To the Gods

by Comma Typer

Words to Mend

Spike writes and sticks a letter onto the front door of his bedroom: a notice for Starlight that he’ll be away, explaining his absence via urgent meet-up with his Clockwisely contact and friend. It is technically the truth, so he tells himself as he gears up with a backpack for the trip.

After that: the castle’s guest wardrobe, a full-on suite of spare clothes for Twilight, her friends, and anyone who asks nicely.

“Ugh, I know tailoring isn’t your strong suit, Radiance, but that’s way too many gems! How am I going to get my lasso out without damaging something?”

“But imagine the looks you’ll get!” Radiance’s magic field tacks on more gems onto Mare-velous’s new set of clothes. “Besides, there is such a thing as refuge in audacity!”

The befuddled Mistress mumbles in protest. “There’s got to be a limit. Some low-life will mug me for the dress alone.”

A gray-green trail of dust runs up and Fili-Second appears with a simple trench coat and fedora.“What about this? It’s all noir around here!”

Mare-velous removes the gem-full dress to don on Fili-Second’s suggestions. “See? I should be wearing something like this. I’ll be hidden in plain sight.”

“I know that, but a little flair won’t hurt,” insists Radiance. “Say, what if I garnish my constructs with gems?”

Mare-velous’s groan aside, Zapp takes up a fancy tuxedo furnished with a rose. She tosses it away for a plain purple dress. A comb through her full mane, and her style’s enough to land her on a fashion magazine.

A passing Rager stops at Zapp’s muted apparel. “That’s very… generic.”

“Blending in with the crowd, that’s what I say. Can’t have ponies see our true coat colors, now, can we? Though I dig your simplicity: a pair of shades and a baseball hat will get you anywhere!” She hovers to Spike who is passing the time by reading a couple comics. “This place does have baseball, right?”

The dragon looks up from the colorful pages. “Buckball and hoofball’s more our thing here in Equestria.”

A couple wing flaps signal the arrival of shades- and hats-wearing Rager. “Equestria, you say? Is that the name of the country or the world we’re in?”

“Kingdom, actually.” He clears his throat to turn on lecture mode, a quirk to thank Twilight for. “The world is called Equus which is different from your world, Caballus. Equestria is on the world of Equus the same way your Equidia is on the world of Caballus.”

Zapp brushes the finishing touches on her mane. “Is it a den of thieves or a haven for good guys and girls?”

“Neither? It’s just full of ponies. Well, Equestria is. The other kingdoms have their creatures: Griffonstone with griffons, Yakyakistan with yaks—“

“Just like Gryphoneicia and Yakgolia,” quips Matter-Horn in a one-fabric dress held together by ribbons. The lack of signature goggles disorients Spike at first. “Different names. I bet their histories are different too.” She turns to face the rest of her world-saving bunch. “Hey, make sure your flanks are covered up! Can’t have anyone seeing our cutie marks! Detection by even a casual fan could doom this mission.”

Mare-velous sighs: Fili-Second’s trench coat isn’t full-length, so her cutie mark—a lasso catching precious gems—is still out in the open. “Guess I need a redo.”

“Then we better hurry. We must take advantage of night’s cover while it lasts. Speaking of covers, get your cover names drilled into your heads, ladies!”

Action winds up around Spike as the Power Ponies complete their disguises and repeat fake names to themselves. While Matter-Horn oversees them, Spike takes the lull in conversation and pokes her on the shoulder. “Do you think I should put on a disguise?”

The running motif of looking down at the short creature isn’t lost on Matter-Horn. “That’s up to you. Are there many baby dragons like you roaming the land?”

“Not in Equestria, no.”

“Hmm. I take it that you’re very famous around here?”

“In some places, yeah. Just being a non-pony alone gets me looks, but Manehattan’s a mover-shaker city: creatures from across the world visit, so a baby dragon won’t make ‘em bat their eyes. If anyone recognizes me though, I’ll just say I’m hanging out with six new friends!”

Her narrowed brows translate to, Don’t be too loud; I’m thinking real hard here. “How believable would that be?”

“Believable enough. Everyone there wears casual, semi-formal—nothing too fancy. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

“Good, that’s what I was thinking.” She paces to the wall, her mind’s gears churning and turning. “If Manehattan’s anything like Maretropolis, wearing these clothes would throw off any heat on us.” Two ponies finish up their wardrobe time, closing cabinets and regrouping with Matter-Horn. “Any special events we should watch out for? Holidays, conventions, parades? As for parades... well, we could blend in pretty well and escape detection entirely by going through the crowd, but who puts up a parade when it’s almost time for—”

His eyes recoil into pinpricks. “Oh, no! It’s this week!”

“What’s this week?” Rager asks, trotting to his side with her shades. “You have a parade? Would it be somehow related to plants? It is getting close to autumn and—”

“Exactly!”

“That’s a weird thing to be worried about,” Radiance remarks, arriving in a casual pink dress and an I LOVE MNTN hat bobbing with her mane.

“No, not for botanists or flowers or whatever! H-how could I forget?” Claws clutch his head, and he can feel the sweat on his scales. “There’s a Power Pony convention today!”

Fili-Second speeds past her surprised companions and stops at Spike. “Wouldn’t be that bad, really! It’s a comic convention, yeah?”

“That’s the point! I-if they spot you—“

“We won’t, you dingus! If we go in, we have disguises. They don’t have any comic-to-film adaptations here, right? Just what I thought: they won’t know what we sound like anyway. Isn’t that right, Radie?” (“Don’t call me that!”) “She could be a movie star, you know; with so many accents up her sleeve, you’d think she’s a secret agent!”

While Radiance gripes over silly nicknames, the truth hits Spike on the head. Some comic’s visual guide or book of lore can provide descriptions of their voices, and he’s read as many as he could, but nothing compares to hearing them speak. Then another truth hits him in the gut: he’s the only fan in the entire world who has heard the Power Ponies speak.

“They’ll say we’re just good cosplayers!” Rager adds. “Is there a Saddle Rager costume contest there? With my luck, I might get second place and have rabid aficionados say my costume needs more work!”

“Saving a couple families from day-old lava pools does necessitate costume work, though.”

“That’s true, Fili-Second. However, even with—“

“Enough talking.” Mare-velous steps into view, her pants-and-polo get-up finished. “We don’t even know the railroad’s schedule, so let’s get going and catch that train!”

And the adventurous Mare-velous rears with a whinny and charges out the door.

The rest lag behind the eager Earth pony and bolt out the room, checking hallways left and right. Blood pumps fast and Spike breathes quick, hopes the charging pony hasn’t woken up Starlight at all.

They find Mare-velous frozen before an intersection of corridors. The lasso pony turns around with a sheepish expression. “Alright, uh, Mister Dragon?“

“It’s Spike.”

“Uh, yeah, Spike.” Her gulp is loud enough to echo across the cavernous halls. “Could you lead us out of here… please? I have no idea where the exit is.”

Quiet laughs fill the air, and the dragon leads the way.

---

The number of lights still on can be counted with Spike’s dragon digits.

The Power Ponies breeze around buildings; they trot under the cool blanket of a night so late, it’s a moonlit morning with sunrise still several hours away. Thatched cottages catch the superheroes off guard: from an ostentatious crystal castle to a medieval-looking village. No time to ask about this world’s technological levels; the train won’t wait on their convenience.

But Mare-velous believes there’s time for one short question. “If we need to fight a burglar, we can still do it, right?”

“Gotta make it quick and quiet though.” That’s Zapp, her purple dress complementing her gray flapping wings. “We could be in grave danger if he got away and blathers about us Power Ponies.”

“Or they could just dismiss him as insane. I’m sure there’re asylums here. Is that right, Spike?”

The dragon nods, breathing the cool evening breeze. “They’re a thing, but only like one or two. We’re kinda’ used to craziness, and this town’s full of crazy ponies anyway. Not my words.”

“Are you saying this is an asylum village?” The horror in Radiance’s voice almost breaks Spike’s ears.

“Metaphorically speaking.”

“Shh!” Fili-Second ducks. “Incoming!” and dashes behind a couple of barrels, and everyone else follows suit.

A second later, someone hops out of a building: Sugarcube Corner, Spike realizes. Under soft moonlight, a pink pony bounces on the ground, talking to herself about asking Fluttershy this late if she could taste-test her late-night hybrid cake-pie experiments.

“You know this mare, Spike?” Fili-Second asks.

“Everyone does!” Pinkie disappears behind another building. “She’s one of the Elements of Harmony, the saviors of Equestria.”

“Elements of Harmony?” A single mention of magic artifacts perks up Matter-Horn’s ears. “For something that sounds so fundamental to the state of the world, she sure doesn’t look the part.”

“Most heroes here don’t wear costumes.”

Notes are scribbled courtesy of Fili-Second. “I see. Okay, she’s now well outta’ range. Let’s get a move on!”

With Fili-Second scouting ahead, whisking from point to point and giving her friends the all-clear signal, Spike and the Power Ponies follow along. They tip-hoof under snoring bedroom windows. Snores: a nuisance for some, a joyful sign of dream land for others.

If only this were just a dream. If only Princess Luna would snap him awake. A fever dream: he’d find himself in the morning, and Twilight would wake him up and gently scold him for drooling on his carefully-washed pillow. But Princess Luna doesn’t snap him awake. She never arrives.

With a disappointed sigh, Spike continues behind them past the empty market. In a few minutes, they’re out of Ponyville proper, trotting on the dirt road to the station.

When they reach the train station, they see it’s a deserted wooden place. Deserted save for one unlucky stallion staffing the ticket office in his graveyard shift. “Didn’t know you girls have a world-saving adventure at eleven in the evening.”

“Not really, Nightshade!” Spike jerks a thumb at his troupe of gussied-out mares. “I’m just going to Manehattan with a couple of friends to… uh, the Power Ponies convention!”

The stallion eyes the wall calendar under the harsh light of his workspace. “Lucky you! Going to the first big-time 24/7 con in history, though I expected only you to go, little buddy, not the whole seven! Didn’t know the Elements of Harmony were big fans.“

“That’s because we’re not the Elements of Harmony,” clarifies Matter-Horn, stepping forward in her disguise’s dress. “We’ve been mistaken for them a couple of times before, so I can see where you’re coming from. Do we really look a lot like them?”

“Heh, a little. If you’re not Twilight Sparkle and company though, who are you?”

“Over Hill.” She breaks no sweat as her fake name leaves her muzzle. “Me and my friends visited Ponyville to see Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends in person. You could say we’ve overstayed our welcome; it’s super late, after all.“

Nightshade shrugs. “Sorry for the boring nightlife. Ponyville’s not the nocturnal type.” A careful eye scrutinizes the schedules. “As for your train to the con, you’re double lucky. The Manehattan one’ll be here right about—“

A screaming whistle catches everyone unprepared. Spike almost falls over the platform, but Matter-Horn’s magic saves him from the fall.

“—now.”

After several throbbing headaches, the ponies and their dragon companion stare down the tracks. Metal rail and grass blades reflect the headlight’s burning glow. Rolling wheels carry the carriages along, decelerating as the vehicle quiets itself into a gentle stop.

“They’re a lot more primitive than I remember,” Zapp remarks.

A scoff from Nightshade makes everyone look. “You’re city folk, then. Apologies for staying behind the times, but these Equestrian heartlands move at their own pace.”

The train finally stops at the station under the shroud of night: The Friendship Express, an engine long familiar to the baby dragon. Mostly pink, heart shapes adorn every facet of the vehicle from the lights at the front to many of its windows.

“It’s a gingerbread train,” Rager says, already heading past the open doors. “And we’ve already seen a gingerbread house too from that Pinkie pony.”

“Glad we’re lucky, eh?” Spike says to the stallion. “Planning to go to the convention soon?”

“First thing I’ll do when I wake up at sunset.” He yawns despite the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. “It’ll be Saturday in an hour. Once I’m done here, I’m done.”

“Come on, Spike, let’s get in!”

With an impatient Matter-Horn at the back of the pack, Spike waves goodbye to the nocturnal stallion and hurries to join the mares. Nobody else enters and nobody leaves, so the train doors close immediately. The wheels turn, and the power of coal and steam gift speeding life to the train once more.

Matter-Horn leads them away from the engine, going through each carriage until they reach the final carriage. They encounter the occasional midnight traveler glancing their way only to return to their own business of intimate chats, early newspapers, and intermittent naps.

“Oh, good!” Mare-velous’s beaming grin is unmatched. “This last one’s empty!”

The last carriage before the caboose is, as the Mistress has affirmed, empty. They alone are the seven passengers with an embarrassment of seats. Bright lights above blaze against the dark’s ever-shifting landscapes outside. Rumbling in the background plays the rhythm of heaving wheels and a timely train whistle.

They drop to their seats with gasps of relief and hopes for relaxation. Sleep and rest lie heavy on their minds. Outside, a copse of trees blocks out the stars for a pitch black night.

---

A village vanishes in a blink. In a post-midnight daze, Spike can only tell it’s a village thanks to the few streetlights it has. Acres of wheat fields crop up afterwards, bending under a frigid gust.

Fed up with watching the endless landscape parade, he turns to his fellow passengers. Saddle Rager speaks with Mare-velous, telling the Earth pony to calm down and put the worries about her home, friends, and family on hold: they’ll get answers and save their world soon. Radiance joins Zapp in adoring silent sceneries through the windows, enamored by Equestria’s vast countryside. Restlessness resonates with Fili-Second as she taps her hoof on the window to an imagined drum beat, finding sceneries alone too boring for entertainment.

Matter-Horn stares at her own forehooves. Now, at the ceiling lights blessing the carriage with warm glows. To talk to her: now may not be the best time. Her mind is an enigma. She may be open to questions; she may also be extremely stressed beneath the surface. Spike doesn’t know which is true.

But draconic impulsiveness lets him blurt out, “Do you need anything?”

Matter-Horn turns to face him. A little smile magically appears. “Thank you, Spike, but not now. I really don’t know what to do other than wait the ride out.” A heavy sigh escapes her lips. “I believe each of us just need time to think this through for our own selves. We usually talk a lot on long trips, but with this huge truth out there… it’s not exactly small talk.”

And there is nothing to say.

A while passes. The both of them look at the ceiling together: soft lights aglow.

“I guess… this world isn’t what you expected it to be.” The dragon scratches the back of his head, searching for an ice-breaking topic. “You said something about non-Eweclidean geometry. I’ve been around a librarian long enough to know what that means.”

It’s Matter-Horn’s turn to sigh. “I apologize for treating your world like a twisted bedlam, home to an invaded meta-realm of the concepts and frameworks behind reality.”

“Because you thought anything above you is something incomprehensible, right?

“Or reality’s backstage.” They cross a bridge. The river shines with milky glitters from the moon. “No matter how bright our scientists are and how advanced our machines and spells can get, we couldn’t determine much in this reality beyond faint outlines. It’s like seeing smoke from a distant ship across the horizon: you know it’s there, but you don’t know what it is.”

Spike gives Princess Celestia future thanks for letting a wisehead filly raise him. “I bet you didn’t expect this to be so similar to your world. To be… not so different.”

“Exactly. I didn’t know it’d be so mundane. This is what I’d expect from visiting a parallel universe, not a higher reality.”

On another seat, Radiance tucks Zapp in to sleep, levitating a blanket over her. The snoring pegasus mumbles something about riding on a horse made out of lightning and clouds.

“Tell me the basics of your world. I know the land is Equestria and that the Elements of Harmony are heroes—the book’s told me that much and then some. Yet I wonder what exactly is your world. Is it really just ours but with different parameters, different settings?”

A long answer must be had: hopefully, Matter-Horn will enjoy the lecture. A deep breath, and he notices the others’ faces: can see Zapp and now Mare-velous asleep. Radiance still looks out the window, Fili-Second’s gone on to speed-read a book for the umpteenth time, and Rager matches Spike’s look. “Oh don’t mind me, Spike. I was just curious. I’d like to know more about this world and the wicked warlocks who made our world possible.”

“I guess they were warlocks,” as he taps his chin. “But are you sure you want me to talk about my world and yours? It’s not that different from Equidia. No artificial satellites or anything like that here.”

“It could get Fili-Second fast asleep if it’s boring enough.”

To Rager’s words, the mare in question clucks her tongue fast enough that they’re the taps of hooves blindly striking a typewriter.

But Spike can’t help but smirk. It’s lecture time.

So the dragon explains Equestria and Equus to Matter-Horn and Saddle Rager: a flat world (not round unlike the Power Ponies’ Caballus) and a still-unexplored domain (also unlike Caballus) for many lands remain beyond known knowledge. Smack in the middle is Equestria, a prosperous and peaceful land where ponies and other creatures live together in harmony, living with other kingdoms too like Griffonstone, Yakyakistan, the Changeling Hive—all in different names and with vastly different cultures compared to their Caballus counterparts. Then there’s the sun and moon rising and falling thanks to two alicorns, not due to hyper-complex mathematics and physics.

Matter-Horn laughs: in tears or jest, Spike does not know. “I can’t believe it! Those Flat Caballus conspiracy theorists would have a field day if they get wind of this!”

“And again, no gravitational forces but just two super powerful ponies controlling the sun and moon?” asks Rager, incredulity dripping from her tone. “That’s something Ma would read me in a fairy tale!”

“Come on, girls! They teach this in schools everywhere! It’s been scientifically proven a hundred times over!”

A thick silence hangs over the two mares. Finally, they fall over in laughter, shaking their heads as shocked tears flow like rivers.

Spike can only blush: his world, propped up by what the Power Ponies consider to be superstition and pseudo-science. Some fans on the fringe classify the franchise as science fiction, but they aren’t wholly wrong when full-fledged scientists are part of the heroic party.

“I remember you talking about the Elements of Harmony being saviors and heroes and all that—am I reading that clearly?” asks Fili-Second. She joined the conversation by standing inches away from his nose. “Are they the Power Ponies of this world?”

One unspoken request for personal space later, Spike gathers his thoughts. “They’re six best friends who live in Ponyville, and they’re the best mares I’ve ever met. They saved the world from the forces of evil more than a few times. And, not to toot my own horn again, but I saved an entire empire once—“

“Do you go out in capes or costumes?” inquires Rager, wings taking up notepad and pencil. Her scribbling fills the compartment: a noise to unwind to in the night. “Do you have special abilities other than breathing fire? Either way, I’d like to add you to the National Hero Registry. With your permission, of course.”

Sweat pops up all over Spike’s face. “Oh, I don’t think that’d be necessary. Said ‘empire’ is like, uh, five kilometers long.“

“Around the size of Singapace, then?” asks Matter-Horn. “Economically significant but small enough to cross on hoof in an hour?”

“Yeah, something like that. Like, yes, Singapace.” Like a place he doesn’t remember reading about in the comics or in any of the expanded universe material.

“Saving an empire is commendable,” says Rager with a sage look, “no matter the size. Do you do this regularly?”

“Not really.” He leans back on the chair, looking out the window and seeing the canopy of stars above. “Heroics aren’t my thing. I’m a live-and-let-live dragon. I’m the assistant to Princess of Friendship Twilight Sparkle, but we grew up together like brother and sister.”

“Lives in the same town as the Elements of Harmony and also assists the Princess of Friendship? That’s some fancy company, kid!” Rager stops scribbling, head held high. “By the way, what does the Princess of Friendship do, anyway? Make friends royally?”

He attributes Fili-Second’s flippancy to mere attitude. “The world’s run on harmony and friendship—“ takes a moment to see the unbelieving smiles growing on the mares’ faces “—so Twilight helps out by spreading friendship all over Equestria and beyond. She and her friends write friendship lessons too. We’ve now got a journal of friendship and a school of friendship to boot!”

“At least that’s another clear difference between our worlds,” Matter-Horn points out while Rager jots the details down. “As for us, let’s say we’re more decentralized on harmony and friendship; we usually leave it to parents or an ethics class at school. Speaking of ethics: how rampant are the bad guys out here?”

“Not… much?” A shrug is what they get next. The Power Ponies are no strangers to world-ending villains like a grandstanding owl god from a secret cloud city, a rogue artificial intelligence taking the form of a pony, or even that one alien minotaur desiring the destruction of an entire planet because he thought it took up too much space in the solar system. “We’ve had the occasional conqueror and the rare world-ruler wannabe, but nothing on the scale of your baddies.”

“I see.” says Fili-Second, blinking her eyes away with a defiant yawn. “It’s been more than interesting to know this place some more! Oh, I can tell you’re wondering about me: I’m taking this okay. Wasn’t like that a while ago, but I had to do all the mental and emotional gymnastics, so I’ve reconciled with the reality of things (mostly), and now that I’ve all that and more swimming in my head, good night!

She drops to the floor, snoring and drooling. Asleep like a log.

Like somepony gawking at a corpse, Spike stares at Fili-Second’s dozing body. “She’ll be fine, right?”

Rager wordlessly picks her up and checks her neck’s pulse. “She should be up any time she wants to. Must be one of those cat naps, for a given definition of cat nap. That’s the ups and downs of extreme metabolism for you.” The pegasus then whisks her off to a seat by the corner, producing pillow and blanket before lying by the window for forty winks.

This leaves Spike alone with Matter-Horn.

---

Snores multiply from the sleeping ponies. The few stops the Friendship Express hadn’t roused them from their seats-as-beds. Nopony ambled into the final carriage; asking the conductor beforehoof to make it private in exchange for a couple gems has paid off.

“Your comic expertise means you know much about us, correct?”

Radiance’s words hang in the air as Spike catches another river in the nightscape. He blinks and recalls the dazzling mare’s question. “I think so, yeah.”

“I believe you,” says Matter-Horn. “But if I may, would you mind giving us a summary on who we are? I’d like to see how much the average nerd knows about us. Say, are we the type to have big compendiums and universe bibles?”

Spike’s geekdom soars through the roof, almost leaving behind a hole that needs fixing. A blink from Radiance, shimmering like Rarity for a moment, captures his heart and lets loose his forked tongue.

“Radiance, you were born to an architect and a baker trying to make ends meet in Oakfield. Your father instilled a work-hard attitude while your mother taught you the beauty and value of each and every pastry. The combination molded you into a gadgeteering genius, crafting and selling niche gizmos and doodads to help the family get by. That was until, one day, outer space crystals fell to the ground and you turned them into nice jewelry, hoping to sell bracelets that were literally out of this world… but it turns out they’ve been imbued with the power of magic energy constructs! Instead of selling them at a great fortune as bracelets, you put them to greater use by showing off beautiful holograms of whatever sculptures your mind thought of, cementing yourself as a hologram artist. In your debut exhibit, things went wrong when Olympios crashed the party to steal your crystals so he can reshape Caballus into his insane dystopia. You fought the monster with the limited self-defense training you had, unconsciously using the crystals to conjure attack constructs against him! In the end, you saved both your exhibition and the city. It was at that moment when you realized you could do this for a real living, more than anything selling gadgets or having holograms alone could ever do. Long story short, the Masked Matter-Horn came around, having heard of your exploits under your secret identity Radiant Glow, and hired you on the spot! And we all know what happened next.”

The two Power Ponies are slack-jacked, trading surprised looks. The train passes by another bridge and the tracks creak a little, adding to their shock.

“You do know my history!” Her jubilant smile gives way to neutrality. “I can’t say there’s anything wrong with it, although...”

Something is terribly wrong. Could the comics have lied to him? “What do you mean? Were there inaccuracies?”

“No! No lies or anything like that!” She rests her chin on a hoof. “There’s just one question: is that all?”

Claws rub against each other. “Ah! There was the whole origins arc about you during your solo days. After the exhibition, you went on adventures across the western coast of the continent—“

“Did this origins arc name the museum?”

It arrests Spike speechless. “Uh, come to think of it, it didn’t say. All it said was that it’s in Oakfield.”

A sly smirk paints itself on Matter-Horn’s muzzle. “I may not be an expert on comics per se, but if that’s all the comics gave you, then they have huge gaps of knowledge.”

“So you know the name of the museum?” Spike asks before mentally slapping himself. “I mean, yeah, I suppose it had to have a name. What museum doesn’t have a name? I just… never thought about it.”

“The Oakfield City Museum of the Neomodern Arts,” Radiance replies, having hauled in lots of air to say that. “Mayor Washed Ton was pompous with his names for public facilities. Still, however it came about, that’s the name, and I will forever remember it because of what transpired there. That’s not all, actually, if you could believe it…”

The gem-studded unicorn takes stock of her saddlebags glistening in a color matching her dress and hat. In the pink nimbus of her magic, several masks hover for Spike’s perusal, most of them looking like raccoons’.

“Long before I became a superhero or a gizmo-maker, I made masks like these. Beautiful masks. It came out of necessity: we weren’t exactly a rich family of ponies, and I wasn’t old enough to know how gears and magic can work together, so any stream of revenue was welcome. It was a fun and profitable hobby: turning my ideas into reality was very fulfilling. I had to shelve mask-making after I took on gadgeteering full-time, but masks are a superhero staple, so when I became a hero on my own, I resurrected my mask-making skills and made… hmm, about thirteen or fourteen prototypes and versions before the one I sport these days.”

Radiance chuckles at Spike’s voiceless wonder. “Perhaps your pencilers were a little lazy early on, drawing my mask inconsistently… or hey, maybe they just couldn’t keep up with all the styles I’ve fancied over the years. Anyhow, even if we were all written up by some writers and artists, that’s not the way I see it. The way I see it, I wasn’t satisfied with one mask for long. It settled into a pattern, yes, but never into one exact shape.”

Hems and haws reveal his continued wonder. “B-but… what?! I didn’t know that! I didn’t think they’d go that far to write those details down!“

“And you might’ve thought we were just some superheroes by-and-by, just superheroing everywhere?” says Matter-Horn with a tilt of the head. “We’re famous for being superheroes, but saving ponies isn’t the only thing we do.”

At that, Spike plops down on his seat, switching his view between the two unicorns. An army of stories, arcs, character tics, background information, and paragraphs of lore—these he summons into his mind. Twilight once said that he’s just as smart as her if in “a different field of research:” it showed in his regular wins at Power Ponies trivia contests. To think he had them all figured out...

“I… I didn’t know.” His claws twaddle. “I’m… I’m sorry if I….”

A gentle hoof touches down on his shoulder: Matter-Horn’s hoof. For a second, he swears she looks so much like Twilight.

“It’s okay, Spike. We’ll be fumbling around a lot in this world while we sort this reality mumbo jumbo out. At least we’re doing our best to take it in stride and—“ an amused snort out of her nose “—you are a big fan, right? How does it feel to see us, flesh and blood and all?”

The question is honey to his lips. “I can’t lie. It’s one of the most amazing moments in my life! Apart from, you know, the whole existential crisis and all.”

The three share a laugh, releasing their fears and tension.

A couple towns lay by the hills in the slowly changing terrain. They serve as warnings: a mountain’s up next, with uphill chill to be expected as they gain altitude.

“How are you taking things so far?” Spike says after star- and landgazing for a quarter of an hour. “With the comic thing and all that?”

The sigh expels frozen mist. He chalks it up to the colder climate, but maybe Matter-Horn’s freeze-ray powers manifest in more than simple ice beams.

“It’s tough. Knowing that we’re illegal... as if we were illegitimate foals or skeletons in the closet. That won’t hold well for long. It makes me think, makes me wonder, if there’s some safety feature in us: if we’re harboring a ticking time bomb if we do the wrong thing, step outside our programming or whatever it’s called.”

In issues past, that same pose and that same expression emerged on the Masked Matter-Horn: thoughtful, sometimes too analytical for her own good. Her more impulsive and instinctual friends, especially Mare-velous and Zapp, balance her personality with theirs, but disquietude is a fickle thing. Matter-Horn’s neurotic frown disappears into a small smile. “But we’re the Power Ponies. We swore to protect Maretropolis and the world, to serve the ponies we protect, to let them live the lives they desire to live in peace and freedom.

“Which means they’re real too!”

In an instant of an angry face lit up by ice blue magic, a heresy is banished: the idea of the ponies they keep safe and free being nothing but fiction. Righteous indignation wells up for the poor and helpless citizens wallowing in Verumarendi’s terrors back in Maretropolis. The city, the terror, the citizens, the world, the everything: real.

She calms down with a quick sigh. Her horn’s glow dies down. “Did I scare you?”

His eyes glimmer in concern. “A little, I think… b-but it’s okay. Are you alright?”

“For the most part, yes.” Another sigh. Watches the rolling nightscape: many hills and mountains in the distance, ghosts of home calling to her. “I’m just… the way I’ve lived my life—the way we’ve lived all our lives—I wouldn’t know that what I was doing or that the world I lived in existed thanks to some comic writer trying to create something cool. As far as I know, I’m real and the ponies we help are real too. Even if we’re not, we won’t drop our duty to protect them because they’re still real to us.”

A shudder breaks out. Radiance now sits across the aisle. Politeness, perhaps: a very personal moment between the two shouldn’t be interrupted, yet she glances back once in a while.

“I’m real and so are my friends. You see us, you can touch us; you talk to us and we talk back. We have our own free will and self-agency. I may doubt whether I’m real just because I got enlivened by some cursed enchanter, but the fact since I’m thinking about that—then I must be. And I am. It follows, then, that I’m real. The comic book angle still makes me wonder, though…”

Ice spreads over a window corner. The unicorn pushes the ice crystals away, lets them wet and dry on her suit. Her eyes rest on that part of her costume, feeling the freeze through two layers of clothes.

“Wonder about what?” asks Spike, breaking the silence.

“I wonder—and tell me this—if I already know the answer but simply need someone else to say it: to confirm it. To confirm if we’re meant to be just comic superheroes, and the ponies we help protect may not be given more than, say, fifty fleshed-out character bios because… as you can imagine, I won’t believe that for a single second.“

She raises her hooves to her eyes. Every inch of those hooves, she can feel: the frog, the hair, the heel. Beyond any shadow of a doubt, she is real and she knows it. Yet the question remains:

“Spike, do we matter?”

A thunderclap in his head; a meaningless noise. The thought is blasphemy: they are words uptight anti-geeks would hammer his head with, especially some of the older dragons from the Dragon Lands when they discovered his Power Ponies obsession. Does that even matter? They’re just fancy superheroes prancing around and saving fake ponies. You should be hanging with us and hoarding real gems!

Residue of that lingering rage seeps in. “Of course, you matter, Matter-Horn! Who could tell you that you don’t matter?”

“You?”

His heart’s at the seams, confidence broken like a feeble twig. “I… why would I do that?”

“Maybe not you exactly—the enchanters would have more of a say on that.” She straightens up on her seat, sitting as still as a sturdier stick. “See, Hum Drum’s obsession with comics has rubbed off on me so I know a thing or two. One of those things is that writers don’t fully flesh out each and every background character if at all. As far as you know, we’re the stars of the show and no one else could ever take it from us unless there are spin-offs.”

“Hum Drum does have a budding spin-off series.”

“Huh. He has been on a recent spate of solo adventures.”

Matter-Horn shakes her head again. Resolve flows in her veins. “That only proves my point: I’ve never seen his adventures as a sign that someone’s writing stories about him. I see it as a sign that he’s maturing as a pony and nothing more. But still, how he beats up the bad guys, how he grew up as an orphan, how we all face our own struggles, how Maretropolis had the worst crime rate in history before we moved there—not that I’d want to keep crime afloat just so we could keep doing our jobs…

“Spike, it’s the consistency of it, how it’s so routine. Evil lurks 24/7 as I’m sure it does in your world, but now we also have the dilemma of extra-real writers who need evil in their stories—and so villains must appear. The writers could’ve also given Hum Drum the best childhood in the world, but no, it had to be with parents who were never there for him. Of course, I came in just in time to make sure he wouldn’t be dragged off for slavery halfway across the world. To say bad ponies have it their way not just because they can but also because comic writers need conflict…”

A mixed bag: her determined resolve warring with uncertainty and doubt. “Tell me, Spike. Tell me again how often villains come around your town. You’re very close to the Elements of Harmony, the closest thing to this world’s protagonists if they’re in a comic book too. How often do they face villains and monsters?”

“Regularly.” Blurted out if only to assure Matter-Horn she’s not alone, that good defends also the innocent of this world. “Maybe not literally every week, but Ponyville ponies get antsy if a month goes by without a hitch.”

The sigh he hears is a sigh of dead ends. “There’s probably a pattern, but it’s not much to get on with.”

A rise catches her eye: the landscape’s slanted. The train’s climbing an uphill stretch, approaching the Applelachian Mountains famous for their high-altitude apple tree farms. The tour guide in Spike wants to gab about the place and regale them with more knowledge and see them smile, but the thoughtful look on her features says, Don’t interrupt me. I don’t need to know about apples right now.

“I bet those ponies would protect Equestria and even the world with all their lives, Spike. Because it matters, yes? That they’re not fighting against some writer hoofing them conflict just to spice things up?”

The dragon nods. The mare turns her gaze to the rising mountains outside. “Right. I hope it’s as easy as telling them to stop writing about us so there’ll be fewer villains to fight. The ponies of Maretropolis don’t need any more suffering. You might say it’d make for a boring or unprofitable story because ponies wouldn’t read a tale devoid of conflict. Maybe we’ll matter to fewer ponies in this world, but you can’t say that fighting villains this way is wrong, can you?”

Spike doesn’t nod. A bridge over a canyon they go, but none pay attention to the picturesque vista. “I can see that that’s a good thing, but to see less of you…”

Her solemn features are set in stone. “It’s a hard pill to swallow. I wouldn’t know how a passionate fan like you will take it. In spite of that, you understand that we are the Power Ponies. If it means stopping the writers and the artists from making conflict so no one has to die… then that will be good for all of us, wouldn’t it? For the world.”

To see less of them. To have less of them. For Clockwisely to announce the degradation of their star franchise then its outright cancellation. Optimistically, a grand finale would come decades or centuries too early. Fewer conventions and fellow fans too. They can latch onto other comics, but it will be unheard of for such a big and powerful juggernaut in the industry to sputter and die out of nowhere.

But it’ll all be for her world.

“If that would even work,” she hypothesizes. “In the end, it’s only a running theory. The enchanters remain a mysterious factor. On top of that, since we’re outside our reality looking in, and since the storytellers must already have more arcs for us in store—there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“So we could still have more comics?” asks Spike, rushing the words out of his mouth.

Matter-Horn sympathizes with his nerdy enthusiasm. “Perhaps. Though I must ask: you treat us like we’re high art.” She paws her hoof on the seat idly. “If I may, what got you into liking the Power Ponies in the first place?”

Spike brings up a smile. Slow and deliberate, cooking his jumbled-up thoughts over, “Cool action, that’s one; I came for the high-octane adventures. But adventure and action didn’t make me stay. It was the inspiration: the good lessons, the lengths you went to so somepony could be saved—how heroic you are. Plus, you helped me learn a lesson or two about heroism… and how, no matter how I feel about being small and not mattering to anyone even within my own circle of best friends, I do matter and I can contribute. I’m sure you’ve taught that same lesson to many others in this world, or else why would there be several conventions all over Equestria in your honor?”

Seconds pass in musing. Matter-Horn taps her chin. She lets forth a melodious hum. A cold breath rides out as mere mist, not as harbinger of frost. Across the aisle, a newspaper falls onto a catnapping Radiance.

As if on cue, Matter-Horn yawns long. “Then let it be. At least we can have that… though I’m firm in my conviction that the citizens of Maretropolis are not mere fodder but real ponies who have lives and histories your comic books might’ve never told.”

She rests in her own silence, staring out the window in mental lamentation. Those many faces, those of background ponies in countless panels: not a name for a single one of them unless they appeared time and time again. The comics, the compendiums, the reference guides: none cared about Background Fodder Number 3357 who appeared in Issue 79 at some hotel patio. In Matter-Horn’s life, ponies care about him because he is not a number but a real pony: born to a mother and a father with a foalhood to remember, laden with life experience and a personality of his own—likes, dislikes, motivations, goals. He didn’t need to be a superhero to matter.

Another yawn from Matter-Horn, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Who’s awake?”

“I am!” says Fili-Second, exploding from her seat and zipping to her friend’s side. “Wanna pillow and blanket too?”

“They won’t be necessary, but would you keep watch while I sleep? I’m sure the others will be awake later on, but… I don’t want to bother them, not with multiple worlds in play.”

The fast pony salutes her. “Don’t you worry, ma’am! I’ll keep this area safe under my careful watch. You won’t have to—“

The unicorn falls asleep.

Fili-Second sighs. “Now that’s fast.” She chuckles, turning to Spike. “She’s always been a fast sleeper. Her experiments on weapons and costumes keep her up at night, so it’s no surprise... uh, Spike?”

Spike was fast asleep too. If the fate of one world is at stake, may as well catch some z’s with a backpack as his pillow.

No nightmares pursue him. Yet no dreams soothe him either.

Comments

[Comma Typer]

10538543
Yeah, I remember you commenting on a blog post update about it from about a month ago. Now here we are!

10538738
Thank you once again for your help! Hope this'll turn out well in the end.

10538895
I've looked up that anime and, from the looks of it, it seems pretty cool considering how it treats the premise. That aside, glad to have you on board!

[Venerable Ro]

Matter-horn's soliloquy is just as good the second time around, I remember telling you not to change anything, and I stand by that. Beautifully poignant.

[Hotel_Chicken]

The Power Ponies, having arrived in Spike's world, quest with him to Manehattan to figure out who brought them into this reality and why—as dark purposes are afoot

"Quest with him" --- What is this supposed to me? Do you mean, "Request?" Because that's wrong too. It should be, "The Power Ponies, having arrived in Spike's world, ask him to Manehattan..."

Or do you mean "Go on a quest with him"? Because that could work as well.

The description lines on the homepage are the first words your readers will see, followed by the description of the story on the main page here. Aside from that, the story looks well, I just thought I'd mention how small typos like that could cause some readers to be hesitant. Have a good one!

[Comma Typer]

10541306
Thanks for it, bud!

10541322
Quest does have a verb form though. As one of the example sentences goes, "They were questing for gold." I'll stand by my word choice since quest has that searching factor/quality that other similar verbs like journey or adventuring don't seem to have.

Thank you for the suggestion/recommendation though!

[JFalk]

The reaction of the Power Ponies to Equestria was interesting - it was like if the characters of Star Trek come to the world of their authors, but instead of our world, it is a fantasy one.

[Amos Anon]

“Spike, do we matter?”

Nope. You energy.

Bah dum tss