Moondust

by Parallel Black

12 - Supermare

“Prospectiveness.”

“Prosper-... Prospectiveness. P-R… O-S-P-E-C-T-I-V-E-N-E-S-S. Prospective… ness.”

“Invalidation.”

“Invalidation. I-N-V-A-L-I-D-A-T-I-O-N. Invalidation.”

“Continuance.”

“Continuance. C-O-N-T-I-n-n… c-C-O-N-T-I-N-U-A-N-C-E. Con… tinu… ance.”

“Gregariousness.”

“Gregariousness. G-R-E-G-A-R-I-O-U-S-N-E-S-S. Gregariousness.”

“Efflorescent.”

“…”

“Efflorescent,” the Princess repeated, her head staying still while her eager eyes flicked to the other remaining contestant.

“...”

“Efflorescent, Twilight.”

“Effl… e…”

The mentor smiled. “Do you need the definition of the word?”

“No,” Twilight said quickly, the word coming out barely audible past her dry throat and cracking tongue. “Efflorescent. E-F-F-L-E-”

“Moondancer?”

“Moondancer. M-O-O-”

“M-Moondancer, please.”

Moondancer blinked, her lips moving by themselves as she tried to figure out what she’d done wrong. Some hushed chuckling from the judges drew her attention and for the first time in nearly two hours something other than words and letters filtered into her mind. She tried to say “Sorry” but nothing came out, for fear she might have been mistaken and end up losing the spelling bee. That would have been such a waste at this point.

“Twilight, are you able to continue?”

The room came back to her. The audience was almost empty now and one of the judges looked to be on the verge of falling asleep. Moondancer glanced to her left at her friend and saw her quaking limbs and widening eyes. Her own mouth was starting to feel dry and she had passed the point of boredom long ago, but Twilight looked ready to physically drop.

The other filly glanced between their mentor and the floorboards of the stage, not responding. She raised a hoof, slowly, as if it was in pain, and with a silent “No” and a deepening look of hurt on her face, she stepped off her stool and forfeit. Twilight’s strange, enchanted toy waddled up to her, only to be swiftly shoved past as its owner left the performance hall in a desperate stagger.

Now alone on the stage, Moondancer belatedly realised that she had just won by default. This wasn’t technically a victory, but maybe that didn’t matter since Celestia was still raising a little box into her levitation, containing her award. Moondancer squeezed her eyes shut and let out a yawn. It hadn’t been intended to take this long - there was meant to be a string of musical recitals after this - but Celestia had insisted they continue. She had been ruthless at first, going from ten to sixteen to twenty-eight and more letters, unable to find a word either of them lacked.

From there, the tricks had begun. “Slither” had been the first one Twilight stumbled upon. “Carcass” had been Moondancer’s. Simple and horrid, but effective. Then came the three-hundred and seventy-four instances of “Battologist” in a row, each with a slightly different inflection and pace to attempt to confuse their ears, with a few other words mixed into the flood of repetition to catch them out. Finally, the Princess must have seen the way things were going and sat back in her chair for the remaining hour of the final match, going back to more normal words, simply waiting until one of them cracked or passed out.

It had been mean as hell, but as the golden medal came to a rest upon her chest, Moondancer found she couldn’t argue with the result; her efforts were finally bearing fruit.

-----

Moondancer sat upon her trusty, annoying chest, whose bulk was difficult enough to get through the front door, let alone carry around all day. She idly listened to the crazed warblings of the bride and groom. Aside from them it was pretty quiet, now that her trusty, annoying friend had miraculously overcome her fear of large crowds for… whatever her reasons were.

Moondancer wasn’t sure she liked this new, more confident Twilight. She irked her in a way she couldn’t quite pin down, giving her statements an unneeded extra edge and littering the ground with eggshells to avoid discussing. For all her hopeful prose and calming neutrality, it felt like she was one tiny conversation away from losing it, and when that happened, maybe the truth would finally come out.

Moondancer hoped she wouldn’t be there when it happened. She glanced at Spike. A slowly growing part of her wanted to tell him everything. With Twilight unable to handle the topic, she’d realised she didn’t really have anyone else to confide in. He knew about her trauma, something she had only shared with Celestia and no one else, but the harm the other issue could cause between herself and Twilight outweighed her need to express her worries. That one little fact that could invalidate their friendship in a single blow. In a few days time she would be back home with her family, anyway, having told her former mentor and her newest friend her greatest secret, yet never letting her best study buddy know how she truly felt…

Moondancer felt the hard wood of her chest, Twilight’s little spiritual trick coming to mind. Every single aspect of her life, save for a little disadvantage in Nature Magic, was what Twilight had going for her. The yearly spelling bee awards meant nothing.

It was intimidating how much potential Twilight had. Her magical nature was ambiguous enough to manage almost anything, and though her true T-N-F rating had never been publicly disclosed, from what Moondancer had gathered from the occasional snippet of conversation, her best friend had broken into the Ascended Alicorn tier. She was monstrously powerful, had a wealthy, influential family, and she was best friends with the ruler of the entire country. There was only one trajectory for Twilight’s future; up, up and up, and far, far away.

“I’m not going to do that.”

Still, this new harshness lurking at the edges of Twilight’s behaviour needed to stop. Combined with everything else it was almost… scary. Maybe she’d changed after Celestia killed them. She looked again at Spike, who was idly picking at his tail like a colt would at his ears. Maybe she’d changed as well.

“What?” Spike asked, raising an eyescale at her.

She realised she was cringing at him. “Sorry. Nothing.” He’s not a threat anymore, she kept telling herself. But maybe I only think that because I’m not me anymore. How lovely it would have been to have skipped school that day, to not get the memo that Celestia had randomly appeared on the dormitory doorstep, to have been too absorbed in her studies to listen when Twilight rushed in to tell her.

Twilight had been so happy.

“Has she been like this a lot lately?” she asked.

“Like what?”

Moondancer removed her glasses as she searched for the words. “Like… assertive, I guess? It’s weird.” A cloth slipped out of the chest to wipe the lenses. “She would never normally shut down a discussion like she did, even if it was to do with the princess.”

The other eyescale rose. “You were being super aggressive back there.”

That was annoying. “With good reason,” she retorted.

“Mhm.” He went back to cleaning his tail.

A short moment of silence passed. “You really don’t want to know, do you?” Moondancer asked.

The look on Spike’s face grew pained for a moment. “No,” he replied. “I just… decided that I don’t wanna hear any more.”

There went that option. “Why…?”

“It’s not like I don’t get it. I just don’t wanna be the reason you stop being friends.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. He understood everything, both the event itself and the ramifications surrounding it. That was an answer well beyond his years. “How old are you again?” she asked, feeling another fear-filled wall crumble in the back of her mind.

He thought for a moment. “I think I’m… are we talking hatch-years or egg-years?”

“I don’t know what those mean.”

“If it’s hatch years then I’m twelve, but if we count the time I spent in my egg, then… thirty-something?”

She burst out laughing. “You aren’t thirty!”

He smirked and gave a short-lived giggle. “But anyway, we’ve got waaay bigger things to worry about. I figure everything’s ok as long as there was no harm done.”

Moondancer tried to muster up a more detailed memory of being incinerated than the one her brain had managed to save, but there was no horrific sensation of pain associated with the terrifying imagery. All the harm was in her head, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist, or that it hadn’t happened. She shifted her shoulders as she sat, feeling the faint pressure that had been there ever since that fateful lesson. She didn’t know what it was, but it was definitely part of this new body she now inhabited. Did Twilight have something similar? Did their fellow classmates? As far as Moondancer knew, no one beyond their class had been flambéd.

Moondancer rubbed her temples. She didn’t want to be thinking about this right now. Once Twilight did whatever it was she was doing amongst all the crazy religious types, they would head home and spend a nice, friendly sleepover together. They could read a few books and talk about the future. I should tell her my new address, too, she thought. That way they could stay in contact no matter what corner of Equestria they ended up in.

The clang of the anvil went in one ear and came out the other, Sleipnir’s Bray unable to penetrate the iron wall of her logical mind. That was how she figured it worked, at least. The faithful tended to be the less reasonable, Moondancer had found, so it would make sense if a sound designed to gather loyalty worked on those with less willpower or critical thought. Though, that would imply Twilight had lost some of her unmatched analytical might…

Another mark for the “we’re already dead” category, she supposed.

A lone, worried word from the bride caught her attention; the implication that something was wrong. That little, devilish part of her brain lit up with entertaining possibilities. Maybe Twilight was asking too many questions and the groom had begun to lose his temper. Moondancer wasn’t up for facing a mob, but the thought of their leader growing desperate or embarrassed was a fun one.

With a small smile she turned her attention to the crowd. From here she could see over everyone’s heads to the anvil at the center. They were all looking up.

That wasn’t a pegasus.

It arced through the air, three storeys high, black mane and tail whipping in the breeze, before reaching up as the figure fell back to the ground with a clattering thud.

What was that? Moondancer thought, pretending she didn’t know. It had landed just past the crowd at the edge of the plaza. Wh-what was that? The noise from the crowd spread out from the center, sounds of confusion rising to panic as the herdmind descended. Everyone rose at once, the gathering suddenly turning into an explosion of ponies galloping away from the anvil. Moondancer brought her hooves together atop the chest while Spike took refuge behind it as the ponies rushed past.

“What’s happening?!” Spike cried.

“I-I don’t know!” Moondancer shouted, her eyes going wide.

Had a monster appeared or something? A giant minotaur? She couldn’t see Twilight yet. Where was she? From here Moondancer could see the bride clambering down from the anvil, her soothing tones turning into an unsettling wail as she was lead through the crowd to her fallen husband. The faint, purple glow of a magical sphere came into view just beyond the anvil. Was she under attack?

“You didn’t have to go in,” Moondancer seethed to herself, gripping the edges of the wood.

The sound of clattering hooves and terrified cries were starting to get to her, telling her to show some sense and run with the herd from whatever unknown threat had appeared. She popped her glasses back on. They still did nothing for the stress, but the placebo was enough to get her thoughts in order. If her friend was in danger, then there was no way she was running for it.

“We’re- we’re going in, get on!”

She hopped off and Spike clambered up in her place, holding onto the crowd-ward end of the chest as Moondancer raised it into her magical glow. With the little dragon on top it was even heavier than normal, Spike’s magical density adding more weight than his relatively tiny body would suggest. Once again using it as a shield, they waded in, chest floating first with Spike sitting high enough to see above the panicking mob.

“Do you see her?”

“Yeah, I think so! She’s got her shield up.”

Had one of the faithful lost it and caused a scene? Who would be strong enough to throw a full grown stallion that high into the air? The obvious answer was the mare who was currently wreathed in protective magic, but Moondancer quickly put that ugly thought out of her mind. Twilight had her little stress-breaks every once in a while, but she wasn’t the type to lash out.

She felt a tiny, imaginary jab against the side of her neck. She doesn’t need your help, said the imaginary changeling.

You still think Spike is a big, powerful dragon, don’t you? its pegasus twin added.

A bumbling fool knocked himself against the edge of the chest as he galloped, swaying for a moment, before falling into her. “Get off me, you idiot!” Moondancer yelled, shoving him away. After a few more groups of panicking ponies, they made it past the dispersing crowd, beyond which sat Twilight, alone beside the anvil.

“Hey, Twilight!” Spike called to her.

“What’re you doing over here?!” Moondancer exclaimed. The chest grazed the edge of the shield, prompting its occupant to look back at them, surprised.

Twilight looked shaken, but no worse for wear beyond a fresh cut on her cheek, half covered by a hoof. “I’m- I’m fine.” Her expression suddenly turned angry. “Wait, what’re you doing here? I said to go on ahead!”

Excuse me? Moondancer scowled. “We’re here to rescue you, stupid! What happened? Why is everyone freaking out?”

Twilight looked around for a moment before letting her shield fade. “I found Peace,” she responded.

Peace? Peace as in what? An image of Twilight wearing the bride’s wedding dress came to mind, a brainwashed smile beneath the veil. “What’re you talking about?” Moondancer asked. She pointed at the anvil. “Did your brain get melted or something?” Taking a step back, she brought the chest round, Spike still holding on, and started to make her way back. “Come on already. This is literally what I warned you about!”

Twilight stood, but didn’t follow. “I mean Peace,” she repeated, with a little more force this time. “As in Nightmare Moon’s guardsmare. She was here.”

Moondancer stopped as the word turned into a name in her memories, recalling Twilight’s explanation of her adventure beyond Ponyville. She looked back at her friend, feeling a creeping sensation of dread stabbing either side of her neck. “Is that why you told us to stay behind?”

“I told you to ‘go on ahead’ so that you’d be out of the way if… ugh, I don’t even wanna talk about that possibility. I saw her heading into the crowd and I could tell she was unstable. I had to… make sure she knew there was no reason to fight anymore, but instead…” Her frustration turned to a look of regret, and she motioned to the group surrounding the groom. The gathering parted to allow the bride in, revealing her husband, injured but awake.

Moondancer paused. “Were you… in danger?”

“A little,” Twilight admitted, holding a hoof to her bleeding cheek again.

Clearly not, Moondancer thought. She placed her chest down, letting Spike hop off. She wasn’t caught in the middle of anything. She went in specifically to confront Peace. “So it was really her?” Moondancer asked. “Why would you follow her like that?”

“If I hadn’t, she might’ve snapped. It could’ve been a lot worse than just one pony getting hurt.”

You almost got skewered instead and you’re acting like it was nothing.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Spike offered.

“Thanks, Spike, but it’s not over yet,” Twilight replied, looking to the road running between the temples. A group of warriors emerged from the Octenic Hall. Three headed for the bride and groom, while the remaining five charged down the road, weapons and trinkets clinking and rattling against the dark, heavy plates they wore. Ahead of them a collection of wavy, metallic tendrils flashed in the sunlight like polished steel.

It took until the strange sight disappeared around the corner for Moondancer to realise what she’d just seen. A tiny part of her skeptical mind had still been in doubt. Maybe Twilight had simply been mistaken. Maybe she’d been straight-up lying in order to avoid the sleep over, and was revealing the true colours Celestia had implanted within her replacement body. None of it made reasonable sense, but then Twilight wasn’t a very reasonable pony these days.

However, seeing those golden tentacles froze the breath in Moondancer’s throat. Everything Twilight had told her about her adventure suddenly became true, her comfortable, reasonable sense of doubt falling into a bottomless ravine. The air felt like it was weighing down upon her as she stared at the now empty road, and she recalled the sight of the summer sky turning pitch black once more.

Moondancer tore her gaze away from the road to find Twilight already taking those first few steps towards it. No you bucking don’t. She quickly trotted in front of her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Twilight’s eyes were held wide, gazing, as if she’d already forgotten that her friend was even there. “I’m sorry. I need to help.”

And how, exactly, are you going to do that? Moondancer thought, glancing at the grey aura that still surrounded her friend’s horn. “Those warriors have it under control, Twilight. Since when do you need to force yourself to be a hero?”

Twilight paused. “They aren’t strong enough to beat Peace.”

“And you are?”

Another pause. Twilight looked away, her expression turning dark for a moment. “I don’t… have to. I just need a chance to talk to her, to make her understand that she doesn’t need to fight or anything.”

There was an unspoken “yes” hidden in there. Moondancer could see it in the other mare’s eyes; that look of guilt and embarrassment she always got whenever she accidentally showed up her fellow classmates with her magical strength. If Twilight had been an honest mare she would have left negotiations in the dust and subdued Peace then and there, and then had her little conversation with the golden-maned psycho. If Moondancer had been honest with herself, she would have recalled the sight of her kitchen walls turning a deep, solid purple as a pillar of godlike magic split apart Nightmare Moon’s landbridge, turning night back into day with a single burst of light, and let Twilight do as she pleased.

But they had a sleepover to be getting to, and one of them ending up maimed or worse would put a major damper on their last chance to hang out. It may have been selfish, Moondancer knew, but the alternative was something she couldn’t abide by.

“I thought Peace was gone,” Twilight continued. “Now that I know she’s out there, I need to make sure she isn’t hurting anyone. I need to make this right.”

Moondancer pointed a hoof at her cheek. “She already did. She LITERALLY just sent a fully grown stallion seventy hooves into the air!”

Instead of clamming up in defeat, or looking ashamed of herself, or anything else the usual, everyday Twilight would have done, the other mare rounded on her, her face a picture. “And she might’ve done something much, much worse if I hadn’t confronted her!” she responded, stomping a hoof. “Peace is confused and scared right now; she thinks prayer can hurt people! All I need is a chance to talk and then everything will be ok!”

“You told me she sent your rainbow friend to the hospital as an act of revenge. Do you for real think she’ll let you do that?”

“Well… maybe not, but I need to apologise for what happened to Nightmare Moon. She needs to understand that not everypony is a danger to her, and that Luna might still be ok.”

“What do you mean ‘apologise’?” asked Spike. “Peace was a bad guy, right?”

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “Yes, she was.” She glanced between them, then back at the exit road. “I can’t leave this any longer. I need to go.”

Moondancer stomped a hoof, the jabbing at her neck becoming unbearably blunt. “No you don’t! Let those warriors handle it! Since when do you need to be diplomatic with a monster?!” The grey aura surrounding Twilight’s horn turned purple again for a moment, and Moondancer felt the world moving around her as she was rudely shifted out of the way. “Wh- hey!”

“You don’t understand how much this matters, Moondancer. This is my responsibility, not theirs. I need to... I need to make sure she understands it wasn't on purpose.”

Moondancer could feel a furious outburst on the tip of her tongue, but she could only grit her teeth at that, losing the will to fight against the look in Twilight’s eyes. It wasn’t anger or frustration, more a grim determination that logic alone was incapable of penetrating. She was going through with this whether they liked it or not. It was the look of someone carrying the burden of a hero, and she was about to leave her powerless, selfish friend in the dust.

“This won’t take long, I promise. Take care of Spike while I’m gone.”

And with that, she left, in search of a fate that would propel her up, up and up and far, far away.

With all her heart Moondancer wished she could join her, but her hooves remained rooted in place.

Comments

[Comickook]

Excellent job on the exchanges, characterizations, action and future chapter set-up in all the right places. Greatly enjoyed Moondancer's flashbacks to the spelling bee she and Twilight had when they were fillies as well as trying to chat with Spike while they were waiting to hear from Twilight again. And then, the reflection on Twilight comparing her to a comic book hero (not just in terms of power, but also in terms of sense of responsibility and attempts to be diplomatic even to somebody who was trying to kill her) after she explained her run-in with Peace but before she went back to try to talk to Peace again.

VERY definitely looking forward to more of this.

And Happy Thanksgiving.

[Venerable Ro]

Twilighting: The Novel right here folks.