, you’re just another mouth to feed.” “Where… where are Sweet Pea’s parents?” Twilight fidgeted with her hooves and looked at the ground. “Dunno. One o’ the prisons. They were some of the first few arrested.” Applejack shrugged, but by the way her whole posture slumped… “I’m sorry,” Twilight said. “Not your fault.” She did glance up at Twilight’s horn. Twilight waited for a moment, but Applejack scuffed a hoof at the ground and watched the little trails of dirt form. “Look,” she finally said, “I won’t lie to you. We could use your help. We’re strong, but not that strong. Maybe unicorns ain’t either, but it’s somethin’. Those ten bags o’ food? Not even a quarter of the wagon we hit. Couldn’t get any of the other stuff—medicine, spare parts, what have you—’cause we need the food more right now. Left it all behind.” Applejack ran a hoof down her muzzle. “If we’re lucky, another resistance cell found it, but more likely than not, an army patrol got it. Right back into Celestia’s hooves.” More silence, except Applejack’s jaw kept trying to let something out. She turned toward the wall and shielded her mouth with a hoof. “You did great with the kids today, or so I hear from Miss Cheerilee. And you didn’t so much as case the joint or try spottin’ a way out. Guards would’ve seen. I…” She clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut. “I could cotton to the idea of takin’ you along. Maybe. Maybe in a week or so.” A chill shooting up her spine, Twilight took a step back. Applejack looked up at the sound of her hooves scraping the concrete. “I-I don’t… I don’t know. I couldn’t hurt anypony. N-not if anypony gets hurt. I couldn’t do that.” Or could she? What would those soldiers have done if they’d caught her? Would she have fought back? Or if they came for the children… “Can’t exactly promise that, sugarcube. We gotta protect our own. But they’re mostly earth ponies, too, so I ain’t lookin’ to cause any more ruckus than I have to. I’ll promise you that.” “Okay,” Twilight said, her voice sounding distant even to herself. Please, Princess Celestia! What are you doing? “I’ll go with you. I’ll help carry. That’s all.” Applejack flashed a grim smile and patted Twilight’s shoulder. “I can agree to that.” Twilight’s skin, nerves, hair all buzzed as she trailed Applejack through another maze of streets and alleyways. She’d run out of breath long ago, but if she fell behind, she’d be left out here alone. Again. Big Macintosh ran up front with his sister, and abreast of Twilight were two others whose names Applejack hadn’t mentioned. They’d stop for a breather before crossing any open space—at least Twilight took it as a chance to rest—then duck behind crumbling walls or overgrown hedges and scurry along to the next exposed spot. She didn’t see another pony the whole way. Where had they all gone? House after house, empty, no businesses. How could so many ponies just get up and leave? Ahead, Applejack motioned for Twilight to move up with her. The group crept into a destroyed building and peered through the broken-out ground-floor windows. “There,” she whispered, pointing out a pair of guards down the road. They stood on either side of a doorway that actually looked to be in good shape. Unscarred granite columns and a pair of banners with Celestia’s sun mark adorned the facade. “That’s where the deliveries go,” Applejack said. “Normally, we hit the wagons further away. But we have to change when and where all the time. Gotta keep ’em surprised—it’s all we got. Just wanted you to see that, but we won’t make the intercept this close, or reinforcements’ll come from there, lickety-split.” With a quick nod from Applejack, the squad skulked back a few blocks, picking through burned-out storefronts and overturned carts to find another vantage point. They’d just ducked beside a half-rotten wood fence when hoofsteps echoed down the street, but it wouldn’t provide them enough cover. Twilight huddled against them as hard as she could, but at that angle, the guards would see them long before they could set an ambush. So Applejack jabbed a hoof forward, and everypony simply rushed them without the benefit of concealment. Big Macintosh charged the wagon itself, snapping the tongue in two and leaving the pair of dray ponies tangled up in the traces. One of the soldiers tried to spin past them, but the nameless pony to Twilight’s left tackled him. Two soldiers left—Applejack bucked one in the ribs, and he crumpled against a set of rusty iron steps. “Braeburn!” Applejack hissed, and the other unnamed teammate quickly lassoed the last guard. All with Twilight standing there, mouth agape. The drays had gotten off a couple of good shouts before Applejack could quiet them, though, and a commotion sounded from back toward the building she’d shown Twilight. “Git! Now!” Applejack shouted as the garrison galloped into sight. The other four ponies immediately stuffed everything they could into their saddlebags, lugged a box or sack onto their backs, and took off toward the nearest alley. Still, Twilight stared. “C’mon! We got all we can!” Twilight shook off her stupor. Now wasn’t the time! Useless, just watching. “Hold on,” she said while Applejack gritted her teeth and beckoned insistently. A purple glow spread from her horn, and she picked up the entire wagonload, as much as everypony else had taken together and then some. She dashed into the alley, but now the others only stood and stared. So Twilight took her best guess at which way to go, a pile of purple-engulfed boxes and barrels in trail. Soon enough, they’d all regained their senses, and Applejack worked her way to the lead. She wore a broad grin and winked as she passed Twilight. And that alone made it all worthwhile. Helping her all those weeks ago in the town square, giving her a hot meal when so many others went without. Applejack had taken her in and shown such kindness. Maybe this would begin to pay her back. Twilight couldn’t help smiling, too. An hour later, they walked into their hideout to a heroes’ welcome. Not quite so loud, of course, but… everypony wanted to shake Twilight’s hoof. The fear, gone. All the children crowded in, calling her “Miss Unicorn” and reaching out to get even a brief touch. She set her cargo down with the rest, and then… She sank to the floor. She’d hadn’t even realized how tired she’d gotten, but now free of her burden, her legs shook and her horn ached. She vaguely heard Applejack’s voice as a hoof slapped her shoulder. “You done good, sugarcube! We never got a haul like this before. It’ll last us plenty long!” The words echoed in Twilight’s ears, like in a tunnel. Her hooves, they wouldn’t… they wouldn’t stop! “You okay, Twilight?” Twilight fixed her gaze on the dirt in front of her. Okay? Was she okay? “I… I don’t…” “Make room, everypony!” Applejack barked. With a strength Twilight never would have expected, Applejack hefted her and carried her back to the curtained area where she’d slept that first night. No shuffling, no dragging hooves. A full-grown pony, and Applejack could carry her as easily as a child. “That was nothing,” Twilight said, breathless. “Levitation is a very basic spell.” Applejack nodded and set Twilight down on the bedroll. “I know. I hadn’t seen it in so long, though. Forgot how amazin’ it could be. And most o’ these foals haven’t seen a unicorn before.” Twilight opened her mouth again, but Applejack pressed a hoof to it. “Quiet now! You look like you need some rest. You just take your time. I’ll make sure there’s a good meal waitin’ for you when you’re ready.” Maybe she shouldn’t argue. If it’d make the shaking stop… She nodded. Only a shallow sleep claimed her, punctuated by laughter and conversation from all around. Foals, probably getting the first substantial meal they’d had in months. Adults, able to warm themselves under blankets not riddled with holes. Fresh medicine, lamp oil, building materials. She’d… she’d helped. What would Celestia think? Already her fifth raid. Fifth. Twilight permitted herself a grin as she hunkered down with Applejack and Big Mac on her left. To her right, Caramel and Mr. Cake, who usually sat next to her at meals. It’d taken a couple of weeks, but now, anypony would come right up and talk to her. Foals would wait for her to finish eating so they could ask her to play a game. Except on the way out today, Applejack had given her a… an impromptu training session. Normally, Twilight would jump at the chance to learn, but… this brought only stark reality. Reality she’d fooled herself into ignoring. How… how to fight. Against pegasi, grab a bunch of pebbles and buck them—or in her case, propel them magically—at the sky. The shot spread out, and they couldn’t dodge it all. It’d bring them… bring them down quickly. And unicorns. Most could only focus their magic on one or two opponents. Rush them in groups, and… Twilight shuddered. Only if she had to. And she was helping the foals. She was helping the foals. She shook her head and pricked her ears toward Applejack, who’d hissed out a command, one Twilight missed. But she always hung in the back anyway, followed everypony else’s lead. It allowed her to take careful stock of the situation and decide whether to pitch in or suggest a retreat. It also meant she’d never acted hastily, and she’d assiduously kept from hurting anypony. To her credit, so had Applejack. Mostly. They waited at a point far across town from the other ones they’d hit lately. Sometimes, the trap sprung close by, sometimes not. A cat-and-mouse game of remaining as unpredictable as possible. So when Applejack lanced a hoof forward, they rushed from behind cover, Big Mac immediately shouldering the wagon onto its side. Only two guards this time—Applejack pinned one while Twilight levitated the other. They hadn’t had this easy a time of it since— Applejack’s eyes shot wide open at the second wagon rounding the corner. “Decoy!” she shouted, frantically waving her team back toward the alley. And the cart Big Mac had just upended burst open, a half dozen troops swarming out. They’d tackled Caramel before he could even take a step. Applejack paled. “They got Caramel!” Twilight wheeled about and brought her magic to bear. The three guards atop Caramel were flung across the street, much harder than she’d meant. Damn! They thudded against the stone buildings, giving Caramel a precious second to scramble to his hooves. He dashed into the alley, Applejack closing off the way to cover him with a rear leg cocked to give a painful lesson to anypony who tried to follow. The six from the second wagon had gotten within a few paces—with a grim smile, Applejack rushed after Caramel. Nothing to show for this raid. Nothing. With her magic, Twilight shoved the front two into their companions, then galloped after Applejack and— The world spun, and bright light washed out Twilight’s vision. By the time she’d stumbled back to her hooves, she’d lost three irreplaceable seconds, and she peered up from the ground at a soldier taking another swing with his war club. “They’ve got a unicorn!” one of the others shouted. “Get her!” A sharp tug—Applejack had Twilight by the hooves, dragging her toward their escape route, but too late. Three guards swarmed her, and Twilight flopped to the ground again. Her head absolutely throbbed, and the street, the sky, the buildings twirled overhead. She closed her eyes against it, but the blobs of light only whirled faster. Ponies shouted, something rough wrapped its way around Twilight’s pasterns. Hauled back to her hooves, Twilight lurched forward a step and retched. All black. Another shout, some laughter, a kick to her ribs. She retched again. Something on, around her horn. She fell. For hours, Twilight fell. Soft light and an only mildly splitting headache greeted Twilight when she awoke. She gingerly reached a hoof up and touched the knot on her forehead. A wool blanket covered her, and she lay on a plush white divan, which matched the rest of the room’s furnishings: a long banquet table, a few wing chairs, a large picture window, gilded landscape paintings, an inviting hearth with a cheery flame. She tried to sit up but only managed a low groan. In a flash, Princess Celestia’s face appeared right above her, and a hoof stroked her cheek. “Oh, thank goodness you’re awake!” Celestia said. She held Twilight’s shoulders as if greeting a long lost friend and kissed her on the forehead, then grimaced at what must be an ugly bruise. “Sorry!” she hissed. Celestia scooted to the far end of the divan and folded her forehooves in her lap. “I apologize. The soldiers clearly didn’t realize who you were. I hope they didn’t treat you too badly?” Soldiers? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She could bury her face in Celestia’s mane, and all her troubles would go away. She could tell Applejack— Her body went cold. Applejack. What had happened to her? Or the rest of them? She swallowed. Celestia gave a little frown and cocked her head. “Do you feel okay? You look pale. Please, enjoy some lunch with me. The food will help you regain your strength.” Well… Twilight was hungry. But something told her to take it easy at first. She stood slowly, and when her knees didn’t buckle under her, she made her way to the large table. Something easy on the stomach, maybe a croissant. The rocky landscape outside drew her eye, but the dizzying height—she blinked hard and fixed her gaze on the marble floor. Celestia silently watched her the whole time and smiled like a new mother while Twilight ate. And when Twilight finished, a tuxedoed earth pony whisked in and took the empty plate. All that for a single roll? “Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia finally said, “you had me very concerned.” She leaned over and took Twilight in a warm embrace, and… did Twilight feel her shaking? “I was afraid something terrible had happened to you.” Celestia… Celestia sniffled. “You disappeared some time ago, a-and I heard reports that the rebels had captured you, and—” At last, she let Twilight go, and she wiped away a few tears. “Are you okay? How did you come to be with them? Were they coercing you?” A chance to talk to Celestia… she’d wanted that from the beginning of all this. But that had to happen first, before she answered any of these questions, or Celestia might never respond. She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what happened,” Twilight said. “I just woke up in Ponyville’s town square, and I have no idea what’s going on.” If Celestia noticed that she’d only replied to the first part, she didn’t let on. “You were no doubt set upon by those”—she spat the word—“insurrectionists. Did they take you anywhere? Were you able to learn of their plans or hiding places?” Twilight shook her head. “Through town, like a maze in the alleys. They took a different route every time. I couldn’t follow it again if I tried.” Not exactly a lie. But Celestia stared at her for a moment. “Please, what’s happening? Why are we at war?” The princess opened her mouth, flicked her eyes toward the rug, then managed to force out the words that had caught in her throat. “You should know all this. You’ve been right in the middle of it since the beginning.” “Please. I can’t remember a thing.” After a sharp sigh, Celestia nodded. “Very well. For the last several generations, there has been a severe decline in the population growth of unicorns and pegasi. Nopony has been able to determine why. Fertility rates simply plummeted, and… when the earth ponies became a vast majority, they turned rather… uncooperative. They wanted mandatory rain schedules on the farms, no-fly zones, certified no-magic produce labels, restrictions on general magic usage. We were on the verge of losing control of a unified government, so I personally called all earth ponies that would remain loyal to the throne to aid me.” Her gaze wandered out the window, and she tapped a hoof against the divan’s arm. “The others decided they wanted to break off from the realm and start their own nation. We tried negotiating, but they’d made up their minds. They stirred up revolts, hoarded resources, and disrupted trade. So we did the only thing we could and—” Before Celestia had finished, Twilight had already started shaking her head. “But… the earth ponies I saw! They live in squalor! They’re more concerned about basic food and shelter than taking anything over. They’re nopony’s enemy.” Celestia clenched her jaw and stared past Twilight. “They showed you the face they wanted you to see. You cannot trust them. You of all ponies should know that. After your brother barely rescued your parents from a hostage situation, you proposed the registry so we could tell the resistance apart. It was a brilliant plan, a masterwork of organization, and an unqualified success. You should be proud.” “What!? I-I did that? How could I…?” “Princess!” A pegasus stallion strode into the room with a large map scroll tucked beneath his wing. The medals on his chest jangled as he walked and again when he snapped a smart salute. “We’ve concluded the interrogation for today. We haven’t learned anything yet, but it shouldn’t be long now. We’ll start again in the morning. Also, Colonel Spitfire is in your office to discuss the progress of the aerial bombardments.” “Good.” Celestia inclined her head toward him. “Dismissed.” Bombardments? This… this was serious. All Twilight had seen so far amounted to hit-and-fade attacks on supply routes. Nopony hurt, nopony killed. Until that nasty shot she’d taken to the head, it had been easy to write everything off as minor, a disagreement, a scuffle. One that had left all the earth ponies she’d seen in poverty, but at least not to the degree of an honest-to-goodness war. But a bombardment? Celestia turned to face her again. “I must attend to this. You may go wherever you like in the palace, but please do not leave. We still have more to discuss.” She rose, but before she followed the stallion out, she gave Twilight another hug. “Thank goodness you’re alright,” she said, then was gone. All-out war. Twilight’s withers knotted up, and a jolt of cold swept through her body. On a whim, she strolled over to the picture window. From the divan, she could only see more gray of the mountainside, but once she stood directly in front of it… The familiar grassy plain beyond the foothills where her Ponyville normally lay… but only that strange city there. Not her Ponyville. And thick black smoke obscured a whole corner of it, from some manner of skirmish. The wide, sweeping arc of the Everfree Forest had been reduced to stumps. She turned her back on it. This wasn’t right. She peeked into the corridor and heard a familiar voice amid the clinking of chains. “Git your hooves off me, or I’ll make you sorry you ever—mmph!” Down one hall, then another, she followed the hoofsteps until she dared to poke her head around a corner, and—Applejack! Two soldiers had her in irons and had tied a muzzle on her. They shoved her roughly from behind and prodded her toward a small spiral staircase. Applejack. She… she’d tried to save Twilight. And look what it got her. Twilight’s fault. Her fault no matter what, but especially if Celestia had told her the truth. The registry? Her own idea? And now a good chunk of the earth pony population lived on the run. Her fault. She let them get farther ahead but kept trailing them down several flights to a cold, dank dungeon. Not many places to hide—she hung back in a shadowed alcove until she heard the dull thump of a pony against stone, the protesting creak of an age-worn lock, and the clank of armor marching off far into the distance. After another good five minutes of hard listening, she crept along the wall. Nopony in the first cell. Likewise for the second and third. But in the fourth, Applejack lay chained to the floor. “Applejack!” Twilight hissed. Applejack rolled over to face the door and greeted her unexpected visitor with a glare that might have bored a hole in the iron door. “Hang on!” Twilight fiddled with the magical restrictor ring she’d forgotten she still wore—those soldiers had shoved it on her when they’d subdued her. Why hadn’t Celestia removed it? A purple glow weaved its way to Applejack’s manacles, and after Twilight had picked around in the mechanism for a few seconds, they sprung open. Applejack instantly untied and yanked off the muzzle, then rushed up to the door, pressing her face against the barred opening. “You did me real good, didn’t you!” she said in a harsh whisper. “I trusted you, and I should’ve known! I should’ve recognized you from all them propaganda posters with Celestia! Little purple unicorn, always lurkin’ in the background.” She turned her back and crossed her forelegs. “You played me for a foal, and now all my kin is gonna pay the price.” “But Applejack—” “You got what you wanted. Now leave me be.” But Twilight hadn’t meant— Applejack stalked over to the crude bunk and flopped onto it, wiping tears from her eyes. “No!” Twilight said. “I lied to Celestia about my time with you. Or avoided answering her questions, anyway. Do you have any idea what that means? That I lied to the most powerful pony in all of Equestria? For you?” Applejack looked up. “You… you did?” That hint of a smile sent more warmth through Twilight than she’d felt ever since waking up those few weeks ago. She even smiled back. “Yes. Now let’s work on getting you out of here.” “I had hoped it wasn’t true,” a quiet voice said from down the darkened hallway. “I could not believe that my own apprentice would keep the truth from me, yet your own eyes betrayed you.” Celestia stepped into the torchlight, flanked by six guards. “Oh, horseapples,” Applejack said as she huddled against the wall. “That can’t be good.” “It’s not too late,” Celestia said, a hoof outstretched. “Please. We didn’t finish our discussion earlier. I regret the interruption, but there’s still more you need to hear.” Twilight lit her horn—she only had one shot at this. Celestia’s immediately flared in response, and she took a wide stance, her head lowered to ready a counterattack. But Twilight lunged for the cell door and jabbed her horn between the bars. She launched a beam at Applejack, who raised a hoof to ward it off, but the glow surrounded her, and she disappeared in a flash. If Twilight had remembered enough detail about that warehouse, the image she had firmly fixed in her mind should get her there. But of course Celestia had not stood idle—before Twilight could expand the spell to envelop herself as well, a white bolt slammed into Twilight’s side and held her paralyzed. She struggled against it, but no use. Nowhere to go. No way to fight. To fight… Celestia. She trembled as she went limp and awaited her fate. “Oh, Twilight. What have you done?” Celestia shook her head and folded her ears back. She wasn’t angry. And that hurt even more. The magic’s glow burned brighter until Twilight could see nothing else. White, only white. Then black. Twilight awoke in the same room, on the same divan. And with Celestia watching her again. She propped up on a leg and rubbed her forehead. Her hoof bumped something—a magical restrictor ring. They’d replaced it. She left it alone. “Celestia, I… I couldn’t betray her. I’ve seen how they live. She helped me when nopony else would. I owe her my life. If that’s the kind of enemy we have, why are we fighting them?” Celestia gave a wistful smile. “Twlight, you are so naïve. That was one of the things that most charmed me about you when you first came to study here. But in these times, I cannot afford to indulge it. I will give you one last chance. Tell me where the Ponyville resistance is hiding.” “I… I can’t tell you.” Celestia set her jaw, but she held back whatever she’d almost said. She only shook her head, and her eyes roved about the patterns on the rug. “If you’d only stayed until I could have finished,” she said quietly, then straightened up. “I can’t understand why you’re so determined to help them.” “They helped me. They didn’t ask for anything in return. And they just want a normal life.” “Twilight, they can have it! At first, there was a widespread conflict, but it didn’t go well for us. We retreated to our only strongholds, Canterlot and Cloudsdale. As for the rest of Equestria—” she shrugged and waved a hoof toward the window “—we had no choice but to cede it to the secessionists. The war ended quickly, and over three years ago.” The blood drained from Twilight’s cheeks. “Then what—?” “Applejack fancies herself some kind of martyr. If she’d simply relocate anywhere else, we wouldn’t stand in her way. Even the earth pony nation wants her to stand down, but they cannot locate her, either. She may not even know. I can’t fathom why she has such an attachment to Ponyville.” A thin trail of smoke still wafted over near the horizon, and Celestia frowned at it. But of course Applejack loved Ponyville. She couldn’t just leave it! “Her family has owned that land for centuries. You can’t expect her to go willingly.” A laugh erupted before Celestia could get it under control. “Land? In Ponyville? Applejack was a factory supervisor in Fillydelphia. None of the Apples had ever set hoof in Ponyville until all this started.” “So why is Ponyville so important to you?” Twilight asked. “Why not let her have it?” Celestia pursed her lips. “As I said, we—the unicorns and pegasi, as well as the earth ponies who remained loyal—are now confined to Canterlot and Cloudsdale. Ponyville is the only adjacent territory with good farmland. We have to eat, too.” Twilight opened her mouth, but before she could even ask the question—“And no, I cannot simply let Applejack go. She must answer for what she has done.” No, no! That didn’t make sense! Why would Applejack do that? She’d never grandstanded like somepony seeking the spotlight, never rambled like a madpony with an idée fixe. She’d spent long enough with Applejack to know, right? To know if something had broken in her, if she’d… lied. Or… or if Celestia had lied, and why such a disproportionate response anyway, and— “So I’ll ask you again: will you tell me where the Ponyville resistance is hiding?” She… she couldn’t. Not without knowing. And she didn’t have the time to find out. Turn Applejack in and send her to prison for life, or worse, and perhaps unjustifiably. Or keep silent, preserve the status quo, and let things continue to play out— No, not even that. She’d essentially be washing her hooves of the whole affair. She’d never have Celestia’s ear on the matter again, if the Princess even came to visit her in her cell. No time. No more time. It all hinged on what she said next, and she had no more time. “I can’t.” “Yes, you can.” Twilight sighed. “But I won’t. They took me in and accepted me. Isn’t that how ponies should act?” “You can honor your oath to me!” Celestia’s voice cracked. What could she say? Twilight looked down at the pristine white rug. Celestia stared through her to the wall, quite possibly to the world outside it. “I see.” Her lip trembled, and then she jerked forward, holding Twilight in a tight embrace. Twilight stiffened—tears? Celestia crying? Tears meandered down Twilight’s back. But with a rough sigh, Celestia pulled away, keeping a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “I can’t bring myself to pronounce the sentence that treason deserves. I don’t think I could live with myself. But I cannot allow you the opportunity to use your magic for the rebellion again.” Celestia’s voice wavered. “Twilight Sparkle, I sentence you to permanent house arrest in the palace. I also ban you from practicing magic ever again.” No… no magic? Twilight shivered. What would happen to Applejack? What would happen to her? A-a unicorn without magic. Her shivering worsened—Celestia had leaned in close again. “At least I will still see you around the castle,” she whispered in Twilight’s ear. “I do love you. Like my own daughter. And so a piece of magic is gone from my life as well.” Twilight nodded. She believed that. Through everything that had happened, she still believed that. It was part of what made her Celestia. Nothing would change it. Her legs shaking, Celestia brought her magic to bear again, and she touched her horn to Twilight’s, searing the magical restrictor ring into place. Irreversibly. The magic, stripped away. Twilight’s horn went numb, and most of her heart with it. All for Applejack. For Applejack and every one of those earth ponies, she’d give up who she was. The glow of magic brightened until Twilight squeezed her eyes closed, but that didn’t shut out the blinding radiance. It pierced, burned, until it felt like it would tear her chest in two, and then the light shattered. Pitch black, punctuated only by a shower of sparks, remnants of the magic. They drifted to the ground like snowflakes, extinguishing when they touched down. Nothing but the blackness left. Nothing. All alone. And amid the overwhelming drowsiness that swept through her like a tide, she couldn’t resist falling asleep again.