My Brave Pony: The Knight Who Fell From Space

by Scipio Smith

The Best Night Ever? (Part 1)

The Best Night Ever? (Part 1)

The night of the Grand Galloping Gala had arrived, or perhaps – since it was now only the late afternoon – it would be more accurate to say that the day of the night of the Grand Galloping Gala had arrived.

All the hopes and dreams of Miss Twilight’s friends seemed to hang upon this night like precious stones hanging from a necklace, for reasons that Lightning could not entirely explain but was not particularly inclined to question; their reasons were their own, and he was willing to accept Miss Twilight’s explanation that he ‘had to be there’ to comprehend. And besides, it wasn’t as if he himself was not also looking to this night for answers and fulfilment. For tonight was the night when he would stand in the presence of Princess Celestia of far fame, she whose beauty had driven kingdoms to war and spread strife even between brothers, she whose greatness was renowned throughout the stars, she who ruled over paradise itself. Tonight he would stand in the presence of a legend and, so he hoped, have all his questions answered. Tonight he would, he devoutly hoped, find out something that would enable him to tell himself that he hadn’t just been wasting his time in Equestria since he arrived.

He was both looking forward to it and at the same time utterly terrified by the prospect. He was to meet with Princess Celestia, about whom he had grown up with stories, and if that was not enough to fill him with both trepidation and excitement in equal measure then there was also the fact that his quest in Equestria seemed to ride upon the outcome of his meeting. If Princess Celestia knew ought of the Prism Stone then his success was assured, if not… and what if she decided that she would only help him if he passed some test that she set for him, met some standards that she held during their interview, impressed her in some fashion? What if he failed the test and in doing so failed the quest, failed his people? Failed his father? Whether or not he decided to stay in Equestria as Krysta wished, he would not want it to be thought that he had chosen to hide away because he feared to face up to the consequences of failing his mission for the stone. He did not think that he could bear for that to be thought of him.

For Krysta’s sake he might suffer to be a thought a deserter; but not even for her did he think that he could bear to be thought a coward.

And besides, the need of his father for the stone was great. Without all the Prism Stones then those that they did manage to acquire were, if not quite worthless, then of little worth compared to the value of a complete set. With the Star Legion so hard pressed by powers innumerable, with the shadow of the Serpent Authority growing to add to the enemies that they already faced, the power of the Prism Stones was sorely needed. If Princess Celestia did not know of them… if he could not persuade her to tell him what she knew… yes, that was what he feared most; not her ignorance, for this was Princess Celestia after all, the legendary Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria, archmage, ruler, prize of princes. But if she did not like him, if she took against him for whatever reason… and it seemed, based on the uncomfortable interview with Captain Shining Armour, that she might have already done so.

And if that was the case then this might all be for nothing.

Lightning endeavoured to keep his misgivings off his face, distracting himself by watching Miss Twilight Sparkle as she worked. She was studying a new spell, one that she had been working on in preparation for this night, and she seemed to be succeeding in spite of the best efforts of Pinkie Pie to distract her as she bounced up and down upon a nearby trampoline. It appeared that for her many sterling virtues restraint was not one of them. Nevertheless, Miss Twilight persisted with her studies, and Lightning found that he could see her mind racing through her eyes as she absorbed the information, made the connections, understood things that she had not a moment before. And all through her eyes, the light that he could see in her eyes, the sparkle that he could see there as she scanned there. It was… beguiling.

He felt that he could sit here upon the grass and watch her mind work all day.

Miss Rarity emerged from Carousel Boutique to rebuke Pinkie for her over-manic behaviour, but upon the way Lightning espied her, out of the corner of his eye, giving him a knowing glance, as though she guessed at the thoughts that he was keeping hidden.

He was not particularly concerned. She could think what she liked; she could guess at whatever she would of his thoughts and feelings; watching Miss Twilight gave him solace, and banished his doubts and his fears and his reproaches, and so he would do so unless or until she asked him to cease.

She had not done so yet.

Miss Rarity gestured towards him with her snout, and as Pinkie leapt down from off the trampoline the two of them whispered together for a while, both of them glancing towards Lightning and Twilight; something seemed to be amusing the pair of them, or else it seemed to be making them glad. They ceased as the remainder of Miss Twilight’s friends – Rainbow Dash, Applejack and Fluttershy – arrived to join them.

“Perfect,” Miss Twilight declared, slamming the book shut with a decided finality, a proud look upon her face. “I’m ready.”

“You have mastered the spell, Miss Twilight?” Lightning asked.

“What spell?” Rainbow asked, looking torn between a desire to know and a distaste for Lightning’s presence.

“Spike,” Twilight said, and like a subject king presenting tribute to the King of Kings as a sign of his fealty and respect, Spike produced an apple red as blood and laid it at Twilight’s hooves before retreating.

“An apple?” Pinkie said. “Are we having pie?”

“No, she’s going to make it huge,” Krysta said. “Or maybe she’s going to multiply them so they can feed five thousand ponies.”

“Ah hope not,” Applejack said. “Ah’m the only one who’s supposed to be selling apples at the gala.”

“Then maybe-“

“It’s not a guessing game, Krysta,” Lightning murmured. “Let Miss Twilight work.”

“Sorry.”

Twilight chuckled, covering her mouth demurely with one hoof as she did so; her laughter was like the sound of water babbling through a brook, and even more pleasing to the ear. “That’s alright, Krysta. Now, I just need to concentrate for a moment.”

Her horn flared with a glow of purple magic, and Lightning watched as the apple bulged and warped before his eyes, expanding outwards – so that for a moment he thought that Krysta was about to be proved right – before it turned out to be much more complicated than that. Not only did the apple expand – and greatly so, it swelled to the size of a small dwelling – but it completely transformed also into an old-fashioned carriage, such as the gentry might have ridden in in elder days, complete with a yolk to harness somepony to pull it.

Although who that somepony might be was not altogether obvious.

“Once again, I must bow my head before your mastery of the arcane arts,” Lightning declared, literally bowing his head as Twilight’s friends pressed close around her with congratulations on her skill. “The things that you can do…neither I nor anypony I know could even conceive of them, let alone accomplish them.”

“Well, I… I try my best,” Twilight said, as a slight flush of colour rose to her cheeks. “Besides, I’m not quite done yet. Fluttershy, did you bring your friends?”

“Yes,” Fluttershy said, as four white mice poked their heads up from out of her mane. She bowed her head to let them escape down onto the ground. “Will they be safe, Twilight?”

“You have my word,” Twilight declared, as the four mice assembled in pairs in front of her.

“Far be it from me to doubt you upon your sacred word, Miss Twilight,” Lightning said.

“Then don’t,” Rainbow muttered.

“But may I ask,” Lightning added, ignoring Rainbow Dash. “What you intend to do with those creatures?”

“I’m going to transform them into something that can pull our coach to Canterlot,” Twilight explained, her tone ever so slightly contriving to suggest that he ought to have worked that out for himself by now.

A frown furrowed Lightning’s brow. “I have to say, Miss Twilight, I would prefer it if you did not.”

“But why?” Twilight said.

“Because transfiguration of apples is all very well,” Lightning said. “And serves as a fitting showcase for your skill. But to apply that skill to living creatures is to usurp the functions of heaven; there are certain kinds of magic that should not be practiced upon living creatures, and perverting the forms that nature has endowed them with is one of them.”

“Perverting?” Rainbow said. “Where do you get off talking to Twilight like that-“

“Hold on now, Rainbow Dash,” Applejack said. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to imply nothing about Twilight, he just don’t like this particular kind of magic, ain’t that right?”

“Exactly,” Lightning said. “I would never insult Miss Twilight so, I merely do not wish to see her start walking down a dark path.”

“I have to admit,” Applejack said. “I’m not sure how much I like the idea of messing with folks like that. I’m not sure I’d like it if some feller decided to turn me into a, a newt or something without asking just because they could.”

Twilight’s face fell. “I… I suppose that… I can see your point, both of you. I was just so focussed on making this perfect that I didn’t stop to think…Fluttershy, I’m sorry. I don’t need your animals for this, and I’m sorry that I wanted to use your friends that way.”

“It’s okay, Twilight,” Fluttershy said, although she couldn’t quite keep the relief out of her voice. “You can go along home now,” she said to the mice. “I’ll be back soon.”

The mice scurried away, and Lightning fancied that he caught a grateful look upon their faces as he did so.

“Thank you, Miss Twilight,” Lightning said.

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Twilight said.

“And I thank you for the consideration, although my consideration was as much for your sake as that of those creatures,” Lightning replied.

“Regardless, thank you for speaking up; it’s not something that you need to feel ashamed of doing even if you’re afraid it might upset me,” Twilight added, with a bit of a glance at Rainbow Dash. “Although... without the mice, who will pull our carriage.”

“If that is your fear, Miss Twilight, then perhaps I might be of assistance,” Lightning said.

“You?” Rarity asked, while Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes.

“I have a strong back, and four stout legs,” Lightning said. “And I am already fashioned to bear harness such as this carriage possesses.”

“But all by yourself?” Twilight said.

“Yeah, remember we’re all going to be sitting inside it,” Rainbow said. “I’d hate to see you make a promise that you couldn’t keep.”

Lightning met her gaze evenly. “I assure you that I am more than capable of this.” He didn’t bring up the fact that he had once pulled a sled loaded with supplies over an ice shelf for three days to bring them to an isolate outpost under siege, because he didn’t want to seem a braggart, but rather he sought to convey by his bearing and manner that this would present no obstacle to him.

“That maybe so, but you’ll be all sweaty doing it,” Rarity said. “You’ll ruin your suit!”

“Be assured, Miss Rarity, I shall pace myself so as to avoid that,” Lightning said. “Please, Miss Twilight, I know that I have disrupted your plans for the evening, and in more ways than one. Allow me to make amends for it, as a gentlecolt should.” He bowed. “It would be my honour to convey you all to Canterlot for tonight’s festivities.”

Twilight hesitated for a moment, before she said, “Very well, Prince Lightning, if you think you can do it then we won’t stand in your way.”

Shortly thereafter the group broke up, with Miss Twilight and her friends retiring to Carousel Boutique to get changed into their evening gowns; Krysta might have gone with them, but she preferred to join Lightning in retiring to the library where they changed into their attire for the evening.

Obviously they didn’t change in the same room; that would have been…rather unseemly. Instead, Krysta got changed in Miss Twilight’s sleeping quarters in the upper floor, while Lightning had the ground floor to himself but, to avoid the chance of him say anything more of Krysta than was right and decent, he confined himself to an alcove beneath Miss Twilight’s room from which he was unable to see anything going on upstairs.

“So tell me something,” Krysta said, her voice floating down from above. “Why is it unnatural to transform animals with magic but not to cut little foals open and augment their guts with cybertech and all that stuff?”

Lightning blinked, pausing in the middle of doing up his dress shirt. “Krysta… there is no comparison between what is done to volunteers for the Star Legion and what Miss Twilight wished to do to those mice.”

“Yeah, from where I was standing it was like the mice got the better deal,” Krysta said.

“That’s absurd,” Lightning said.

“Is it? Is it really?”

“Yes,” Lightning replied. “That’s why I said it was absurd.”

“What makes it absurd?”

“I had a choice,” Lightning said. “I volunteered. I gave consent. All things of which Miss Fluttershy’s mice were quite incapable.”

“You consented because your head was so full of duty and honour and-“

“Krysta,” Lightning growled, cutting her off. “You know that I don’t like it when you talk like this.”

Krysta was silent upstairs for a moment. “You get what I’m trying to say, right? You might not have changed your shape but you were changed just as much as any spell that Twilight could have cast. And your changes were permanent.”

“My changes were for the greater good,” Lightning declared. “Would you have liked me to remain unaugmented, a vacuous parasite like Crystal? Don’t answer that,” he added quickly. “Krysta, why are you bringing this up?”

“You brought it up,” Krysta reminded him. “I just don’t really get where you’re coming from. You got… you got messed up-“

“I wouldn’t call it that-“

“I would,” Krysta replied forcefully. “You screamed when they cut you open, don’t you remember that?”

“No,” Lightning said softly. “I remember. I am ashamed to think back on it now, but I remember. It hurt a great deal.”

“But you won’t hear a word said against it?”

“I am not ashamed of the choices that I made.”

“But you won’t let Twilight cast a spell on some mice?”

Lightning was silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling. “It wasn’t duty or honour,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I didn’t go through with all of the procedures to make me better, faster, stronger, all the augments of a knight because of duty or honour or even because I wanted to serve His Majesty better,” Lightning said. “I did it… so that I would be strong enough to protect you. The way that I hadn’t been strong enough before. That’s the difference. I put myself through that… for your sake, not just for temporary expedience, to fill a need that could just as easily be filled some other way. That is why… I asked Miss Twilight not to cast that spell.”

There was a moment of silence from up above, then another, then another. At last Krysta spoke, her voice sounding a little hoarse. “You’re such a moron sometimes.”

“Krysta?”

“Let’s just… let’s just finish getting ready, okay?” Krysta said. “I… can we just do that?”

Lightning bowed his head, although he knew that she couldn’t see it any more than he could see her. “Of course,” he said quietly.

Lightning was no student of the fashions of this world, but it seemed to him as though Miss Rarity had done him quite proud. He was dressed in a white jacket with a black collar, and a ruffled white dress shirt underneath, and a black bow tie fastened around his neck. Rarity had also given him a red carnation to wear in his buttonhole, but with Lightning’s telekinesis being what it was – awful – he had no chance of getting that in without assistance.

“Krysta?” he called up. “Are you finished?”

“Yep,” Krysta said, as she fluttered down from the upper floor. She had changed her usual black hair to a platinum blonde for the occasion, styled with sweeping bangs from right to left – minus a few artfully undone strands of hair which fell loosely down on either side of her face – and a long high ponytail which fell down her back almost to the floor, fastened in place by a clasp of blue beads. Her gown was blue, with a ruffled skirt up to her waist where it was stopped short by an aquamarine sash tied into a bow in front of her. The shoulders were plain, but her arms were covered by a pair of long black gloves which seemed to Lightning to be the only concession made to Krysta’s usual style. She had painted her lips a bright neon blue, and a riot of different blue shades had been painted around her eyes in a mix of shapes that seemed almost like cold fire, flickering flames dancing upon her face.

“How do I look?” she asked, posing as she landed, her feet – the slippers that clad them visible for just a moment from beneath her dress – touching the wooden floor.

“You look… I’ve never seen you look like this before,” Lightning murmured.

“I never had a chance to look like this before, did I?” Krysta asked. “Some people didn’t get invited to all the smart parties.”

“You weren’t missing very much, I promise,” Lightning said.

“Whatever,” Krysta said. “I’m going to miss this. Hey, you’re not wearing that flower Rarity gave you.”

“Well, I was hoping that you-“

“Oh, right!” Krysta said, picking up the carnation from the table on which it sat and deftly with her little fingers putting it in his buttonhole where it belonged. “There, perfect. And I mean that, you look pretty cool.”

“Really?” Lightning said. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to tell.”

“You’re supposed to tell by believing your sister when she tells you that you look pretty cool,” Krysta said. “I’m sure Twilight’s going to love it.”

“We’re here for business, not pleasure,” Lightning reminded her, with a touch of sternness in his voice.

“Sure thing, sweet cheeks,” Krysta said, patting him on the cheeks to bring home – as if her tone had not already done that – that she didn’t really believe him. “Do you need me to get the hat, too?” she asked, gesturing towards the white top hat that was sitting on the same table, near where the carnation had been.

“No, I think I can get the hat myself,” Lightning said, as he reached out with his neck and grabbed that by the brim with his teeth, tossing it up into the air so that it landed – almost perfectly, at a slight angle – atop his head.

Krysta’s – blonde now, like her hair – eyebrows rose. “Have you been practicing that?”

“No.”

“Because if you had then you should have waited until Twilight could see you do it.”

“I have not been practicing,” Lightning said. “I have natural skills in certain areas.”

“Natural skills,” Krysta repeated. “Sure.”

Lightning glanced briefly into a nearby mirror. “It’s a little off, could you-“

“Leave it,” Krysta said. “It looks jaunty the way it is.”

Lightning glanced at her. “Jaunty?”

“Yeah,” Krysta replied. “Trust me, it works.”

Lightning decided that he would have to take her word for it. She had always given more thought to these matters than him, and he did not believe that – in spite of the fact that he had in many ways given her cause to do so – she would intentionally set out to embarrass him in front of Miss Twilight and the others. “Shall we go then?”

Krysta beamed. “Yeah, let’s light this town on fire!”

“I beg your pardon?”

Krysta sighed. “Let’s go.”

They left, and arrived at the carriage first, where they spent a little time waiting for Miss Twilight and her friends to arrive, but not so long that Lightning felt bored before the ladies – and Spike – put in an appearance. They were all well dressed, Miss Twilight’s friends in a variety of elegant and lovely dresses, and Spike in a dark suit contrasting with the white of Lightning’s own attire – but he could not have denied – even if he had wanted to – that it was Miss Twilight’s dress, Twilight Sparkle herself, that drew his gaze and held it there, as spellbound by her looks as by any of the magic of which she was a master could have rendered him.

She was gowned in starlight, her midnight blue dress flowing over her flanks to almost, but not quite, touch the ground, where stars of silver and white sparkled as her name upon the hem and on the light blue saddle both. Her collar was high, after the fashion of a mage, and decorated with a few more subdued stars than those which adorned her dress. Another star formed the clasp that bound her gown across her chest, while she wore yet another in her left ear. Still other stars climbed from her light blue slippers up her forelegs, and yet this veritable galaxy in which she was arrayed did not to Lightning’s eyes appear too much. Rather it seemed perfect on her, and perfect for her too, suited to her name, her nature, and to all that he had seen of her and learned of her since he had crashed so rudely to the ground in her home. She sparkled in his sight, and he could not tear his eyes away.

He did not wish to do so.

“Lightning?” Twilight asked, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

I am, for seeing you thus. Lighting felt the words – so melodramatic, so over the top, far too ridiculous to say – catch in his throat. He felt more nervous than he would have done facing twenty thousands dread serpents of the Authority, or leading a boarding party to capture a Saturnine dreadnought.

Yet he was a knight, and a knight was master of his fear. He took a step forward, and then another, though his feet felt as heavy as if they were tied to great boulders as part of some training exercise. He took another step, and prayed that his courage would not falter as he reached out with one heavy-feeling hoof and gently took Miss Twilight’s hoof in his and raised it to his lips. “Miss Twilight Sparkle, you are a… a vision of loveliness.”

Twilight looked away from him. “Well… thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Lightning released her hoof, where it fell lightly to the ground. “I thank you, Miss Twilight. If you are all prepared then perhaps you would help me into the harness.”

“Right,” Twilight said. “Yes, of course.”

As Lightning turned away towards the apple coach he could not miss the way in which Rainbow Dash was scowling in his direction, while Rarity was smiling at him fondly.

“Cheer up, Rainbow Dash,” Applejack said. “It’s the gala. Ain’t this what we’ve been waiting for?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “But-“

“I get it,” Applejack said. “But soon enough this will all be over, and trust me once you start hanging out with the Wonderbolts you ain’t gonna have space left on your mind for nothing else.”

Rainbow was silent for a second, before she grinned. “Yeah, I guess not. Why should I let that guy get to me? Like you said, it’s the gala.”

As Miss Twilight’s friends either climbed into the transformed carriage or, in Spike’s case, climbed up onto the driver’s platform up front, Lightning took his place between the yolk.

“Are you sure you can manage this all by yourself?” Twilight asked. “I intended this carriage to be pulled by more than one pony.”

“And yet I will bear it nonetheless, Miss Twilight,” Lightning said. “You may depend upon me.”

“Okay,” Twilight said, as she fastened him in. “Good luck,” she added, offering him a slight smile. “Rarity’s right, by the way, it would be a shame to ruin that suit.”

And with that she disappeared into the carriage with her friends, leaving Lightning alone outside with Spike and Krysta on the driver’s plate.

“Do not touch those reins, Spike,” Lightning said, as he felt them twitch.

“But I’m the driver!” Spike protested.

“Nominally, perhaps,” Lightning murmured. “But I do not require, nor do I want, to be driven like some common pack mule. The city is large enough – and the palace distinct enough – that I believe I can find my way.”

“Oh,” Spike said, sounding slightly dispirited.

“Don’t worry, Spike,” Krysta said. “It’ll give us more of a chance to talk, right?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, after a moment. “Yeah, I guess it will.”

Lightning took a deep breath, stepped in place for a moment, and then heaved.

The carriage was a little heavier than he had anticipated, but then it was carrying six mares within. He pushed. It resisted his strength. Lightning heaved again, his muscles straining, and after a moment the carriage began to move. It was slow, at first, the wheels and weight of the transfigured carriage resisting, but after a moment Lightning’s strength began to work in tandem with the momentum of the movement, and it was no more difficult for him to keep the carriage on the road than it was to keep putting one hoof in front of the other.

And with that they were on the road to Canterlot.

Lightning pulled the carriage up and down rolling hills, where the carriage either strained at his back as the gradient pulled upon it or else pressed so hard upon him that he was forced to risk a touch of sweat in quickening his pace to avoid an injury; he pulled it past groves of cedar and of quince trees, standing tall amidst the otherwise flat and deserted meadows, a magnet for every nesting bird around; he pulled it beneath the shadows of tall mountains topped with snow, casting their shadows as the light of the day died, then casting fainter shadows by the moonlight that crept over the world as the lesser orb swiftly rose to take the place of its descended sister. He pulled the carriage down the road of stone, his hooves tapping upon the grey surface in counterpoint to the grinding of the wheels, and as he pulled the carriage he listened to the chattering behind him: some of it was coming from within the carriage itself, as Miss Twilight and her friends excitedly discussed the upcoming Gala and all their plans, hopes, dreams and ambitions for the event; but some of it came from more directly behind him, as Spike regaled Krysta with the glories of Canterlot as he perceived them. Some of them were even things that Lightning himself might have regarded as objects worthy of note to visitors – a part of him rather wished to see the golden apple tree himself – others, like his favourite doughnut shop, said rather more about Spike himself than about the city and its treasures.

Of course he was thinking that while not actually knowing what a doughnut was.

“What is a doughnut, anyway?” Krysta asked the question that Lightning’s dignity would not permit him too.

Spike was silent, and Lightning found he could imagine the boggling look on the young dragon’s face. “You don’t know what a doughnut is?”

“Nope. Does it grow on trees?”

“Oh, we have got to the doughnut shop now!” Spike cried. “Hey, Pinkie, Krysta doesn’t know what a doughnut is.”

There was no response from inside the carriage, only the excited chattering of the ladies within.

“Uh… I’ll tell them when we get there,” Spike said.

“Yeah,” Krysta said, sounding not entirely convinced. “Don’t get your hopes up, Spike.”

“My hopes? What are you talking about?”

“Well… it sounds as though they’ve all got pretty big plans of their own at this gala, even if you don’t count the business Twilight and Lightning have with the princess,” Krysta said.

“But I want to give them my insider’s tour of Canterlot,” Spike said.

“I know, and I get it,” Krysta said. Lightning could practically feel her eyes burning into the back of his skull. “Believe me, I get it. Sometimes… sometimes the kid sibling just gets overlooked, you know.”

Spike didn’t have an answer to that, or at least Lightning didn’t hear it as he pulled the carriage over hill and dale beneath the light of the moon until – falling in with a line of rather more orthodox-looking carriages – he bore the ladies to the very palace gets itself.

Spike leapt down from the back of the carriage – Krysta fluttered down after him – and opened the door for Miss Twilight and the others to dismount, Miss Twilight’s friends arraying themselves in a kind of formation in their dazzling gowns as Twilight, her horn glowing, unfastened Lightning from the yolk.

“You really did it,” Twilight said. “I have to admit that I had some doubts.”

“I confess a touch of pride at proving you wrong, Miss Twilight,” Lightning said, unable to quite keep the weariness out of his voice. “And not a trace of sweat, you will note.”

Twilight chuckled, covering her mouth with one star-spangled hoof. “No. Not a trace.”

“Hey, Twilight!” Applejack called out to her. “Come on, girl, don’t keep us waiting.”

Twilight smiled apologetically at Lightning, who bowed his head and gestured for her to go on ahead of him as she rushed forth – her dress flowing prettily behind her – to join her friends.

And then they began to sing.

Lightning had not been expecting that; certainly he was not expecting the other elegantly dressed courtiers and revellers to join Miss Twilight and her friends as some sort of backing chorus complete with choreography so well-coordinated that it was hard to believe that someone hadn’t been practicing, but nevertheless that was exactly what happened: after proclaiming that this was sure to be the best night ever, Miss Twilight and her friends – supported by attendant lords, spear carriers, the multitude or however else you might label them in stage directions – broke out in song, each one regaling the night air with all their hopes and dreams for the success of the evening.

Some of their aims were fair enough, Lightning could not help but wish Miss Rarity success in her romantic ambitions; others he could not help but find slightly mercenary, or at least that was what his education in New Olympia told him, that a gentlecolt did not concern himself with matters of money; on the other hoof as somepony who had spent some time not knowing where exactly his next meal was coming from he could not wholly begrudge Applejack her desire to improve the finances of her family.

He had to admit that the thing he took most from the song was that Miss Twilight had a delightful singing voice, as lovely to the ear as she was to the eyes. As baffling as the situation was he would not be at all sad to hear her sing again.

“Should we join in with a verse as well?” Krysta asked, leaning in a little to whisper in his ear.

“I think not,” Lightning replied. “My hopes are known, my misgivings I would prefer to keep to myself… and I am not at all sure that I could make my feelings fit the tune.”

“Rainbow Dash had a soft rock bit, so you know that there’s room for freestyling,” Krysta said.

“Nevertheless,” Lightning declared. “I think not.” The corner of his lip turned upwards. “Although if you have something that you’d like to get off your chest, please, don’t let me stop you.”

“Nah, I’m not one for musical numbers,” Krysta said insouciantly. “I’m more of a rap and hip hop kind of fairy.”

“Is that right?” Lightning asked as the two of them made their way towards the palace, following in the hoof-steps of the Equestrians and who had already sped on ahead.

“You know it.”

The two of them crossed the drawbridge, Lightning’s hoofs echoing on the wood while Krysta fluttered a couple of inches off the ground. They entered a vast and spacious antechamber, where a scarlet carpet had been laid over the blue-tiled floor, and where Spike was sitting dejectedly upon the floor.

Krysta sat down beside him. “What’s up, Spike?”

Spike did not reply, shifting his posture a little so that he was looking away from Krysta.

Krysta put one arm around his shoulder. “They left you behind, didn’t they?”

Spike still didn’t reply, but then he didn’t really need to.

“I told you, sometimes we get overlooked,” Krysta said. “And it’s not because they don’t care. It might be because they’re kind of selfish jerks who take advantage of us-“

“Ahem,” Lightning coughed into his hoof.

“But it’s mostly because what they’re doing is important,” Krysta said. “Or at least they think it is,” she added more quietly, to which Lightning chose not to comment.

“I just wanted us all to spend time together,” Spike muttered. “I wanted to show my friends around Canterlot.”

Krysta nodded silently, and for a moment more she sat there, her arm around Spike. “Listen, Spikey, I know that I’m not your best friend or nothing, but… I really would like to see that golden apple tree that you were telling me about on the way over here.”

Spike looked at her. “Really?”

Krysta nodded. “And the crown jewels. And now I really want to find out what a doughnut is.”

Spike stared at her for a moment, before a slow smile spread across his face. “Okay! Where do you want to start?”

“You’re the insider,” Krysta said. “You tell me.” She got up, and held out her arm. “Lead the way, Spike.” She glanced at Lightning. “Are you going to be okay on your own?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“You’re the one who’s socially awkward.”

“I am not-“ Lightning sighed. “I will be quite alright. Have fun, be careful, and Spike?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I am holding you personally responsible for Krysta’s wellbeing,” Lightning said, staring a hole into Spike’s skull. “Do you understand?”

“I, uh, I understand I’m feeling a little intimidated right now,” Spike burbled, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Krysta said, pulling Spike away. “So, where are we going first?”

“Well, I thought,” Spike said, as he took Krysta’s hand – his arms were a little too short and stubby to take her arm – and began to lead her away. “That we could start with the crown jewels.”

“And you can just walk in and look at them?”

“I can, cause I’ve got connections,” Spike bragged.

Lightning watched them go, and shook his head for a moment before he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and made his way further into the palace.

It did not take him long – he only had to head straight ahead – to behold Princess Celestia herself.

There was no doubt as to who she was. When he caught sight of the figure of white, her coat shining like white gold, her mane blowing as though touched by a wind that no other pony could feel, a golden crown atop her head, he knew that he beheld the Princess of the Sun and ruler of Equestria. Who else would be so tall, so far, so… so alicorn? Who else would crown themselves at court, and so richly crowned at that. Who else but a princess would stand so in a ruler’s place, standing atop the stairs just as she stood atop the pyramid of state, graciously greeting the lesser ponies who climbed said stairs for privilege of kissing her hoof.

She was all that he had imagined from the tales he had heard tell of her and more. She was fair, and fairer than the word and doubtless fairer still of wondrous virtues just as it was proclaimed.

He had arrived in her presence just in time to see what looked to his eyes – from a slight distance admittedly – a warm reunion between Twilight and herself; he noticed that Twilight’s brother, the captain of the guard, stood beside the princess upon her left, while Twilight took a place upon her right.

For lack of anything better to do, Lightning joined the line heading up the stairs to greet and pay homage to the princess. It was a line that took some time to move, and with every second that past Lightning felt the weight in his stomach increase. This was Princess Celestia, the Princess Celestia of legend; he would have felt inadequate to stand in her presence under almost any circumstances but at least he would have felt excited to come so close to one who well-merited the description ‘living legend’… but since she was also the one upon whom all hopes for the success of his expedition rested all that he could feel as he climbed the stairs with such agonising slowness was trepidation.

And then there was no one else before him in the line, and he stood directly before the princess, in the full glare of her solar radiance, her regal gaze bearing down upon him.

He bowed his head, and bent his legs, pressing his snout into the carpet. “Princess, I am honoured to be permitted into your presence.”

“Princess Celestia,” Twilight said. “This is-“

“Indeed,” Princess Celestia declared, her voice cold. “Arise, Lightning Dawn, and be welcome.” As Lightning complied with her demand the princess herself bent her head to whisper in his ear. “We shall not speak hear. I will send Shining Armour when the time comes.”

Lightning Dawn did not meet her eyes. He did not have the courage, nor the sense of his own worth. “I understand, highness.”

“I’m glad,” Princess Celestia said, in a milder tone though one that felt somewhat theatrical in consequence, as if she were speaking more for the benefit of the audience listening than for herself. “Please, enjoy the gala, Lightning Dawn.” She smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes.

Lightning endeavoured to control his trepidation. Please tell me that I have not failed already. “I shall, princess,” he said, his voice soft and without enthusiasm. Not even Twilight attempting to smile to him encouragingly was enough to ease the feeling that he had made a terrible mistake, mistake with grave and grievous consequences.

His hooves felt even more leaden than they had done before as he made his way into the ballroom.

Perhaps it was his dejected state that made him find his way to the table where Pinkie Pie stood, looking similarly unhappy, her chin resting upon a round table set with a table cloth of reddish pink.

“I’m at the Grand Galloping Gala,” Pinkie moaned. “And it’s not what I dreamed.”

“Is something wrong, Miss Pinkie?” Lightning asked, as he made his way over to her across the ballroom floor. He frowned. “Forgive me, I should first have asked if I might join you.”

Pinkie smiled briefly, for about a second. “You don’t need to ask permission to come over here. And I’m… I’m fine, really.”

Lightning sat down on his haunches. He listened briefly to the band playing on the stage. “If I may say, you do not look altogether fine. In fact, if I might be so bold, the contrast besides the exuberance of your gown and your own unhappy countenance is, well, it rather draws the eye.”

“Whose eye?” Pinkie asked. “Besides yours?”

Lightning opened his mouth, but stopped. After all it was not as though he could not deny the fact that besides himself everybody was completely ignoring Miss Pinkie and her plight. “My eye alone, then, but nevertheless, inadequate as I may be perhaps there is something that I can do.” He paused. “I admit that I do not know what that something might be, in fact that I do not have even the slightest idea of it, but I do know that you have been kind to me, and more importantly you have been kind to Krysta. You made the cakes she loved so well and endeavoured to teach me a little of the art of it. You have been… kind, and warm and generous to me and it…and I would do something to please you in turn because… because it saddens me to see you unhappy.”

“Aww, thank you,” Pinkie said, reaching across the table to him with her forehoof. “You know, I can see why Krysta likes you.”

“You can?”

Pinkie nodded. “You’re a pretty sweet guy underneath it all, aren’t you?”

“I…” Lightning hesitated for a moment. “I have always tried to be a good pony, all my life. It’s just that since coming here… my ideas of what it might mean to be a good pony, what goodness is… they have changed somewhat, or perhaps I should say they have expanded. Thanks to Twilight I can think of coming and talking to you when you look sad as something that… something that I think a good pony would do.”

Pinkie smiled out of one corner of her mouth. “I can see why Twilight likes you too.” Her eyes widened, and she let out a gasp as she covered her mouth with one hoof. “You should probably forget I said that. So what about that weather, huh? Lot of it we’ve been having lately?”

“Miss Twilight…” Lightning murmured. He shook his head. “If you would prefer not to discuss it, Miss Pinkie, then we will not. After all it is not Miss Twilight that is troubling you, is it?”

“No,” Pinkie said. “I thought that the biggest party in Equestria would be fun, you know, and not-“

“Dull?” Lightning asked. “Stuffy? These things usually are, in my experience.”

“You’ve been to a lot of these kinds of things?”

“I am a prince,” Lightning reminder. “I am not always left with much choice in the matter. Or at least I have to put in an appearance for appearance’s sake, but as soon as is decent I generally go back to my room and hang out with Krysta. It beats…”

“Standing alone at a table looking sad?” Pinkie asked.

“I would have tried to find a more delicate way of putting it, but… yes,” Lightning admitted.

“Is that why you don’t look so happy yourself?” Pinkie said.

“No, that would be because I’m nervous,” Lightning said. “I don’t think Princess Celestia cares for me particularly.”

“That’s odd,” Pinkie said. “It’s not like she knows you or anything.”

“Nevertheless,” Lightning replied. “I fear that she likes me not. And that… that could prove unfortunate, and not just for myself.”

“Maybe,” Pinkie allowed. “But it’s not like you can do anything about it now, right?”

“I suppose not,” Lightning said. “But does that mean that I should just stop worrying about it? I am not at all sure that is possible.”

“Maybe not if you’re just sitting there,” Pinkie said. “But if you dance with me you might forget for a little while.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lightning asked.

“Come on, dance with me!” Pinkie said. “Maybe if we set an example we can get everypony here up on their hooves!”

Lightning opened his mouth to point out that the ponies here did not particularly seem interested in dancing – at least not right now, which was enough to make him wonder why he’d bothered asking Miss Rarity to teach him how to dance – but eventually decided against it. He owed these ponies nothing, after all, and if Miss Pinkie wanted to dance then… well, wouldn’t a good pony oblige her in that?

Sadly, before he could do more than get to his hooves they were both interrupted by Captain Shining Armour, who cleared his throat to announce himself.

“Captain,” Lightning said. He felt a chill lump forming in his stomach. “Is it time?”

Shining Armour nodded. “Princess Celestia will see you now. Please come with me.”