• Published 15th Feb 2013
  • 55,233 Views, 2,434 Comments

A Stitch in Time - Eakin

  • ...
85
 2,434
 55,233

I've Had The Time of My Life

I’VE HAD THE TIME OF MY LIFE

“Don’t panic, Twilight. You’re no good to either one of us if you start to panic,” says Star Swirl. Easy for him to say. He didn’t just read that he was going to go crazy and die. I thought I was done with this. I was moving on, getting better. Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? “Twilight? Talk to me. Look, this might not be as bad as it seems. It’s vague, and it probably doesn’t mean what you think it does. Heck, it might not even come true. I have to write this to preserve the loop, maybe it just inspires us to find the right answer some other way,” he adds.

“Do you really believe that?” I ask him, because I don’t. He hangs his head and it’s clear that he doesn’t either. I look up at nothing in particular. The midday sun is shining through the windows high above us, creating hard-edged shafts of light in the otherwise gloomy library. A particular speck of dust drifting through the light catches my eye and I watch it dancing on tiny currents of air until it sinks out of sight and disappears back into the darkness. I try to focus on another one, but my vision’s a little blurry. Stupid tears.

Star Swirl looks like he desperately wants to say the right thing, whatever that is in a situation like this. I get the feeling that being supportive isn’t something that comes naturally to him. “Forget the madness and death part for now. Travel to a place outside of time probably refers to alternate futures or timelines. Your destiny must have been something different before you changed it with the Elements. We'll have to find the timeline with that destiny and cut it off at the source. I think I can get us there, with a little research. Hey, even if you do die maybe it isn’t for a really long time.”

“Celestia said that you’d solved this before you went back to the past, and I think if you went back several decades older than when you left somepony would have written it down,” I say. I don’t want to die any more. I just figured out how much I have to live for.

“Hey, nopony’s had more practice dying and coming back to life than you, right?” he asks.

I slap him, hard, before I even know what I’m doing. There’s a time and a place for trying to lighten the mood with humor, and he hasn’t earned the right to be cavalier about this. He’s been nothing but terrible to me since he got here and I’m not going to take it any more. He’s stunned for a moment before he turns back wordlessly to look at me and wipes his mouth. He must have bitten his tongue or something because there’s a bit of blood on his hoof.

“This isn’t funny,” I say. “You might know that this little adventure has a happy ending for you, but it might not for me. You’ve been a jerk to me since the moment you got here and I’m sick of it.”

“Twilight, I-”

“No. Shut up. Anything you’re going to say is too little, too late. I’ve met ponies who are jerks before, and even gotten along with them sometimes. You’re worse than they are. No wonder Luna wants you to just go away, and you don’t have any friends back in the past. You’re awful. You think that just because you’re smart the world should rearrange itself around you and give you whatever you want,” I say. Star Swirl opens his mouth to reply, but I’m on a roll. “You know how to be nice! I saw how you treated Rarity. That’s even worse than if you just didn’t understand how to behave. You’re a bastard by choice. I can’t even comprehend the messed-up thought process that would lead to you deciding to be this way. Well, guess what? It worked. Honestly, I’d rather f... fa... not pass an assignment from Princess Celestia than be your friend.” I get up from the table and start to walk away.

“Hey! Where are you going? We still have work to do. How am I supposed to solve this by myself?” he asks.

“You think you’re so smart, I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” I say without turning around. I push the doors of the library open and walk out into the hall, stopping to listen to them slam shut behind me. I just want to sink into a very dark hole and never crawl out of it. Before I do, I should probably tell the Princess what happened. I can’t believe I didn’t even last a full day with Star Swirl. That pony has a gift, albeit a sick and twisted one, for getting under my skin.

It’s almost lunch time. I’m not hungry, but I’m sure that the Day Court will be taking a break soon. The Princess likes to have a little time to herself in the middle of the day to gather her thoughts and take care of any personal business, and that’s always included me before. Sure enough, nobles and bureaucrats are streaming out of the throne room as I approach it, and I have to fight against the tide just to keep from being swept along. When I do push through the crowd I find myself in a mostly empty great hall as the last stragglers make their way out of the room. Celestia is seated on her throne reading something from a piece of parchment, but she looks up after a moment.

“Oh, hello Twilight. How are you and Star Swirl getting along?” she asks.

I wince under the question. “Not so well, Princess. I’m sorry. I think I messed everything up. He and Luna had a big fight and she broke up with him, and there’s a prophecy, and then I had a fight with him, and... Well, like I said, it’s not going very well. I know you wanted me to be his friend, but I’m not sure that I can,” I say.

Celestia frowns. “I see. I know that Star Swirl can be hard to get along with and I understand how you must feel about him. The two of you are really quite similar in some ways and yet so very different in others. Don’t worry about his relationship with Luna, the two of them seemed to find some reason to break up every few months or so but they always find one another again eventually,” she says.

“He said she’s different now than she used to be. Is that true?” I ask.

Celestia rolls up the parchment and places it at the side of the throne before answering. “It is. She’s been a bit more hesitant since she returned from the moon. She’s getting better, gradually, but I’m sure that Star Swirl picked up on the differences. I’m also sure that whatever he said was a blunt and tactless way of expressing his concerns, but maybe Luna needs that. It’s not my place to try and control my sister’s personal life even if I do worry about her sometimes.”

I think about that for a second, and something Celestia said earlier comes to my mind. “You say we’re similar. You told me something like that before, too,” I say. The wheels in my head are turning and I see Celestia giving me the smile she always does when I’m about to figure out something important. It’s always been her style to give me just enough information and let me put the pieces together for myself. “The locator spell said that I was connected to him independent of my connection to you, or to Luna.”

“That’s right. You are.”

“You said that Luna and Star Swirl were together for his entire life, right? Did they ever...” I trail off. What I’m about to suggest will have to be phrased very delicately. It feels wrong to even think about. Lucky for me the Princess finishes the thought so I don't have to.

“They did. A daughter, in fact. Shooting Star was her name, if I’m remembering correctly,” says Celestia.

“And was she... I mean, am I... am I related to her?” I ask.

“You are indeed. Very cleverly deduced, Twilight,” says Celestia like it’s nothing especially important. Meanwhile my thoughts are running in a million directions at once. I’m descended from Star Swirl? And one of the Princesses? But that would mean that when Luna and I...

Oh dear.

Celestia notices my distress and chuckles. “Relax Twilight, it was sixteen hundred years ago. You’re, what, forty or fifty generations removed from both of them? You’re probably more closely related to a random unicorn wandering the streets of Canterlot, genetically speaking.”

“But... I’m the Element of Magic. Am I only special because I’m descended from an alicorn and a powerful archmage?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

“Absolutely not Twilight. You certainly are special, but it’s not because of the blood that flows in your veins. Your accomplishments are entirely your own. You’re hardly the only pony related to Luna, or myself for that matter. Think about it. Assume that Shooting Star started a family of her own, which she did, and had two children. Then assume that each of those children had two children and so on for forty generations. How many descendants total would they have?”

“Sigma two to the N power for N ranging from one to forty. Which is... uh... a lot,” I say. It would be well over a trillion, easily. Certainly more ponies than are alive in Equestria today.

“Shooting Star wasn’t Luna’s first child, either, and probably won’t be her last. She’s had eleven through the ages, by eleven different fathers. I’m not immune to the pleasures of the flesh either, Twilight. Mortal stallions have caught my eye in the past as well. I’ve been a mother nine times over myself, and eight of them went on to have families of their own. My children are inevitably mortals, and I’ve never given them any special title or any great wealth. We have enough noble houses as it is without me creating more. I would much rather my foals make a name for themselves with their own achievements. All I’ve ever needed to give them is my love, support, and every once in awhile a swift kick in the flank to motivate them,” she says. She’s not looking at me any more, instead she’s lost in her reminiscence.

“What happened to the ninth?” I ask. Celestia is jolted out of her memories. I don’t think she was expecting a follow up question.

“I’m sorry?”

“You said that eight of your foals started families of their own. What about the ninth one?”

Celestia gives me a sad little smile, and is silent for a few moments before she answers. “Morning Glow. My youngest. I had him a little over a thousand years ago. His father was a great general, a pegasus. Glowie wanted to follow in his hoofsteps and joined the royal guard. I’m sure he would have been a great leader himself, given time. But then came the morning that Nightmare Moon refused to allow me to raise the sun. Technically, Morning Glow abandoned his post... to protect his mother. He was badly injured in the fight, and a few days later...” Celestia shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I’d really rather not talk about this. Lots of ponies died that day, and I’ve mourned them all. They’re all like my children.”

“Luna killed her own nephew?” I ask, not fully able to believe it. My own problems are forgotten for the time being. The details of that day have mostly slipped away into the mists of history, one of Celestia’s conscious decisions to make Luna’s return a little bit easier on everypony. Everypony except herself.

“Nightmare Moon killed my son. There’s an important difference,” she says. I don’t know if that’s true or just a rationalization on Celestia’s part. Luna doesn’t talk much about the exact nature of the relationship between herself and Nightmare Moon.

“Have you talked about this with her?” I ask.

“Of course not. If she doesn’t know already there’s no reason for me to add that to her burden. She has enough she feels like she needs to repent for already,” says Celestia.

“Princess, respectfully, I think you’re wrong. I think she knows on some level and you two need to talk about it. What if in a few decades she starts looking into the time period and finds out from somepony else? She needs to find out from you. If she really is different than she used to be, maybe this is part of why,” I say.

“I’ll consider it,” says Celestia in a tone that implies finality. I don’t think I’ve changed her mind, though.

I turn to leave before an idea hits me. “Princess, there’s a friendship report I haven’t sent you, it’s from a little while ago but if you don’t mind I’d like to just present it verbally rather than writing it down. Would that be alright?” I ask.

Celestia looks at me, suspicious, but eventually nods. “Go ahead.”

“Dear Princess Celestia,” I begin, “today I learned that sharing a burden that’s weighing you down is the best way to get past it. Even if something is dark, or scary, or hard to talk about you shouldn’t hide it from the ponies that love you. You aren’t making them happier, or keeping them safe, or even being kind to them. You’re just making it harder for them to understand why you’re hurting. Even though it isn’t easy, the best thing you can do is just open up to them about what’s bothering you. They might not like it, and they might even be angry at you for what you did or felt, but the only way for everypony to move past it is to talk about it. In the end, they’ll usually understand. That’s a mark of a true friend... or a family member. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.”

It’s not my best report. Some of the wording is a bit awkward, and if I were writing it down I’d probably do a couple more drafts to get it right, especially a report as important as this one. In the end, though, it’s more important that Celestia hears it from me right now than that the words are perfect.

“That’s... a good lesson. A-plus, as usual. I’ll keep it in mind,” she says. I have no idea what she’s decided to do, but I’ve done all that I can do here.

“I’m going to go back to Ponyville for a while, Princess. I think I’ll make more progress if Star Swirl and I work independently. I’ll send you a letter if I find anything,” I say. I turn to leave again, for real this time. There’s a lot to do before I head back to Ponyville, so first things first I track down Spike and give him a list of books I want him to check out of the royal library. I’d go do it myself if I wasn’t avoiding Star Swirl. Then it’s off to my room to pack up my things. I should have listened to my friends in the first place. This isn’t an urgent problem at all. I have a date coming up. How about I focus on that for the next few days rather than always be worried about saving the world? Somepony else can take care of it. Heck, maybe the point of that prophecy was to drive me away so that Star Swirl can fix the problem on his own. More power to him if that’s the case. The sooner he figures it out the sooner we can put sixteen centuries between us again. I can’t believe I used to look up to him!

“Twilight? You’re muttering to yourself again,” says Spike. At some point he returned to my room with the books I’d asked for and I didn’t even notice. I look down at what I’m doing as I realize that I just packed one of my suitcases inside of another, larger suitcase. All the things I brought with me from Ponyville are strewn haphazardly around the room without any apparent rhyme or reason.

“I got kind of distracted there for a second, sorry,” I say. I grab the books in my magic and begin to pack them up into my bags. Spike doesn’t ask for an explanation as to why we’re heading back to Ponyville so soon and I don’t volunteer one. It’s a lot of work to pack everything up, but with all the back and forth I’ve been doing between Ponyville and Canterlot these days I’ve gotten pretty good at packing efficiently. We’re ready quickly enough that I’m able to make a mid-afternoon train. I’ll be back home in my library in time for a late dinner.

--------------------------

These last few days just flew by.

I haven’t heard anything from Canterlot, and I assume that no news is bad news. I’m trying as hard as I can not to care but I just can’t. That’s why I’m sitting up in my bedroom dressed in an evening gown and my favorite pair of amethyst earrings reviewing a copy of Time Travel and its Interaction With Quantum Mechanics for Foals as I try as hard as I can not to mess up my mane-do. It took nearly three hours at the spa to get just right, although I suspect that two of those hours could have been avoided had Rarity not insisted on coming along with me and giving her rather extensive input. I won’t deny that the end result looks pretty darn good, though.

Nervous? Who's nervous? Why should I be nervous? It's just a date. A blind date with a pegasus who I've never met. All Applejack told me was that she met her at the market selling flowers and that her name is Azalea. We're just having dinner. So why won't somepony tell my heart rate that the way it's been racing for the entire afternoon is completely unnecessary?

I've actually made quite a bit of progress in studying the time problem over the last couple of days. I’m pretty sure that I can keep my mind on this problem and also knock it out of the park where this date is concerned. Yes, I just used a baseball phrase. I really have been studying it since the girls gave me Home Run back at the party. If somepony had just told me it was ninety percent statistics I would have started following it sooner. Every time I hit a block on the time thing I just think back to Star Swirl and his smug little grin and I find the strength to push right through it, if only to prove him wrong. Give myself over to madness and death? I think not, thank you very much. It wasn't even a real prophecy. He was cheating. I wonder how many of his other so-called accomplishments were fake?

There’s a knock on the door from downstairs. “Twilight! I think she’s here!” Spike calls up.

“I’ll be right down, Spike! Let her in!” I call back. I just need two minutes to finish this chapter. And maybe I’m just a little bit nervous. I’ve been having trouble putting all the thoughts of death and madness out of my head for the last several days, and I’d welcome a distraction from it. I force myself to put the book down. I’ve read it three times already and there’s nothing in there I don’t already know. Time to head downstairs.

I walk down to meet my date and find a light green pegasus with a flower for a cutie mark. An azalea presumably, although it’s partially covered by the red dress she’s wearing and I’m trying not to stare so I can’t say for sure. Her mane is tied into two long braids with orange ribbons at the end of each. She’s really cute. I’ll have to remember to thank Applejack tomorrow. She looks up from her chat with Spike as I come down.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Azalea, you look really nice in that dress,” she says.

“Thank you, nice to meet you too,” I say and bring my hoof up to bump hers in greeting. “I see you’ve met Spike.”

“Hey, Twilight? Sweetie Belle is having a sleepover at Rarity’s boutique and asked if I wanted to come. Can I?”

Probably Rarity’s idea. That mare is quite the optimist. “Sure Spike, have a great time.”

“Thanks Twilight! You’re the best,” he says and runs off to gather up a few of his things to bring with him.

Mercifully, Azalea doesn’t comment on that. Instead she looks over at me. “Shall we? I still can’t believe I’m going on a date with the Twilight Sparkle,” she says.

“I’m not that big of a deal, am I?” I ask. I’m more than a little nervous about being described as the anything. I’m looking for a friend, not a fanfilly.

“You’re a little bit of a big deal, yeah. Was that the wrong thing to say? I thought we’d have at least ordered appetizers before I said something I shouldn’t,” she says.

“I’m not the mare to ask. Saying the right thing has never really been my strong suit,” I say. I meant it as a joke but neither one of us laughs. Wow, this got awkward fast. Thankfully the stagnant moment is broken by Spike returning with a little overnight bag full of his things. The three of us walk out the door together into the night. The sun went down a little over a half hour ago and the last of its light is only just now fading away. Spike and the two of us part ways right outside the door as he heads for Rarity’s while Azalea and I have reservations at a nice Bitalian place Fluttershy suggested called The Wheat and Chaff.

We walk towards the restaurant in silence for a few minutes before Azalea breaks the ice. “The stars are nice tonight. Weather’s supposed to be clear for the next couple of days,” she says.

“Yeah, they are. Actually I’ve been working on an idea for how I might be able to solve a problem with a magic spell I cast a few months ago by moving them around to alter the flow of ley lines into what might form a resonance cascade, if I’m lucky and Princess Luna goes along with it,” I say. Azalea is looking at me with a smile that doesn’t quite hide her confusion.

“A spell? The one that made all those time loops a couple months ago? I... read about that in the paper. Is that still going on?” she asks.

“Sort of, there were some weird side effects but it’s kinda technical,” I say. No point in launching into an explanation of exactly what’s going on. Nopony ever seems interested in it. Maybe I should have though, because Azalea seems a little disappointed by my answer. She doesn’t think I think she’s dumb because of what I just said, right? Arrgh! This is so frustrating. How am I already screwing this up?

“Hey, that’s the place right?” she asks.

“I think so, I’ve never been here before. My friend Fluttershy mentioned it as a place designers and photographers would always take her to eat during her modelling days,” I say. “She said they make really good pasta and wheatballs. Unless you’d rather go somewhere else...”

“No, no this looks great,” says Azalea. I take a moment to give the place a quick once over and I’m very glad I let Rarity spend so much time making me over. This place looks really fancy. The waiters and maitre’ d are all wearing tuxedos. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tuxedo being worn in Ponyville before. I hope I can afford this place. Azalea and I walk in through the front door, into a dining room lit with dim lights, just bright enough to be inviting. There are only seven or eight tables, and all but one of them is occupied. They’re spaced far enough apart that the low light provides plenty of privacy. Not quite enough privacy though, I find out when I look over to Azalea’s face and see that it’s gone beet red.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“The table over in that far corner, see the yellow earth pony over there? She’s my ex,” said Azalea.

“Is that going to be a problem?” I ask as we’re shown to our table. The other mare looks up and I can definitely tell she recognizes Azalea, but she just nods to us before she turns back to her own date.

“I don’t think so. She’s not a bad pony, we just weren’t a good match. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t start talking about exes on a first date. I promise I don’t have too many horror stories.”

“I understand. The last mare I was interested in romantically turned out to be my own distant ancestor,” I say. As a researcher I don’t like the phrase ‘too much information’ but I’m suddenly seeing how it might be applicable at times.

“That’s... wow. That tops anything I could come up with. Time travel again?” she asks.

“It’s a long story,” I say and before Azalea can ask me to tell it the waiter appears to take our drink orders. I ask for a bottle of shiraz from what I hope is a good year. Pretty sure I’m going to need it at the rate I’m going. We make some casual conversation for the next couple minutes over the menu, suggesting which dishes sound tastiest. In the end I settle on the wheatballs in marinara that Fluttershy recommended.

We start to probe for conversation topics. Azalea mentions that she saw Octavia Philharmonica performing in Baltimare. I’ve always meant to go see a show of hers but our schedules have never quite aligned. Plus a disproportionate amount of the time I spend in Canterlot it seems to be under attack or partially on fire. Still, talking about the concert gets us as far as our main courses arriving. Azalea’s is some sort of breaded eggplant dish while mine is good old spaghetti and wheatballs, albeit with a few extra flourishes and shaved truffles on top to make it worth the exorbitant asking price.

Azalea starts to tell me a story about something she and her roommate did the other day, and I swear that I’m trying to pay attention, really! But then I glance down at my plate and the way my fork is twirling the individual spaghetti noodles around itself in my magic. I can probably get the gist of the story if I just half listen to her, and the other portion of my attention slips back to Star Swirl talking about the time problem using a piece of yarn as a prop. It’s a shame we can’t just tie the strands back together.

But... is there any reason we couldn’t tie the strands back together around a common focus? Something they all shared, like...

“I’m the fork!” I exclaim in the middle of Azalea’s anecdote.

“Um... what?”

“I’m the fork! I’m the point of commonality! We can wrap most of the divergent timelines up if we just... Hey, can I borrow your napkin? And a quill?”

Azalea looks a little surprised, unsurprisingly. I did just interrupt her story about her university roommates or whatever. This can’t wait though. “Just give me a napkin,” I say grabbing a quill from the front desk of the restaurant and pulling it over to me.

“Twilight? What are you talking about? Something’s wrong with your fork?” she asks.

“No, it’s... don’t worry about it. Just give me two minutes,” I say as I start scribbling notes and equations down on the napkin Azalea just hoofed over. “Sorry, just don’t talk to me for a few seconds while I write this down. If I forget to carry a three there’s a sizable chance this spell will blow up Equestria. Well, five-sixths of it anyway. I just need to get down a few... more... things... and... done!”

I say to the empty chair across the table from me. Did Azalea suddenly need to use the restroom or something? I look back and forth around the restaurant before I catch sight of her. That’s odd, she’s headed for the front door rather than the back. It’s almost like...

I look down at what I’m writing. On a napkin. During what’s supposed to be a date.

What is wrong with me?

I don’t consider or even think about considering what I’m about to do. I just teleport out in front of the door to the restaurant, so that that I’m the first thing Azalea sees as she walks out on me.

“Azalea, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to-”

“Save it, Twilight. You don’t need to apologize. I get it. You’re larger than life. Unbelievably so. By Tartarus, Luna will rearrange the stars in the night sky for you like it’s nothing. You’re manipulating the fabric of time and space and I just can’t compete with that. I get that I must be pretty dull by comparison. I shouldn’t have ever expected that anything I’ve done could live up to what you have. I’m boring, and probably pretty disappointing. You deserve somepony better than me,” she says. She turns and starts to walk out of my life forever.

How can she... this is... What can I...

I look up at the waxing moon, and consider something that Star Swirl said. Not intentionally, I promise. On the other hoof, though, maybe being spontaneous and unexpected wouldn’t be so bad right at the moment.

“You look absolutely gorgeous in that dress!” I shout, without thinking anything through. Azalea stops, which I take as an encouraging sign. “That’s what I should have said back in the library when I first saw you and you complimented me. Because it’s true, you really do, and I’m sorry. When you mentioned how nice the stars were I should have said that the way they reflected off your eyes was so beautiful, I don’t think you’re boring. I wouldn’t even if... look, I understand why you’re walking away from me now. I haven’t given you the respect you deserve. You aren’t disappointing. I am. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. At all. You’d be totally justified if you just kept walking. But please, I want one more chance. I haven’t earned it, I know, but I want to earn it. I want to make this up to you. I’m so sorry.”

Azalea hasn’t moved, for better or worse. “Why should I listen to you?” she finally asks. “Why should I listen to anything you have to say? You don’t like me, you don’t even know me. You’ve made it perfectly clear that-”

“No! I want to know you, I do. I don’t, yet, but I know that my friends like you, and that we both like Octavia Philharmonica, and that I’ve treated you like dirt tonight but that’s just because...” I trail off and hang my head. There’s no excuse for the way I’ve treated her. “Nevermind. I’m sorry I wasted your time. A mare like you can probably do a whole lot better than me,” I say. I mean it, too. I’m just about the worst date ever. Nopony deserves to be stuck with anypony as awful at this as I am. Azalea can find somepony way better than...

Why is she hugging me all of a sudden?

“You’re really sorry, right?” asks Azalea, squeezing me tightly between her forelegs. I sink into her grasp, I can’t help it when it feels this good.

“I really am,” I say.

“This is a one time deal, OK? You decide to start scribbling mathematical equations onto napkins in the middle of a dinner date again and I won’t be so forgiving,” she says. Well, maybe if it were really important...

“I won’t, I promise,” I say.

“Do you want to go back inside now? Start over?” she asks.

“I have a better idea,” I say. It just takes a moment’s effort to teleport both of our dinners, as well as the tablecloth they were served on, out to where we’re standing. “How about a late night picnic?”

“But-”

“Azalea, can we just go somewhere else? Somewhere quieter? That isn’t me. I’m awful at formal romance, I really am. Please?” I ask. Beg, would probably be more accurate.

She looks at me for a few seconds. Then a few seconds more, and my racing mind has all the subjective time in the world to think about how badly I’ve already screwed this up. And then...

“Sure. Alright,” says Azalea, and I feel my heart skip a beat as I bring our meals up to us and carry them along in my magic as we head by unspoken agreement towards the park. Azalea has my full attention, finally. How was I not completely captivated from the moment I first laid eyes on her? Did I really almost let this mare slip away? She’s smart, and pretty, and...

She laughs at something I’m telling her about what Rainbow Dash did some time. I could fall for that laugh. I want to fall for that laugh. We get to a grassy hillside and I spread out the tablecloth. We flop down onto it, our dinners forgotten off to the side for the moment. One of my front hooves finds Azalea’s and neither one of us pulls away from the contact.

The conversation turns to political philosophy somehow, and soon she’s ranting about the writings of Trotsky. I turn to look at her for a moment while she’s in the middle of some diatribe about how wrong he was about something or another, then I roll on top of her and kiss her.

This ‘being spontaneous’ thing really works. I should plan to be spontaneous more often.

“Sorry. I’ve always kind of thought Trotsky was kind of overrated,” I say.

“You apologize too much,” she says.

“Sor-” Azalea cuts me off when she kisses me back, harder than I kissed her. She breaks it off after a moment, though. “This isn’t moving too fast for you, right?”

“I kissed you first. If I shouldn’t have-”

“Hey, I kissed you back didn’t I? To be completely honest I’ve had just the tiniest crush on you for the last few months. That’s why I jumped at the chance when Applejack asked if I wanted her to set us up. I’m glad I did.”

“I’m glad you did too,” I say. We lay there side by side for a few more minutes. “You seem like a pretty well-read pony. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around the library before.”

“I’ve been there a couple times, but not that much. I don’t even have a library card,” she says.

“Gasp! No library card? Then our relationship can never be!”

She giggles. “You know you can’t just say ‘gasp,’ right? Besides, when I was there it wasn’t the books I was checking out.”

“What else would you check out at a library?” I ask.

Azalea rolls her eyes. “The librarian, obviously.”

“Oh. Oh! You mean me?”

“Of course I mean you, silly! I can’t believe you never noticed,” she says.

We look up at the stars again. I move to take a bite of my pasta but it’s gone cold so instead I just lay back down next to Azalea. It’s a bit nippy out on the exposed hillside. That’s all the excuse I need to snuggle up against Azalea’s side. “You were right, the stars really are pretty tonight.”

“I think I found something prettier,” says Azalea. I turn my head and she’s looking straight at me.

“You are just a completely shameless flirt, aren’t you?” I ask, not that I’m not enjoying it.

“Shame is overrated,” she says. “Besides, I like you. This you, anyway.”

“I like you too,” I say and it’s true. I’m glad we aren’t trying to make awkward small talk at a fancy restaurant. This is so much better, and more importantly so much more comfortable. I’m not saying I’ve made an instant love connection with this mare, but I don’t know why I expected I would after one date. I like her. I think being with her more often would make me happy. What else does anypony need, really? Speaking of the restaurant though...

“You know, we should probably bring these plates back to the restaurant. And pay for the food that we, uh, stole,” I say.

“I guess we did, didn’t we? I didn’t realize I was out on a date with such a dangerous criminal mastermind. Very exciting,” she says. She doesn’t make any effort to get up though. Five more minutes won’t hurt.

“That’s us, a regular Bonnie and Clydesdale.”

No moment, especially not the perfect ones, can last forever. Soon enough the cold gets to be unpleasant and we have to get up. Azalea doesn’t seem to mind the temperature, typical pegasus, but I’m shivering. At least until she drapes a wing over my back and we walk side by side back the way we came. We get back to the restaurant and I apologize over and over to the maitre d’ for dining and dashing like that. They managed to give the table to another couple and once I’ve paid the check and left a sizable tip they assure me there’s no harm done. I’m about to leave before Azalea stops me.

“Don’t forget that napkin you were writing on. You nearly blew our date to write that down so you might as well,” she says.

“You won’t mind?” I ask.

“Nah, I don’t understand a word of it but it’s obviously something important to you.”

“Actually, while we were out on the hill I completely forgot about it,” I say.

Azalea smiles. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve said to me all night, Twilight. Glad to hear that I’m such an effective distraction,” she leans over and give me a peck on the cheek. Somehow it makes me blush even harder than the full on kiss she gave me before.

“Did you say something? I was distracted,” I say.

“Funny,” she says with a wry grin. We leave the restaurant and head back to the library, which is on the way to her place.

“So... here we are,” I say as we reach the front door. “That wasn’t exactly the date I was planning, but I hope it was OK. I know I had a good time.”

“Well it started out really really bad, but then got really really good. So we’ll split the difference and say mediocre. Better than the other way around, I guess,” she says with a grin.

“It’s not that late. You could come inside and we could, um, extrapolate the trendline?” I try.

Azalea throws back her head and laughs, and one of the braids in her mane comes unwound. “You know, Applejack warned me that you were kind of a nerd but I wouldn’t have believed how much if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

“Sorry,” I say.

“Oh, I’m not saying that’s bad. Smart mares are very, very, sexy. Besides, I told you to stop apologizing,” she says.

“You also kissed me when I did. I’m kind of getting mixed messages on the apology thing,” I say.

“Well then, I should make sure to clear that up for you. This is not for apologizing,” she says as she leans in for another kiss. Not quite as intense this time, but long and lingering and with the promise of more to come. “I’m very tempted to say yes and come inside...” Do it! Say yes! SAY YES! “...but I’m not going to.”

I can’t help but let out a disappointed little moan which Azalea notices. “Maybe next time, though,” she adds quickly.

“So you do want there to be a next time, right?” I ask.

“Of course I do! I mean assuming you want there to be a-”

“I do!” Come on Twilight, try not to sound quite that desperate.

“Good, so do I. So I guess this is goodnight then?”

“Yep.”

She lingers for just a moment longer and I have the briefest surge of hope that she’ll reconsider leaving, but then she takes a step back and the spell is broken. “Goodnight, Twilight,” she says and walks away.

I watch her leave, hoping against hope to catch her looking back but she doesn’t. Just one more thing to do before I go inside, then.

“You know that I can hear you whispering in those bushes, right?” I ask a nearby bush.

For a moment, everything is still, before the bush starts to rustle and a familiar voice emanates from it. “No you caaaaaaaan’t. It was just the wiiiiiiiiind. Oooooooh.”

“Ah think our cover’s blown, sugarcube. Besides, why are you makin’ ghost noises if you’re pretendin’ to be wind?”

That seems to stump the bush for a moment. “Maybe I’m the ghost of the wind. Like the wind saw something so scary it died of fright and turned into a ghost. And now it goes around and scares other wind into dying of fright and makes them turn into... Hey! It’s like a thing that repeats itself in a self-similar way. Is there a word for that? There totally should be.”

I’m in too good a mood to be annoyed with either of them, so I just go inside. I should probably take some notes on my date, or start brainstorming ideas for the next one. You know, something calm and rational.

“I have a fillyfriend. I have a fillyfriend! EEEEEEEEEE Ican’tbelieveItotallyhaveafillyfriendnow EEEEEEEE!”

Or something like that. That’s good too.

“Owloysius, I have a fillyfriend! Can you believe it?” I ask my assistant.

“Hoo?”

“Azalea! And I know that’s just a noise you make and not the word ‘who’ but I don’t even care because I have a fillyfriend and her name is Azalea and did I mention that she’s my fillyfriend? Because I have a fillyfriend now. Me! A fillyfriend!”

I dance my way up to my bedroom to take off my dress and makeup and let my mane down. I haven’t cast the cloudwalking spell on myself, and yet I still feel like I’m walking on air. A few minutes later I’m cleaned up and in my pajamas, although I still haven’t come down from the high I’m enjoying. There’s a knock on my door. Pinkie and Applejack must have gotten out of that bush and want to congratulate me because I have a fillyfriend now.

I’m about to hit semantic satiation on the word fillyfriend and I don’t even care. Because fillyfriend!

There’s nothing that could possibly happen that would ruin this night for me. I head over to the door and open it.

Does the multiverse just get some kind of sick thrill out of proving me wrong?

“What are you doing here, Star Swirl?” I ask. I get a good look as I glare at him. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. My glare softens a bit out of sympathy, but I harden it again when I remember how he treated me earlier this week.

“I wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier, and to be honest I kind of need your help with this problem. I was hoping we could-”

“Apology not accepted. Go away,” I say and close the door in his face again.

“Twilight! Come on!” Comes his muffled voice through the door.

“No! You come on! Do I need to spell it out for you? I don’t like you. Nopony likes you, and I’m doing just fine without you thanks very much.”

“Look, I get it. I wasn’t very nice to you before but I’m trying to-”

“Not interested.”

Would you shut the buck up for one second so I can start treating you in a more respectful fashion?” Star Swirl shouts through the door. There’s a moment of silence. “...There was probably a better way to phrase that.”

“You think?”

“Look, Twilight, please. I know that I’ve earned your contempt. I probably don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking you for one anyway. Please? Haven’t you ever been in a situation where you just wanted one more chance to prove you aren’t as bad as somepony else thinks you are?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn it. I can feel myself starting to forgive him. Any other night, that line wouldn’t have worked on me.

“Ground rules!” I shout at the front door.

“What?”

“I said ground rules! You say one more mean or disparaging thing about me, or tell me how much smarter than me you are, or treat anypony in a way I don’t like and I’ll throw you out of this library so fast you’ll think you were summoned by the dirt road that’ll be in your face when you hit the ground outside. Understand?”

“Yeah, I understand,” he says.

I open the door. “Come inside before somepony files a noise complaint.”

He blinks a few times before he trots across the threshold. I’m not sure he expected me to let him in. “I’m sorry,” he says, “for everything. Not the least the way I treated you back there.”

I don’t say anything. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying this just a bit.

“Making two mares cry within ten minutes of each other is pretty bad, even for me. I promise I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I don’t know what the prophecy means either, but I won’t let you get killed if there’s any way to prevent it. I swear on my honor and my magic,” he says.

Still not saying anything.

“Princess Celestia yelled at me a lot, if that helps at all. She hasn’t lost her touch with the Royal Canterlot voice over the last sixteen centuries, I’ll tell you that,” he says. We sit in silence for a few seconds before he speaks again. “Damn it, would you please say something? I think I liked it better when you were yelling at me.”

I grab the napkin I had been scribbling on back at the restaurant with my magic and pass it to him. “Thoughts?” I ask.

He looks over the napkin and his expression goes from confusion, to surprise, to realization, and then back to surprise again. “This might actually work,” he says.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised, Star Swirl,” I say.

“It’s just that I didn’t think that...” he stops talking when he looks up and notices that my horn is glowing and my left eyebrow is raised, daring him to continue. “You know what? Let’s just focus on the part of this where you’re right.”

“Good choice,” I say.

“I did some work of my own over the last few days too. This spell you came up with will cover most of the alternate timelines, but not the most radical divergences. I did some scrying into that, and there’s one big alternate history we’re going to have to take care of locally. We’ll have to actually go there,” he says.

“An alternate timeline? Did I win, or did the changelings win?” I ask.

“Well, both. Sort of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Twilight, in this other timeline the changelings took over Canterlot. And their queen is, um... you.”