• Published 8th Jun 2020
  • 863 Views, 239 Comments

Ruler of Everything - Sixes_And_Sevens



The Doctor seeks a way to communicate with the TARDIS, but it backfires horribly. With the biggest heroes in the world trapped in a mental prison, it falls to the reassembled CMC to save all of time.

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The Web of Fear

Button shifted awkwardly in his seat, trying desperately to get comfortable. Even with the natural padding he’d gained from three years of sitting at a desk fidgeting with wires, the wood barely concealed beneath the train’s ugly green upholstery seemed to press into his bones. The train he was taking from Copper Hills to Baltimare was a decidedly economic affair-- not something anypony would want when traveling cross-country. Unfortunately, one seat on a cheap train had been all that his team could afford.

Well. He said ‘his team’. He was the only one left. The others had been tempted away by promises of greater resources and bigger paychecks, and Button had been left all on his own, save for the mice living in his empty lab space. He didn’t actually mind the mice. He gave them cheese every now and again, and in return they helped him run wires and craft delicate circuits. He would miss the mice, but even they wouldn’t be able to drag him back to that lab. He was leaving Copper Hills for good. The competition was getting too cut-throat, the secrecy was threatening to boil over, the CEOs were getting crazier by the day, and Button had gotten a distinct feeling that as an earth pony, he was considered a second-class technomancer.

He grinned. Second-class or no, earth pony or no, headhunting his teammates or no, he was still the one out of all of them to revolutionize video game controls first. He patted the lumpy carry-on bag he’d brought along, containing a mystery novel, his old JoyBoy, and too many screwdrivers and tools to count. The most important thing in the bag, though, was his pride and joy, the result of years of work. Joysticks and d-pads were great for a lot of games, but ponies had started asking for more interactive controls. He and a group of like-minded engineers had gathered together to give the ponies what they wanted, and only he had stayed on the project long enough for it to come to fruition.

So now he was the only one on the train, the only one going to Baltimare, the only one bringing the future of game controllers to the masses.

His smile slipped. He was the only one.

He hauled himself to his hooves, slipping his bag over his head to rest on his back. If he was going to be riding this cheap train all the way across the continent, he might at least take the opportunity to get a little walking in.

Button managed to stroll up and down the length of his train car a whole seven and a half times before he was utterly bored. He saw an old mare sitting alone in a cabin and trotted in with the intention of starting a friendly conversation, but found she was asleep. All the other cabins in the car were either full up or empty.

In the absence of anypony around to talk with, Button decided that he might as well make up for the breakfast he’d missed catching the train. He pushed through the carriage door and stepped carefully over the gap and into the dining car.

Given the… he decided to call it ‘frugality’… of the trip, he wasn’t surprised to find that his only options were grapefruit halves or a pile of wheat. Disappointed, sure, but not surprised. He took the wheat and a large glass of water and sat down at an unoccupied table. He had quite the pick of them.

Sometimes he wished he had never left Ponyville. He could close his eyes and remember his childhood summers, the grass under his hooves, the taste of fresh apples right off the tree, the laughter of his friends, and the smell of tree sap that would never ever leave him, no matter how hard he tried.

But if he had never left, he could never have done what he had done, made what he had made. He wouldn’t be on his way to technology expo in Baltimare, he wouldn’t be on the cusp of fame and fortune, he wouldn’t be set for wealth like he’d never seen before.

That had to mean something. It had to. Didn’t it?


Apple Bloom sat down in the crook of two trees growing into one another and faced a third. She smiled. “Howdy, Winona.”

The sapling that the Apples had planted on top of their loyal farmdog’s grave gave no reply, but the branches swayed a little in the wind. Apple Bloom smiled at the tree, and for a moment, she saw a familiar wet black nose and floppy, furry ears.

“Ah hope y’all are bein’ a good girl fer Ma an’ Pa,” she said, mock-sternly. She leaned back against the pear tree and patted the bark. “An’ Ah hope Grampa Jonagold’s behavin’ himself over there, an’ you just give his tail a tug if he ain’t.”

She just sat there for a long moment, listening to the leaves rustle. “What’s it like, in the Greener Pastures?” she mused aloud. “Granny always says ev’rypony ya love turns up there eventually. Ah heard tell from Rainbow that th’ pegasi all go to the Wild Blue Yonder. Bet they’re really the same place. Where do ya reckon unicorns go?”

She thought about that, then shrugged. “Ah, who cares what it’s called. Don’t reckon they ain’t connected somehow. Wouldn’t be right otherwise. And wherever zebras go, an’ dragons too.” She smiled. “An’ dogs.”

The branches rustled, shaking like a wagging tail. Apple Bloom cleared her throat. It was very sticky all of a sudden. “Anyhow, Ah bring this up fer a reason. Cousin Braeburn tole me Appaloosa was in search of somepony who kin fix things up right, or mix up a nice cure fer whatever ails ya, or what have ya. So Ah’m goin’ there. This fall. Mah own Greener Pastures on Gaea, in manner of speakin’.”

She could feel the confused puppy eyes on her, hear the sad doggy whine. “This is gonna be good fer me,” she said firmly. “At th’ end of summer, Ah’m goin’ to Appaloosa. Give me a chance t’ really stretch out, practice mah skills.”

The dogwood sapling was perfectly still. Apple Bloom refused to take that as a sign. She might talk to her dead dog, but she wasn’t quite so far gone as to expect Winona to talk back. Not really, not yet. “Cadence’s fanny, Ah gotta get off this farm,” Bloom muttered. “Ah’m drownin’ in th’ past.”

She pushed herself out roughly from the crick of the trees and stormed out of the grove, feeling oddly betrayed. Behind her, the entangled trees rustled their leaves.


Twilight set down her coffee cup gently on the table, staring thoughtfully at the ambassador from Griffonstan. “I must say, madam, you are not who I was expecting.”

The griffon smiled; perhaps not as politely or as thinly as most ambassadors would have preferred, but she was rather new to the job. “I hear that a lot, yes.”

“Would it be terribly impertinent of me to ask why you were declared head of the diplomatic corps? Merely personal interest, you understand.”

“Mm.” The ambassador slugged back her coffee, then set it down roughly on the table. “Well, aside from being a fairly major part of the Griffish cultural revolution, it turns out I'm also related to some of the old folk heroes; probably not King Grover, directly, but hey. I'm milking it for all I've got. It also probably helped that I’m one of the few griffons that has pony friends who hasn’t also left Griffonstan altogether. So, y’know, I already have some experience with the culture.”

“Refreshingly honest.”

“Hey, I’m willing to level with you if you’re willing to level with me. I don’t have any patience for bureaucracy or that much diplomatic training. I’m just a chick trying to do what’s best for my country.”

“Naturally. It won't always run quite as smoothly as all that, of course, but I’m certain that we can work together amicably in the future.” Twilight smiled slightly. “Is there anything in particular that needs discussing immediately?”

“Several things, yeah. But given that Griffonstone’s been stagnant since before my great-granny was an egg, I think they can wait for the official meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

“Excellent. Then we’ll adjourn for the day.” Twilight visibly relaxed. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Gilda.”

The griffon grinned, the tension leaving her shoulders. “Yeah, you aren’t so bad yourself, for a nerd. I’m gonna go hit up Dash.”

“Try to avoid causing an international incident,” Twilight said as she cleared up the cups and saucers.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The griffon pushed open the door and walked out.

Twilight watched her go, shaking her head in bewilderment. For the past… good grief, had it been ten years since she had become princess? Almost eleven, really. For that long, she’d been stuck dealing with hidebound traditionalists that made the Apple Family look like a bunch of bohemians. In the past three years, though, the youth of Griffonstan had made it quite clear that they felt that following in the clawsteps of their elders was what had crashed their country into the ground in the first place. A cultural revolution had taken place, and revolution was certainly the word for it. Guerrilla attacks on the capitol, protests in the streets, ceremonial bonfires burning effigies representing tradition and blind obedience. There had been less violence than most Equestrian journalists or politicians had predicted, but the coup had been far from bloodless.

Gilda had been at the forefront of that revolution. From what Twilight had heard, the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ friend, Gabby, had also been a major player in the affair. And it seemed that they had won, or at least been appeased for a time. Griffo-Equestrian relations had certainly become more open, and at least some of the hidebound traditionalists had apparently been replaced by griffons like Gilda. It was surreal. But that was life. Moreover, that was politics. The battle, as far as she could tell, was still raging in the halls of the Griffish legislature, all the way to what passed for the ruling council itself. The only difference was that it was no longer being fought with clubs and swords. The most decisive battles rarely were.

Twilight began to levitate all the coffee things back onto the tray when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Odd. Gilda had never struck her as the type to knock, ambassador or no. “Come in.”

The door swung open, revealing a slightly-more-red-faced-than-usual farmer. “Oh, hi, Mac. Pronouns?”

“She,” Mac replied, trotting in briskly, smiling faintly at the princess.

Twilight and Macintosh regarded each other for a long, silent moment. Twilight coughed. “So, uh, what’s up?”

Mac froze. She really hadn’t thought this far ahead. “Uh, books,” she said.

Books? she thought internally. Really, Mac? You look at this mare and all you can say is ‘books’?

Twilight, however, brightened right up. “Oh, of course! Let me just clear up the table here and I’ll be right with you.”

Mac started forward. “Lemme help ya with that,” she started to say.

Twilight smirked. There was a flash of light, and the tea service was gone. “Thanks, but I got it.”

The red mare stared, jaw slightly agape. “Uh… hm.”

Twilight’s proud grin dissolved into a genuine smile. “You were saying, about a book?”

“Uh, eeyup. History. Ah’d like ta read up on some history.”
“Right. Okay.” Twilight nodded. “So, uh, what kind of history are you looking for? Apple family records or…”

Mac shook her head. “Nope. Lookin’ fer some hist’ry of math.”

“Okay,” Twilight said readily. “Uh… well, we’ve got the Principia, of course…”

“Got it at home.”

That threw her. “Really? Wow. I didn’t know anypony else in town had read it. What did you think?”

Mac sucked on her teeth for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Well, now,” she said. “Ah reckon Ah thought it was purty good. That there Fig Newton knew what he was talkin’ bout. Some o’ th’ calculus though… well, Ah dunno.”

“Oh, do you not understand calculus? I can show you some textbooks--”

“Oh, ah understand calculus,” Mac corrected. “Just, Ah thought it was a li’l derivative.”

Twilight stared. Then, she snorted. “Okay, that was a good one,” she sighed.

Mac grinned sheepishly. “Thanks. Bin sittin’ on that one fer awhile now. But, if y’all have any other historical math books…”

“I think I can muster up just a couple,” Twilight said, smiling. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Mac followed Twilight over to a staircase recessed into the opposite wall. It wound around and around in a tight spiral. “Never knew this was here,” Mac said.

“It wasn’t. Sombra built it. Apparently, he’s really very good at building stairs.”

“Huh.” Mac kicked the wall. “Nice’n solid. Think he’d fix up th’ stairs up to th’ hay loft?”

“Apparently, he only knows how to work in crystal. So, probably not.”

“Shoot.”

“Couldn’t Apple Bloom do it? I mean, I’ve seen her do some incredible things. Surely she could fix up some rickety old stairs.”

Mac sighed. “Prob’ly so. Ah ain’t asked.”

Twilight frowned. “Why not?”

Mac gave a helpless shrug. “She’s always so busy. An’ she wants ta move off th’ farm fer good. Outta town, even. She’s destined fer better than fixin’ old stairs.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Twilight said sharply, pushing open a door and leading Mac into the library. “Your family is a vital part of Ponyville’s history, and moreover, you're some of the nicest ponies I’ve ever known. I’m sure that Apple Bloom is proud to be an Apple. I certainly would.”

She paused, then grinned at Mac sheepishly. Mac smiled back. “Well, that’s right nice of y’all, Twi.”

Twilight went quite pink and turned away. “Math history, right? Let’s just see now, it should be right this way.”

Mac gazed up at the towering crystal bookshelves. They were very close together. Twilight slipped in between them easily enough. She took a deep breath and squeezed herself into the narrow gap.

“Sorry if it’s a little claustrophobic,” Twilight called, not looking back. She couldn’t, really, not in these quarters. “I’m reorganizing.”

“It’s fine,” Mac said, quietly hoping that she wasn’t knocking over too many books as she squeezed by them. “Er, reorganizin’ how?”

“I’m switching from the Library of Canterlot revised edition to Crisp Foil’s method of organizing all the books according to publisher,” Twilight said happily. “That should put paid to ponies saying they can’t find anything in my library.”

Mac coughed. “Ah don’t reckon you ever thought ‘bout jus’ using Dewhoof Decimal?”

Twilight stopped dead and Mac quickly put on the brakes before she could collide with her. “Macintosh Apple, you’re a dear friend and a wonderful pony. But I need you to never, ever say that to me again.”

“Eeyup,” Mac said quickly.

Twilight relaxed and started forwards again. “Anyway, I haven’t organized this section yet, so the books you wanted should be right… here!”

She tried to gesture to the shelf, but bashed her hoof on it instead. She recoiled and nodded at the books instead before lighting her horn. In a flash of light, she was facing Mac, grinning up at the taller mare. “See anything you like?”

You, Mac thought.

She made an effort to turn her head and was just about able to read the titles on the spines. “Uh, what’s ‘Much Ado ‘bout Nothin’’?”

Twilight craned her neck to look. “Oh, that’s the history of zero. It’s a surprisingly interesting read, actually.”

“Ah’ll take it. Er, iffin y’all kin reach it.”

Twilight lit her horn and tucked the book into Mac’s saddlebags. Twilight matched her gaze for a moment longer, and the farmer felt her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings. Those amethyst eyes, that sweet little smile, Celestia above that brain— how the Sam Hill did she not have a partner when she was so pretty an’ smart an’ kind an’—

“Mac?”

Deep green eyes blinked, dispelling the glaze over them. “Huh?”

Twilight was looking at her in concern. “Are you alright?”

There was a pregnant pause. “Ah don’t think Ah kin turn around.”

Twilight’s face fell. “Oh. Didn’t think about that. Um, can you go backwards?”

Mac tried to take a step back and stumbled. “Nope. Too tight.”

She frowned. “Oh-kay. I’m going to try and side-along teleport you. Can you take my hoof?”

Mac nearly short circuited, but she managed to pass that off as struggling to get unstuck. And then, glory of glories, she was holding Twilight’s hoof! She felt electric, like lightning was arcing over her skin, and her stomach was full of butterflies, and she was light and air and nothing else--

Or maybe that was just how being teleported usually felt. Mac stumbled as she was released from the constraints of the shelves and crashed right into Twilight. “Oh, gosh! You alright?” Mac asked.

In response, Twilight pushed back against the farmer, and Mac found herself stumbling backwards. Twilight grinned. “Alicorn, super-strength, yeah.”

Mac just stood there, quietly stunned. “See you later at the party, Mac,” Twilight said, trotting away. “I gotta go do, um, princess stuff. Enjoy the book.”

“Eeyup.”

As soon as she was out of sight, Mac fell back on her flanks. “She held mah hoof,” she whispered, staring at the appendage. “Ah can’t believe it!”


Twilight turned into the nearest darkened room she could find and shut the door after her. She quickly lit her horn and checked the corners, just to make sure nopony was hiding in there; Sombra liked to use dark, unused places to help him gather his thoughts, though Twilight wasn’t sure if he wasn’t just sulking.

Just to make extra sure, she put a soundproof bubble over herself. Then, grinning giddily, she held up her hoof and stared at it. “I held her hoof!” she crowed. “I actually got her to let me hold her hoof! EEEEE!”


The trek from Sweet Apple Acres was long, but not arduous. It was a gentle, sloping trail that circled down the hill from the farmhouse, winding through acres of gorgeous apple trees. Today was particularly gorgeous; the trees were blossoming in the warmth of early summer, the sky was clear and blue, and the dew shimmered on the grass like droplets of glass.

Apple Bloom, unfortunately, was in no mood to enjoy it. She stormed down the trail, feeling betrayed. She didn’t even know what she was meant to feel betrayed by, and that only made her angrier.

She stopped in the middle of the road and took a deep breath. She was on her way to see two of her best friends. She couldn’t turn up steaming like a kettle, it wouldn’t be right on them. When she thought about it, it wouldn’t be right on herself, either. This was meant to be a nice day, one she was taking for herself, Scootaloo, and Dinky. Letting her own worries get in the way of that would only hurt her friends and herself.

She let out the breath she had been holding in a single huff. There would be time enough for frustration later. She would go tell her friends about her plans instead. They would support her.


Button was just heading back to his carriage when the train jolted under his hooves. He toppled, and in a moment of panic-driven clarity, he spun the bag of his priceless prototypes around his barrel so they would fall on top of his bulk, rather than the other way round. He cried out as the bag fell on his ribs.

As he struggled to right himself, he found a pair of hooves helping him up. He smiled up at his savior; the old mare who had been sleeping alone earlier. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.

She smiled at him. “Not at all, dearie. I always help ponies up when they’ve had a fall. Someday, they might be doing the same for me.” She nodded significantly. “Have you any idea why we’ve stopped?”

“No, not really.” Button poked his head out the window. “Oh.”

The old mare frowned. “Oh?”

“It looks like a tree fell on the tracks ahead,” Button said, pulling his head back into the train. “Oh, man, I’m gonna be late getting to Baltimare.”

“Why don’t you come and sit with me for awhile?” the old earth pony suggested. “I wouldn’t mind a little company while we wait for the tracks to be cleared.”

Button smiled. “That sounds great.”

He learned that her name was Tea Cozy, and she was moving to Ponyville to take care of her sister’s house, now that said sister had retired to Copabanana with her wife. When Button mentioned he was from Ponyville himself, she was delighted, and immediately began peppering him with questions. He did his best to answer them all, and asked a few of his own. He learned that she had never had children of her own, but had been a schoolteacher for a number of years; that she enjoyed knitting, tea, and novels; that she was planning on renting out rooms in her sister’s house to bring in a little money on the side.

Eventually, the conductor entered. Her mane was a mess, and her coat was spattered with grease and gunge. “Well, folks, d’you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Save the best for last,” Tea Cozy decided.

“Well, the bad news is, when we braked for the tree on the line, we had to do it fast. Very fast. The engine isn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future.”

Button’s face fell. “And the silver lining?”

“We’re near enough to Ponyville that the stationmaster is sending out carts to take you there. You’ll be able to make it to your intended destination maybe thirty hours late, max.”

Button bit back a cry of dismay. Thirty hours would still get him to Baltimare a day before the tech conference started, he reminded himself. Maybe he wouldn’t get a very nice hotel room, but that was okay. He smiled as the conductor withdrew. “Well, Miss Cozy, it looks like I’ll be able to show you around Ponyville for a little while.”

He was startled to see her frowning at him. “Something wrong?”

“Your side,” she said, gesturing to where the bag had struck him. “It’s getting quite the bruise.”

Button touched his side gingerly and winced. “Yeah, that’s gonna look great,” he sighed.

“It might very well be worse than that,” the old mare said sternly. “It could very well be a cracked rib! Here, let me…”

Tea Cozy pulled out her saddlebags from where she’d stowed them under her seat and rifled through it. With a triumphant chuckle, she pulled out a roll of bandage. “I always keep a couple rolls on me, just in case I have a tumble,” she explained. “Here, take some.”

“I couldn’t. What if you fell and broke a bone and didn’t have any bandages?”

She waved away the question. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of first-aid supplies. One can never be too careful, you know.”

She held out the bandages again, and Button took them gratefully, winding them around his barrel. “Make sure it’s tight,” Cozy urged. “You can get a doctor to look at it when we get to Ponyville.”

Button nodded and pulled it tighter. When Tea relaxed and sat back, he stopped, tore off the rest of the roll. “Uh, want it back?”

“Oh, no, dear. You keep it. You never know when you might take a tumble.”

Button frowned a bit, but tucked the roll into his bag. “Thank you,” he said, for it was always best to be polite.

As the conductor ushered them out of the train carriage and into the next cart to Ponyville, Button took comfort in the fact that if nothing else, he now had the opportunity to catch up with some old friends again.


Meanwhile, on a train heading in the opposite direction, Sweetie Belle was gazing out the window, watching the forest run by. The train from Manehattan was a relatively plush affair by any standard. For Sweetie Belle, having grown up around rather rougher transport, it was positively paradise. The rich, almost-velvet upholstered seats, the clean green carpet, the smooth, dark red oak siding… all of it decorated with pure gold-colored filigree. It was as though the images had been taken right out of her sister’s brain.

And the landscape was gorgeous! Sweetie had her nose pressed to the glass as she watched the world fly past in a beautiful blur of green and brown and blue and grey, her breath fogging the pane and blending the colors further. It was oddly pretty, and she tried her best to capture the experience in her memory as best she could. Photos were well and good in their place, but still images could only do so much, especially as far as capturing emotion went. Her stomach, for instance, was full of butterflies, her anticipation at seeing her friends again almost overwhelming her.

And Rarity too, she hastily added. Of course, she was looking forward to seeing her too, and Spike, and everypony else in town, too. But it was undeniable that her fellow Crusaders were at the forefront of her mind. Her leg jogged up and down as she stared out the window. Would it be like old times again? Would they be able to pick up where they left off? Would they want to know about her time spent studying music? What had they all been doing for the last three years?

She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. She didn’t want to get too worked up, after all. She sang a few scales to steady herself before settling into a contented smile, thinking of childhood memories. At the back of her head, though, a stray thought nagged at her. Would her friends have changed after three years apart?

She shook the silly question from her mind. Of course they would’ve changed. But that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t still be friends. Cutie Mark Crusaders stuck together, no matter what. She refused to look down at her flank, at the mark she had earned all alone, after the others had all left her behind. She had stopped smiling.