VIII - Canterlot
A stray bump of the traincar woke Twilight from sleep. She rubbed an eye before yawning. The sky shone bright, yet darkness stretched across the rolling fields outside her window. A better look told her she sat beneath the great shadow of Canterlot Mountain. No more than a mile ahead waited the first of many tunnels that lead up through the mountain core to Canterlot.
She yawned, stretching her legs out in front of her. They complained, sore and stiff, as if she had run a marathon. Which didn’t stray far from the truth. Her flight through the woods had tested both body and spirit to the breaking point. Not to mention her fight with Rainbow Dash. The thought brought a throbbing discomfort to her shoulder. Painkillers wearing off.
Twilight glanced at the ladder rung outside her window. The yellow and orange kerchief whipped around in the wind, fraying at the edges from the abuse. Satisfied, she reclined her head.
She had slept through the train’s stop at Dodge Junction, and felt like she could do the same until it lapped all the way back around again. Luck had it those stallions hadn’t stopped the train back in Appleoosa. Equally so that others hadn’t been in Dodge Junction looking for her. They had travelled by carriage; hopefully they had limited their search only to the towns south of Ponyville, where she was last seen heading. Word might not have spread north yet. If it hadn’t, it was her only saving grace.
Darkness swallowed the train, the clicking of the tracks a sudden thunderous roar. Its repetition drowned out the quiet conversations of the few other ponies around her. She listened to it, as if it was a voice speaking to her.
It spoke of the tracks beneath her and where they headed, the pony at the other end. Already she felt a detachment from her mentor. The illusion seeped into her head, contaminating her thoughts, the happy memories she had as a filly under her wing.
She could see Celestia clear as day in the blackness outside her window. Tall, elegant as always, but no matter how often she had seen it, Twilight couldn’t create the smile she had always known her for. Only a cold, bitter gaze, not directed at her but at who she had become.
The train wound its way out of the tunnel. From the mountainside she had a brief glimpse of Canterlot Castle before the darkness again enveloped her.
She saw the Star Swirl auditorium again. The high-reaching ceiling and its bannered green walls. Of all days, there had to have been a reason for reliving her exam day. Even if only a temporary torture, it hit too close to home for mere entertainment. Twilight sighed. Celestia would know. If she didn’t blast her to smithereens first. The Kiss and Tell teased her with a grip in the back of her throat.
It knew her intentions well. Though, it held no power over her ability to tell Celestia who she was, only that Kite had kidnapped Spike and Fluttershy, and had some nefarious scheme planned. It didn’t tighten at the thought of being turned into Kite herself—and had done nothing when she confessed to Rainbow Dash. But that only raised more questions, considering Kite’s attention to detail. Perfection had been her mainstay as far as Twilight could tell. Why she hadn’t ensured her inability to tell others her real identity teetered on the line between mistake and master plan.
Now was the most uncertain point of Kite’s plan, the time where each version of Kite’s ‘assassination attempt’ had the time to permeate and settle in the minds of Equestria’s citizens. But at the same time that meant caution remained all the more paramount. Suspension of disbelief would be a massive barrier to hurdle, one Twilight had only a single chance at. And given her uncertainties over Kite’s relationship with Celestia, perhaps a slower approach would be necessary. Test the waters before making too large a splash.
The train whistle wailed their nearing the station. Daylight flooded the train car, and out the window lay Canterlot Lake, its crystalline blue waters sprawled out to touch the wild edge of the Everfree and lush green of Canterlot Valley alike. The tracks veered left, the mountainside panning into view, and with it the great white castle walls.
A pit grew in Twilight’s stomach. If the guards knew about Ponyville, they would be upon her within seconds. Some more of her magic might have returned during the train ride, but surely not enough to save her. She said a silent prayer that word hadn’t arrived.
The train gave another wail as the station came into view. Its wheels screeched against its weight, and Twilight felt herself lurch forward in her seat. Outside her window, ponies of pinstripes and lace rolled by, slowing to a stop at the hiss of steam.
A commotion bubbled up around her as those in the traincar rose to gather their belongings from the overhead storage compartments. Twilight gave the barred shelf above her an errant glance, wishing for something that could fill the pit in her stomach. Even just a bag of her own to grab and blend in with the bustle would have lightened the thoughts weighing on her mind.
She still hadn’t seen hide or tail of Rainbow Dash since the alleyway in Appleoosa. She had hoped her handkerchief signal would have been sufficient, that Rainbow Dash would have taken it during transit as a return signal. A sigh escaped her. Twilight left it to avoid attracting attention.
Having somepony by her side would have been the greatest comfort of all. But she had to sidle out into the aisle alone and wait to exit the train car, lest curious eyes fall upon her.
It was loud on the station platform. Gossip held full sway, light as whipped egg whites on the tongues of Upper Canterlot’s elite. The snippets Twilight picked out held no more day-to-day relevance than the tabloids lining the nearby newsstands. The train gave a final whistle, and the smokestack plumed white, exhaust rising high as if trying to escape the noise.
Twilight took a deep breath of the humid morning air. Canterlot Castle lay past the Lingerlight District to the north, its golden towers reaching just over the rooftops. A parting glance to the roof of the train, the crevices between cars, and the shadows beneath the wheels to see no Rainbow Dash staring back; and she took her first heavy step forward.
She knew the city like the back of her hoof. She didn’t need a map or the skyscraping walls of the castle towers to guide her. Her past self used to gaze up at them in wonder. Now, she could only look down at their shadows beneath her hooves. Every step brought the towers closer, and as they came closer, they grew taller, their shadows bolder.
Guards patrolled the streets here and there. In twos they made headway along the cobbled sidewalks, their prominent hoofsteps like distant thunder to the lightning flash of their polished armor. Her heart raced every time a patrol came near, but she always passed by unmolested, save scanning glances. Her pursuers apparently hadn’t yet spread the word north.
The patrols and their ever-vigilant eyes coaxed Twilight’s to the rooftops above, hoping to catch a glimpse of silvery wing or shimmering eye. But she knew Rainbow Dash wouldn’t be brash enough to stand atop a roof and make herself seen.
Her hopes of finding Rainbow Dash in some shape or form spanned the remainder of her walk until she came to the front gates of the castle. Guards flanked either side, and they each afforded her a smile and nod as she passed them by.
Most of the grounds would be open to the public for the weekend. Everything leading to the throne room itself was accessible without fear of trespass. That only left her the task of earning an impromptu hearing with Celestia, which was unheard of in its own right. She was a very busy pony, after all.
Time was of the essence, however. It had been thirty-six hours since her flight from Ponyville, give or take. She had little time to reach the Princess before the news did. If it hadn’t already.
Spike had direct contact with the Princess through his dragonfire. It would have taken mere minutes to write Celestia of the attack if Kite knew of his ability. Coercion, Twilight believed, would have been simple enough, given her sampling of the hell Kite could wreak, and subsequent action of the Royal Guard would have been heavy and swift. But as Twilight walked the castle grounds, a more unnerving thought crossed her mind.
Celestia was a wise ruler, and twice as careful. Both calculating and strict in dispensation of sensitive information. She very well might have known but withheld notifying the Guard—or worse, ordered they wait. If so, then every step brought her deeper into a trap.
A beautiful trap, though, as beautiful as Canterlot Castle always was. As she climbed the front steps, she allowed herself the brief luxury of enjoying the chrysanthemums, which blossomed gold and white like sunbursts and full moons along the castle walls, and the breeze brought their perfume to her nostrils, reminiscent of the tea she shared with Celestia on occasion. Inside, banners depicting historic events—Starswirl’s creation of the amniomorphic spell, the first Summer Sun Celebration, the foundation of Equestria—lined the high walls. Sunlight filtered through the Great Hall’s stained-glass windows to dance off the innumerable marble pillars. A beautiful trap, indeed.
Other ponies seemed to be enjoying their visit. Fillies and colts romped about the hallway, their parents scolding them with reminders of where they were in between conversations of their own. Twilight stopped before the closed doors of the throne room.
“Sorry, ma’am,” the guard on duty said. “The Royal Court is currently in session. The Princess will be available for public greetings at noon.” His voice was firm and practiced.
“Wha—” she coughed to stifle the quiver in her voice, “—What time is it now?”
The guard kept his gaze forward in dignified-soldier fashion. “Should be about a quarter ‘til eleven.”
About an hour, then. Fair enough, Twilight decided. She could wait if it meant remaining inconspicuous. She spied an empty space in the corner and sat.
The marble floor was cold to the touch, but welcome. It wasn’t often she had the opportunity to stop and appreciate the castle—an odd thing to do in her situation, she knew, but nothing could be done about it. It was a chance to sit back and feel normal, if only for a moment. And that was gratifying in and of itself.
But she had to avoid falling too far into reverie, as tempting as it might be. Her conversation with Celestia had to go flawlessly. Otherwise…
She shook her head. First thing’s first: an escape route. On the off chance her plan fell through—that perhaps Kite had warned Celestia of her attempted assassination—she would need a plan B. The guards would close off the main gates and surrounding areas. An attempt to corral her within the throne room or Great Hall, if she even made it that far. Granted such luck, that left her with few options.
Her head turned almost of its own volition toward the stained-glass windows lining the Great Hall, the only exits they couldn’t barricade. Those behind her overlooked the royal gardens. At least a two-story drop for sure, but a last resort was a last resort.
Large bushes lined the base of the Great Hall, she recounted from her countless walks through the gardens. Not a welcome landing, but better than breaking an ankle or four on the grass. From there, she saw her path through the gardens and their blooming chrysanthemums, past the Lunar Statue and Dais of the Sun, and to the pond beneath the Canterlot wellspring.
Everypony knew of the pond and the beautiful waterfall both feeding it from above and emptying into Canterlot Lake far, far below. But only Princess Celestia and herself knew of the secret tunnel behind it, and of the network that webbed beneath all of Canterlot. From there, it was only a matter of finding Rainbow Dash and escaping in one piece. She just had to make it that far.
She shook her head. Stay positive. Don’t get caught in the first place.
She would have to craft her words carefully. No blurting anything out. ‘I’m actually Twilight Sparkle stuck in the body of the mare who tried to murder me and is now parading around as me, but I have no proof to show for it’ didn’t sound very convincing, especially when the chips were stacked on Kite’s end of the table. Discussions would be had, and nothing good would come of it. Kite knew too much of her past to risk that course.
Subtlety seemed best—act like Kite, gather the information she needed, and get out the safest option. Though, she could subvert that if she played it right. Don’t act like Kite, raise Celestia’s curiosity before leaving. Celestia was the wisest pony she knew. Perhaps leaving a trail of breadcrumbs wouldn’t be a bad idea.
But that could backfire spectacularly. One little slip up had the possibility of crossing an unknown line, something from their past obscured by ignorance. That could spiral out of control far faster than she wanted to admit.
Her shoulder wouldn’t allow for anything but a stiff walk, and, by extent, a simple conversation. Pushing that boundary ran the risk of getting caught one way or another. Better safe than sorry, even if that meant missing an opportunity to break the illusion. That would fall into place shortly after gathering the information she needed.
So she would play Kite.
The thought sickened her, but so did the alternative. The Canterlot dungeons were rather nice as far as dungeons went, but they were still exactly that. Getting locked up wouldn’t do her any good.
She would have to remain vague. Probe their history from the outside, let Celestia fill in the details. Nothing more. Watch the termite mound, but don’t touch. Celestia would most certainly pick up on her evasiveness, though. A couple thousand years’ experience in the art of linguistics would make anypony sensitive to even the subtlest hints of avoidance. How to work around that…
The great hall doors opened. Out strode a dignitary of Saddle Arabia, his long, slender body all the proof she needed. His bells and purple lace only accentuated the fact.
The guard stationed at the inside of the door conversed with the one Twilight had talked to. He nodded to the other before turning to her. “Seems like they finished negotiations early. You might want to get in now before the crowd does.” He jerked his head toward the foals running about.
Twilight smiled. “Thank you, sir.” Though she stood, eager to earn her hearing with the Princess, Twilight couldn’t help the sudden heaviness in her chest. Her heart beat a racket against her ribcage, and her hooves held the consistency of jelly. Every step she took sounded like the toll of a bell in the silent throne room.
Ahead, in all the radiance of the world, sat Princess Celestia, high upon her throne of velvet. Behind her, a stained-glass window poured forth a rainbow of the power she held at a whim. She did not speak as Twilight approached, the shimmer of her smile eclipsed by a growing frown, her silence louder than any words of condemnation she could have uttered; greetings were always from afar with her, no distance too great to brighten another’s day. Twilight stopped but a length from the throne steps, and she had to tilt her head to meet Celestia’s eyes.
Her face was one of recognition.
“Leave us,” she said. Without a word, all the guards in the throne room marched for the exits. At the far end, the main door shut, its echo off the high ceiling like the closing of a coffin. It was a long, grating moment before the hall fell silent again.
“Good morning,” Celestia said. She used the tone she reserved for court hearings, firm and sincere, but Twilight detected a shortness to it.
Start small. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” Twilight replied, slow, put-forth, the way she heard Kite’s voice drawl out in her head. She affected a bow, wanting to appear sincere, but not keen on taking her eyes from Celestia. Something about her stiff welcome gave the impression she stared at a bug beneath her hoof rather than a pony.
Celestia’s gaze remained unmoving, as relentless as the sun at the peak of summer. “I must say, Smoke, you’ve certainly gotten over your fears of... outward impressions.”
A soft insult. Like Rainbow Dash’s occasional raillery. So they were close to some extent. Twilight glanced down at herself. It had been a day and a half since Kite’s guise had been forced upon her, and it definitely showed in the dirt and scrapes of her vest. The dove white of her coat fared little better. She smiled, hopefully reservedly enough for ‘Smoke.’ “Yes, heh... well, it’s a long story.”
Celestia blinked, her eyes never losing their power. “One I might like to hear.”
There it was. Her biggest worry, the blank pages of Kite’s past, demanded right off the bat like an unfinished essay. Stay calm. Reflect the question. She cleared her throat. “Well, Princess, as much as I’d love talking about it, it’d surely be a better story over lunch. Yours, though, I’ve been paying close attention to, and I must say, you’ve been working wonders. I’d personally love to hear more about how you managed to win over Spatial Plan in the recent zoning dispute.” She let her smile widen for effect.
A small but genuine smile graced Celestia’s lips. “Ever the stickler he is. But in due time, Smoke.” She inhaled slightly, her mouth open for a moment. “I must say, it’s a warming sight to see you taking an interest in others again. The Smoke Screen I last knew wouldn’t have bothered.”
Twilight drank in every word. Selfish. Greedy, even. That explained this whole ‘revenge’ deal. And her name was Smoke Screen. A far cry from ‘Mr. Kite.’ Keep digging.
“Well, Princess, I’m a completely different mare now.” Twilight smirked at her own joke, but forced the sharpness from it, hoping a softer, more natural smile shone through.
Celestia chuckled, surprisingly cheery for the way she acted moments ago—perhaps a long-forgotten memory rising to the surface. “Is that so?” Her eyes seemed deeper, telescopes with thicker lenses so to peer farther into Twilight’s. She felt them scrying at her soul.
She knew her mentor well enough to hear the chord of interest struck high in her voice. Her words hit something deep down. A nerve, perhaps simply curiosity. Whatever mystery she had brought to light, it peered out the gazing lenses with subtle intensity.
Before she could reply, Celestia sighed, eyes softening. “Very well, Smoke. Where do I begin?”
“Where all good stories do, of course.” Twilight sat down, shoulders relaxed. A wish for quill and paper bounced around her mind, but was caught and caged by common sense; only mental notes would escape this conversation unquestioned.
Celestia laughed, closing her eyes. She remained so for a moment, breath drawn, before slowly opening her eyes, like a pony stepping out into a warm summer day after spending far too long indoors. “Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said. “You remember her, yes?”
Only slightly. Twilight cracked a smile, if only to hide the yearning in her heart. “I do. She’s a princess now, if I recall correctly.”
Celestia gave a disarming chuckle. “So they do pay attention to such events in the Neightherlands.”
The Neightherlands. One of the smaller nations across the Great Ocean. She knew little of it, as ships rarely made the journey. If they made it at all. Downplay. Minimize. “Of what little news makes it, the coronation of a princess is certainly one.”
Celestia eyed her, silent. Her smile never wavered, but something within suggested it was more than just an idle thought. She blinked, and it vanished like fog beneath the morning sun. “To be truthful, Smoke, I didn’t think I would see you again. The way you left after I took Twilight under my wing, I was afraid I had lost you for good.”
A redirection? She mentally bit her lip. Follow, but don’t overstep. “A few years can change a pony, Princess.” Or a few seconds and an illusion. She pushed away the thought, keen on maintaining her guise. These were darker waters she treaded. The fins of circling doubt would be harder to see.
“So you’ve come to learn forgiveness, then?”
The answer to that question was a resounding ‘no,’ on behalf of Smoke Screen. Twilight could have easily voiced it, and would certainly have loved to, but the situation warranted a lie, a thought that twisted her stomach into a knot. She had never lied to Princess Celestia before.
“I’ve learned that letting the past control you will only make things worse in the end.” A heat rose to Twilight’s collar as the words spilled from her mouth. She struggled with a lump in her throat, hoping Celestia couldn’t see. All that kept her from retching on the spot was the fact it hadn’t been a true lie. A half lie, at least. More of a tangential statement. That’s what it was. She could stomach that.
Her words seemed to be what Celestia had been hoping for. A tension Twilight hadn’t noticed before lifted from her expression. Sincerity reigned within her eyes—soft sunshine warming a spring afternoon. A perfect mood to dig deeper into their relationship. Perhaps it was time to probe their origins.
Twilight chose a gentle voice for her next words. She looked down at her hooves in hopes of appearing humble. “Princess, do you remember when we first met?”
“Of course I do,” Celestia said, that warm spring afternoon all the warmer. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Twilight shied away, scrounging for an oblique angle to strike from. “Am I… different? Than I was then?” An innocent glance up at Celestia.
“Everypony changes as they grow older, Smoke. It is the way ponies are. We learn from our experiences and grow into better ponies for them.”
Or vengeful ones. Twilight shied away again to hide any unconscious sign of the thought.
“What is it that has you thinking on such things?”
Twilight eyed one of the pillars lining the throne room to stall for time and steady the sudden racket in her chest. Marble of the purest white, only exceeded by the princess before her. “I don’t know...” She looked back at Celestia, who had peaked her eyebrows.
“Is there something you wish to tell me?”
Twilight felt her heart leap into her throat. She clenched her teeth to force it down, along with the millions of things she wanted to cry out at that moment. All the pain and misery of the last two days pushed back like water up a faucet ready to burst, but she told herself such weakness would only dig her hole deeper.
“Does it have to do with your time in the Neightherlands?”
The question came across simply. All the sympathy she had known Celestia to possess carried it gently to her ears, like a lullaby for a filly slipping into dreamland. Her siren-like voice unearthed old feelings deep within Twilight’s bosom, long-cherished memories of her early years under Celestia’s tutelage. That everlasting smile encouraging her to reach for the stars, strive for excellence. Tears pushed to the corners of her eyes despite her efforts, and in light of her façade falling to pieces only acquiescence came to mind. Ride the emotions, draw out the answers. She gave a troubled shake of the head.
“Smoke…” Soft. Quiet. “You would never lie to me, would you?”
A feeling of hot worms wriggled down her backside, more of them in her stomach and pasting the back of her tongue. Her whole body tensed to hold in a retch. No matter how dire the circumstance, or even if she held the appearance of another pony, could she tell a full, explicit lie to her mentor without hating herself. But the heaviest of hearts, spurred on by the will to survive, found the courage to shake her head again.
There was silence. Long. Unbroken. Twilight couldn’t bear to bring her eyes around.
“Of course not,” Celestia said, her words pale like the sun hidden behind a film of clouds. “My Smoke would never lie to me.”
‘My Smoke.’ Not ‘you.’ The racket in Twilight’s chest threatened to crash free. The little subtleties, her carefully chosen words. ‘The Smoke Screen she last knew.’ She caught a gasp in her throat, realizing how heavily she had been breathing, the trembles resonating up and down her body.
“But then tell me, Smoke,” Celestia continued. Her wings stretched out part way like half-drawn curtains about her frame. “Why you headed north beyond the Crystal Empire when you claimed you sailed across the Great Ocean.”
Twilight flinched, looking her dead in the eye. Breathless: “Wh-what?”
“Or why you then headed south to the Badlands and the kingdoms beyond the desert sands, without so much as a message.” Her wings opened fully, and the haze veiling the sun burned away, its brightness growing with every step down her throne she took.
“You questioned my concerns for ending your tutelage, why I believed you weren’t qualified to further Star Swirl’s research, despite your magical prowess.” A pause, waiting for an answer Twilight couldn’t muster the vocal strength to give even if she had it.
“Did you not think I had sent word of your coming? That the Duke of Neightherland keep an eye out for your wellbeing?” Twilight matched every downward step with one backward. She could only stare in fear at the fire in Celestia’s eyes, the heat radiating from them that could have sublimated steel. “That when I received word you were not aboard the ship and instead last seen at the outer reaches of the Crystal Empire, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was right in my decision, and that my long-standing fears had been true.”
Twilight’s lower lip trembled. The loving ruler she had known all her life stared down at her with a wrath she had never believed could exist. The mysteries of Kite’s past ran deeper than Equestria’s largest mines, and she had struck a wellspring that ran deeper still, already flooding her heart with a water boiled beneath the heat of a nearing sun. Her words tumbled out like the fragments of her crumbling hope.
“Princess… I don’t know what you’re—”
“I have played along with this game of yours long enough. You have evaded my watchful gaze for many years, but I have not forgotten.” She tilted her head up ever so slightly, so as to look down the bridge of her nose at Twilight. “I could never forget that filly I knew all those years ago. That little filly that wanted me all to herself.”
“I…” Twilight’s legs quivered. Of all the slivers of hope she had dared cling to, Celestia’s benevolence became little more than a drop of water in the desert. She had yearned for that one saving grace, that one certainty she could lean on while traversing this dark and dangerous path. Her throat swelled shut, and she slowly shook her head, vision blurring, as she tried to whisper: “Princess… I’m not who you think I am.”
“No, Smoke.” Her gaze darkened. “You are not. So let us speak freely, as who we are. Would that please you, Mirror Image?”
Twilight gasped, the world suddenly draining away until only she and Celestia remained. “Wh-what?”
Another step. The sun sat full behind the stained glass, casting a blinding corona about Celestia. “I will stand for no more of this, Mirror. You have impersonated Smoke Screen long enough, and I will see to it that whatever your motives are, they never come to fruition.” She stepped beneath the sun, and by its light Twilight could see a transformation had come over her.
Her face of stone had become one of clay, eyes shining not with fury but with tears. She swallowed slow and hard. “Just find it in your heart to answer me one question I have waited far too long to know.” She spoke slowly, wrestling with emotions churning beneath the surface. “Mirror… What have you done to Smoke?” Her brow pulled tight above her eyes, a long-withheld pain pressing forth behind her mask of stoicism. Her next words came breathlessly.
“What have you done to your sister?”
Twilight stood numb, mouth agape. Everything in her mind told her to blurt out the truth, that despite Celestia’s assumptions her words would shine through. From the poster tacked to the front of Town Hall to Rainbow Dash’s fangs sinking into the flesh of her shoulder, the memories crashed endlessly around in her head. The words she desired to hear ring high and loud off the cavernous ceiling pushed to the tip of her tongue, but the Kiss and Tell cinched off her throat as the memories of Spike and Fluttershy’s capture—Kite stepping forward with eyes bluer than the deepest oceans to plant the kiss of death upon her lips—tumbled amidst the others. She could only stare at the pain on Celestia’s face, at her yearning for an answer she had already formed.
The Great Hall doors burst open. Shouts poured in like floodwater through a broken levee, screams of frightened children riding the waves. A shadow fired straight at Twilight, a buzzing sound quickly growing to overpower the shouts. It flashed to a halt before her in a gust of wind, and she came to realize what it was. Who it was.
Rainbow Dash spun about, head sunk low to the floor, wings flared, teeth bared at the soldiers tramping in after her. She backpedalled toward Twilight, head sweeping around so as to give each of the circling soldiers ample warning. A quick toss of the head back to Twilight, fear and apology in the brief wince. It was then that Twilight noticed she wore the yellow and orange polka-dotted kerchief around her neck.
“Mirror,” Celestia said, fierce. “What is the meaning of this?”
Twilight turned back to Celestia, who glared at Rainbow Dash. It was a glare of resurfaced memory, flashbacks to Chrysalis and the changeling invasion. If her fate hadn’t been sealed already, the sight of Canterlot’s most despised enemy staving off its protectors with threat of hoof and fang in her very throne room certainly would.
She stared her mentor in the eye, felt her rekindled hatred heating the room, and trembled, knowing there remained no chance for words to see her through. Only Canterlot’s dungeons awaited her if she abided, and for that knew only one hope for salvation. She closed her eyes, a tear running down her cheek.
I’m sorry…
She forced all the magic she could muster through her horn and into the space beside Celestia’s ear. Color washed away in the milliseconds before her spell was complete, and swept with it the noises of the room. Twilight felt within that span of time all her memories of Celestia—every radiant smile, every glowing compliment—shatter like portraits falling from their hooks. Vision distorted and snapped to, sound and color rushing back into existence to boom off the walls and blast away every window, thrusting Celestia to the opposite end of the throne room.
Power coursed through Twilight’s veins, a primal and fierce adrenaline surge to every inch of her body. She turned to Rainbow Dash, who even behind her bug-eyed mask she could tell disbelief cored out the bottom of her heart. And in that moment, there remained only one option for survival.
“Run!”
Together they dashed for the entrance, Rainbow Dash kicking any guard who dared throw themselves upon them. Twilight leapt around the nearest guard, his heavy armor unable to turn in time.
Already her shoulder resisted her efforts to run, the bandages wrapped about her wound turning red as stitches snapped and ripped apart flesh. She felt the pain, but distantly so, masked as it was beneath her endorphin high. She pushed herself harder, taking advantage of the momentary suppression. Time was in their favor, but only barely.
Through the door, she charged the nearest stained-glass window. “Rainbow!” she cried, not waiting for a response. Another burst of magic from her horn—what felt like her last—barely earned a few cracks. But Rainbow Dash thought on the same wavelength, it seemed, as before Twilight could open her eyes from the effort she was already poised to buck it out of its frame.
The glass shattered into a thousand rainbow-colored fragments, and Twilight paused at the edge, staring down at the bushes below. It looked a lot farther than she thought it would.
No time to think. Hooves already trampled in from the throne room. Neither Twilight nor Rainbow Dash hesitated.
Twilight had acclimated to the feeling of flying since becoming an alicorn. Though not fond of it, she had still made use of her wings on occasion. Falling, though, never came to her, and the feeling struck tenfold in the unbearable moments she spent weightless, watching the world rise to meet her at a speed her wingless body couldn’t control.
The bush reached up with thorns and stiff branches that stabbed and tore. She screamed as one punched through her bandage and ripped open the wound.
“They’re in the gardens!” came a voice above. “Get down there, on the double!”
Twilight tried prying herself from the grasping thorns, but every move found only pain. A hesitant hoof touched at the stick lodged in her shoulder, and she couldn’t find the strength of will or stomach to free it. Before she could flinch, something grabbed her vest collar and pulled.
There was a rip of cloth and meaty wetness, and the pain became like a twisting knife. She screamed as she drew herself into a ball, unable to process the white-hot fire in her shoulder. Through blinding tears she saw the fissure running its length, and she retched. A hiss registered in her ear, and Rainbow Dash dragged her up.
Her hooves fought the act, wanting only to lay still—a shoulder refusing weight, and a back leg that couldn’t fully extend. But she knew they had to run, and she swallowed the pain, moving forward at what hobbling pace she could manage.
Her breathing became laboured, her head heavy. Focus was key, and quickly it had no desire to remain with her. “Across the gardens,” she had to say aloud in order to hear herself. “Across, and past the dais.”
She stumbled through to the garden proper while Rainbow Dash ran ahead to clear the path. Rainbow Dash made it to the garden’s Lunar statue, a brilliant crescent moon, where the pearlescent paving stones made concentric circles about the exotic flora and shoulder-height hedges. Fancily dressed ponies ran amok at the sight of her, and she hissed to underline their terror.
There came the sound of wind, and Twilight knew by instinct to duck. Her shoulder slammed to the ground, drawing a bitten-back cry. The crash of metal grinding on stone quickly drowned her out. She looked up to see two pegasus guards skidding smoothly into a charge for Rainbow Dash, their golden armor flashing in the sun.
Twilight saw the momentary fear in Rainbow Dash’s eyes, the millions of little facets focused on the guards and their heavy boots. They circled about her, wings flared in intimidation.
“No…” Twilight grunted, clenching her eyes, drawing forth any magic she could call upon, just enough to get one of the guard’s attention.
Just enough. She wrapped it about his foreleg as he tried stepping, holding it down. The guard noticed her, then looked to his partner. The other snorted, a dismissive smile on his face, and jerked his head at Twilight, stepping forward to stop Rainbow Dash from intervening.
Twilight pushed herself backward on her belly, too weak to stand and run. Her blood trail slickened the paving stones, her foreleg unable to find purchase and push her any further away.
His shadow passed over her, and she gazed up into the darkness of his silhouette. He raised a hoof to knock her out cold, but he himself was jerked backward by his tail. He shot a glance over his shoulder, too slow to see the leg sweeping beneath to take his out from under him.
He landed heavily on the stone and before he could bring a hoof up to shield himself, Rainbow Dash had raised her own.
Once, twice, three times the golden steel rang like the castle bells. Twilight looked on in horror as he fell limp, blood trickling down his face.
She kept staring as Rainbow Dash heaved her to her hooves, shouldering her forward on the good side. Breathless: “Rainbow, you just—”
A violent hiss and a stronger push. Keep moving. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried. The other guard lay sprawled out against the marble crescent moon. She prayed to Celestia they would both be okay.
Shouts lilted over the babble of a nearby water fountain, sending her already furiously beating heart into overdrive. Rainbow Dash hissed, her assistance more forceful, sending shooting pains down Twilight’s back leg with every step. Twilight let out a whimper, slowly feeling herself lean more and more on Rainbow Dash’s shoulder the farther they ran. Her head swam in the strain of exertion, her endorphin high long spent. A fire raged in her lungs, its tongues licking their way out through her veins.
They passed beneath an ivied trellis to where the path widened to accommodate a grander walkway flanked by rows of chrysanthemums. The dais sat directly ahead. In its middle rose a monument to the sun, a great statue of the ever-burning orb that served as both reminder of Equestria’s ruler and sun dial, its great shadow cast toward them by the true sun behind it.
“Just a little further,” Twilight said, more to her failing limbs than to Rainbow Dash.
The shouts behind them grew louder, just beyond the Lunar statue. Ahead, she could see the waterfall and its churning waters. A dense mist hung about its base, a cloak waiting to hide them away from their pursuers. Water lilies grew thick along the bank and reached far into the center of the pond, from the cliff face to the next waterfall that led all the way to Canterlot Lake below.
They came to the water, and Rainbow Dash looked at her, confused.
“Under the waterfall!” Twilight shouted over its roar. They waded past the lilies, careful not to disturb them and leave a trail to follow.
The water was cold to the touch. Don’t stop. Almost there. A quick breath for courage’s sake, and she stepped forward.
The sudden sting sucked the air from her lungs, and she stifled a cry, sucking wind through her teeth. Walking had been difficult, but swimming quickly became a fight for her life. Her legs refused to tread water, and she felt herself sinking, unable to cry for help.
Rainbow Dash was quick to her side, a hoof around her barrel, pulling her onward. She grunted against her own pains, ones Twilight had forgotten about until that moment, plus a clean gash running the length of her cheek.
She listened to the sounds she made, the pained but purposeful hisses in rhythm with her strokes. Though their situation remained urgent, Twilight couldn’t help but admire her friend’s strength.
The mist wrapped about them as they swam beneath the waterfall, and Twilight cast a final glance over her shoulder. The first pair of guardsponies came around the bend, their eyes sweeping across the pond just as she vanished behind the veil.
Rainbow Dash hauled them up onto moss-covered stone, and both fell limp, heaving for air, relishing the rest they had long denied themselves.
Twilight lay listening to the water echo down the tunnel. A long, unbroken roar, warped by higher unseen ceilings within. It had been ages since she had seen them, but she remembered the layout, likened to a spoked wheel. For the moment, though, they had earned a brief respite.
Rainbow Dash let out sputtering hisses. They grew larger, full bodied. Twilight had to stare at her for a moment, only realizing once she rolled over onto her back, hooves clenching her stomach, that Rainbow Dash was laughing.
She drew it into a long sigh, her gaze drifting to Twilight’s horn. A few clicks of her changeling tongue and a sly grin was all Twilight needed to infer a comment about attacking Celestia. Probably something about never thinking she’d have the guts to do something that crazy.
Those guts churned, and, trembling, she promptly lost them. Little came up, given she hadn’t eaten or drank anything substantial since her noontime tea with Rarity the day before. Her stomach stabbed with pain in unwanted reminder.
Twilight shuddered, face against the cold stone floor. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she sat at her friend’s table arguing about the oddities of the day. How she wished she could go back to that moment with the knowledge she held now, just be with her friends and share a laugh. The only faces that would come to mind were those just before she ran. The hatred that creased their brows and gave frown to what should have been such happy smiles.
A hoof touched her good shoulder. Rainbow Dash stood over her, crestfallen—a silent apology.
Twilight looked away ears flattened back. “I didn’t hurt her because I wanted to…”
Rainbow Dash lay down beside her, eyes closed, gently pushing her muzzle beneath Twilight’s chin. Twilight rolled her head into it, closing her eyes to better feel the warmth beside her.
“I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you, Rainbow Dash. Thank you for believing me.”
Rainbow Dash cooed what little she could with her altered voice, and gave a calm but meaningful snort. They stayed there awhile, the only motion about them that of the waterfall. In time, she raised her muzzle to signal they rise.
Twilight nodded. Her body wanted nothing more than to roll over and close her eyes for sleep, but she knew even here they still weren’t safe. Though only Celestia and herself knew of the tunnels, it would only be a matter of time before her mentor came to and had them guarded, or the guards outside wisened up.
It took her a moment to stand, the blood loss bringing splotches to her eyes and a tremble to her hooves. She steadied herself against her friend, but found the strength to hold herself up on three legs, her sprained back leg willing enough to help.
Out of breath, she gasped. “Let’s get going.” They turned for the tunnel leading into the heart of Canterlot Mountain, but a sound broke the roar of the waterfall. Rhythmic, purposeful. It grew louder the longer they peered into the darkness. Others joined it. Twilight froze, the hair on her nape rising.
Hoofsteps.
No. Impossible. Nopony but her and Celestia knew these tunnels existed. No, no, no. They couldn’t… Twilight gasped.
Chrysalis. The changeling queen had used far deeper tunnels in her invasion of Canterlot. The Guard must have found them soon after the wedding and thereby knew to preempt her escape.
Rainbow Dash backed up, ears flattened, whimpering.
Her plan had worked. Though far from flawless, it had gotten them this far. But it was supposed to get them out all the way. Her legs shook like a newborn foal’s. It wasn’t fair. They weren’t supposed to be in there. They weren’t supposed to know.
A hiss. Rainbow Dash tugged Twilight’s tail. She pointed behind them, at the waterfall.
“Rainbow,” Twilight whispered. “We can’t go back out there, we’ll get caught.” She could even see some of the guards running about, scouring the flowers and shrubbery.
Rainbow Dash shook her head. She lifted a hoof, slowly stretching it out toward the waterfall. She lowered it as she reached still farther, then raised it before lowering it all the way to the ground. Her wings buzzed enthusiastically, and she had never worn a more serious face.
Twilight stared at her, then through the waterfall and at the sky beyond the pond. Realization dawned, and she blanched as much as Kite’s white coat would allow. “You can’t be serious, Rainbow…”
The hoofsteps grew louder. Rainbow Dash grabbed her by the tail, pulling her toward the entrance. It took all of Twilight’s courage not to resist, the growing tramping from the tunnel barely enough to quell her fears. She turned, her heartbeat drowning out all other sounds, and they stepped into the water.
A thousand voices screamed in her head that she shouldn’t do this, that she would die and could do nothing about it once she had committed. But Rainbow Dash waded ever deeper into the water beside her. That alone kept her moving forward. It was the only hope of escaping they had left. A quick pause, Rainbow Dash turning toward her. She extended her hind leg backward, pointed to it, then at Twilight.
Twilight nodded. Grab her hoof. Grab her hoof and pray.
Beneath the waterfall, Twilight took a deep breath, and under she went.
The waterfall’s roar became muffled rumbles, the cold water churning about her, bubbles sinking and then rushing for the surface. She grabbed ahold of Rainbow Dash’s leg as she had commanded, who powered the two of them beneath the water lilies, using them as cover from the sharp-eyed pegasi patrolling the skies.
Though she put forth little effort swimming, Twilight could already feel the sting in her lungs. It built to a stabbing pain, her teeth clenching to stave off the urge to breathe what her body wished was air.
Ahead, daylight shone bright, like a horizon dipping low to let her peek beyond and see what no other pony ever had. It grew larger, and only the wish to fill her lungs with air kept her heart from bottoming out at the knowledge of what was to come.
The edge swallowed them. She felt her stomach rise toward her chest as stone and water gave way to open sky. She let go of Rainbow Dash’s leg, and she fought to suck in the precious air whipping past her.
With the air quenching the flames in her lungs, her brain finally allowed her to fully comprehend the consequences of their choice. Her body went rigid at the sight of Canterlot Lake below, no larger than a dinner plate. Realization snuffed thought as quickly as it had come. She flailed about in freefall, the water dissipating into millions of droplets about her, little prisms that danced away from her hoof at the slightest touch, slowing her descent no more than she could have hoped, even with a rational mind.
Twilight screamed above the wind, her body twisting uncontrollably, land and sky blending together. She thrashed, trying to blink the water from her eyes, but every attempt only blinded her further. Non-existent muscles tried in vain to flap her wings, her mind instinctively snapping to her flight lessons, only to drown in the fear that she could do nothing but shut her eyes to the stinging water and scream.
“Rainbow!”
She heard only the wind rushing past her, roaring an unending countdown to the inevitable. It cut chill straight through her, the water that soaked her coat and vest stealing away the warmth from her bones. The droplets stopped misting in her face, allowing her the chance to wipe them away and regain sight. But she knew it to also mean how far she had already fallen.
“Rainbow!”
The wind redoubled its efforts in her ears, but she heard a sharp hiss pierce it like an arrow, somewhere in the tumbling chaos. She wiped her eyes clean and dared to open them. Her heart shot clear to her throat, the lake not five hundred meters below.
Her body twisted to face the sky, and she saw Rainbow Dash banking a wide downward spiral. She pulled out at a steep angle toward her, the water spinning back into view, only seconds away from crushing her utterly. Her eyes bugged out, and she couldn’t quell her final shriek.
Something smashed into her ribs, forcing the air from her lungs and stars into her eyes. The world fuzzed over for a moment as she held on to the physical world by only the sense of touch. A hard shell locked her chest between a vice, and she was falling sideways.
Twilight clung to it, part of her mind coming to the realization before the rest of her. Though she heaved for air, she let a smile play on her lips and closed her eyes.
“Thanks, Rainbow…”
Rainbow Dash banked downward. They slowed, and Twilight felt a cool shade on her skin, the sun blinking in and out of existence on the other side of her eyelids. She opened them to a myriad of trunks and branches crowding over the edge of the lake. Their wide, green leaves and dense thickets decried themselves of Everfree origin.
A short hover, and Rainbow Dash gingerly lowered Twilight to the ground. The thick moss welcomed her hooves, and she happily collapsed, more than once considering kissing it. She let out a breathless laugh in compromise, laying her head upon it, its damp mustiness filling her nostrils. Good old ground. It had never felt so wonderful beneath her hooves.
She looked up at Rainbow Dash, who stood at the edge of the water, eyes to the sky. Following her gaze, Twilight saw she was looking for search parties—pegasus guards branching out their marehunt.
A long, silent minute passed before Rainbow Dash let out a contented sigh. She turned to face Twilight, a foalish smile on her face. She snickered, a hoof failing to hide her shining fangs.
“Don’t you ever make me do that again,” Twilight said. Her voice came out cracked and excitable, though she hoped her face made up for it. Not until she had her wings back did she ever want to see another ledge.
Rainbow Dash sputtered. She retained her boastful smile through sheer force of ignorance. Twilight didn’t think she realized how close she had cut it. She forced herself to take a deep breath. There was no harm meant by it, or by her decision to swim their way free. They had been stuck between a rock and a hard place. Somehow, they hadn’t been crushed.
The pain in her shoulder returned for lack of more urgent stimuli. She clenched her teeth, eyeing it like she would a centipede she had just smashed with her favorite book. Red ran freely across the bandage, which hung looser than it should, due to her exertion. Already she could feel the weariness of blood loss in her head, and she rested herself against a tree.
Its bark felt cool to the touch, like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day. It told her to close her eyes and rest, that she had earned it. She didn’t know how long it would be until the search parties widened their zone, but she doubted they would spread this far any time soon.
She flicked her ear at the soft pad of Rainbow Dash stepping forward. Unwillingly, she opened her eyes, wanting only to enjoy her respite in complete tranquility.
A look of hesitation had come over Rainbow Dash, the way she shied at Twilight’s gaze. Perhaps she too didn’t want to ruin such a wonderful moment. Twilight afforded her a smile, if only to ease her friend’s discomfort.
Rainbow Dash took the sign to heart, returning it in full. Her ears perked back up, and eagerness squared her shoulders. She nodded at Twilight, gestured a general circle about her, then pointed up at Canterlot.
How did her chat with the princess go? Twilight didn’t answer, and Rainbow Dash’s smile faded, though she knew it was because her own had been whisked away by an unnoticed breeze.
She had learned much in the little time she had spent before Celestia. Kite’s origins. Her place in Celestia’s past and how it fit into this grand scheme. Her true identity.
That was the clincher. Of all the information she could have obtained, knowing Kite wasn’t truly Smoke Screen, but Mirror Image—her sister—would play the biggest part in her rebuttal. Her ace in the hole.
But that hole was a dark one to delve. Attaining the answers she sought brought with it a slew of new questions. What had she been seeking in her journeys? Why impersonate Smoke Screen? What did she do to her?
The pain that final question had brought to Celestia’s face, the implications of such emotion, what she must have assumed Mirror Image had done. If such worries were to be believed, then they faced a far more dangerous foe than she first imagined.
She put a hoof to her chest, feeling at the knot. It was smaller than before, like a cancerous mass growing in reverse. It didn’t even throb anymore.
She thought back on her concussion spell in the throne room. It had blasted out every window and launched Celestia across the room. A pang of guilt shot through her heart. She had never so much as looked at her mentor funny before. Never again would she be able to look her in the eye the same.
But it was for a good reason. She swallowed that lump in her throat. She had no other choice. Use her magic, or face imprisonment. Far more magic than she had anticipated, though. The reserves deep within herself were filling in again, the wellspring of her soul trickling into the bottomless basin that was her talent. Even now she felt its revitalizing energies at war with the weariness overtaking her. And she knew she would need every drop of it if she were to humor the thought flitting about her head.
She turned to gaze into the Everfree. It sat ripe with noise and the smells of moss and dirt. The map in her head told her it wrapped east all the way around Ponyville, like a crescent moon cradling a single star. Freedom to roam far and wide, unhindered by ponykind. They needed to get away from Canterlot before the guards wisened up, and she knew just where to go.
“Come on, Rainbow,” Twilight said. “I have a plan.”
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I don't buy it.
Why would Twilight pretend to be Kite? I mean, that's the exact opposite of anything that makes sense. Yeah, there's an illusion spell, and Kite somehow knows all about Twilight, but I'm sure Celestia would figure it out, eventually. Rainbow Dash being a changeling
wouldn'tshouldn't be hard to fix, either.The reasoning for Twilight to pretend to be Kite felt very contrived, and quite insufficient. Like you needed some way to drive a wedge between Twilight and Celestia, but couldn't think of anything in-character for either of them. It kind of broke the story's spell for me.
I downloaded this story when it first showed up on the site. But I didn't start reading it until recently. How could this story possibly not have more likes than it does? It's amazing. Keep it up, can't wait for more.
update:
I just got caught up to the end of chapter 8 and honestly I have to agree with Hap. Twilight pretending to be Kite and eventually attacking Celestia did seem out of character and like a desperate attempt to keep the story going. I can see why this chapter would be hard to write though. Twilight could have convinced Celestia of who she and Rainbow were had she just told the truth in the first place. But that would have ended the story right there. I don't know how you could fix this but I'm not going to let it ruin the story for me. I totally love this story and really look forward to what happens next.
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She also thought Celestia would figure it out by herself, and how well did that turn out.
Celestia's wise but she's not omnipotent, even living in Equestria for a 1000 years, Equestria can still throw things at you with things that you'll never expect in a 1000 years.
She wasn't there to dispel the illusion, she was there to get information about kite and make Celestia suspicious of her true identity. Knowing more information about Mr. Kite was here goal and she achieved it. Though for a bonus, she tried to throw "breadcrumbs" at Celestia to tell her that she's not Mr. Kite and hoped that Celestia would notice her and be wise enough to notice she's not, however, with it came a huge misfire.
The "don't trust Celestia fully" part came from all of her experience from dealing with Kite. In Solitary Locust she absolutely was optimistic towards Celestia in that fanfic, and because of that fic, we expect Twilight from this one to do the same. And if you notice, she's an alicorn in this fic, much less dependent on Celestia and a lot less whinny if you noticed.
I'm however, not sure about the Kiss and Tell spell. Does she still have it during this time period? I thought it was lifted when she got out of her dream.
Hey wait a minute, these comments are dated?!