Soothsaying

by Rainbooms Inc

Chapter Two: Twilight Tells the Future

Soothsaying, Chapter 2: Twilight Tells the Future
Or:
What I Tell You Three Times is True, Part 2

The week in Las Haygas passed quickly, which was fine by Twilight. She had eventually found a library, and studied quite carefully a book on counting cards. But all it had gotten her was banned from the Veneightian’s casino floor and an “I-told-you-so” from Rainbow Dash about not being supposed to count out loud. But at least it saved her from losing any more money than she had already.

Of course, it wasn’t as if Las Haygas was short of entertainment, and Twilight did quite enjoy sampling the city’s various shows, plays, and musical acts—after one embarrassing misunderstanding made her look closely at exactly what each show entailed, at any rate. But as the week wore on, the work she had left behind began to seem more and more pressing, and it was with some relief that she followed her friends onto the train east.

The compartment the six of them shared was comfortable, but loud, as Applejack and Rainbow bickered good-naturedly about who had taken who to what, and whose turn it was next, and Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy compared wins and losses. Twilight sunk back into her seat with a smile. It was good to be going home.

She dozed most the way back to Ponyville, and when she padded softly back into the library, the first thing that met her was the pile of papers sitting abandoned on her desk. She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even midnight, and she had gotten plenty of sleep on the train (insofar as that was possible between the jolts of the carriage and the conversation of her friends), so there was no harm in looking over things before she went to bed. Just to be sure she had things well in hoof for the morning, of course. Humming to herself, Twilight lit a lamp and picked up a pen, plucking the first sheet from the top of the pile as she did so.

She wasn’t sure exactly when she heard Spike moving around the library, but it was some time later. Long enough for the rising sun to make her lamp unnecessary, at least. She scratched a signature onto the letter to Mayor Mare, and smiled at the scrape of claws on the floorboards.

“Good Morning, Spike.”

“Morning, Twilight.” The dragon yawned. The sound of draconic footsteps stopped. “Twilight! You’re back!”

The unicorn turned in her chair, grinning. “We got back last night, but I didn’t want to wake you. Did you have a good time while we were gone?”

Spike frowned. “Well, sure. I was only left alone here for a week while all my friends were partying in Las Haygas. How could I not?”

Twilight sighed. “Spike, we talked about this. The casinos have a very strict ‘no minors’ policy.”

“But I’m a dragon! We don’t age the same way—it shouldn’t apply.”

“Yes, I mentioned that.” Twilight nodded gravely. “They said that dragons were even more banned than minors, because it took them two weeks to get the last one out of the vault.”

As Spike started muttering about racial profiling, Twilight turned back to her desk, reaching for the next document that required her attention, only to find that there wasn’t one. Well, that was something: an entire week’s work caught up with in one night. The unicorn stretched. And she wasn’t even tired.

“Spike?” she called over her shoulder. “We’ve got The Illustrated Guide to the Celestial Arcana around here somewhere, don’t we?”

“Uh, I think so.”

“Good. Could you get that for me? Also, The Abandoned Magics, Four Tellings, and the second edition of The Guide to Grammar?”

“I’ll find those for you, no problem. But gee Twilight, what are you going to do with them?”

“The same thing I do every day, Spike.” Twilight grinned. “I’m going to do research.”

* * *

Looked at from a distance, the Celestial Arcana was simple. A few more suits than a normal deck, and a few unusual face cards, but nothing too strange or unfamiliar. Even the major arcana, those cards with no suit but with unique meaning all their own, were not too foreign to her. But as Twilight paged through the Illustrated Guide, she was reminded of just how complicated the cards could be. Each had their own meanings, with a separate set for if the card was inverted. And, while some of those meanings were straightforward, quite a few were confusing, even contradictory.

The Abandoned Magics pointed out all of the difficulties she noticed in the deck, and a few she hadn’t, and snippily concluded that, “while the old soothsayers claimed to be able to select the correct meaning by instinct, the failure of the modern practioners of the craft to demonstrate any such ability lead to its removal from the official disciplines of magic.” Oddly enough, that made Twilight feel a little better: after all, Shining Upon had said that it was the older cards that possessed the actual potential to predict the future.

Four Tellings detailed different kinds of readings, each performed by laying the cards down in a certain order, with dozens of variations upon the four major forms. Canterlot Stars, Everfree Vines, Eastern High Promenade—Twilight quickly found herself bewildered by the sheer number of options, each of which assigned a different meaning or significance to each card. In the end, she decided to stick with the basic three-card draw: it just seemed simpler.

Twilight set the books aside carefully, clearing a place on her desk. Then, taking the cards from her luggage, she began to shuffle the deck, casting about for a suitable question. Well, she was trying to tell the future—why not something simple, like “what will happen next?”

Setting the Arcana down, she drew the first card. The Ace of Roses. According to the Illustrated Guide, that meant new information, a revelation, or a message. Next, she drew the Three of Clouds. That meant upheaval, a change in situation, or a journey. Last of all was the Queen of Roses. The Illustrated Guide had a lot to say on that one: it generally represented a beautiful mare, especially if the question being answered was one of romance. In that case, it represented either the object of the asker’s affections or the asker herself, depending.

Twilight frowned at the cards. If there was an obvious meaning in them, it wasn’t leaping out at her. The first two cards could mean bad news, she supposed, but she had no idea what the Queen was supposed to represent. She had just turned back to the Illustrated Guide when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Letter for you, Twilight.”

Twilight took the scroll, and felt the same little glow she always did when she read the words “My Dear Twilight Sparkle.” The letter from Celestia was brief, saying only that she hoped the vacation had done her student good, and inviting Twilight to the castle to tell her about Las Haygas face-to-face. Twilight was reaching for her pen, ready to promise a trip to Canterlot the very next day, when her eyes fell once more on the cards. A message. A journey. A beautiful mare. She stared between the letter and the cards, then announced, to no one in particular:

“I can see fifteen seconds into the future. Go me.”

* * *

“A hornless unicorn? Really?” Celestia looked thoughtful as she set down her teacup. “And she knew your name?”

It was around noon, and Celestia, Luna, and Twilight had just taken lunch together in the gardens of the palace. They were still seated at the whitewood table, talking among themselves as the palace guards lurked surreptitiously in the shadows of the hedges and fountains. Twilight had related the more mundane parts of the Las Haygas trip, including her own less-than-stellar performance at the tables, before launching into the story of her strange encounter in the park.

“She knew quite a lot,” Twilight nodded. “And she gave me these.” She laid the star-backed cards on the table.

Next to her sister, Luna perked up. “Is that the Arcana? I haven’t seen a set since I returned.”

A golden aura surrounded the cards as Celestia lifted them. “They fell out of favor while you were gone. I can’t remember the last time I was asked to bless a set.”

“Shining Upon said that the sets have to be made in a certain way to work. That the mass-produced copies of the Celestial Arcana are basically worthless.”

“The ‘Celestial Arcana?’ Really, sister?”

“I didn’t name them, Luna,” Celestia said mildly. Then, to Twilight, she said “and she thought that you could put these cards to better use than anyone else?”

“That’s what she said, yes. She seemed to think that precognition is built-in to ponies—that all that’s needed is some kind of focus, and sometimes not even that. She said that’s why so many ponies have such appropriate names.”

“Really? Well, I admit, it’s a theory I’ve never heard before.” Celestia took another sip of her tea, then turned back to her student. “What do you think of it?”

Twilight straightened slightly before speaking. “Well, in between reading up on the cards, I looked at Mustard Seed’s Theory of Nominative Determinism. He argues that, since names have power, a well-chosen name imparts a (for lack of a better word) destiny upon whom it is bestowed.”

Celestia smiled. “Well done, Twilight. As always, your thoroughness does you credit.”

Twilight beamed. Across the table, Luna hid her expression behind her cup. She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry, she really didn’t. Every time Twilight looked at her sister, her heart poured out through those wide purple eyes. It wasn’t admiration Luna saw there. It wasn’t even adoration. It was love, pure and unchecked and complicated as anything. And now, at those few words of praise, the young unicorn looked ready to float out of her chair. Luna studied her sister, wondering if Celestia was as oblivious as she appeared. If this went much further, she was going to have to take steps. Aloud, she said

“Mustard Seed? Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He was arch-chancellor of the Royal Academy of Magic… oh, eleven hundred years ago?” Celestia said with a shrug. “He did a lot of work on portal magic.”

“Oh, the one who managed to connect his drinks cabinet to his hat. I remember him.” Luna chuckled. “He’d take off his hat, and a bottle would just be sitting there between his ears. I think that stuff could peel paint.”

“Yes, well, he did some quite respectable research in his earlier days.” Celestia said. “I always thought it was unfair that everyone called him “the Ridiculous” when he got older.” She shook her head. “But that’s neither here nor there. What did you think of his theory, Twilight?”

“It’s plausible,” Twilight said slowly. “But, short of naming a foal something like ‘Penniless Trots,’ and seeing if they spend their life as a poor wanderer, I don’t think it can be tested. And, even if they did, it wouldn’t rule out Shining Upon’s theory, either.” She frowned. “Actually, I’m not sure how’d I’d go about testing either one. But I do think that the cards work. I used them to predict your letter.” The unicorn blushed, just a little. “Even if I didn’t realize it until the afterwards.”

“Really? How interesting. And were you planning to investigate further?” Celestia asked.

“Well...” Twilight hesitated. “That’s sort of what I wanted to ask you. Do you think I should?”

“If the matter interests you, Twilight, then by all means pursue it.” Celestia smiled at her student. “I have complete confidence in your ability to master any spell you put your mind to—even one that has gone unused for so long.”

Twilight’s smile was all but incandescent, and Luna stood quickly. “I believe I ‘m late for an appointment with the royal treasurer. Please excuse me, sister.” She smiled at the unicorn. “Always a pleasure, Twilight. Best of luck in your studies.”

On her way out of the garden, she met the royal chamberlain, an elderly earth pony with a drab black coat.

“Ah, your highness,” he said brightly. “I was just on my way to see your sister. She’s needed for a meeting of the—“

“I’ll handle it,” Luna said shortly, laying a wing across the chamberlain’s shoulders and turning him around, forcing him to fall into step alongside her. “My sister does not wish to be disturbed.”

“But, her schedule,” the chamberlain huffed. “It is—”

“Flexible enough to allow a little more time with her student,” Luna finished. “Let me make one thing quite clear: there are enough hours in the day for my sister to attend to her duties, and spend as much time on personal affairs as she wishes. If there are not, then arrangements will be made. Do I make myself clear?”

The chamberlain quailed. On the one hoof, this was Princess Luna, Celestia’s own beloved sister, and shepherd of the moon. On the other, he hadn’t risen to his position by ignoring schedules. They were, in their own way, what the world was all about, particularly the parts of it inahibted by the princesses. After all, what was the dawn, other than a convenient point to begin a daily planner? And what was the dusk but the best point at which to end one?

“Well,” he said reluctantly, “things can always be reshuffled, but there’s only so many hours—”

“If more hours are needed,” Luna said at once. “More will be added. You have my personal guarantee on that.”

The chamberlain stared at her.

“So glad we understand one another,” Luna said sweetly, and trotted off.

She would give her sister six months to cotton on, she decided. After that, she was writing “Twilight Loves You” in Celestia’s mirror. She snorted. And if that didn’t work, she’d try the moon.

* * *

That evening, Twilight was back at her desk in the library in Ponyville. The Illustrated Guide was at her left, a blank page was at her right, and the Arcana was in the middle. She was glad Celestia had given her blessing to her experiments—embarking on a new area of study, one introduced to her by someone else, would have been… wrong. Almost like a betrayal. But now, after their discussion on Shining Upon’s claims, Twilight had promised the princess of the sun that she would be ready to give her conclusions on fortunetelling within a month.

As she lifted the deck, Twilight thought back on her lunch with the princesses. Luna had excused herself partway through, making a vague comment about her responsibilities before hurrying away. She was doing that more and more, lately. Twilight frowned. Had she done something to offend the princess of the moon? If so, what? Was it something she needed to apologize for? Twilight looked down at the cards, held in her magical grip. Well, that was one way to find out.

As she shuffled the Arcana, Twilight kept the question what happened between me and Luna foremost in her mind. When she laid the cards out, she didn’t even need the Arcana to read what they meant. There was the Six of Virtues, the Tower inverted, and the Moon.

The Tower had always frightened her as a filly: the two ponies tumbling helplessly from the crumbling castle, eyes wide and wild, were the stuff of nightmares. Knowing what the card meant, danger and catastrophe, hardly improved matters. But here it was inverted, and its meaning was the opposite: disaster averted. That, combined with the two other cards, told Twilight that as far as the Arcana was concerned, the last significant event between herself and Luna was when the Elements of Harmony had defeated Nightmare Moon. So much for getting insight into why Luna seemed to be avoiding her. Twilight sighed. Perhaps it was just a phase she was going through.

Thinking of Nightmare Moon reminded Twilight of something that had been bothering her about Shining Upon. The hornless unicorn had claimed to be able to see the future without the aid of the deck, or anything else. Did she mean visions? If she did, then she must have seen the return of Nightmare Moon—not just that, but Discord’s brief resurgence as well. Why had she not tried to warn anyone? Perhaps because she had seen that the danger would be defeated in the end? What if she hadn’t seen that? Would she have tried then, or decided it was hopeless?

After a moment of hesitation, Twilight set the cards down, and lifted her pen. On the blank parchment, she wrote, carefully:

“Sufficiently advanced apathy is indistinguishable from fate.”

“So Twilight, found out what’s in your future?” Spike voice broke Twilight from her reverie.

“Hmm? Oh, no: I haven’t gotten around to reading my own fortune yet.” She turned to face the dragon with a small shrug.

“You’re kidding. That’s the first thing you should do! I mean, what if turns out you’re supposed to fall down the stairs tomorrow and break something? How would you know to just stay in bed all day?”

Twilight smiled. “That’s not a warning, Spike. That’s just your wishful thinking.” She turned back to her desk. “Still… I suppose I ought to try.”

The cards of the Arcana rustled as she shuffled the deck again. What does my future hold?

The Page of Wands. That meant a subordinate or a servant, maybe someone who would help the asker.

The Ace of Roses, again. Another message or revelation.

The Three of Gems. That meant the fear of losing touch, distance, or rejection.

Twilight frowned down at the cards. So… she was in danger of losing someone’s help, because of something she would find out about them? It didn’t sound right to her. Moreover, it didn’t feel right—and the ability to know the feel of a complete reading and a flawed one was made a soothsayer, wasn’t it?

Twilight had already lifted the next card when there was a frantic tapping on the window. The startled unicorn lost her grip, and the Arcana went flying, as the pane slammed back and Rainbow Dash entered, harried and breathless.

“Rainbow, are you okay?” Twilight asked, hurrying over. “What's wrong?”

“Applebloom’s disappeared,” the pegasus gasped out. “I can’t find Sweetie Belle or Scootaloo either.”

“Oh, dear. Again?” Twilight sighed.

“Yeah. It’s getting dark and AJ’s really worried. I tried telling her that it’s not like this is the first time this has happened, and she nearly bit my head off” Dash said, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. “Can you help us look for them?”

“Of course, Rainbow. Who else have you talked to?”

“Just AJ and Rarity. I’m going to Fluttershy’s next.”

“Spike and I will go get Pinkie, then. When you get back to Applejack, tell her not to worry, okay? We’ll find them in no time.”

Spike leaped onto her back as Twilight galloped down the library stairs, leaving the cards forgotten on her desk. Duty called.

* * *

“No time” turned out to be several hours, at the end of which the self-proclaimed Cutie Mark Crusaders were discovered at the bottom of a lake, paddling around quite happily in a submarine apparently fashioned from two barrels, an apple crate, and a weathervane. By the time she returned to library, leaving the three fillies to a lecture from Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow on running off without telling anyone, Twilight was too tired to do more than collect the scattered cards before falling into bed.

The next morning, when she returned to work, Twilight did her own reading again. Again, the Page of Wands appeared, followed by the Ace of Roses and the Three of Gems. Plainly, her future had not changed overnight. Well, perhaps the complete reading would make more sense. Twilight flipped over the next card, and stared.

It was the Page of Wands, identical in every way to the card already lying on the desk. Twilight hurriedly drew the next two cards, and got another Ace of Roses, another Three of Gems. She flipped over the entire deck. Every single card was one of those three, repeating in the same neat pattern.

Twilight slammed the Arcana back to the table, face-down, and swept her two identical readings into the pile. She cast about for a question, any question, just to get the cards back to the way they were. She eventually settled on what will Pinkie’s next party be about, and was so relieved when she drew the Five of Serpents that she didn’t even bother to finish the reading.

Twilight sat back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. She was going about this all wrong. She was treating it like some kind of game, not research into a new and untested field of magic. But the cards clearly did have power (or the potential for power, as Shining Upon had put it). She was going to have to get serious if she wanted to have results worthy of presenting to Celestia. Twilight cracked her neck, in imitation of something she had seen Rainbow Dash do before a race. It was time to go about this scientifically.

By the time Spike wandered, yawning, into the library, Twilight had filled up most of her parchment page with dense writing, detailing the exact results of dozens of readings.

“Yikes, Twilight. Is there some kind of crisis coming up?”

The unicorn shook her head. “I’m trying to figure what kind of weather we’re going to have for the rest of the week.”

“Uh, Twilight… can’t you just ask Rainbow Dash? I mean, she is the weather pony around here.”

“Not really the point, Spike,” Twilight said shortly, and went back to shuffling her cards.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Twilight spent as much time as should could on the cards. Though her responsibilities in Ponyville and the inevitable minor crises often pulled her away, but she still managed to study the Arcana. She learned how to phrase her questions, to ensure the most accurate result, and she began to get a feel for the placement of cards and the importance of order in a reading. She experimented with some of the more esoteric patterns detailed in Four Tellings, and even began to modify them when it suited her needs. She took pages of notes, and left dozens more scratched in the margins of the various books she consulted. All in all, she was confident in her grasp of the art of fortunetelling, or at least in the use of the Arcana—with one troubling exception.

She couldn’t seem to get her own fortune to come right. Every time, she got the same three cards, no matter what. It didn’t matter how she altered the phrasing of the question, or how she changed the pattern used in laying out the cards. Always, she found herself staring at the Page, the Ace, and the Three. It was maddening.

It wasn’t simply that she couldn’t see her own future. Such a limitation would not have bothered Twilight in the slightest, on its own—foretelling was an interesting application of magic, but she wasn’t about to become a seer like Shining Upon. No, it was the fact that her failing represented a flaw in the research she was doing for Princess Celestia.

Twilight groaned, resting her forehead on the desk. She was going to Canterlot in the morning, both to visit with the princesses and to present her findings to Celestia. And still, those three cards stared back at her, mockingly. This was an opportunity, a chance to prove to Celestia that she had the skill to back up the raw power the princess had seen in her. Pioneering a new kind of magic—or one so old it was nearly new, anyway—was something to be proud of, something that might even give her the confidence she so badly needed around her mentor. And it was all being ruined by these three stubborn cards.

Raising her head, she lifted the cards to eye level, scrutinizing them through her own purple aura, as if the ink itself held the secrets to her problems.

“Change,” she whispered.

How could she have learned so much, and not know how to fix this? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair.

“Change,” she growled, glaring at the cards.

She’d done so much, come so far. And it wasn’t enough. Not for her, anyway. Not enough to conquer her fears. She’s hoped that this project would be the one, the one to prove to herself that she was ready to tell Celestia the truth, come what may. And here, this one little detail was standing in the way. It was giving her a headache.

“Change!” she roared, the light of her magic flaring.

Twilight sat there for a few long moments, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Her head really hurt—it was the only reason she’d snapped like that. It was stupid, getting so angry at a few bits of cardboard, but she was so frustrated. She opened her eyes. And blinked.

Hovering in the air before her, still held up by her magic, were the Ten of Clouds, the Ten of Serpents, and the Sun.
The first two were simple. They meant, respectively, opportunity or possibility, and danger or disappointment. The Sun was harder, simply because so many meanings had been ascribed to it. It could mean hope, health, well-being, or good fortune. It could mean resolution, reunification, or conclusion. It could mean, Twilight thought with a smile, “the end.” She’d known that she would solve it eventually. Now all that remained to do was sleep off her headache, and she would be ready to present her work to Princess Celestia in the morning.

* * *

The fact that a night’s sleep did little to reduce the pain in her head could not dampen Twilight’s spirits the next morning. She all but whistled to herself as she placed her notes and the Arcana in her saddlebags, and trotted out of the library and towards the train station. Before she had gone too far, however, she was brought up short by the sight of a familiar yellow pair of hind legs protruding from a hedge.

“Uh, Fluttershy?” she asked doubtfully. “Are you okay?”

There was a moment of frantic scrambling as the pegaus extracted herself.

“Oh, hi, Twilight. Um, you haven’t seen a raccoon around here, have you? He ran off, and I’ve been looking everywhere,” Fluttershy said, waving a hoof at the (apparently raccoon-less) bush.

“Sorry, I haven’t seen him.” Twilight turned away, confident in her friend’s ability to charm animals into obedience sooner or later. But, as she set off down the street, a thought occurred to her. It wouldn’t hurt, would it, just to make sure?

Carefully, she lifted the Arcana from her pack, gave it a cursory shuffle, and drew three cards. She got the Page of the Roses, the inverted Three of Gems, and the Chariot. For looking for someone lost, that was good reading. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she could come up with a better one if she had selected the cards herself.

“I think he’ll turn up very soon,” she said to Fluttershy with a smile.

Almost before she the words were out of her mouth, a grey shape trundled around a tree a few paces away. It crossed the distance to the two ponies rather slowly, stopping frequently to paw at its ears.

“Oh, dear. I think he’s sick,” Fluttershy said as she scooped the wayward raccoon onto her back. “I’d better get him home.
Goodbye, Twilight.”

“Bye, Fluttershy,” Twilight called after her as the pegasus galloped away, back towards her home. She stowed the cards in her bags and continued on her way, ignoring the twinges in her skull.

She trotted briskly through Ponyville, exchanging greetings with the ponies she met on the way. However, before she reached the train station she was once again distracted, this time by a pair of raised voices.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash stood at the end of the road to Sweet Apple Acres, glaring at one another.

“He’s my brother,” Applejack was saying as Twilight approached. “An’ he’s just lookin’ out for me, like family should.”
“And I say he’s being a nosy creep,” Rainbow Dash shot back, rising off the ground a little in indignation. “And I’ll knock him flank over forelock if he talks to me like that again.”

“Fer cryin’ out loud, Rainbow, he just said—“

“I heard what he said, AJ! And I think the stupid workhorse can keep his opinions to himself!”

“Workhorse? Workhorse?” Applejack repeated, eyes narrowing.

Twilight, meanwhile, was standing some distance away, dithering. On one hoof, she didn’t like to stick her nose into a dispute between fillyfriends. On another, she didn’t like to see her friends at odds, either. Almost without thinking about it, she drew the cards.

The Knave of Virtues, Temperance, and the Sun. Well, that was alright then. They two of them would work it out. Twilight turned, and trotted away.

Behind her, Rainbow Dash drooped.

“Oh, hay… Look, I’m sorry, AJ. I get it, Big Mac’s your family, you don’t like hearing him called names. But I don’t like being accused of hurting you, either.”

“He didn’t say that, sugarcube. He said that, if you do anythin’ to hurt me, then there’ll be trouble. Don’t let it bother you, he don’t mean it.”

“He doesn’t?” Rainbow Dash blinked.

“It’s a big brother thing, love. Big Mac’s just followin’ Apple family tradition. Get drunk with him a coupla times and he’ll drop the act.”

“Oh.” Rainbow Dash brightened. “That’s okay, then.”

As she fell into step behind her fillyfriend—sure, she could walk beside her, but that’d mean missing the way her flanks moved when she walked—Rainbow Dash was vaguely aware of sharp buzzing sound, as if there was a fly perched on each of her ears. But it was easy to ignore, and the sky-blue pegasus did so. She was sure, given time, it would go away on its own.

* * *

In the skies above Canterlot, Luna wheeled and climbed through a cloud bank, moisture streaming from the tips of her wings. She loved to fly, and had since her very first winter, spent in ever-longer races against the dawn. Even now, with the stakes less cosmic, the princess of the moon found the rush of wind in her mane irresistible. Far below, she caught movement on the Equestrian plain, and dived to meet it.

“It” turned out to be the train from Ponyville. Banking to avoid the cloud of smoke being thrown up by the engine, Luna skimmed over the tender and the first few passenger cars, before descending to race alongside the train. She caught glimpses of foals’ faces pressed against the glass as she flashed by, before the buzzing in her ears registered and she nearly slammed to the ground in shock.

There was magic on that train. Powerful magic, working something big. Slowing down, Luna allowed the train to pass her, searching each window for the telltale glow. She saw nothing of the sort—but she did recognize the unicorn sitting by the window in the second car from the back.

“Twilight Sparkle?”

Her sister’s student gave her a cheerful wave, then opened the window and shouted something, but her words were lost to the wind rushing past Luna’s head. In a flash of light, the princess of the moon teleported into the car.

“Good morning, Princess,” Twilight said with a polite bow of her head, while the rest of the passengers stared. “Having a good morning flight?”

“Er… yes,” was all Luna said as she tried to hear herself think.

The buzzing was even louder now, and she could feel the power that Twilight was throwing out, rolling off of her like waves on a beach. And yet, the young unicorn didn’t appear to be doing anything.

“And how are you?” she managed when she realized Twilight was looking at her oddly.

“I’m fine—well, except for a headache, but you know how that is.”

Luna, the immortal sky goddess who had never suffered so much as a cold, nodded. “Your month of research went well, I trust.”

Twilight nodded enthusiastically. “I learned a lot. And…” she hesitated. “I think I’ve come to a decision. About… things. If that makes sense.”

It didn’t, but Luna nodded anyway. She needed to leave, to get out of Twilight’s immediate proximity, just to be able to think straight. As it was, she was maybe a minute from stumbling around like a drunken pegasus. She mouthed some pleasantries at Twilight, and teleported out of the car before her language skills eroded any more.

Flapping slowly, she watched the train pull away from her, heading towards Canterlot. So… Twilight spent a month exploring new magic, and showed up again throwing off power like a bonfire threw sparks. And made completely banal conversation as she did so. Which meant she was either a diabolical mastermind, fully capable of carry on a polite conversation even as she wielded near-cosmic-level power, or she had no idea what she was doing. All things considered, Luna thought the latter was more likely. But that meant that the unicorn was entirely unaware of the amount of power she was using, entirely unaware of the amount of strain it was putting on her. And that had the potential to go very, very badly.
“Craters and dust!” Luna bit out, then looked around guilty. It wouldn’t do for anyone to hear one of the Princesses using that kind of language. Shaking her head, the princess of the moon vanished from the sky with a small thunderclap. She needed to understand what Twilight was doing. She needed an expert.

As Luna materialized in the sky above Las Haygas, she remembered a conversation she and her sister had once had. They had discussed government, and whether it was safer to be obeyed out of fear, or out of love. Putting aside the obvious moral concerns, they had eventually agreed that fear was best at bringing about immediate, short-term results, while love was better at producing a stable, long-term system. It was, Luna reflected as she drew in a breath, never a lesson she’d had to apply before now.

“The first pony,” she boomed across the city, “to tell me where I can find a hornless unicorn gets to NOT spend the next decade on the moon!”

* * *

Luna’s hooves echoed off the white tiled walls as she trotted down the hallway. Fear had indeed gotten results, pointing her first to the train out of town, next to this hospice in Buenos Mareies. She only hoped she wasn’t taking too long—Twilight might not be able to afford any delays.

Turning into the correct room, Luna found herself standing at the foot of a hospital bed. It’s occupant was a dusty yellow unicorn whose horn ended in stump an inch from her forehead. The sheets were drawn up to her chin, and her face was twisted in pain. She looked up at the princess of the moon without surprise.

“Something is wrong.”

Luna nodded. “Twilight’s using new magic—magic you introduced to her—and I need to know exactly what she’s doing.”

“Nothing that I taught her. Nothing that anyone could.” She tapped a hoof on the side of her head. “I feel the threads. In here. Learning how to read them took time, but… it’s something I know how to do.”

“It’s what you told Twilight she could do.”

“And she can. But that’s not what she’s doing now. She not reading threads, she’s twisting them. Weaving them into new patterns. She’s not reading the future—she’s making it.”

Luna frowned down at Shining Upon. “Isn’t that what we all do?”

The hornless unicorn shook her head violently. “Not like this. She’s not just changing things through her own actions. She’s ensuring that others dance to her tune.” She pushed herself up on the bed, and leveled a hoof at Luna. “She’s bending the world around herself. And it’s up to everyone else to find their place in it.”

* * *

Twilight fidgeted as Celestia paged through her report on her use of Celestial Arcana. The princess of the sun had seemed a little surprised by how eager her student was to present her findings, but to Twilight, her mentor’s reaction to her work was the final piece of data she needed.

Celestia set down the parchment with a smile. “Excellent work, as always. I notice you contrast your own foretelling with prophecy and…” she checked the page. “ ‘whatever it is that Pinkie Pie does..’”

Twilight nodded. “Well, those are always involuntary. It’s something that comes upon a pony, not something that they seek out.”

“As you explain quite well,” Celestia nodded. “I’m impressed, Twilight. Once again, you’ve demonstrated your talent for studying magic, as well as performing it. Have you considered submitting this to the Academy? Your work is exemplary.”

Twilight hadn’t, mostly because she hadn’t dared to plan beyond this conversation.

“Thank you, Princess. You don’t know how much that means to me,” she said, acutely aware that she was about to tell Celestia exactly how much it meant.

But the princess of the sun merely smiled. “I would think you’d get tired of hearing it. You’ve certainly given me enough reasons to say it over the years.”

Twilight smiled back, weakly. Now was as good a time as any—especially since she and Celestia were alone. She wasn’t sure why Luna hadn’t put in an appearance, especially since she had just seen her on the train, but she was willing to take advantage of her absence, whatever its cause.

“Actually… Celestia, there was something I need to say.”

The princess’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong, Twilight?”

“No. Not exactly. It’s… well, it’s complicated. Just let me explain? Please?”

As Celestia nodded, Twilight stood, hopping down from the simple wooden chair to pace, her hooves kicking up nervous little puffs of dust from the garden path. She tried to order her thoughts, a task made difficult by the persistent pounding in her head.

“It was a long time ago, just after you’d taken me as your student.” That was good, tell it like a story. If she did, she could pretend that she knew the ending. “I’d lived at the castle for a couple of weeks, and I went to visit my parents.”

Twilight drew in a somewhat shaky breath and looked Celestia in the eyes.

“I told them I wanted to marry you.” The unicorn forced a chuckle. “I mean, it made sense to me. I was taught that when you met a pony you wanted to spend the rest of your life, you married them. It was just how the world worked.” She shook her head and resumed pacing. “They took it quite well, considering… everything, I suppose. I imagine they thought I’d grow out of it.” Another stammering breath, another stab of pain between her ears.

“I never did.”

“Oh, Twilight…” Celestia’s voice was sad, almost pitying, and Twilight’s gaze dropped, along with her heart.

“You don’t have to say it,” she said, staring at the ground. “You want me as your student. Nothing more.”

“Twilight…” The princess of the sun looked stricken. “What I want isn’t important. I—it wouldn’t’—” she sighed. “A teacher is supposed to show you the world. Not overshadow it. It’s not my place to take that from you—no matter what my own feelings are.”

Twilight pawed at the ground in frustration. “But I’ve seen the world. Ever since I left Canterlot, I’ve gone to wonderful places and met wonderful ponies. But they’re not you, Celestia. You outshine them, without even trying. You’re the sun. And I’ve spent so long basking in your glow. How can I help but fall in love?”

She saw Celestia’s eyes widen at the last word, as if speaking it aloud made it more real, and that gave Twilight courage. She walked to where Celestia stood beside the table, speaking as she did so.

“You’ve taught me, Celestia. You know me. But please, trust me as well. Trust me that I know what I want. And…” she stopped before Celestia, looking up at the princess. “Trust yourself, to know the same thing.”

The princess of the sun said nothing, but Twilight saw something in her eyes. She leaned forward, Celestia did the same.

They were close, so close that she could feel her goddess’s breath on her muzzle. Twilight closed her eyes.

* * *

It took Luna a moment to get her bearings after she teleported back to the castle gardens. She’d meant to appear at the spot near the center, where she, Celestia, and Twilight Sparkle were meant to meet, but she’d appeared near the edge of the grounds instead. The reason for the discrepancy was made obvious as soon as she looked around: the gardens were awash in magic. It cast a strange, pale purple glow across the landscape, making things look faded and unreal.

Reality was not reinforced by some of the things Luna saw taking place. She had materialized near a large fountain, decorated with a statue of an earth pony improbably balanced on one hoof while he struck at the air with the other three. As Luna watched, the statue took off with an incongruous whistling sound, shot off over the castle’s library tower, and exploded in a dazzling array of pink, green, and blue fireworks. It was magic, unrestrained and unguided. It was power overflowing and running amok. Luna took off for the center of the garden at a dead gallop.

Along the way, she passed several guards, mostly submerged in a fountain to shelter from a cloud of enraged bees that had, until very recently, been parts of their armor. She passed an abandoned gardener’s rake in a mad waltz with a pair of shears. She passed a pair of flock of fish, fins flapping lazily as they sailed by overhead.

As she drew closer to the center of the garden, the temperature began to drop. It wasn’t long before Luna’s breath was fogging the air, and the ground under her hooves was white with frost. A little further, ice had begun to form on the trees and hedges, and she had to spread her wings to keep from toppling over on the patches of it that lay on the grass. The air was thick with fog, but she could just make out a pair of shadowy figures ahead of her. Gathering her legs beneath her, the princess of the moon reached the garden’s heart in one great leap.

It was like flying into the eye of a hurricane. The sky was clear, the air uncolored Even in the distance, the rest of the garden looked entirely placid, in stark contrast to the chaos she had just run through. And in the center of this island of sanity, her sister and Twilight Sparkle stood nose to nose.

Frost streaming from her coat, the princess of the moon bellowed

“Stop!”

* * *

At the sound of Luna’s voice, Twilight’s eyes snapped open, and she whirled around. She had been flying, soaring, and suddenly she was crashing back to earth. She would have wondered how Rainbow Dash could stand it, had she not been so shocked.

Shocked and in pain, in fact. She had managed to ignore her headache, so focused she had been on Celestia, but the pain she had forgotten was quick to reassert itself. No longer an intermittent throbbing, it had become a steady, persistent ache, that fell across her head like a blanket. She stared at the intruder, uncomprehendingly.

“Luna? Can this wait?” Celestia sounded as puzzled as Twilight felt.

“No, it cannot. You have to stop this, Twilight. Stop this now.”

The unicorn’s mouth dropped open. “What? Stop? How dare you?” she shouted, disappointment and confusion transmuted into anger in an instant. “This is none of your business. Get with the times—things have changed in a thousand years.”

Luna blinked. “What…? Never mind. Listen to me, Twilight Sparkle. You’ve done something, with the Celestial Arcana. Used it to… take control, even if you didn’t realize it. And you have to stop, before it's too late.”

The princess of the moon staggered as she felt Twilight's magic turn against her. The wild, unfocused force at work in the garden suddenly found a target in the dark blue alicorn. It wasn't violent, not yet, but it drove her hooves into the earth and pressed down on her shoulders. Luna gritted her teeth tried again.

“You’re making up the future as you go along, turning it into what you want it to be. And it’s taking its toll.”

“What are you talking about? I'm fine!” Twilight snapped, and Luna felt the invisible weight of the unicorn's magic increase slightly.

“You told me before, on the train, that you had a headache. It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”

Luna saw Twilight blink, saw how the corners of her eyes were tightened in pain, and stepped forward.

“You’ve been burning huge amounts of power without realizing it, and your body can only take so much.”

Luna spared a glance at her sister, saw the same mix of anger and confusion in Twilight's eyes mirrored there, and tore her gaze away. She couldn't bear to see her sister like this.

“Please, Twilight. You have to back down. Before things get any worse.” She looked pityingly between Twilight and her sister. “I know you think I interrupted something, but you have to understand—anything Celestia said were your words in her mouth, nothing more.”

“What?” Twilight and Celestia said together.

“That’s absurd!” the unicorn snapped. She spun to face her mentor, and almost toppled over. The sudden movement made her dizzy. “Celestia, tell her that— ” Twilight blinked, trying to clear the stars flashing across her vision. “Celestia?”

And then, with a terrible, shattering crack, pain exploded across her skull, driving her consciousness down, into darkness.

Comments

[Lelouch Vi Britania]

And now we know how the unicorn with the broken horn broke it...which sucks for twilight.

[Dusty Sage]

Utterly fascinating. (I read up on nominative determinism a few years back, with of course no idea that I'd be seeing it again.)

And this -- "Sufficiently advanced apathy is indistinguishable from fate" -- is the line of the day.

[That_one_guy]

Oh, shit. Oh, man.

This is a fucking fabulous fic.

[Spamotron]

Well unless the next chapter reveals things to not be nearly as bad as they currently appear the tragedy and dark tags will be necessary in short order.

[xTSGx]

A "Twilight becomes a reality warper" fanfic? Never seen that before, and I like it when I encounter ideas I've never seen.

[Isador]

I'm getting the feeling that somehow this all wasn't just Twilight. It seems too planned like there is another individual pulling the strings as well as Twilight.

[The Lone Shadow]

I'm really hoping this doesn't go down the 'Twilight loses her magic' route that so many other stories have.

Still, a very good chapter.

[Fidelis]

“I can see fifteen seconds into the future. Go me.”

I lul'd.

She would give her sister six months to cotton on, she decided. After that, she was writing “Twilight Loves You” in Celestia’s mirror. She snorted. And if that didn’t work, she’d try the moon.

I lul'd even harder.

“The first pony,” she boomed across the city, “to tell me where I can find a hornless unicorn gets to NOT spend the next decade on the moon!”

I almost fell out of my seat.

Didn't see reality warping coming. I like it.

[khatre]

Naaaarf!
Poit

[Causal Quill]

As she shuffled the Arcana, Twilight kept the question what happened between me and Luna foremost in her mind.

?

[Jordanis]

Lovely Ridcully cameo there.