My Brave Pony: The Knight Who Fell From Space

by Scipio Smith

All in the Mind

All in the Mind

Twilight was woken up the next day by the sounds of physical effort outside: grunting, stamping on the ground, high pitched cries; Twilight's eyes snapped open. "Spike," she said loudly, as she sat up in bed. "Are you-"

"I'm fine," Spike said. He was already up, although judging by a certain bleariness beneath his eyes and the slightly disgruntled tone of his voice he wasn't entirely happy to be up. "Everyone's fine. They're just… practicing, or something."

Twilight looked out of the bedroom window. Down below, at the back of the library, she could see Lightning Dawn and Krysta, as Spike had put it, practicing, although sparring or training were other words that Twilight might have used to describe what she could see. Lightning had his splendid silver armour on, it glimmered in the light of the sun which even now was starting to rise, obedient to Celestia's command, above the horizon. Krysta was dressed no differently than usual, but she had bound her long hair – which had changed colour, all traces blue or black vanishing completely in favour of a bright red which burned like fire - in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, with a handful of long, visible hairpins thrust through said bun; she held her sword, a weapon which looked small for all that it was nearly as big as its diminutive wielder, in both hands and she was using it to slash wildly at Lightning. All the while, as she slashed, she shouted wordlessly like a tennis pro shrieking as they hit the ball.

"What do you suppose they're doing?" Twilight asked, as she got out of bed and walked lightly across the room a little closer to the window. Krysta appeared to be doing most of the work; no, that was not the right way to think of it, Krysta appeared to be putting forth all of the aggressive energy in this match or session or however you might want to phrase it, but the fact that Lightning appeared to be mostly dodging her attempts to strike him – and succeeding – didn't mean that he wasn't working hard to do so, in the same way that just because a spell did not provide a feast for the eyes of spectators didn't mean that it wasn't an effort for the spellcaster.

"I don't know," Spike huffed. "But could you tell them to keep it down?" He put a pair of pink fluffy earmuffs on his head, plonked himself back down in his basket, and ostentatiously wrapped himself up in his blanket as he rolled over, presenting his back to Twilight and the window beyond which the siblings fought.

Twilight smiled at him, for all that he could not see it, but the fact that he could not, by his own choice, hear her meant that she didn't bother to tell him that she was going to do just that. She simply trotted down the stairs, sparing a brief glance for her golem and promising herself that at some point – probably after the gala at this rate – she would finish work on it. Twilight left the library, and wandered around the side of the living tree to find Lightning and Krysta as hard at it as they had been just a few moments before when she had seen them out of the window.

Neither of them noted her, and they both seemed so fixed in concentration that, for all that she had come to ask them to keep the noise down, Twilight found herself drawn in to simply watching them, silently, not disturbing them in any way by her presence. It was clear that Lightning was by far the more skilled of the two, and that if Twilight had initially felt that he wasn't working as hard as Krysta was that was simply a reflection of the fact that he didn't have to work that hard to hold her off. Rather, he seemed to be doing in effortlessly, a fact that equally seemed to be driving Krysta up the wall a little bit as she charged at him, blade slashing, again and again. Lightning was very conservative in how he avoided her. He didn't take to the air, in fact his wings might as well have been strapped down for all the use he was getting out of them, although he did leap once or twice, astonishing Twilight with now nimbly he could move in all that armour as he performed a backflip that carried him out of danger before landing him on all fours facing Krysta once again.

Krysta did take to the air, in fact she seemed to be doing everything that she could to try and land a hit on Lightning: she flew, and she used her portals to come at him from all angles, emerging behind him or directly above him to descend like a thunderbolt upon his back. None of it worked, he was too swift for her, and as she watched the more certain Twilight became that Krysta would never achieve the hit that she desired though she kept it up all day.

But she didn't have all day, because almost as soon as the thought crossed Twilight's mind Lightning extended one wing and said, "That's enough. That's enough for today."

Krysta's hands – and her sword – dropped limp and dispirited to her sides. "You win," she sighed. "Again."

"It's not a competition."

"Not for you, because you always win," Krysta replied.

Lightning might have said something in reply to that, but before he could speak he – finally – caught sight of Twilight watching the pair of them. "Miss Twilight," he said, bowing his head to her. "I hope that we did not disturb you."

Twilight winced a little. "Let's just say that Spike isn't too happy with the pair of you right now."

"I apologise," Lightning said. "It was inconsiderate of me."

"He's just a little cranky," Twilight said. "But he'll get over it. So, were you training?"

"I was about too," Lightning said. "That was more in the nature of a warm-up, which Krysta is kind enough to help me with."

Lightning might have missed the nearly mutinous look that passed Krysta's face to hear her best shot described as a warm up, but Twilight did not.

“Well, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Twilight said. “I just wanted to ask if you could possibly keep the noise down just a little?”

“Sorry,” Krysta said. “It’s easy to get carried away, you know?”

“I don’t, I’m afraid,” Twilight said. “But I can see your point.”

“I will be quieter going forward, Miss Twilight,” Lightning said. “You have my word.”

“Spike will be very glad to hear it,” Twilight said. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“You don’t have to,” Lightning said, although he seemed as surprised – moreso – that the words had left his mouth as Twilight was to hear them. He stared at her for a moment, his armoured body frozen by that same surprised that was writ in block capitals upon his face. It… was he blushing? It was a little hard to make out because of the way the colours shifted across his face, and especially the darkest veins upon his marbled coat, but Twilight definitely thought that his cheeks were heating up. “I, um, I mean to say,” he stammered. “I mean that you are quite welcome to stay… if you wish.”

Twilight hesitated for a moment, a smile playing across her face. She looked down at her hooves, unsure of quite how she ought to respond. “That… is very kind of you to offer,” she said. “But I’d only get in your way, I’m sure.”

“How about if he took his armour off?” Krysta asked.

“Krysta!”

“What? Trust me, take off your armour and go swim in a pond somewhere.”

“Don’t listen to her! Don’t listen to anything she says!” Lightning said quickly, gesturing towards her with one hoof. He cleared his throat. “I mean, um, I’m so sorry, Miss Twilight-“

“How about instead of showing off his muscles he showed you his magic?” Krysta asked.

“Okay,” Twilight said, the word galloping out hard upon the end of Krysta’s sentence because – although she was too polite to actually raise the issue herself – the idea of seeing first-hoof and up-close the magic of another world was not a chance that she intended to pass up; while she doubted that she would have learned anything from watching Lightning’s physical training, if he was indeed willing to show her his magic then who knew what she might uncover? Even if it turned out to be exactly the same as Equestrian magic – quite possible, considering that, assuming that the story he had told was accurate, they shared a more or less common origin then that would be an incredible discovery in an of itself. If not, if the magic of the Olympians had in some way diverged from the magic of Equestria then that would be one of the greatest discoveries of the age. What would-be philosopher of magic could ever let such a chance slip from her grasp.

And yet having agreed so readily she felt what Twilight thought must have been the twin of the uncertainty that had stolen over Lightning. “I mean… if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I… I have no objections,” Lightning said formally, recovering his courtesy. “That is to say that it would be my honour to show you of what, in the arcane arts, I am capable of. I merely fear that, well, you have studied at the hooves of Princess Celestia herself, a philosopher of magic almost as skilled in the arts magical as she was fair to look upon. I fear that aught that I could show you will seem stale and dull by comparison.”

Krysta planted her face upon her hand. “Come on, dude, don’t blow it now. She was about to stay,” she muttered.

“You really don’t need to worry,” Twilight replied in an easy tone. “Prince Lightning, not to put too fine a point on it but you come from another world; from across the stars. The way you,” Twilight cast around for something. “The way you brush your teeth is fascinating enough-“

“He brushes his teeth to a pearly white shine, take a look,” Krysta said. Nopony took any notice.

“Your magic… I’ve seen a little of it already and I would be honoured, more honoured than I think you realise, if you would show me more of what magic looks like on another world, so far removed from my own.”

Lightning bowed his head, a gesture which could not quite hide the fact that he looked quite pleased with this turn of events. “Then I shall do my utmost not to disappoint you, Miss Twilight.”

“Great,” Twilight said brightly. “Also,” she added, as her horn flared with a lavender light. A notepad and quill zoomed out of the library to hover, suspended by telekinesis, right in front of her. “Do you mind if I take some notes?”

“How could I begrudge a scholar?” Lightning replied. “Now,” he continued, more softly and more to himself. “How shall I begin?”

His horn glowed very softly as he locked eyes with Twilight.

How about with this? The words echoed in Twilight’s mind in the voice of Prince Lightning Dawn.

Twilight’s eyes widened. “That… telepathy?”

Lightning’s lips turned upwards in what threatened to become a smirk but did not quite reach that unpleasant point.

Indeed, Miss Twilight, once again his voice resounded inside Twilight’s head.

Twilight’s jaw hung open for a moment. “Incredible,” she whispered. “I mean…” she chuckled softly. Incredible.

“I cannot read your thoughts, Miss Twilight,” Lightning said. “I can place words in your mind but that does not mean that I can see what is already there.”

“I see,” Twilight murmured. “That’s… a little disappointing, even if it is probably a good thing.”

“There are many, I think, who would agree with you on the latter point,” Lightning murmured. He locked eyes with her again. This skill was taught to me so that I could command warriors from a distance, even those who were out to sight of me upon the battlefield.

“I presume they must be able to communicate back,” Twilight said. “Or else it would lose a lot of its utility.”

Some, I grant you, but I can still give orders even if I cannot get a reply, Lightning said into her mind.

Twilight frowned ever so slightly. “Do you need to lock eyes with me to do this? Because that seems like it cuts against the concept that you’ve just outlined.”

“Indeed,” Lightning said, although immediately he said it he looked embarrassed that he had forgotten he was supposed to be showing off his powers. I mean, indeed, Miss Twilight. Telepathy requires a degree of cultivation; at first I must link eyes with the person I wish to speak too; later, as I become more accustomed to them, I can reach them from further and further away. The knightly comrades I have trained with I can now reach from across a battlefield or beyond; although, unfortunately, not from across the stars. And yes, I have tried.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said. “It must be quite wrenching, after getting used to being able to speak to other people from across great distances, have their voices in your head all the time and then suddenly… silence.”

“Who are you talking about?” Krysta asked.

Twilight tore her eyes away from Lightning briefly to look at Krysta. “Lightning was telling me that he could talk to his comrades from across great distances.”

“Maybe, but that didn’t mean he ever did,” Krysta said. “Did you?”

Lightning looked unabashed. “I appreciate your concern but it is not the great hardship which you assumed it is.”

“It’s not?” Twilight said. “I don’t understand, if I could talk to my friends in our heads whenever I wanted to then I’d probably do it all the time; could you teach me how to do this? How to speak mind to mind like this?”

“I fear it would be of less use to you than you might wish, it is only a talent which can be taught to unicorns,” Lightning said. “And I fear that we have little time to learn.”

“I’m a quick study,” Twilight said.

“It took me many months to even begin to get to grips with this skill.”

“Try me,” Twilight insisted.

“I would, although I do not claim to be a great teacher, or a teacher of any kind,” Lightning said. “Cannot Princess Celestia teach you this? I am a little surprised she did not do so.”

“If Princess Celestia can do this then I would be very surprised to learn that,” Twilight said. “She sends me messages via Spike, which she wouldn’t need to do if she could reach into my head and… okay, put like that it sounds a little weird, but it isn’t. I didn’t feel anything when you did it; I just heard your voice with something other than my ears. If the princess is a telepath then she has kept it well hidden, not only from me but from everypony, and to what end? It would make no sense. It must be a uniquely Olympian art, something that you learned after your people… after your king left Equestria. Did he teach it to you?”

“No,” Lightning said. “His Majesty is far too busy to concern himself with such things. I was instructed by a mare named Cerise, a proven and valiant knight.”

“How?” Twilight asked. “How does it work? How do you do it? No! Wait, don’t answer that. Princess Celestia always asked me to try and work the principles of a thing out for myself before she would explain it, which frustrated me at first but definitely helped me to grasp concepts more quickly. Now, what could it be?” She looked away from Lightning for a moment, resting one hoof under her chin as she pondered the question of how he was transmitting his thoughts into her mind, and how she might do the same. “Let’s see… the fact that you have to begin with eye contact but can move on to doing without suggests that there is some sort of implanted connection involved, your mind to my mind, a connection that grows stronger with time? Or use? Either way… it doesn’t help me understand how you… replication of brain waves? In the same way that a radio wave, once it reaches its destination, becomes the replication of a sound wave then perhaps if I can preserve the replication of the pattern of my words in a magical form then… a variation on phonic capture spell combined with some derivation on Starswirl’s spell of seeking, of course, that’s why it gets stronger with repetition because that’s how that spell has always worked, Spike’s connection to Celestia was built up in just that way when he was growing up! So, if I combine phonics and seeking with a little touch of…” Twilight once more looked Lightning in the eye. Can you hear me, Prince Lightning?

Now it was Lightning’s turn to drop his jaw onto the ground, and Twilight could not quite deny that there was a part of herself that was pleased that he was so impressed.

“You…” he trailed off.

“I told you I was a quick study,” Twilight said.

“You did not do yourself justice with the word,” Lightning murmured. “Your mind… it is keener than any sword I have ever seen wielded upon any battlefield.”

Twilight felt her cheeks begin to burn up. “Well, that’s very kind of you but I’m sure you’re exaggerating. I’ve just studied a lot of magic, how smart I am really has nothing to do with it.”

“Your modesty is no less incorrect for being true,” Lightning replied, which made a degree of sense to Twilight even though it sounded like it shouldn’t. “I have never known anyone to grasp this as swiftly as you do. I… it is wrong of me to feel this way but there is a part of me which regrets the fact that you will not be able to master the only other art I have to demonstrate for you just as swiftly.”

Twilight’s eyebrows rose. “You praise me, you regret that you underestimated me and then you… underestimate me again.”

“It is not as simple as grasping the principles of telepathy,” Lightning said. “This is not a magic that can be learned. It is a power that was bestowed upon me by my father, the King himself, as he has bestowed it upon all his honoured, honourable and valiant knights.”

“What power?”

“A sword,” Lightning said. “My sword.”

“A sword,” Twilight repeated. “A sword is power? Surely you don’t mean that he gave you a sword? A sword which you don’t have with you.”

“He did give it to me, after a fashion,” Lightning said. “And it is always with me, even though it may be a little more difficult to reach here than it is normally.” He closed his eyes, and seemed to dig his hooves a little deeper into the ground than they had been before. A frown crossed his marbled face. A golden glow began to softly illuminate his horn.

And then, as if in answer, a shimmering golden light appeared over Lightning’s shoulder, rippling like a pool into which a stone has been dropped straight down. The golden light shimmered and rippled, and grew brighter like a fire onto which more logs had been thrown; and as the light grew brighter Twilight saw, emerging from the lake-like light, a sword.

It came hilt first, presenting the pommel set with an amber sphere that caught the light from which it came and burned like fire; then the hilt and the broad, U-shaped guard which seemed to have been fashion from bone or antler of some vast and ancient creature, sharp and spiky; last of all came the blade itself, long and straight and sharp, and Twilight was astonished to see that it had been crafted in such a way as to reflect the mottled, marbled colours of Lightning’s coat: white and darkening shades of grey washing over one another in an intricate, winding pattern.

“This is Bolt of Dawn,” Lightning said. “Not the best name,” he admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “I have little talent for such things.”

“I had a ton of cool names lined up for him to use,” Krysta interjected.

“I could not name my blade ‘Awesome Incarnate’,” Lightning said severely. “In any case, the name is of little account compared to the blade itself, which was given to me by my father when I completed my training and joined the ranks of the elite Star Knights. It was forged in the fires of dragonsbreath, hammered into shape by the cyclopes who dwell beneath Mount Erebus, and the guard is part of the jawbone of a behemoth that my father and I slew on a hunt when I was thirteen years old. The blade can cut through all but the most powerful of magical defences, withstand immense temperatures, deflect magical attacks and at the same time I can use it as a conduit to control my use of the Fire of Heaven.”

“Fascinating,” Twilight murmured, although she was a little disturbed by the part about the hunt when he was thirteen years old. “But where did it come from? Where are you keeping it ordinarily?”

“Nowhere,” Lightning said, and the golden light disappeared as he gripped the blade with his telekinesis, giving it a couple of experimental-seeming swings through the air. “It is not in my keeping, but that of my father.”

“But you said he gave it to you.”

“He did, after a fashion,” Lightning replied.

Twilight frowned. “Perhaps you’d better explain a little more.”

“All things in New Olympia belong to the King,” Lightning explained. “He is lord and master, and we have nought but what he bestows, out of his grace and generous spirit, onto us. All the weapons of the knights are his gifts, fashioned for us by his will; he grants us not the weapons but the power to summon them from his armoury, to which they will return again once dismissed.” And indeed, as he spoke those words the blade that he had conjured out of nothing to nothing vanished once again, disappearing completely in a shower of motes of golden light as though it had never been any more than sunlight on dust the entire time. “That is the magic I cannot teach you, Miss Twilight; the power to summon can only be given by His Majesty, and then only the specific weapon that he allows.”

“Only one?” Twilight asked.

“Usually,” Lightning said. “My… Stellar, a comrade of mine, has been granted the right to summon three weapons, but that is a rare mark of distinction, a sign of the honour done to her and to her illustrious line.” He looked a little abashed. “And with that I fear that you have seen all of which I am capable, Miss Twilight. I have no more tricks with which to hold your attention.”

“Nothing at all?” Twilight said. “You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I find that a little strange.”

“I forgive you, Miss Twilight, for all that I do not understand.”

“I understand that your summoning ability was given to you, although I can’t really understand what that means without seeing it for myself, but… again, please forgive how this might sound but it seems so strange to me, almost bizarre, that you have telepathy but not any much simpler kinds of magic?”

“I have a degree of telekinesis,” Lightning said. “But it is rather blunt, and nothing at all compared to the finesse and dexterity that you or Miss Rarity demonstrate. I can wield the blade but, as you have already seen, I cannot pluck a flower from a rosebush, nor could I pass a thread through the eye of a needle.”

“Okay,” Twilight murmured. “But even so… nothing else?”

“What else would I need?”

“You don’t need anything, I suppose,” Twilight said. “But did you never want anything else? A whole world of magic out there and you never wanted to learn any of it beyond that one thing that you were taught?”

Lightning was still for a moment. “You said that if you had the ability – which you do now, a testament to your talent – to speak mind to mind then you would use it all the time; you were surprised that I did not. That… and now it is my turn to beg your forgiveness, but in New Olympia we do not employ the arcane arts for such frivolous purposes as talking amongst ourselves in the way of ordinary conversation. We do not use magic that way at all, not to please nor entertain ourselves.”

“Frivolous?” Twilight murmured. “I… I mean I suppose that you could call it that; you could probably label a lot of the things that we do with magic that way, but why bother? Why censure the use of the abilities that we have? For unicorns… well for me at least having magic is like having an extra limb, but you wouldn’t call me using all four of my hooves frivolous, would you? I mean, what do you use your magic for?”

“For war,” Lightning said. “In service of the throne and state, in defence of the light against the darkness which threatens it.”

“A worthy cause, I’m sure,” Twilight said. “But what about when you’re not engaged in battle? What about when you’re not fighting? Are you telling me that no unicorn or alicorn where you’re from uses their magic to entertain, to unwind, for fun?”

“You’ll have to explain that word fun to him, it’s not one that he’s very familiar with,” Krysta said.

“Krysta,” Lightning said, with the resigned and weary air of someone who has heard this many times.

“Okay then, tell Twilight when you last had any fun and what you did?” Krysta demanded.

Lightning fell silent. He scowled. He looked away. The one thing that he didn’t do was answer what Twilight couldn’t help but feel was an extremely simple question.

“You can’t do it, can you?” Krysta said smugly.

“My duties-“

“Don’t have to take you all day, every day,” Krysta said. “Other knights have downtime why not you?”

“I do,” Lightning said. “Yesterday, and the day before that, I had fun with Miss Twilight,” he stopped, seeming to become aware of what he had said. “I mean… I enjoyed the time we spent together.”

Twilight smiled. “So did I,” she said. “Although I’m a little surprised to learn that that’s the most fun you’ve had in… as far as you can remember.”

“You wouldn’t if you knew him better,” Krysta muttered.

“And it doesn’t feel quite right, either,” Twilight said. “I know that you were intending to train, but if you wouldn’t mind coming with me there’s somewhere else I’d like to take you.”

Lightning blinked. “To what purpose?”

“To the purpose of showing you how we have fun here in the promised land,” Twilight said.

“Go,” Krysta hissed. “Go with her!”

Lightning appeared to ignore her, but nevertheless after a moment’s hesitation he said, “I… I would be honoured to accompany you, Miss Twilight; I believe I can afford to be a little lax with my training for one day.”

“Excellent,” Twilight said. “Then follow me. I know just where to go.”

The journey across Ponyville to Sugarcube Corner was accomplished in no time at all, undisturbed by the good folk of Ponyville who moved all around them but did not disturb or interrupt their progress. Soon they stood before the gingerbread house-like structure, and Twilight’s horn flared with a touch of telekinesis as she opened up the door. The bell rang as Twilight led the way inside, followed swiftly after by Krysta and Lightning.

Pinkie was behind the counter, and as the door opened she looked up from whatever it was that she’d been doing and smiled as her eyes met Twilight’s.

Hey, Pinkie, Twilight thought, putting her newfound ability to the test. How’s it going?

Oh, hey Twilight! Everything was just great here but it’s even better now that you’ve shown up!

Twilight came to an abrupt stop just beyond the doorway. “Pinkie? How did you just do that?”

Pinkie cocked her head to one side. “I’m sorry Twilight, I thought that was something we were doing now.”

Lightning looked behind him, turning in place so that he could see her a little better. “Did something that I missed, Miss Twilight?”

“Pinkie just answered me… telepathically,” Twilight said. You would have thought that I’d be used to this by now but apparently not.

Pinkie cocked her head to one side. “Oh, is that what we were doing?”

Twilight’s eyes boggled. “You didn’t even know what you were doing?”

“I just heard your voice in my head so I answered in my head,” Pinkie explained. “That’s a pretty neat trick, Twilight, when did you learn it.”

“Just now, from Lightning,” Twilight said. “When did you learn it?”

“I don’t know,” Pinkie replied. “Sometime, I guess. Or maybe I could always do it, like making delicious pies that everypony loves, especially Rainbow Dash.”

Lightning boggled as he looked from Twilight to Pinkie and then back again. “Is this some kind of a joke?” he asked. “You must be joking, you have… arranged this to baffle and confound me.”

“Nope,” Twilight said. “No joke, just Pinkie.”

“I don’t… but you’re an earth pony!” Lightning exclaimed. He hesitated. “I apologise, Miss Pinkie, that must have sounded rather… I meant no offence by it, I was merely trying to express that an earth pony cannot use magic and therefore could not be a telepath.”

Pinkie looked Lightning in the eye, and a moment later Lightning took a step backwards. “By the Stars,” he muttered.

“Surprising, isn’t it?” Twilight said.

“I would call it astonishing,” Lightning replied. “How is this possible?”

“It’s Pinkie Pie,” Twilight said. “You’ll get used to it once you get to know her.”

“Have you gotten used to it, Miss Twilight?”

“Not yet,” Twilight admitted. “But I’m getting there.”

“What just happened?” Krysta asked. “Did… can Pinkie do unicorn magic?”

“Oh, of course not,” Pinkie said. “Only super smart unicorns like Twilight can do unicorn magic. I’ve just got a couple of tricks.”

“Hey, Lightning, does that mean I could learn telepathy too?”

“Probably not,” Lightning replied.

“But you’ve got some neat tricks of your own from what I hear,” Pinkie declared encouragingly. “Now, not that it isn’t a lot of fun to see you all weirded out by all the stuff I can do,” she emphasised the word ‘weirded’ by turning her head one hundred and eighty degrees upside down with no sign that this was so much as hurting her neck, “but what brings you all here? Is anybody hungry for more cupcakes?”

Krysta started to raise her hand, but Twilight spoke before she could, “Actually, we were here to see you. Have you got a minute?”

Pinkie beamed broadly as he head flipped back the right way up. “I’ve always got time for you, Twilight… except that I kind of have to mind Sugarcube Corner right now, so if I could have time for you that didn’t involve going anywhere that’d be great.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. “Where are Mr and Mrs Cake?”

“It’s date day,” Pinkie said. “It’s one day a month where Mr Cake takes Mrs Cake out to have fun just like they did when they were dating.”

“Huh,” Twilight said. “That sounds nice.”

“I thought so too,” Pinkie said. “Only it means that I can’t go anywhere and leave the Corner empty today. Unless there’s some of kind of big emergency with the fate of Equestria at stake, then I’m sure they’d understand.”

Twilight chuckled. “I think they would too, but fortunately nothing like that’s come up right now. I was just hoping that you could help me show Lightning and Krysta a bit of a good time.” She decided – for the sake of Lightning’s dignity, which seemed to be important to him – that she wouldn’t mention how hard Lightning had had to think to come up with an example of when he last had fun.

“Aww,” Pinkie cooed, leaning on the counter with her head resting on her hooves and giving Twilight - and Lightning - an expression that Twilight couldn’t quite decipher but which seemed rather pleased. “That’s so nice of you, Twilight, and I’d love to help but fortunately-“

“Wait, fortunately?” Twilight said.

Pinkie ignored her to roll on over her words. “I have other commitments, so unless you’d like to show Lightning a good time by helping me make a fresh batch of cakes for the Corner-“

“Actually,” Lightning said. “That… that might actually be quite a good idea. If… if you’re willing to allow us into your kitchen, I mean.”

Pinkie looked a little flummoxed, which was a rarity for Pinkie Pie in Twilight’s experience; she was far more likely to be the one astonishing other people than she was to be caught out herself. “Really?” she said. “You wouldn’t rather go and do something else, with Twilight?”

“I’m sure that Miss Twilight has no intention of abandoning me to your mercies,” Lightning said. “I mean… not to imply that… I meant to say-“

“Don’t worry,” Pinkie said. “I know what you meant, but… really? Are you sure about this?”

“If you object you can say so, Miss Pinkie,” Lightning said. “You do not have prod me into second thoughts to disguise the fact that you do not want my company.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Pinkie assured him sincerely. “I just… are you sure about this?” Her gaze flickered to Twilight.

Twilight, are you okay with this or do you want me to get rid of him so you can have him all to yourself elsewhere?

Have him all to myself, what are you talking about Pinkie? If this is what he wants and you’re fine with us all being here then how can I object?

“Why are you doing this?” Krysta asked Lightning. “This… doesn’t seem very like you.”

Lightning was silent for a moment. He scuffed his hoof against the floor of the Sugarcube Corner. “Well, it’s… it’s for you.”

“For me?” Krysta said.

“I… I know that you’re not always happy in New Olympia,” Lightning said, looking embarrassed by the presence of Twilight and Pinkie. For her part, Twilight would have withdrawn to give him some space if she had thought that she could have done so unobtrusively. As it was, as voyeuristic as her presence felt, she had nowhere to go and nothing to do except listen in silence, and hope that nothing too personal was revealed or discussed. “And I know that I don’t always show how grateful I am to you for putting up with it, and for all the sacrifices that you have made to stay with me while I fulfil my destiny. So… although I know that it isn’t much… I thought that if I could make you, try and make you, those cakes that you seemed to like so much then… it would be a way of thanking you? When I say it aloud it sounds ridiculous-“

“No,” Krysta said. “It really doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t?” Lightning repeated.

“No,” Krysta said. “Come here, you.” She said, as she jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Sometimes I despair of you but then you go and do something like this to remind me that it’s still you and me against the stars, yeah?”

“Always,” Lightning murmured, putting one armoured leg around Krysta’s small form.

“Aww,” Pinkie said. “That’s so sweet! Come on in everypony! I mean everyone.”

“Just one moment, Miss Pinkie,” Lightning said. “I should probably take off my armour first.”

Pinkie blinked. “Yeah, that’d probably be for the best.”

“Krysta,” Lightning said. “Can you oblige?”

“Sure thing,” Krysta said, as she let go of Lightning’s neck – he took his leg away from her in his turn – and made a gesture like tearing open the curtains with her hands to rend apart the fabric of the world and create a portal, trimmed with crackling pink light, into the library. Twilight could see her incomplete golem standing by the wall, but there was no sign of Spike on the other side of the gateway, Twilight guessed that he was still asleep.

“We will be just a moment, Miss Twilight, Miss Pinkie,” Lightning said.

“Take as long as you need,” Twilight said. “We’ll be right here.”

Lightning nodded, before he climbed through the portal, disappearing from Sugarcube Corner and arriving in that same instant in the library. Krysta followed him, and then the portal closed between the two of them. Pinkie and Twilight were left alone.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?” Pinkie said, rolling over so that the top of her head was resting on the counter and she was looking at Twilight upside down.

“Why are you asking me that?” Twilight said. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with this?”

“Because!” Pinkie said, which wasn’t much of answer in Twilight’s opinion. “I wondered if maybe you wouldn’t have rather had Lightning to yourself. Alone.”

Twilight frowned. “Why would I want that?”

Pinkie righted herself. “You don’t like him?”

“No,” Twilight said. “I like him. “I just don’t need to have him all to myself or something for… whatever reason you thought I might. This is about doing something good for him, and Krysta as it turns out, which is another reason I couldn’t have him ‘to myself’ if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

“If you say so,” Pinkie replied in a slightly sing-song voice.

Twilight might have replied that she did indeed say so, and in fact she might have said more than that besides except that at that precise moment a portal opened once again and Lightning and Krysta, the former having vested himself of all his armour so that he was as naked as the rest of them, returned from the library.

“I hope we were not too long,” Lightning said.

“No, you were much faster than I expected,” Twilight murmured. “How?”

“My armour is enchanted, to enable me to take it off and put it back on again at great speed and with ease,” Lightning said.

“That sounds very useful,” Twilight said. “Could I take a look at the enchantments later? After we’re done here, obviously.”

Lightning nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Miss Twilight and yes, I would be very glad to show you; I would say that I am not sure what you could glean from examination of the armour but you have already taught me not to underestimate your prowess in the arts magical. But, as you say, that is for later.”

“For right now,” Pinkie said. “Come on in and let’s get baking!”

“We shall be glad to, Miss Pinkie,” Lightning said, and he, Twilight and Krysta all made their way – Twilight leading, since of the three of them she actually knew the way into the back room – into the kitchen at the back of Sugarcube Corner.

“Welcome to where the magic happens,” Pinkie said, as she proudly presented the kitchen which managed by its style and furnishings to appear homely even though it was far larger than the domestic kitchen would be in any but the grandest of houses. “Are you ready to get started?”

“I am indeed, Miss Pinkie,” Lightning said, as he sniffed the air within the kitchen. As he did so, breathing in the aroma of sweet treats made with love, something about him seemed to soften, losing the rigidity of his martial stance and bearing, the sense of coiled spring ready to go off. When he spoke again his voice too, had softened. “It smells delicious in here. Like… it reminds me of… what?”

“Cakes, probably,” Pinkie said. “That’s what it always reminds me of, anyway. Now, we’ll start with a batch of basic cupcakes but with my own special twist on them. For ingredients, we need-“

“Two hundred and fifty grams each of butter, golden caster sugar and self-raising flour,” Lightning said. “Plus four medium eggs, four tablespoons of milk, a pinch of salt and a… a scoop of ice cream.”

“Hmm,” Pinkie said. “Not quite the recipe I work to – the measurements aren’t the same and I like to add a little bit of baking powder for that extra fluffy texture - but I can see that working out. I never would have thought of using ice cream which is really weird because I love ice cream so I’d really like to see how that works out. Where does that recipe come from?”

“I’d like to know that too,” Krysta said. “Since when do you bake?”

“I… don’t,” Lightning said, sounding almost as surprised as anyone else in the room, perhaps even more so.

Krysta frowned. “Then how did you-“

“Know that recipe?” Lightning asked, not waiting for her to finish. “I…I have no idea, it just…” he rubbed at his head with one hoof. “It just… came to me, as though some god had put the idea into my mind.”

“God of cupcakes?” Pinkie suggested.

“Perhaps His Majesty is sending you a message telepathically?” Krysta said.

Twilight had the distinct impression that this idea would have received withering scorn if it had come from anyone except Krysta, and even coming from Krysta as it did Lightning couldn’t quite contain how ridiculous he found the idea, although the set of his jaw showed he was trying. “I doubt that the King would send me a message on making cakes if he was able to make contact. I am very certain that he does not bake himself.”

“Then where did it come from?” Krysta asked.

“I don’t know,” Lightning said, with a hint of despair entering the general confusion of his voice. “I don’t know, I just… it’s as though being in here, the sights and the smells… Krysta, we’ve never baked before, have we? You and me? When we were travelling?”

“Where would we have gotten an oven when we were travelling?” Krysta asked him.

“We never made pies or… or blackcurrant tarts? I remember we stole those blackcurrants from the farmer-“

“And we ate them raw until our stomachs were killing us,” Krysta reminded him. “Remember, we used the juice to paint our faces blue.”

Lightning grinned. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I remember that now. And then…and then we’ve never gone anywhere near the palace kitchens so why does this feel so familiar to me?”

“We did pass bakeries,” Krysta said. “Maybe that’s the smell?”

Lightning shook his head. “This is more familiar than that, it’s like… it’s not just a cupcake recipe, it’s… it’s like a door in my head that was so securely locked that I didn’t even know it was a door has just been opened ajar and memories are starting to leak out, but I can’t find the door to get it open.”

“I understand what you mean, I think,” Twilight said gently. “Do you want to go and see a doctor about it? I’d offer to help but mind magic is a very specialist discipline, one I haven’t studied in any great depth or detail.”

“Can’t you just pick it up in ten seconds like you did telepathy?” Krysta asked.

Twilight smiled briefly. “It’s not that simple. I don’t think that either of us would want me to risk poking around in Lightning’s head without proper training.”

“Your reticence is probably for the best,” Lightning said. “Moreover… I don’t want to go to a hospital, or see a doctor or be anywhere but here. This place has, for whatever reason, affected me. I want to see… what else it does, if that’s alright by you.”

Twilight looked at Pinkie, who beamed. “Sure thing. Do you want to try out that recipe that you remembered?”

Lightning hesitated a moment, then smiled. “Shall we see what ice cream does to cupcakes?”

As it turned out, adding ice cream to the mixture made for pretty decent cupcakes; not as nice as Pinkie’s of course but by the time they came out of the oven and were covered in icing and buttercream Lightning’s cakes were certainly nothing to sneeze at. In fact, having tried one, Twilight was prepared to admit that they were, in fact, very good.

It turned out that Lightning’s memory was not solely confined to remembering a single recipe for a single type of cake: they spend the rest of the morning and – after a break for as sweet a lunch as one would expect of Pinkie Pie – a good part of the afternoon in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner, working their way through cupcakes and pegasus cakes, apple pies and gooseberry pies, fritters and turnovers, doughnuts filled with every kind of filling imaginable, chocolate gateaux and sponge cake and cookie cake and every single kind of sweet treat imaginable. Or so it seemed to Twilight at least, but what she chiefly noticed besides the varied selection that Pinkie was working on was how much Lightning seemed to instinctively grasp, even though it seemed as though he didn’t really know where it was coming from. Pinkie talked all three of her guests through every stage of every bake but at every stage Lightning was always the quickest of them to grasp what they were doing and why, and even when he didn’t know what he was doing – there were times when his hooves seemed to move independently of his mind, as though his muscles could still remember what his mind had forgotten or suppressed. It was a mystery, to be sure, but in the midst of the hard work of baking delicious treats and the surprise of watching the soldier reveal the baker hidden deep within it was difficult to remember the mystery; or perhaps it would be better to say that Twilight was able to put it to one side for now and subsume herself in the delights of baking with friends, creating works that, if they were not all masterpieces – only Pinkie was really managing that consistently, although Lightning came close once or twice – were at least full of passionate enthusiasm.

There was also the pleasure of watching Lightning Dawn, proud warrior prince, regress before her eyes into a little colt.

“Who wants to lick the bowl?” Pinkie cried cheerfully, holding said bowl, with its drips and drops of batter clinging to the sides, up in the air.

“I do!” Lightning and Krysta yelled in unison, raising a powerful hoof and a tiny hand respectively up into the air.

The two of them stopped, staring at one another.

“Go on, Krysta,” Lightning said.

“No no no no!” Krysta replied, gesturing furiously with both hands. “No, Lightning, you should take it. You’ve done all the work for it.”

“I can’t take it away from you, you’re my little sister.”

“And I’m offering it to you!” Krysta cried. “What, am I not allowed do that now?”

“You’re only doing this because…” Lightning trailed off. “Why are you doing this?”

Krysta rolled her eyes. “If you don’t get it, I’m not going to explain it to you, just lick the bowl.”

“You lick the bowl!”

“What are you going to do if I don’t, force it down my throat?”

“Oh, come on, don’t fight over something like this,” Pinkie said. “I have two spoons!”

They both looked at her.

Krysta beamed. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

When they resumed baking, Lightning flung flower and baking powder and everything else around with such gay abandon that he made far more mess in the kitchen than he needed too.

And then, once the pies were in the oven, Twilight felt a lump of flower strike her on the nose.

She looked up, astonished to see Lightning look at her with an expression that was part sheepish, part mischievous.

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“I… I scarcely know what is coming over me,” he admitted.

“Really?” Twilight replied. “Well, you know what I know?” She grinned. “You shouldn’t start a food fight with someone whose telekinesis is better than yours!” she yelled, as she threw every ingredient she could grab with her magic at him. Soon they were both laughing uproariously as they flung things back and forth, pursuing one another around the kitchen.

Yes, it created a colossal mess that they then had to clean up afterwards, but it had been fun while it lasted and besides, even sweeping and cleaning could be, if not fun, then at least reasonably engaging when you were doing it with friends.

“I must say,” Lightning said, as he watched Twilight used her telekinesis to direct several brooms and mops all at once. “That, at the moment, your using magic in that way does not seem so frivolous, despite what my upbringing would teach.”

“Magic isn’t a weapon,” Twilight said. “It’s not, in the main, some mysterious thing that needs to be looked upon with awe – although I grant that there are some spells that do seem to require a degree of that kind of veneration when you think about them. I would say, especially after what I’ve learned here in Ponyville, that magic isn’t even a tool. Magic is just… most magic, for unicorns, is just like a limb, like an extra limb that we happen to have that other ponies don’t. You wouldn’t not use all four legs for anything, so why not use magic?”

Lightning cocked his head to one side. “You really see the subject of your own study as such a commonplace thing?”

“Why not?” Twilight said. “The magic of friendship is the most powerful magic in Equestria, but at the same time it is a magic so common that it is all around us at any and every given moment. Even here, in this room, with us.”

Lightning locked eyes with her for a moment, and she thought that he might be about to say something telepathically, but then he looked away as he kept on sweeping. “I feel as though I should apologise to you both,” he said gruffly.

“What for?” Twilight asked.

“All this mess,” Lightning said, as though it were obvious.

“You think this is a mess?” Pinkie said. “You should see what happens when Rainbow and I get together.”

Lightning snorted. “That would be an amusing image, I’m sure, if I knew her a little better, but it does-“

“Lightning,” Twilight said, before he could go on. “Did you have fun? Are you having fun today, now?”

“I…yes,” Lightning said, as he looked at her. “I…I can’t remember when I last…when I last had fun like this.”

“Make sure you keep at it when you get home,” Pinkie said.

Krysta made some kind of a noise from the back of her throat. She had long since given up on trying to bake herself and was now sitting on top of one of the work surfaces, watching the three ponies. Perhaps strangely, she did not seem bored; rather she seemed amused to see everything going on around her, especially Lightning, at whom she was looking right now with a look in her blue eyes that Twilight could not decipher, but which clearly presaged something.

“I…” Lightning hesitated, as Krysta leaned forward. “I will… I’ll try, at least. I can’t guarantee that I’ll always have time-“

“Make time,” Pinkie said.

“I do have duties.”

“Of course,” Pinkie said. “But you also have a duty to yourself, don’t you?”

Lightning looked as if he was not quite so sure. “Do I?”

“Yes!” Pinkie declared emphatically. “Sometimes the best way you can do right by you is to do something you enjoy, even if it’s just baking a cake.”

Lightning was silent for a moment, seeming to take in what Pinkie had just told him, before he smiled and nodded his head. “Alright then, I will,” he said. “Thank you. Both of you. This has been… a very good day.”