Celestia's Angels

by Aquaman

Low-Grade Humility

By any passerby’s account, the house at the corner of Millennium Avenue and 7th Street didn’t look like anything special. It stood a modest two stories high, neither dwarfed by its neighbors nor towering over them. Its exterior consisted of only a smooth sandstone facade and a brown tiled roof to match. Every facet of its presentation—from its drab iron fence cast to the patch of close-cropped grass it contained—seemed specifically tailored not to draw the eye, to convince anyone in eyesight that their gaze was better off wandering elsewhere.

But if somepony ignored their better judgement and did look through the front gate and past the yard, they might have noticed a rounded red door with brass hinges, a small central depression shaped like a crescent moon—and no keyhole or knob. That pony might then wonder how you were supposed to enter a house through a door you couldn’t open from the outside, when in fact the real question they should’ve asked was why the mailbox just shuddered with a dizzying flash of light, and then why they suddenly couldn’t remember how they’d ended up in front of it.

So it was that the little house remained unnoticed and unremarked upon—just how its new owner preferred. After all, when it came to Celestia’s Angels, there was no such thing as being too careful. And when it came to their Seraphim, the one and only pony outside of Celestia herself entrusted with every secret and strategy they possessed, that went double for staying too far out of the public eye.

Unless, of course, said Angels needed a full mission requisition arranged within seventy-two hours of a Royal Wedding. When it came to that kind of scenario, all bets were off.

“Starlight, time check.”

Somewhere behind Twilight, Starlight took a moment to process the request. Twilight could’ve turned away from the mailbox to face her, but that would’ve wasted valuable seconds that—until she got an answer—she wasn’t sure she had to waste. Her post-prep readiness checklist had taken over two hours to get through last night, and the final items on this morning’s pre-pre-mission list weren’t going to check themselves off—or what the hay, maybe they would if Starlight quit slurping at her iced coffee long enough to pay attention.

“Check what to the where now?” Starlight finally replied.

“The… what time is it?”

“Probably about time for you to relax, Twilight.” Sunset stepped up onto the curb next to Twilight, smiling to herself as if dozens of successful operations couldn’t be chalked up to Twilight’s completely manageable verification system. “And maybe get half-caf next time?”

“I will drink decaffeinated coffee when I’m dead in the ground and when this wedding is over, in that order.” Twilight said, the mark she made on her list as firm as her reply. “Now on to item #143-b: ‘Ask Starlight again, louder this time, what time it is’.”

“Couple minutes to noon, and this is why Spike hides the bean grinder every morning,” Starlight told her. “Just in case you ever wondered.”

Another checkmark graced Twilight’s list, accompanied by a tight-lipped frown. “Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure my only brother’s wedding isn’t ruined by his little-sister-best-friend-forever’s failure to plan ahead. Which brings us to item #144…”

Before she could keep going, Twilight’s checklist floated out of her reach, guided away by a teal tendril of magic slightly more forceful than her own. “Seriously, Twilight. It’s gonna be fine,” Sunset said once she’d folded the list inside her saddlebag. “I know this is your thing normally, but even for you this is getting a little out of control. Especially since, and this isn’t the first time we’ve said this–”

“Seventh, including now,” Starlight added through her straw.

“–but we’re not even really on duty for the ball tonight or the ceremony tomorrow. All we have to do is show up, wave to a few upper-crust types, and have a good time.”

“Exactly!” Twilight said, swiping at Sunset’s bag to no avail. “Something bad happening at the wedding is the definition of a bad time! How am I supposed to enjoy myself at a complete and total catastrophe?”

“Whatever you’re gonna suggest, don’t,” Sunset told Starlight first, waiting for her mumbling pout to peter out before continuing. “Twilight, this isn’t like you. You’re never this jumpy before a job. Please talk to us… or just to me. Starlight’s optional.”

Twilight just shook her head, every muscle in her body tensed with the effort. “Nothing’s wrong, okay? I just… I’m a little stressed, that’s all. Which is normal. This is a stressful thing we’re doing. So… I’m fine. Gimme my list back.”

A few pedestrians ambled by in the silence that followed, each tacitly ignoring the three famous young mares crowded around a wholly uninteresting yard fence. In the meantime, Sunset stayed put, counting off the seconds with drawn-out blinks of her eyes: one, two, three, four…

“He could’ve at least told me himself...” Twilight mumbled, slumping down onto the curb with a weary sigh. Sunset’s stony look melted away as fast as it had come, every part of her softening as Twilight finally let her friend’s hoof reach all the way around her shoulders. “I haven’t seen Shining Armor in months, or Cadance. And now they’re getting married and I’m supposed to be their bridesmare and I don’t even really know what a bridesmare does…”

“Teases the groomstallions, mostly.” Starlight’s contribution came out a little muffled by the last dregs of her drink. “I mean, that’s my plan, anyway, but feel free to branch out.”

Much as she tried to fight it, Twilight felt a smile tugging at her lips. Leave it to Starlight to make saying the wrong thing somehow the right response. “It was really sudden,” Sunset granted her. “And I’m sure he did try to tell you. We were probably just still on the road when the invitations came out.”

A powerful voice in her head demanded she argue otherwise, but for the time being Twilight held her tongue. As much for her friends’ sakes as her own, she could keep her cool for now. She was an Angel, darn it, and Angels did not negotiate with her inner psyches about when or when not to start flipping tables. Besides, if Starlight’s account was right, she had more important—and timely—things to focus on.

At precisely one minute past twelve o’clock, Twilight stood up and pushed the house’s gate open. After confirming she still recalled their reason for being there, she led the Angels up the narrow walk to the front door, taking care not to step off the path and readying a reactive shielding spell just in case a hoof went misplaced.

While Sunset and Starlight muttered indecipherable codewords into the flowerbeds flanking the doorway, Twilight climbed the front stoop and knocked three times as she’d been instructed, holding her hoof flat against the door’s crescent insignia after the third hit. The wood pulsed and grew warm beneath her sole, a chorus of echoing clicks and buzzes wafting out from within the house. The moment they ceased, a low distorted voice followed up.

“You’re late.”

Twilight glanced back at Sunset, who egged her on with a silent nod. “Syrup spill on Halter Street,” she answered as clearly as she could. “Had to stick around.”

With a final grinding clunk, the house opened up for them. The front door thudded shut again as soon as the Angels passed through it, leaving them sealed inside an austere marble foyer. Across the spotless floor, a pale, skinny-legged unicorn mare glared at them from behind a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses. Twilight met the curt greeting with a warm smile, and sa their host’s icy facade melt a bit in response.

“It’s good to see you again,” Twilight told her.

“Always a pleasure, Seraphim,” Sunset added.

“Hi, Moondancer!” came Starlight’s ear-splitting shout. “Thanks for not killing us!”

What little affection had snuck into Moondancer’s posture vanished in the span of a flustered shudder. Teeth clenched and glasses askew, the Angels’ quartermaster blew a hissing sigh out through her nose, shrinking even farther inward as Starlight skipped her way.

“Good Celestia in the West-ia, though, this place is tricked out! A legimental timegate, tripartite passphrases, arcomagnetic locks… and were those balefire mines buried under the rhododendrons? And to think, all the last Seraphim had was a residential cloaking spell and a post office box…”

Her empty cup cast aside, Starlight threw her hooves around Moondancer’s shoulders and sniffled with joy, hanging off her like a monkey swinging from a faintly twitching rock. “Oh, it’s the little things, MD,” she gushed into her ear. “It’s how I know you care.”

A thought of apologizing worked its way through Twilight’s mind, only to exit as soon as she saw the look on Moondancer’s face. “Nice to see you too, Twilight,” the Seraphim said tonelessly. “And your… friends.” As Starlight nuzzled their cheeks together, Moondancer’s flushed yet another shade darker. “Please get off of me.”

Prompted by Sunset’s pointed cough, Starlight heaved herself onto her hooves and cleared her throat with gusto. “Right as always, compadre. No time to waste.” She swept her foreleg into a bow towards Moondancer, wiggling her brow for emphasis . “Apres-vous, mon cherie.”

“That’s not even the right…” Before she could finish, Moondancer shook her head and seemed to think better of trying. “The lab’s downstairs,” she said to Sunset and Twilight. “If anything gets broken, I’m not notifying your next of kin.”

With a guiding jerk of her head, Moondancer led the Angels down a spiraling set of stairs, stopping at each landing to dissolve a transparent security wall with a spark of salmon-pink magic. Halfway through a much longer trip than she’d been expecting, Twilight decided to get rid of the awkward silence as well. Even though she’d promised they had the Elements of Harmony under control now and apologized a thousand times since, she got the sense Moondancer still hadn’t totally forgiven them for her old lab’s rather exciting end.

“We really appreciate you doing this on such short notice, Moondancer,” Twilight said. “I’m sure you must be busy with your own plans as well.”

Another blockade fizzled beneath Moondancer’s horn, her brow sinking a little lower with each passing step. “Oh, you know me,” came her terse reply. “The life of every party.”

Ever the optimist, Sunset gave peace a try next. “So besides the wedding prep, what have you been up to lately?”

Moondancer stopped without casting any spells, only turning her head to level a blank stare at Sunset. “I was being sarcastic.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve got a few projects of your own you’re working on,” Sunset went on, hardly missing a beat. “As I recall, you were pretty handy with a soldering torch even back at CGU.”

The Seraphim shrugged—or it might have just been the final step in the staircase jolting through her shoulders. Instead of opening up, Sunset’s friendly demeanor seemed to make Moondancer withdraw even more. “Not really. Nothing important. Just a few case studies, material tests… boring stuff. You wouldn’t be interested.”

“Try me sometime,” Sunset said with a wink. “I’m kind of a sponge for boring stuff.”

Moondancer’s lips twitched, but other than that she didn’t respond. A few more paces revealed a heavy cellar door blocking their way forward, which instead of opening just evaporated like the other barricades before it. Darkness enveloped Twilight as she crossed the empty threshold, but then a final flash of magic flooded the room with light—and left all three Angels speechless.

In a word—and Twilight had real trouble settling on just one—Moondancer’s workshop was literally cavernous. Before her lay a cylindrical underground cave, ringed by knobbly stalagmite formations and wide enough for a whole Royal Guard regiment to stand comfortably in formation. Workbenches and technomagical apparati crowded the room from floor to craggy ceiling, all arranged around a compact central living space complete with table, chairs, and a small foldable cot. Judging by the rumpled state of the sheets and textbooks scattered on top of them, the Seraphim more or less lived down here—and seeing it for the first time now, Twilight had half a mind to join her.

“This… this is incredible,” she gushed, hypnotized by one shiny gadget after another as she absentmindedly wandered forward. “Did you make–”

“Natural cave system inside the mountain,” Moondancer interrupted. “Offshoots run all over the city. I just cleaned this one up a bit.”

“No need to be modest,” Sunset commented, her tone that of someone holding in a low whistle. “It’s really impressive.”

Once again, the Seraphim said nothing. When she looked at her, Twilight saw an odd expression on her face: narrow and tightened up, like she wished she had something to hide behind. “Not like I had much of a choice,” Moondancer eventually replied. “What with you three harmonizing my last place.”

“To be fair, we got better about that,” Starlight called over to them, entranced herself by a blinking device sequestered on a counter by itself. “In densely populated areas, anyway. What’s this thing do?”

“It explodes when you touch it,” Moondancer growled. Starlight blinked once, then let her face split into a grin.

“Cool,” she said, forehoof already halfway outstretched.

“That means don’t touch it!” Moondancer’s livid expression didn’t fade even once Starlight retreated a step. “Why did I even let her in here?” she seethed to herself, storming off towards another display rack set away from all the others. Faced with Sunset’s disapproving glare, Starlight blinked again and gave an innocent shrug.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “She’s got a point.”

After years of knowing her, the near-constant urge to snap at Starlight for something or other had devolved into an occasional weary sigh. While Sunset got hers out of the way, Twilight did her best to pacify the fourth member of their team.

“Sooo, getting back to business… is everything ready?” she asked the Seraphim.

If she’d had room to do it, Moondancer probably would’ve leapt at the chance to change the subject. “And accounted for,” she said through a sigh, inclining her head towards the table she’d stopped in front of. As the Angels crowded in closer, her tone turned dour again. “Bit of a rush job, but I had a few strings saved up to pull. Wouldn’t mind a little overtime pay one of these days, though...”

Moondancer raised her hoof up level with the table—first to smack Starlight’s away, then to point out each item of note. “As per Sunset’s request, I started with the basics: one grappling hook with accompanying nylon line, three all-purpose tranquilizer darts with hoof-mounted launcher, and for emergencies, two crystal fission flash grenades.” She lifted one of the lemon-sized glass grenades from its plastic-and-foam case with her magic, holding it aloft for her guests to examine. “Half-turn the upper hemisphere to arm, three second fuse. Don’t look at it when it goes off if you want to read your own cereal box the next morning.”

As Moondancer slotted the grenade back into place, Twilight threw a pointed glance Sunset’s way. “‘Not even on duty’, huh?” she muttered, to which Sunset replied with a cheeky grin.

“What can I say?” she whispered back. “I’m a creature of habit.”

Moondancer moved down the table, prompting Twilight and company to follow along. “Given the nature of the op, I figured you’d prioritize discretion over utility, so I factored that into the design of these.” Her horn flickered to life again, this time to display a pair of rhinestone-spangled eyeglasses. “When worn, they’ll allow the user to identify any magical anomalies within a radius of forty yards. They’re a bit gaudy for casual wear, but preliminary intel indicates most of the wedding crowd would consider that a compliment, so you and all the hoity-toities should get along famously.”

The glasses bobbed in place for a moment, then soared over into Twilight’s forehoof, just barely out of Starlight’s reach. “Do I have to say it?”

“We’ll… keep them safe,” Twilight replied, carefully tucking the glasses into her saddlebag while Starlight muttered something about having an itch.

“Finally, communication.” Moondancer flipped open one of three velvet-covered jewelry boxes, extracting from within a silver-wired necklace garnished with a violet opal pendant. “Another tricky prospect, all things considered, but manageable enough. Once charged, the stones will act as neuromagical transmitters, allowing you to hear each other speak without drawing any external attention. The matching earrings will help triangulate the signal, so your voice doesn’t end up in the wrong pony’s head.”

Moondancer paused for a moment, her hoof still lifted as if she hadn’t expected to run out of gadgets so soon. “And… that’s it, I guess,” she said as it dropped. “Hope it helps.”

In Twilight’s mind, that settled it: something was definitely off about Moondancer today. She’d always been on the quiet side, but today she looked outright nauseous every time she opened her mouth, even while showing off her own inarguably impressive work.

“I’m sure it will,” Sunset told her. “Thanks so much for doing this, Moondancer. Chalk up another one we owe you for.”

Moondancer’s dismissive grimace cemented Twilight’s opinion, and more than that convinced her to do something about it. “Why don’t you and Starlight work on getting all this packed up?” she suggested to Sunset. “I wanna get a closer look at some of the equipment down here.”

Starlight needed no further encouragement, the flash grenade case already splayed open in her lap the second her name came up. After sharing a glance with Twilight, Sunset nodded and turned her attention to the tranq darts. “Mind if I get the grand tour?” Twilight asked Moondancer, who acquiesced with a weak shrug. Once they’d put a couple humming chemical analyzers between themselves and the other Angels, Twilight made her first move.

“So how was the move-in?” she asked, trailing her hoof along the eyepiece of a microscope. “It must’ve been tough getting all this stuff down here.”

“It was fine,” Moondancer said plainly, offering no further explanation or insight. One in-road down, another one up to bat.

“I really wish we could’ve helped out. Believe me, after that long out on the road, it’d have been a welcome change of pace.” Twilight let her hoof fall to the ground, a smile creeping onto her face as if her next thought had just now occurred to her. “You did get the birthday gift I sent, though, right?”

Even with her lips pulled taut, Moondancer couldn’t hide the satisfied glint in her eye. “I did. It was nice,” she admitted, her eyes flicking over to the velvet-furred teddy bear next to her cot. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Twilight said, giggling at a joke she knew Moondancer would understand. “You don’t know how many times I’ve woken up to write something down and forgotten what it was before I could dig up a quill. Hopefully the Reactive Recording spell I charmed into that little guy will make him worth his stuffing.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Moondancer nearly made it to the edge of the chamber before she noticed Twilight had stopped walking. “What?” she asked as she turned around.

“I think you know what, Moondancer,” Twilight replied, soft enough that Sunset and Starlight wouldn’t overhear. ‘I just wish I did.”

“I’m fine, okay?” Moondancer grumbled.

“I never said you weren’t.”

Moondancer’s mouth popped open, then snapped closed again without a word sneaking out. “Moondancer, come on. You can talk to me,” Twilight went on, an inkling of an idea directing her final plea. “I’ve been your friend just as long as I’ve been theirs.”

And there it was: a crack in the Seraphim’s armor, quickly widening into a chasm. “I… it’s stupid,” she muttered. “I know it’s stupid, you’ve told me it is…”

“But you’re not stupid, Moondancer.” Twilight closed the gap between them as Moondancer stared at her hooves. “And neither is feeling the way you do. This whole thing, the Angels… it’s weird for me too. Weird for all of us.”

“It’s not just that!” Moondancer snapped, but all that came of her outburst was a flush of color in her cheeks. “It could’ve been… I mean, I could have… y’know, just…”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it, but Twilight had heard enough to guess. “You’re right, Moondancer. You could’ve been an Angel with me. A wonderful one. But that doesn’t mean you should’ve been. You didn’t want this. You told me that yourself a year ago, when Celestia first asked me to join.”

“But you did want it,” Moondancer said, nearly in a whisper. “And Sunset wanted it and Starlight wanted it and I… I didn’t.”

There were no tears, but Twilight could see them prickling behind her old friend’s eyes, feel them threatening to break through the barriers she’d built to match the ones outside her house. Suddenly, finally, she understood—and felt her stomach sink with shame for how long it’d taken her to notice. The least she could do now was mend what she’d left unfixed.

“You know when we were choosing our Seraphim, they asked us for a list?” she said. “Seriously. Waited all of thirty seconds after the initiation ceremony to ask, too. We had twenty-four hours to nominate our candidates, and then twelve after that to vet and confirm our pick. You think mythical beasts are bad, try bureaucratic ones.”

Moondancer frowned, nudging her glasses up with her magic. “Am I supposed to be flattered that you settled for me?”

Twilight smiled, a gesture she hoped came off more comforting than secretive. “I wouldn’t call it ‘settling’ by a long shot.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” Moondancer said, sniffing away the last dregs of vulnerability from her voice as she turned to trot away. “Suppose it never hurts to have such a good friend on the inside…”

Before she made it ten feet, Twilight stopped her in her tracks. “I didn’t nominate you,” she told her. “Starlight did.”

Caught in mid-sneer as she was, Moondancer looked at once like she was baffled and about to sneeze. “She… Starlight? Glimmer?”

“Technically, she just beat Sunset to saying it out loud,” Twilight continued. “You know how she gets when she wants to be heard.”

“Well…” Moondancer shut her eyes and shook her head. “Okay, great, so I was on their lists too, but…”

“We never even made one. You were the list, Moondancer. You were the only pony in all of Equestria that any of us wanted for the job.”

The Seraphim deflated like a leaking balloon, her breath leaving her in the form of a winded sigh. Once her lungs emptied, she stood silently in place, shrunk into a crumpled statue with sagging shoulders and twitching lips.

“I’ve known you since magic kindergarten, Moondancer,” Twilight said, her smile growing. “We’ve been study buddies, lab partners, research assistants, even target dummies for each other’s spellwork. Just because Sunset and Starlight are my friends too doesn’t make you any less of one. And just because I’m an Angel now doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how close we were when I wasn’t.”

Reaching out, Twilight found a spot for her hoof to rest next to Moondancer’s stiffened neck. “Or how much you deserve this. Regardless of who your friends are.”

Moondancer scoffed, but she wasn’t any better now at lying than she’d ever been before. As for Twilight, she’d had just about enough of her oldest friend deflecting her own praise. “Come on, really?” she intoned. “You were valedictorian of the only CGU class in history to have three graduates join the Angels. And speaking as one of said Angels, you were my only nominee too. Because on top of being the most absurdly overqualified Seraphim pretty much ever, there’s nopony else in Equestria I wanted by my side more.” Now Twilight shrugged, though hers was purely playful. “Y’know, just for the record.”

At long last, bit by bit, a smile peeked out from beneath the creases lining Moondancer’s face. “Now you’re just being mushy,” she mumbled.

An ugly sound escaped Twilight’s throat, one that she’d later generously remember as a snort. “Go figure,” she muttered half to herself. “Sunset’s much better at this than I am.” Once she saw Moondancer’s brow darken, though, Twilight straightened up again. “You really should give her another chance. I know she comes off a little… magnanimous sometimes, but she really does mean all those nice things she says.”

Moondancer chuckled, this time without hesitation. “Element of Honesty, huh?”

“To a fault,” Twilight agreed. “And Starlight… well, you don’t have to tell me how abrasive she can be. But if you can, try not to take it personally. Weird as it sounds, all that teasing she does is kind of how I know she likes you.”

Moondancer didn’t say anything, and didn’t need to—a single raised eyebrow communicated her thoughts on the matter just fine. Admittedly, she had a bit of a point, but Twilight felt sure she’d come around on Starlight’s good points in due time. After all, Princess Celestia had, hadn’t she? Or so one theory went, anyway. Another was that a thousand years of monarchical control over heaven and earth had given the Princess of the Sun a somewhat twisted sense of humor. And in perfect honesty, there was more evidence supporting that hypothesis than Twilight cared to admit.

In any event, Moondancer had made another good point too: perfect honesty was Sunset’s thing, not hers. As long as her friend was happy, Twilight could live with a couple little white lies of omission. And as anypony could see, Moondancer had perked up by half since she’d first pulled her aside.

She even stayed that way for a good ten seconds, before a tinkling crash rent their tender moment asunder. In fairness, though, that still counted as progress.

“What part of ‘don’t touch it’ didn’t get through?” Moondancer shouted, her voice rising with every step as she tore back across the lab. To her surprise, though—and honestly, Twilight’s a bit too—this mess wasn’t Starlight’s to make. Instead, the Seraphim skidded to a halt in front of the other two Angels calmly organizing the last of their gear—and then staggered back onto her hind hooves as a cobalt-blue blob launched itself into her.

“Moondanceeeeer!” shrieked said blob. “Omigosh omigosh I’m so super-duper excited! The royal wedding’s tomorrow and we all get to be there and I think I broke a lamp or something and the Angels are gonna… Twilight Sparkle! You’re here! C’mere and hug me, ya big hero, you!”

And so Twilight did, not that she had any choice in the matter. When Minuette wanted a hug, Minuette got a hug, and woe be unto anypony who tried to squirm out of the way before she did. As their former classmate latched onto her shoulders and squeezed hard enough to make an earth pony blush, Twilight did her best to return the favor before she lost circulation in her forehooves.

“It’s great to see you too, Minuette,” she wheezed, stepping back so Minuette could bound over to Sunset. “I didn’t expect to see you down here!” After a moment, the full absurdity of that statement sunk in. “How did she get down here?” Twilight whispered to Moondancer.

“She cried until I gave her a master spell,” Moondancer grunted, still wincing from her own enthusiastic greeting. “I’m not good with crying.”

“Ooh, that’s a good grip!” Minuette’s voice came out a little strangled, a byproduct of her battle with Starlight to see who could crush the other’s ribcage first. “Have you been working out?”

“Magic-aided calisthenics, Minnie,” Starlight said once she relented, rolling her shoulders with a proud smirk. “Carves me up like a pumpkin.”

“Well, happy Nightmare Night to you too, then! Yowza!” Minuette sucked in a deep breath and held it for a bit, but even still couldn’t keep from wriggling a bit and squealing deep in her throat. “Oh, isn’t this terrific? The ol’ CGU gang, together again! I practically begged Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine to come down here with me, but they just couldn’t find the time! You know Twinkleshine’s actually working the reception tonight? It’s been all hooves on deck from dawn to dusk the whole week! I mean, she’s thrilled, of course, just over the moon about the whole snazzy setup, but it’s about all she thinks about nowadays. Just talk-talk-talk about this floral arrangement or that hors d’oeuvres display… half the time, I can’t even get two words in! Can you imagine that?”

“I do,” Moondancer muttered under her breath. “Often.”

“But I don’t have to tell you three any of that, huh?” Minuette went on, giving Sunset a vigorous nudge in the shoulder. “Bridesmaids for a royal wedding… goodness, I feel like half a duchess just knowing you! The fanfare, the dresses, the perfect spot to watch the most perfect moment in a beautiful loving couple’s life…” Minuette screwed up her eyes, waving a forehoof in front of them as a hiccup cut through her spiel. “Oh, horseapples, here I go again. Third time today.”

As Minuette’s hard lean into Sunset’s shoulder morphed into a damp hug, Twilight shook her head and laughed. “It’s a big responsibility,” she started to say, “but I’m sure we’ve got everything under contr…”

In a single searing flash, the room went blinding white. Twilight’s hearing followed her vision’s example, all sounds snuffed out save for a distant peal like shattering glass. Heart frozen and lungs shriveled into raisins, Twilight gasped, sputtered, and then shrieked aloud.

“Dresses! Sun-moon-and-stars, we don’t have dresses!”

Sunset cringed as Twilight ripped her saddlebag away, scattering all its contents but the crumpled list of pre-wedding duties. Twilight would’ve sworn she’d triple-checked it. Her lists never failed. They couldn’t fail. In a just and kind world, that wasn’t how checklists worked.

But there was the evidence, clear as crystal before her: guest profiles, chapel reconnoiter, flowcharts of backup plans for every disaster scenario imaginable. All were crossed off, and none were “pick up wedding dresses from literally anywhere that sells them”.

This was bad. This was beyond bad. This was a meteor strike wrapped up in an alien invasion overshadowed by a tidal wave the size of Canterlot Mountain, which she’d just as soon throw herself off of then serve as a bridesmaid for a royal freaking wedding without so much as a–

“–ey, Egghead!”

Twilight snapped her head up, her useless checklist sagging to the ground in shame. “What?” she screamed.

Starlight dropped her hoof from where she’d been waving it, warding off Sunset with the same motion. “Gimme a break, I tried her real name first,” she griped at her, before returning to Twilight. “Dresses were on my to-do list. We’ve got ‘em. Calm your bits.”

“We… but… t-the list…”

With the return of her bodily senses came some of Twilight’s short-term memory as well—specifically the bit about her strategic delegation of wedding-related tasks among the three of them. Which she now recalled had been done so she wouldn’t, to quote Starlight four days earlier, “freak out right before it starts exactly like I’m pretty sure you’re going to anyway”.

Right.

Yeah.

“I should’ve gotten decaf,” Twilight whimpered, sinking onto her haunches in exhausted defeat. She didn’t see much of what happened next, but when she looked up again Starlight had produced a rolling metal display rack—upon which swayed three of the most exquisite, gorgeous ball gowns Twilight had ever seen.

Each matched their respective Angel to a picture-perfect T, stitched and shaded with such immaculate care that from a distance they could’ve stood for the mares themselves. Starlight nudged her own topaz-lined hem out for effect while Minuette gasped at Sunset’s fiery golden-red train, and between the two works of synthetic art hung a sight for Twilight’s aching eyes.

The third dress—her dress—was an iris-violet construction of sleek silk and lace, complemented by a gossamer shawl speckled with a gleaming tapestry of astronomically-accurate constellations spelled out with tiny inlaid amethysts. Mesmerized by it as she was, Twilight almost missed the alabaster square of cardstock tucked underneath its lapel. Extracting it, she saw a note scribbled in looping cursive, and recognized the pensmareship long before she reached the signature at the bottom:

Dearest Angels,

Consider these a gift from your friends down in Ponyville, and yet another token of our thanks and affection. I only ask in return that you continue your tremendous work in service to our kingdom—and, if you’d be so kind, make me look good at the wedding.

Ever yours,

Rarity

“Funny thing is, I didn’t even have to ask for ‘em,” Starlight commented. “Remember Minnie’s old roommate Lyra? Turns out she lives in Ponyville now, and any word out of Minnie’s mouth travels kinda fast. Rarity had these halfway finished before I could even say ‘thanks’.”

Her head still spinning for more than one reason, Twilight took her time mashing a response together in her mouth. “It’s… they’re beautiful,” she managed to whisper, just before Minuette made it clear she was having the opposite problem.

“Well, just don’t stand there gawking!” she said. “Try ‘em on already!”

She didn’t need to tell anypony twice. When Twilight emerged from behind one of Moondancer’s machine banks several minutes later, she saw Sunset and Starlight already dressed near the lab’s entrance, marveling at their wardrobe just as much as she felt like doing herself.

Rarity had taken their measurements a few months back—for “inspirational purposes”, she’d claimed at the time—but Twilight never could’ve expected this as a result. The dress flowed along with her every movement like a second set of skin, flexible where she’d want maneuverability and snug where she’d prefer to be flattered. Instead of awkward or cramped, she felt liberated, like she could take on the world and look fantastic doing it.

“So this settles it,” Sunset said once Twilight approached, setting down her conjured hoof mirror with a firm nod. “We need to be much better friends with Rarity.”

“Told you I had it covered,” Starlight replied, but her boast rang hollow through the giddy grin on her face. Through Sunset’s mirror, Twilight saw no reason to disagree. For the first time since becoming an Angel, she well and truly looked the part.

“They’re perfect,” Twilight declared to Minuette. “We owe you one… or rather, three.” As Minuette nodded and sniffled behind her quivering hoof, Twilight shot Moondancer a smile too. “You too, Seraphim. Will we see you at the ball tonight?”

“Doubt it,” Moondancer said. “Got some research to catch up on.”

Twilight sighed, but bit her lip when she saw Moondancer doing the same. “Your loss.”

“I doubt that too.”

Twilight accepted that response with a playful roll of her eyes. She might as well have read Moondancer’s mind with how much she’d expected to hear that—and when she faced the other Angels again, she wondered whether Sunset had done the same to her own.

“Care to do the honors?” Sunset asked her, Twilight’s checklist already floating by her side. With a pithy glare, Twilight took her up on the offer, summoning a feather pen to assist her with this sacred final task.

“Canterlot Royal Wedding, final prep check. Intel?” She paused a moment to recall all her research, then scratched a check mark next to the appropriate item on the list. “Check. Equipment?”

Sunset tapped the two cases stacked by her side. “Acquired.”

“Attire?”

“Fine as hell,” Starlight confirmed.

Twilight scanned down the list with her pen, stopping once she reached the last item. “Transportation…” She looked up, fixing Sunset with a quizzical glance. “Where’s Spike?”

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. A few seconds after she asked, a distant rumbling boom reverberated through the ceiling, grit showering onto their heads as a faint whiff of ozone trailed down the stairs. After another moment, an angry shout echoed into earshot, indecipherable as language but certainly not lacking in intent.

“Did you really put balefire mines in your front lawn?” Sunset asked Moondancer.

“Not in the lawn, per se,” Moondancer replied. In the silence that followed, she made a face and shook her head. “He’s a dragon. He’ll be fine.”

Another sigh left Twilight’s lungs, but this one did little to dampen her mood. With great satisfaction, she checked off the last item on her list and rolled it up to tuck inside her saddlebag. “We’d better go meet him,” she said. “And fix his tux. See you tomorrow, Minuette.”

“Say hi to Twinkleshine for me!” Minuette gleefully sobbed.

With everything taken care of at last, the Angels made their exit. At the top of the stairs, Twilight reached out with her magic to open the front door, revealing a very put-out—but still slightly smoldering—baby dragon on the stoop, and a carriage for four waiting out on the street. The three mares stopped for a moment, all thinking the same thing.

“Well, here we go,” Starlight said.

“Can’t wait,” Sunset agreed. Both mares looked at Twilight, waiting for an answer to their unspoken question.

“We’re ready,” Twilight declared, trotting forward to follow Spike out to their ride. “Let’s rock this thing.”

And rock it, they hopefully in all honesty wouldn’t. But for now, at least, Twilight wouldn’t have really minded if they did. And that, at least, was something worth coming home for.

Comments

[FZ6pilot]

Oh snap! It is on!

[badninja]

I do not feel sorry for Chrysalis right now, she is about to piss off the wrong three mares.

[Little Voice]

IT LIVES!!!! Thank goodness.
And not only that, but the author also seems to be trying to actually create setting! There are not enough fanfics that do that.

[the other sans]

and sa their host’s icy facade melt

1. Saw.

[EchoWing]

I almost thought Moondancer had been replaced by a Changeling there. Glad that she wasn't, and equally glad that Lyra didn't go unmentioned.

So, Chrysalis is due for a butt-whuppin' eh? *starts making popcorn*

[Greatazuredragon]

Moondancer as the nerdy crazy scientist with all the cool gadgets?
Yeah I can see that.

[Corejo]

This can only end well.

[Snowdrifter]

“Oh, we can.”
“And we’re going to.”
“... really, really hard.”

This right here. Rereading from the beginning since the new chapters went up. Great.

[Snowdrifter]

7064760
Twilight specifically mentioned an 'electrokinetic' spell, which I took to mean SG was using a spell that converted kinetic energy into electricity. At impact, SG would have generated more than, say, 1.21 gigawatts of electrical potential, while giving herself the same electrical charge as protection AND allowing for a survivable landing rather than a Starlight Splat.

Tl;dr: that was awesome, SG! Do it again!
7062476

Probably used a self-levitation spell. She wouldn't even need to be that high, since a freefall at terminal velocity can be attained from as low as 400 feet, and SG could have accellerated far past that.

[MustacheMerlin]

7717992 Too bad there weren't any Delorians around to make use of all that electricity.

[Snowdrifter]

7825447

Watt makes you say that? I'm shocked! Of course, the story still makes me ex-static. I hope the Angels charge forth and demonstrate an untold capacitance for violence. You'll get no resistance from me, I just hope I can keep current with their adventures. It gets me amped up.

[Akwolfgrl13]

Dang it. I keep finding cool stuff thats not been updated in so long its pointless to read it

[New Rebellion]

Ooooh, they've got their own Q-Branch, eh? Well, can't say I'm surprised. And Moondancer is a great choice.

What also isn't surprising is how INCOMPREHENDINGINGLY much I'm LOVING this story!!

Okay, onto the....next....chapter....

....

?

??⁉??

!!!!‼!!!!

WHERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER?!?!?!?

[Dreadnought]

Please update!

[Nitro19]

Good story, would like to know if or when it gets finished though.