• Published 4th Nov 2017
  • 3,698 Views, 562 Comments

Inevitabilities - Sharp Quill



Nearly a year has passed since the events that had brought two realms together. Each had kept the other a secret until now, two worlds separated by a certain cartoon. Finally, both are ready to deal with the inevitable complications.

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27. Purgatory

Discord hovered near the infinite near-ultraviolet plane, struggling with talon and claw to keep the growing bulge of the tube of Equestrian magic under control. Twilight stared at it, undecided.

That bulge continued to grow larger, threatening to spill around the draconequus. Time was running out.

“What will happen if that makes uncontrolled contact with my realm?” Meg asked, hoping it would jolt Twilight out of her inaction.

Twilight’s jaw clenched. “Nothing good.” The alicorn’s horn lit up. “Point out the exact location, Discord.”

“About time,” he muttered. With a hard shove, he pushed the bulge away. As it got pulled back to the plane, he grabbed the leading edge and pulled it to a specific spot. How he could tell that’s where the doll was, Meg hadn’t a clue. It was hard enough to believe that her home was literally a few feet away along a hyper-dimension.

It made contact. Twilight cast the spell, holding her breath as she did so.

She exhaled. “It’s done.”

A tangerine tinge had already appeared at the boundary between four-dimensional space-time and hyperspace. The bulge slowly shrank as magic poured out of it through the Pinkie Pie doll, its then-owners then oblivious to the sequence of events set into motion.

Over the next year, that flow of magic would grow larger and larger, until the Crystal Heart was put at risk. Twilight would be called in to investigate. With Discord’s help, she and Rainbow Dash would cross over to the human world, hoping to find some way of tackling the problem from that end. They would unexpectedly run into Meg and her husband; and because Twilight didn’t read the instructions for those plaid pills, she wouldn’t know that their magic bubbles would switch off in the presence of a sufficiently strong magical field.

One thing would inevitably lead to another; the time loop was complete.

No, that time loop was complete. Meg knew all too well there was at least one other. Maybe two.

Twilight checked the junction one more time. “We’re done here,” she declared. “Let’s go home.”

“Wait.”

Everypony looked at Meg.

“There’s… there’s something I have to tell you. Maybe I should have told you sooner. I don’t know. Or maybe this is the moment the time loop requires.” She shook her head. “Whatever. I can’t think of a more secure place to hold this conversation.”

Steve looked at her with concern. “Meg, what are you talking about?” He pointed at the junction. “It’s done. The time loop is complete.”

“This time loop, yeah.”

A tangerine discoloration spread out from the junction, as magic infiltrated the human world.

Twilight looked like she ate something nasty. “There are more time loops,” she said.

Discord preempted any reply. “I can’t maintain this environment for us indefinitely, you know.”

“We can talk and move at the same time,” Steve suggested.

The draconequus shrugged and started their journey back to the portal.

“What other time loop are you referring to?” Steve continued. “Are you saying you do get kidnapped from your office while we were in Las Pegasus?”

Meg grimaced. “I rather hope not. Maybe I’m in denial. But there’s definitely another time loop, one that has nothing to do with that.” Meg looked straight ahead, avoiding the others’ eyes. “I learned of it when I spoke to Tirek, privately.”

Twilight caught up to Meg. “Wait. You’re telling me Tirek knows about a time loop? Why in Equestria would you keep that from me?”

Discord snorted.

Not for the first time, Meg wondered just how much Discord knew. “No,” she said. “He doesn’t know about a time loop—well, he gave me no reason to think he does. But…”

Twilight’s eyes bore into her. “But what?”

“He recognized me, okay? He called me Common Ground.”

“You don’t even use that name,” Steve pointed out.

“Oh, it gets better—much better.” She returned Twilight’s glare. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you? Because—apparently—I’m the one who broke him out of Tartarus a few years ago. Satisfied?”

Twilight’s jaw dropped.

“No, I don’t know why and I don’t know how—well, I guess I do know why. Because it’s a fucking time loop.”

Discord hummed a little tune to himself, pretending to ignore the heated conversation.

Twilight stammered. “It’s… that’s… there’s no way you can do that on your own. Even I can’t send you back several years on my own.”

Discord gave them a little wave.

“Oh, it gets even better,” Meg said, not paying any attention to the draconequus. “You’re right, I didn’t do it on my own. Sunset Shimmer was a co-conspirator. Tirek was disappointed when he didn’t see her with me.”

Twilight threw her a disbelieving look. “Sunset Shimmer.”

“No, I haven’t told her about this. I tried dropping a hint or two… whatever. Do you see my problem?”

Twilight did not immediately answer. They continued on through the infinite silence of the hyper-dimensional void. Eventually, Discord paused to rotate everypony into alignment with the portal. They continued their journey.

Twilight broke the silence. “Do you know when you’ll be going back in time to free Tirek?”

“Not a clue. Could be tomorrow, could be a decade from now.”

“I can safely rule out tomorrow,” Twilight said in an attempt at humor.

Nopony laughed.

“For what it’s worth, Tirek didn’t mention how much younger I looked, so it can’t be too far into the future.”

The portal could be seen in the distance, a small but brightening dot.

Twilight ignored it. “That still gives us plenty of time to look into this. Given the nature of time loops, we’ll probably stumble upon the necessary information in due time. Maybe I can get Tirek to volunteer some context once he’s out.” She shook her head. “If he’s released. But this certainly offers a fresh perspective on the unsolved mysteries surrounding his breakout. And we shouldn’t rule out other possibilities, however improbable. Perhaps neither you nor Sunset had anything to do with it.”

Meg sighed. “Just like it might not have been me who was kidnapped from my office. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, Twilight, I think it’s time to stop the denial and face the facts.”

Twilight remained silent.

The dot had resolved into a rectangle. Steve looked at it with concern. “Shouldn’t we have been worried about anyone stumbling through that portal?”

“I don’t see why,” Twilight said. “Sunset’s the only one who could pass through it, and it’s a fact that she hadn’t, therefore she wouldn’t.”

“Right,” Steve said. “I remember now. All attempts to bring artifacts through the mirror failed.”

“Nothing is real in that realm, apart from ourselves,” Discord said.

Someday Meg wouldn’t mind digging into the substance of the rules underlying that realm, but this day was not that day. She kept quiet. No one else said anything either, the approaching portal seemingly silencing all conversation.

They stopped before it. No signs of activity could be heard.

“So now what?” Meg asked.

“I’ll go first,” Twilight said, “to see if the coast is clear.”

There were no objections. Her presence would raise the fewest questions should she be spotted.

She passed through. Seconds later, her voice drifted through the portal. “It’s clear. You can come through.”

Meg went through, prepared to land on two feet; knowing what to expect made the transition easier. Steve came through next, almost tripping over his feet. The last one through, out of necessity, was Discord. Meg never could understand why he, alone, did not change form as he passed through these portals. But right then she couldn’t care enough to ask about that either.

Now that they had all reassembled, Twilight peeked around the base of the statue. “Let’s go.”

They followed her to the opposite side of the statue. No one was around to see them. Probably they were all recovering from that battle. Or something.

Twilight stuck her hand through the base—but hit solid concrete instead. She waved away the pain. “Nothing wrong with hooves,” she muttered.

Discord walked up to the statue. “Give me a second.” He put his paw on the base. It briefly glowed. “That should take care of that.” But he didn’t walk through.

Twilight shot him a questioning look. “It’s open, right?”

“Quite so,” he said. “You may pass through.” His face bore a pained expression. “I, however, need to close that other portal before departing this realm myself.”

He walked away towards the school.

“Why?” Steve asked. “Nothing here can pass through it anyway except for Sunset, and we know she didn’t.”

Meg walked up to the statue. “It was closed when Discord and I were last here—in the future.” That was the source of his pain, she knew: he had no choice but to close it.

“Oh.”

She went through the portal and landed on four hooves.

Cadance was the only pony in the room. She put down the paperwork she was reading.

Twilight emerged next.

“That portal’s been closed for half an hour,” Cadance said to her.

She gave her a smug smile. “Not a problem for Discord.”

“Do I want to know?”

Steve came through.

She gave her an apologetic look. ”You’ll find out eventually.”

“I… see,” Cadance said. “Did you accomplish what you set out to do?”

Twilight downcast her eyes. “We… did,” she said. “And as soon as Discord comes back, we’ll return to the future.”

“We’re not quite done here,” Meg said. “There’s still a loose end we need to tie up.”

Twilight grimaced. “Yes, you’re right. I almost forgot.” She addressed her former foal-sitter. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“You must Pinkie Promise not to tell the present me or my friends anything about this trip through time. You can’t tell Shining or anypony else either. Not until after we depart for this trip does this promise expire.”

“And if you explicitly ask me as part of your preparations for this trip? What do I say?”

“That I made you Pinkie Promise not to tell me. I know it’s a bit silly, but that’s what you told me, so in the interests of a stable time loop I must ask you to do so.”

“I see. I guess I don’t really have a choice then.” She began to say something then stopped. “How do I… ‘Pinkie Promise?’”

“Right. You don’t know what that is.” Twilight went through the motions as she said, “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Cadance couldn’t suppress a giggle.

“Just do it… please?”

She stood at attention, as serious as can be. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” Then she broke down in giggles.

As Cadance recovered her composure, the other three turned to the mirror.

“How much longer do you think he’ll be?” Steve asked.

“No idea,” Twilight said.

“It shouldn’t take him too long,” Meg said, “if it’s anything like what he did…” She glanced briefly at Cadance. “…you know.”

They watched the mirror in silence.

“Any chance your past self will stumble upon us in here?” Steve asked.

“I don’t come back to inspect this thing until tomorrow. None of the others will come back here today either.”

Meg walked up to the mirror and attempted to tap its surface. It was still open, her hoof passing through it. “How does it wind up in the Crystal Ballroom’s storage closet?”

“Why would it wind up there?” Cadance asked.

“To keep it out of the way,” Twilight said. “That’s what you told me—will tell me.”

“I honestly have no idea why I would do that.”

Meg shook her head, sighing. “Isn’t it obvious, Twilight? Because we ask her to. It’s part of the time loop, to have that mirror moved to the farthest spot from anywhere else in this castle. In an unguarded and not particularly secured location—not that anything will happen to it, as we know. Where it would take the longest for the effects of the you-know-what to be noticed.”

Twilight’s jaw went slack.

“You-know-what?” Cadance asked.

Meg stepped towards her. “All we can say is that when those effects are eventually noticed, you bring Twilight here to investigate—and tell her nothing. Just bring her up to the ballroom to investigate a mysterious anomaly.”


Twilight dropped the shield. The royal guest room appeared around them. The door was closed. Nopony else was there waiting for their return.

“Three and a half hours have passed,” Steve said, pointing at the ornate clock on the wall. “As predicted, the return point moved forwards in time in lockstep with us in the past.”

Discord yawned. “As fascinating as this exposition must be to some ponies, I have other business to attend to.” He vanished.

Meg looked at the space formerly occupied by the draconequus. “Like what, I wonder?”

“You should know better than to ask,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go find Cadance and my brother.”

The door opened, revealing the aforementioned ponies. “Did you just get back?” Cadance asked upon seeing them. “I’d figured you’d be gone for as long as you were in the past, if you hadn’t returned immediately.”

Twilight went over to her and gave her an embrace. “We did. There’s so much to talk about, now that we can talk about it.”

“There certainly is,” Shining declared, only having just been fully informed on what was going on. He looked around. “Where’s Discord?”

“Gone,” Meg said. “I think we were boring him.”

“Never mind that,” Cadance said. “What about the leak? Who bound it to that doll?”

Twilight turned away, looking down at her hooves. “I did.”

Her brother took a step forward. “You did?”

“There was nopony there. Just us. We had no choice.”

“I told her to do it,” Meg said. “For what it’s worth.”

Shining looked at his sister with disbelief. “Of course you had a choice! If nopony was there, nothing stopped you from sealing that leak right then.”

Twilight sighed. “No, Shiny, we didn’t have a choice. Not really. We ran experiments that attempted to change the past, to create temporal paradoxes, and every single time we failed. I have no idea what would’ve stopped us from sealing that leak, or somehow forced us to bind it to that doll, but that binding would have happened.”

If she hadn’t done it then, that magic leak would have made uncontrolled contact with their realm. Perhaps that would have forced them to go back later and do it properly, after first cleaning up the mess. It was hard to say. That was the problem. Forcing the wave function collapse to pick one of an unimaginably huge number of extraordinarily unlikely and equally unlikely to be desirable outcomes, because they refused to do the sensible thing that would lead to an otherwise likely outcome… it just wasn’t a good idea.

She collapsed to her haunches. “Better that it happens on our terms.”

Cadance placed a hoof on Twilight’s withers. “Does it really matter? It all worked out in the end. All it means is that we can put it behind us. No more mysteries left to solve, nopony to bring to justice.”

Twilight looked up and gave her a half-hearted smile. “Would you believe there might be other time loops we have to deal with?”

Other time loops?”

It was Meg’s turn to collapse to her haunches. “You’re gonna love this one.”


A minotaur unlocked and opened the door at the back of the building. Reddish-orange light flooded the corridor. “You have thirty minutes,” he said.

Meg went through the door and into the courtyard. Solid rock enclosed it on all sides. High above, buildings covering the “ceiling” could be seen peeking through the pillars of rock, which rose from the walls and curved to meet in the center, preventing any escape by air—as if what passed for flight magic in Tartarus gave her that option to begin with.

“Look who’s joined us.”

It was Jackson. All five of them were there.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “There must have been a mistake. Twilight will fix it.”

He laughed. “Just keep telling yourself that.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

The human stalked her. “You broke Tirek out of here.”

She backed away. “I had no choice! The past is immutable!”

He sneered at her. “Then you shouldn’t have become a pony.” He turned and walked away.

Meg shivered. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, tapping his fist against the Tree of Harmony in the middle of the courtyard, “that that’s the price you paid for accepting your destiny from this thing.”

The Tree of Harmony, somehow rejecting the prevailing illumination, sparkled and shimmered in cool colors.

“No. No, this isn’t my destiny. I’m not rotting in this place for the rest of my life.”

“Believe what you want,” he said with a shrug. “Us humans get to make our own destiny. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

Meg stared at the crystalline tree. “What do you want from me?!”

The Tree of Harmony was silent.

“Answer me!”

Three ropes descended from the upper branches. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo slid down from above, making flawless simultaneous touchdowns.

Sweetie Belle inspected herself and the others. “No pine sap!”

“Duh,” scoffed Scootaloo. “It’s a crystal tree!”

“Well, it could still have crystal sap!”

“What in tarnation is crystal sap?”

Meg couldn’t believe her eyes. “Girls? What in Tartarus are you doing here?”

Apple Bloom beamed. “Getting our cutie marks in Tartarus escapes, of course!”

All three fillies raised a hoof and did a simultaneous hoof-bump. “Cutie Mark Crusaders Tartarus Escape Artists YAY!!!”

Beggars couldn’t be choosers. If it got her out of this place, she’d take it. Anything to get herself to Twilight.

The Crusaders galloped to the still open door to the prison building. The five humans ran after them. “What did I tell you!” proclaimed Jackson.

“Hey!” Meg belatedly galloped after them. Before she could reach the door, it slammed shut.

Furious at the unfairness of it all, she returned to the Tree of Harmony. “Answer me!

“Your destiny has been fulfilled.”

Meg spun around and faced Princess Celestia.

“You broke Tirek out of this prison,” the alicorn continued. “All that remains is for you to take his place in his former cell.”

All hope died. “Didn’t Twilight explain? It was a time loop. It couldn’t be changed!

Celestia tilted her head. “A predestination paradox is no excuse for committing an inexcusable crime.”

Be silent, sister!

Celestia did as commanded.

“I must confess that was inappropriately pleasurable,” Luna said in a softer voice.

Meg looked in confusion between Celestia, the Tree of Harmony, the prison building, and finally back at Luna. “It’s a dream, isn’t it?”

Princess Luna nodded and walked towards her. “It is.”

Meg thought quickly as Luna approached. Twilight had yet to inform Celestia of her alleged role in Tirek’s escape, so Luna couldn’t know about it either. What the princess had just witness didn’t count; she more than most would be aware of the unreality of dreams. What should she tell her?

“First, let me assure you that this shall not happen.” The Princess of the Night’s horn glowed, and around them everything dissolved away. Replacing it was a modest meadow, surrounded by woodlands and split in two by a burbling stream. The air was crisp and refreshing, and cheerful birds sung in the distance.

The serene surroundings did little to improve Meg’s mood. “Don’t be so sure. You haven’t heard what I supposedly did—will do.” Meg collapsed to the soft grass. “Whatever.”

“And you would be wrong. I just finished a conversation with Twilight while she dreamt; that is why I am here.”

That solved one problem. “How do you think Celestia will take it?”

“Even if you do go back in time to break Tirek out of prison, there is no conceivable way you did so on your own—and I am not just referring to the help of Sunset Shimmer. If and when it comes to pass, you shall indubitably have our forbearance, maybe even our blessing.”

Meg had not the energy to lift her head. “Blessing. How can you say that?”

The princess lay down on the grass in front of Meg. “While these actions may lie in your future, the consequences are in everypony’s past—literal history. Tirek’s rampage caused much suffering, it is true, but that suffering was short-lived. One could argue that we are better off than if it had never happened.”

Meg somehow lifted her head. “Seriously? Is this some sort of ‘what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger’ crap?”

Luna tilted her head. “Surely you already know? It led to Discord’s true reformation. Twilight and her fellow Elements gained their rainbow powers—without which you would not now be a magical pony—and Twilight herself gained her castle.”

Meg’s head dropped back to the luxuriant grass. “It doesn’t matter. The past’s immutable. It’s gonna happen whether you bless it or do your best to prevent it.”

“Indeed. Twilight was quite emphatic about that. If it must happen, then it is best that it happens on our terms.”

“And what if I refuse to do it?”

Luna took a moment to tweak the dreamscape. Colorful flowers populated the meadow. “It is possible that others taking your and Sunset’s forms broke him out. How their camouflage could function in Tartarus’ restrictive magical field is a valid question. Perhaps by combining human science with magic? You have the means to clone individuals, do you not?”

Meg groaned. “Today? No. But if we’re dragging time travel into it… in the future, almost certainly. We can clone some animals already.”

“I think you can see the point. Whoever these hypothetical actors might be, we cannot depend on their motivations being compatible with our interests. By refusing to do it yourself, you might well force them into existence.”

That wasn’t exactly how quantum mechanics worked, but the point stood regardless. Meg put her hooves over her head. “And the same applies to my alleged kidnapping at the hands of The Section. You can’t do anything about that nightmare.”

“We shall see. I can assure you that we will do what we can to make it happen on our terms.”