• Published 7th Sep 2013
  • 6,844 Views, 472 Comments

Through A Glass Darkly - SpaceCommie



Nightmare Moon won a thousand years ago, plunging Equestria into perpetual night. Now, as Princess Luna's student, Twilight Sparkle must contend with Celestia's unexpected return as a familiar group of ponies are thrown into conflict.

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Mine Is The Morning

If Dash were a good officer, never mind a good friend, she would have taken Twilight to a hospital a while ago. It couldn’t possibly be healthy to stay unconscious this long after a crash. If she were a good sol, she would have killed Twilight herself days or weeks ago.

If she were a good anything, she would have at least made a damn decision by now, and have been done with it. But she wasn’t. I’m not even a good traitor, Dash thought, and stood up. She had dragged Twilight away from the carriage, felt for a pulse, found one, and then left her lying there.

No obvious wounds, at least nothing bleeding. The bruises looked nasty, but Twilight was purple anyways, so who cared?

Dash had cut the convicts loose from the carriage. Not the best solution — but a half-dozen criminals on the lam was about right for Ponyville on any night, never mind this one. Then (and this took real — pointless, stupid, but real — dedication) she had ascended to a couple hundred feet, dived after the carriage, hit it like a ton of bricks, and knocked it to its side.

A hell of a thing. She still couldn’t feel her hooves. The usual druggies, drunks, and other derelicts had been off the street for once — the only upside of the curfew — and so nobody had seen Dash pulling the assassin and her target from the wreck.

It was a perfect moment for betrayal. Dash took another suspicious glance of her surroundings, and sighed.


Shining Armor didn’t go in for creature comforts. His room was as austere as anyone else’s in the complex: bare concrete walls and floor, a pallet for what sleep he managed these nights. More austere, probably. Most of the personal effects were Cadence’s. She’d insisted on them.

He picked up a well-worn book, flipped through it, tossed it aside without even looking.

It smacked into something and fell to the ground. “Ouch!”

Shining raised his head. “Discord.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Discord said, “but I’m quite alright despite the—”

Shining didn’t look like he was in the mood.

Discord nodded. “As I was saying: Ouch! My goodness, that was positively painful to watch."

Shining sat sullenly on his bed, staring at the wall. Discord waved a paw in front of him. “You are listening, aren't you? Why don’t we talk anymore?”

“I don’t like you very much,” Shining said.

“Whatever. Listen, I know a way to fix this, but you have to listen to me very carefully,” Discord said, dangling the book from a paw. “I take it these are your little prophecies.”

“Yes.”

Discord flipped through it, then tossed it behind him. “Forget them. Well, no, scratch that. Forget her.”

“She’s a disappointment.”

“Oh, I know,” Discord said. “Believe me how I know. But let’s talk about you, Shiny.”

A paternal arm snaked around Shining’s shoulders. Shining pushed it away.

“Okay,” Discord said. “So this whole Celestia business hasn’t worked out the way you wanted it to. Is this what you do? Go to your room like a foal? I thought you were a man.”

Shining stared.

“Okay, stallion. Not the point! The truth is, I’ve been holding out on you.”

“Surprise,” Shining said dully.

“It was for your own good.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

Discord seemed to fill the room, to expand past its modest bounds, leaning over like a tidal wave about to break, and Shining shuddered.

“I expect you,” Discord said, “to believe it.” And then he was as unthreatening as ever. “Now, of course Celestia isn’t measuring up to your expectations. That doesn’t mean you can’t measure up to them.”

“I’m not an alicorn,” Shining pointed out.

“No,” Discord said. “You’re not. But we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

“You mean...” Shining started, and then thought better of it. “What you’re telling me, it’s not possible. I can’t be the one to bring back the sun. I’m not worthy.”

“Because you’re not an alicorn. Well, Shining Armor, I believe in you, for what it’s worth.”

Shining didn’t react. Didn’t look like he could react. “I just...” he managed, after a long time.

Discord shushed him. “That’s enough for now. Go to sleep. What is it your silly book says? ‘The night is always darkest right before the dawn’? Trust me on this one, Shiny.”


Something was shaking Fluttershy.

Reality faded back into focus: the rotten, sickly sweet smell rising from the sewer drains, the dull ache of her limbs, the worried face of the pegasus trying to get her to wake up. “Shy! Shy! You gotta get the hell out of here!”

“Dash...” Fluttershy started. “How long—”

Dash let her go, and waved the question aside. “Not long. Please, you gotta go, I don’t know when Sparkle’s going to wake up but with our luck—”

Our?” Fluttershy asked.

Dash sighed. “Look, I know you don’t understand what I’m doing—”

“I hope I don’t,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“Right. I get that. I deserve that. But you have to trust me. Please.”

Fluttershy didn’t say anything. She picked herself up off the ground, made a few hesitant, limping steps, and then lifted off the ground and flew away.