> Background Ascension; or, Alicorns are "in" This Season
>  by MyHobby
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Background Ascension; or, The Heart of an Alicorn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the ascension of Prince Blueblood, a bevy of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies suddenly found themselves elevated to the status of royalty. Blueblood would later look upon his own ascension as the cornerstone, the inspiration for the sudden onslaught of achievement in the kingdom of Equestria. Historians would refer to it as the Great Upheaval, though its effects on the social order were minimal at best. The historians just liked the name.

By law, ascension to alicornhood was accompanied by the title of prince or princess. As more and more royalty received their coronations, Celestia began to realize that having twenty-odd ruling princes and princesses made for an odd aristocracy. As such, she decided to anoint them as rulers of a particular facet of the kingdom, somewhat related to their personal talents.

The Greek pantheon in ponies, ladies and gentlecolts.

During the after-coronation party of Vinyl Scratch, Princess of Electronic Music and Epic Remixes, several recently-appointed royals found themselves pondering their new place in life…





“The wubs will last forever!”

The first royal proclamation of Princess Vinyl Scratch echoed through the ballroom, drawing the attention of every royal present. Princess Lyra Heartstrings looked up from her slice of cake with glee, while Princess Redheart sat glumly beside her.

Lyra looked to the glowering princess with a raised eyebrow. “What’s eating you, Nurse Redheart?”

Before the white-coated alicorn could reply, the entire ballroom burst with electronic music. Dubstep, chiptune, nothing was spared as Vinyl Scratch shared her latest mix. Most of the old royalty present was quite horrified at the lack of proper classical music.

More’s the pity for those bores, eh?

After their ears had adjusted to the music, Lyra once again pressed Redheart. “What’s up? What’s got you so down?”

Redheart fluttered her wings as she eyed them nervously. “These things, how am I going to ever get used to them?”

“Same way I will, I bet.” Princess Lyra grinned. When Redheart failed to return the smile, Lyra placed a hoof on her shoulder. “It is a big change, yeah.”

“For some more than others,” Redheart sulked.

“What do you mean?”

Redheart pointed up at the horn sticking out of her forehead. “I used to be an earth pony.”

“Ooh,” Lyra hissed. “Yeah, that’s a rough one.”

Vinyl Scratch trotted up to them, her mix running smoothly enough by itself for her to enjoy her own coronation party. “’Sup, guys?”

“Redheart’s worried about magic and flying,” Lyra spoke before thinking. Her eyes widened as they shot to Redheart. “And she may or may not want to talk about it.”

“It’s fine, Lyra.” The nurse laid her head in her hooves. “It’s not some big secret, anyway.”

“What?” Vinyl leaned her hooves on the table. “You don’t like levitation and elevation?”

“It’s not that I don’t like the idea…” Redheart waved her hooves explanatorily. “It’s just, I felt so grounded before, so secure…”

She sighed and placed her head on the table. “And now everything’s gonna change.”

“For the better!” Vinyl shouted. “Look at us, we’re immortal, untouchable! We’re gonna do things nopony ever dreamed about!”

The record needle scratched. Vinyl Scratch leapt into the air to shout more thoroughly at the guardspony that had interrupted the music. “Hey, I didn’t give you permission to touch my equipment, Bub!”

The guard shrugged and pointed to the entrance of the ballroom. Standing in the doorway was a huge, muscular pegasus stallion. He wore a sharp tuxedo, clearly five sizes too small for him. His muscles bulged as he raised a list to his face. “Announcing Princess Celestia, Diarch of Equestria! YEAH!”

Her Serene Majesty, Her Royal Highness, the Crowned Princess of Equestria…

“The Big Cheese,” Vinyl supplied.

The Big Cheese, Princess Celestia walked in, flanked by a group of royal guards. She smiled demurely at the assembled ponies. “Good evening, my little ponies. Please, don’t stand on Ceremony, he doesn’t like it.”

The crowd tittered at her pun, but she insisted. “No really, get off the poor colt.”

A short earth pony stallion grunted as he bore the weight of an oblivious pegasus mare. Joe Ceremony sighed in relief as she leapt off of his back in surprise. He grinned bashfully at her, offering her a flower. She took it with a blush, and the two found themselves a table.

Lyra found her eyes drifting to the buff stallion to the side. He was tugging at his tux nervously. He only began to realize that it was a bad idea when the collar of his shirt ripped clean off. He stuffed it in a pocket and coughed innocently.

“How can he even bend his arms?” Lyra whispered to Redheart. “He’s like a sack of potatoes on steroids.”

“Glory only knows,” Redheart muttered back. She had treated him for wing strain in the past. “He’s a brick with feathers.”

Vinyl Scratch fluttered down, her music back on track. “Kinda hunky.”

“Really?” Lyra shook her head as Vinyl took a seat next to her. “Really? That crime against fitness centers everywhere?”

“Hey, do I get all up in your face about your love life?” Vinyl glared over her glasses.

“You might”—Lyra met her glare with a smile cheesier than macaroni—“If you weren’t so busy fawning over Pec Popper over there.”

“Think you’re so clever, huh?” Vinyl turned to Redheart, who was tactfully trying to keep out of the conversation. “This chick thinks she can go toe-to-toe with me intellectually, howzabout that?”

“I think you’re both taking this a little far,” Redheart said. Her voice took on a tone of practiced concern. “If Vinyl likes a guy, that’s in her right.”

“You hear that, Heartstrings?” Vinyl grinned. “It’s my right, so it’s alright.”

“And it’s perfectly fine if Lyra thinks he’s an ugly pile of biceps,” Redheart finished, biting back a smile.

“Buuurn, Scratchy,” Lyra chuckled.

“Yeah, well, shows what you two know,” Vinyl said. She stood and flew over to the pony in question.

Lyra snickered into her hoof. When she raised her head she noticed that Redheart was hanging low once again. “Still worried about your new powers?”

Redheart nodded. “And the responsibility that comes with them.”

“What?” Lyra squinted. “You’re one of the most responsible ponies I know. You’re a nurse, for Grogar’s sake! That’s like, ‘Responsibility, the Job!’”

“I love being a nurse,” Redheart sighed. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Then wha-”

“Least of all becoming a princess,” Redheart sneered. “Being in charge of ponies, having them expect me to be an expert at everything, who knows what being a princess is all about?”

“Oh.” Lyra mused quietly as her punch glass was shaken by a particularly strong wub. It shattered soon after. “But, you’ll still do nursey work, won’t you?”

“I don’t know!” Redheart flung her hooves up. “This has never happened to me before. This has never happened to anypony before. What am I supposed to expect?”

Lyra grinned “'Nopony expects the Span-'”

“Don’t,” Redheart interrupted. “Just don’t.”

They sat in silence, aside from the chiptunes blaring over the speakers. Redheart abruptly stood up. “I need some fresh air.”

Lyra could only nod dumbly as the nurse strode out of the ballroom. She examined the shards of her late cup with a frown. “Why can’t I ever just shut up?”

“Question for the ages, Lyra,” Vinyl said as she descended upon the table. “Question for the ages.”

Lyra looked up to see Vinyl Scratch wiping her glasses off with the table cloth. The blue-haired alicorn chewed at her bottom lip as she examined the clarity of the lenses. Her shoulders drooped noticeably.

“Got shot down, huh?” Lyra asked.

“He’s married,” Vinyl spat.

“Whoa,” Lyra said as she glanced from the alicorn to the pegasus. “That messes with my headcanon something fierce.”





Redheart gazed up at the moon and moped. Stars peered out of the darkness, flickering like a million teasing winks. She fiddled with the braid her mane had been tied in, frustrated at its refusal to stay knotted. “Come on, I spent an hour on you, the least you could do is last the night.”

“May I?” a voice said.

Redheart spun on the voice, recognizing it instantly. “P-Princess Celestia!” She bowed hastily, almost falling on her face.

“No need for that tonight, my little pony,” Celestia smiled. “It’s time for celebration, not adulation.”

Her cheek pressed lightly against Redheart’s, and the nurse straightened up slowly. Celestia pointed her horn at the unruly braid. “May I?”

Redheart pursed her lips together and nodded. She sat down and allowed the celestial magic of her princess to undo her braid. The sovereign princess hummed softly as she slowly coiled the pink strands of hair around each other.

As she worked, Redheart fumbled for something, anything, to say. “Th-thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Redheart,” Celestia chuckled softly. “I may be a bit out of practice.”

“Practice?” Redheart asked. She barely resisted the urge to turn around.

“I used to have a mane just like yours,” Celestia said. The coils of mane flowed as they looped down, down, down. “Bright pink, with a hint of red. Time changes all things, though.”

“Yeah,” Redheart said with a cross-eyed glance at her horn. “I figured that out already.”

Celestia peered around Redheart’s mane. “Something troubling you?”

Redheart hesitated. “Yes,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I wanna… I don’t think I’m…”

Celestia waited patiently while Redheart pieced together what she wanted to say. “I… I don’t think I want to be an alicorn.”

The ruler of Equestria took the statement in stride. “Why not, my little pony?” Her heart went out to the nurse, even as her eyes went to her unfinished braid.

“All… All I ever wanted was to become a nurse.” Redheart slumped, nearly jerking her mane out of Celestia’s glowing grasp. “And I wanted to be the best nurse I could be.”

“And indeed you were,” Celestia nodded. “I heard about your work during the Baked Bads 2.0 outbreak. You preformed exemplary, Redheart.”

The Baked Bads 2.0 outbreak was a somewhat isolated case of food poisoning in Ponyville. It was unknown who perpetrated the event, though Sweetie Belle was unavailable for questioning.

“That day’s going to live on in infamy, I think.” Redheart rolled her eyes. “That’s the day I became an alicorn in the first place.”

Celestia chuckled. “Yes, your treatment saved many lives. Or, at least livelihoods. That’s something to be proud of, Princess.”

Redheart flinched. “I don’t feel like a princess. I just want to be a nurse.”

“And what’s stopping you?” Celestia said. “It would be a catastrophe for somepony with your talents to be removed from her field.”

“I’m…” Redheart tilted her head slightly. “You’re not making me a princess instead of a nurse?”

“Nurse Redheart, Princess of Hospice.” Celestia grinned as she tied the last loop. “It has a nice ring to it, I think.

“Your duties will expand a bit,” she added. “Ponies will look up to you, if only because you are an alicorn. But you earned it.”

She took Redheart’s shoulder in her hoof and turned the nurse around. “You became an alicorn because of your amazing abilities. If anything, it’s a badge of honor to be worn, not a burden to be carried.”

Celestia brought Redheart close in a hug. “My little pony, you have been exemplary. Choose this as an opportunity to be extraordinary.”

Redheart felt relief wash over her as the hug continued. “Thank you.”





“You wrote three entire sonatas overnight!?” Vinyl gasped.

Lyra smirked with pride. “It was awesome. You ever just feel like you’re so overflowing with inspiration that you’ll burst if you don’t get it down?”

“That’s how I felt when I put together my Magic Player 3 a few days ago,” Vinyl nodded. “Then poof, I’m an alicorn.”

“Yeah, what was your title? Princess of Electronic Music…”

“And Epic Remixes! BAM!” Vinyl finished. She and Lyra bumped hooves.

“Say,” Lyra said. “What do you say to a little crossover?”

“What?” Vinyl squinted. “Your sonatas get the DJ PON-3 treatment?”

“Well, parts of them, at least,” Lyra giggled. “I’m not sure you have the attention span for songs longer than five minutes.”

“Ouch,” Vinyl Scratch sat back. “That hurts, mare. That hurts right here.” She prodded her chest with a hoof.

“What?” Lyra asked. “You saying you listen to an hour of dumbstep at a time?”

“That’s dubstep and you know it, Stringy,” Vinyl stood, wings flared. “An’ yeah, I get in the mood sometimes.”

“Like you were in the mood for Muscle Bunches of Oats?” Lyra snickered, pointing at the stallion standing at the door.

“You know when you were asking why you couldn’t shut up?” Vinyl pouted, her glasses sliding down on her nose. “Now would be a very, very good time to ask that question again.”

“Are you two still arguing?” Redheart said as she took her place beside the other two alicorns, her plate full of hors d'oeuvres. “C’mon guys, the bickering’s really childish.”

“She started it!” Vinyl pointed an accusatory hoof at the minty alicorn.

“She’s talking all my jokes too seriously!” Lyra shot back at the DJ.

“Lyra, stop making mean-spirited jokes!” Redheart shouted. “Vinyl, grow up and cool off!” She sat back, a satisfied smile on her face.

Lyra nodded, her mouth wrinkled in an impressed grimace. “Not bad. Somepony’s feeling better.”

“A little, I guess.” Redheart munched on a cucumber sandwich. “I had a real nice heart-to-heart.”

“Redheart-to-heart, maybe,” Lyra chuckled.

Vinyl would have taken her turn to speak, if the record hadn’t scratched again. “Alright, who’s playing with my wubs!?”

“She’s ascended!” Celestia shouted joyously from the podium. “Twilight Sparkle has ascended!”

The princess danced through the room, lighter than air. “She’s ascended, she’s ascended, my faithful student has ascended!”

Most of the guests smiled politely, then scrambled to the far side of the room. Princess Celestia danced unawares, her smile as bright as the sun she lifted. “After all this time, she’s finally become an alicorn!”

She rushed to the guards standing at attention. “Quickly! We must away, ere break of day, to begin our preparations! There shall cometh a coronation the likes of which Canterlot hath not seen in an age!”

“Are you alright, Princess?” one guard asked hesitantly. “You’re talking like Princess Luna.”

“Oh, but ‘twas a joyous occasion that befell us, my armor bearers!” Celestia pranced past them, her eyes alight with unspoken giggles. “The coronation shall not occur later than a fortnight hence!”

Once the sovereign princess had departed, the ponies gathered at the party shuffled back into their cliques. Vinyl was about to put another record on when she was interrupted by a shout from the entrance. “Announcing Prince Braeburn of Appleoosa! YEAH!”

An orange-coated alicorn with wavy locks of flowing hair entered the ballroom with a shout. “Hey, y’all! I jus’ flew in from Appleoosa, and boy are my arms tired!” He turned to his back and gave his wings a flutter. “Well, my wings are, at least.”

Vinyl’s glasses fell from her face as her mouth dropped open. “Okay, you have to admit that he’s gorgeous.”

“That pun was gorgeous,” Lyra admitted.

Redheart brought her hoof up to her face and sighed. “So, what are you waiting for, Scratch?”

“Nothing at all.” With that, Vinyl flew off to greet the newcomer. Lyra and Vinyl watched the two alicorns talk for a moment, until Vinyl returned with a sour continence. “Never mind.”

“What?” Lyra grinned. “Don’t tell me he’s married, too.”

“He’s engaged…” Vinyl gritted her teeth.

“Well,” Redheart offered. “It could have been worse-”

“To Pinkie Pie,” the DJ growled.

Lyra thought about that deeply. After a moment of consideration, she shrugged and nodded. “Headcanon accepted.”





“Nurse Redheart, you’re needed in Maternity!”

“Redheart, the patient hasn’t responded to the anesthesia.”

“Yo, princess, where’s my bedpan?”

Redheart’s day at the hospital was a flurry of activity. Every floor seemed to need her, and everypony seemed to require her assistance. She had taken to using the window to change floors, rather than the elevators or stairs. Wings had turned out to be pretty handy.

And if the wings were handy, magic was glorious. Her natural hoof-dexterity had translated very well to telekinesis and, with hours upon hours of practice, she could carry tons of items at once. It was also an order of magnitude more sanitary.

She flew out the window and down to Emergency with a small smile on her face. She knocked on the window to get the attention of the doctor, an orange stallion with brushed-back hair. He opened the window and let her in. “Redheart, there’s a patient that just arrived, she’s in room 4b and might have a fractured wing. I’m a little busy here, so would you take a look?”

She trotted past with a nod. She made her way quickly to the room and knocked. “Hello, is it alright to come in?”

A young pegasus filly, still a blank-flank, looked up with shimmering eyes. Beside her sat a unicorn stallion and a rainbow-maned pegasus mare. “Yeah,” the filly murmured. “’S fine.”

“So…” Redheart read the information sheet. “Scootaloo, can you tell me where it hurts?”

“There,” the filly pointed. The rainbow-maned mare beside her winced as though she could feel the pain herself. Scootaloo flinched and let tears squeeze out of her eyes.

“Shh…” Redheart took the limb very gently in her magic and examined it. The wing was broken, but not irreparably so. She brushed the filly’s mane with a hoof as she slowly, carefully, set the bones back in place. “It’ll be alright. It’s broken, but it’ll heal soon enough.”

She bandaged the wing tight, keeping the bones firmly in place. “There, now I imagine you’ll have quite an adventure to share with your friends, won’t you?”

“Hay, yeah,” Scootaloo said, wiping her tears away. “That… that was kinda awesome.”

“And with a lot, lot, lot, lot of practice,” the chromatic mare inserted, “you’ll be able to try it without my help again.”

The stallion, Scootaloo’s father, snorted. “Yeah, let’s not repeat that little accident any time soon, alright, Scoots?”

“Yeah, I’ll be careful, Dad.” She turned excitedly to the mare. “Can you show me the trick again, Rainbow Dash!?”

Redheart chuckled as she exited the room, her heart decidedly fuzzy. Everything was going to be just fine.





A coffee shop on the far side of Ponyville had become a battleground for two musicians. One had composed orchestral beauties that had sent many a pony weeping. The other had sent hearts pumping and bodies dancing with her tunes.

Vinyl Scratch glared at Lyra Heartstrings while the lyrist squinted at the DJ. Vinyl raised a pen in her telekinetic grip and made a small correction to the sheet of music before her. Lyra raised her own pen and undid the correction just as swiftly.

The two went back and forth for a quarter of an hour, neither willing to turn aside or compromise. By that time, the sheet had been so covered in notes and corrections it had become unreadable. The two musicians stared at the cacophony of notes with a detached bemusement.

“Well,” Lyra said. “That could have gone better.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl agreed. “It ain’t pretty.”

Lyra hovered a lyre over to her hooves. She strummed according to the written notes for a moment, before giving up in disgust. “I’ll get a new sheet.”

“Sure,” Vinyl said, taking a sip from her coffee. It had gotten cold while they were working. “If at first you don’t succeed…”

“Throw a tantrum to get your way?” Lyra snorted. “At least, that’s how it’s always worked for me.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Vinyl snickered. “You remind me of a very feminine Sombra.”

“Gee, thanks.” Lyra returned with a copy of the music sheet they had utterly demolished. “I love being compared to vicious slave-drivers that do nothing but growl all day.”

“Heh, you said it,” Vinyl smirked. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, ha, ha, ha.” Lyra spread the sheet on the table. “Now who’s telling the nasty jokes?”

“That’d be you.” Vinyl scribbled a note on the sheet. “My jokes are nothing but pure awesome.”

“Your jokes are about a monster that enslaved millions,” Lyra countered. “Truly, that’s the height of comedy. You should do stand up. You’re a riot.”

“You cause riots.” Vinyl turned the sheet to Lyra. “Now look, I think this melody would be awesome if accompanied by a wub here”—she pointed—“here, and here.”

“Wubs?” Lyra asked. “Is that all your remixes have going for them?”

“Heck no!” Vinyl drew back and pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead. “I’m all about what’s cool, no matter what’s cool.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lyra said through a grin full of snark. “They have some weird drum beat going through them, too.”

“Only when it’s cool!” Vinyl grumped. “Hokey Peat, Lyra, do you want a crossover or not?”

“I…” Lyra slumped. “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry.”

“You know,” a third pony said as they entered the coffee shop. “I thought that crossovers were about working together.”

Lyra looked up with a bright smile on her face. “Hay, Redheart, how was your day?”

The nurse took a seat beside the others. “Pretty great. Lots of ponies got helped today.” She laughed. “Can you believe I treated a griffon for constipation?”

“Dude,” Vinyl interrupted. “People are eating.”

“Sorry,” Redheart blushed. “It’s just… It’s hard work, but I feel so good!”

Meanwhile, the shop’s owner had scrambled outside to change the “Princesses Served” sign to read “three.”

“Nopony said that being an alicorn would be easy,” Lyra said. She gestured to the music sheet. “Case in point.”

“Aw, you’re just too picky.” Vinyl wrote a few ideas down. “Now, before you say no, just listen to what I have so far.”

Vinyl’s horn glowed as she focused on the sheet. It glowed to match, shining a bright magenta. The lines and notes on the page lifted off in several swirling trails, and music began to play. Redheart and Lyra stared wide-eyed at the display, and Redheart tapped her hoof in time to the beat. Even Lyra seemed to be enjoying it.

Vinyl grinned as she ended the spell. “So, whadda yah think?”

“I think,” Lyra smiled, “that you’re on to something.”

“See?” Vinyl punched Lyra in the shoulder. “I told you that you just needed to give it a chance!”

Redheart took a sip from her caramel macchiato with fat-free milk and no whipped cream with extra caramel drizzle. “Pretty cool.”

“Now, yah see?” Vinyl pointed at the nurse. “Redheart’s a mare of good taste.”

“Eh.” Lyra stirred her drink. “I prefer mocha.”

“Not what I meant- You know what? Never mind.” Vinyl tossed her empty cup into the wastebasket. “I got a gig, see you guys later.”

“Later,” the others chimed.

Redheart sipped daintily. “So what do you have going today?”

Lyra stuck her tongue out. “Bleh, still working on spring cleaning. Even as a princess it’s still boring as heck.”

“Have you worked on levitating a bunch of objects at once?” Redheart asked.

“Yeah, but I never seem to lift more than three things at a time before they all come tumbling down.” Lyra sat back and patted her belly. “I’m more about detail than quantity.”

“That’s weird,” Redheart muttered. “I’m fine with dexterity and amount.”

“You’re a nurse.” Lyra stood and tossed her cup into the trash. “You’ve been balancing a million things your whole life. I’m always nitpicking every last detail.”

“Yeah?” Redheart said. “Are you the Princess of Hairy Little Details?”

“Naw,” Lyra grinned as she opened her wings. “I’m Lyra Heartstrings, Princess of Melodies.”

Redheart smiled as her friend took flight. She trotted home, rather than flew, to enjoy the sights and sounds of Ponyville. Friends waved, acquaintances smiled, and Pinkie Pie handed out invitations for her upcoming wedding. They were personalized to each invited pony; that is, all of them.

“Yeah,” Redheart said to herself. “Everything is gonna be just fine.”
> Brother's Ascension; or, Alicorn Sales-Ponies Nonpareil
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hollow Shades was not necessarily spooky. Sure, it was always dark, always damp, and always quiet, but that came naturally through its location in the midst of the densest forest in the entirety of Equestria. The trees overhead were so thick with foliage that not an iota of sunlight, moonlight, or starlight ever pierced the canopy.

Not spooky at all.

Sure, it was only lit by a few lanterns that glowed a ghostly white. The pale lamps hung off of awnings and over the streets. Ponies could be found attending to them, protecting and sustaining the only source of light to be found. These ponies all wore grim, strained expressions, aware that should any light go out, it could mean danger for the whole town.

Yawn.

Sure, the local wildlife was nocturnal, phosphorescent, and carnivorous. More often than not, they exuded mystical attributes, such as the ability to disappear at will, or to siphon the souls of ponies to feed their demonic powers.

That last one is probably just an urban legend. Probably.

Take the will-o’-the-wisp, a sprite-like creature that likes to latch onto the hats of traveling salesponies and stay there, acting as a sort of bizarre headlamp that more likely than not wants to eat said pony’s brain.

Um. Huh. Okay, maybe a little spooky.

Only a little.

At least, that’s what Flim Flimflam thought when a particularly friendly will-o’-the-wisp settled down on his straw boater hat. His tail straightened in a rush of adrenalin as he jumped in his seat. “Lookee what we got here, oh Brother of Mine, it’s the same in every tree!”

Flam Flimflam twirled his moustache as he drove their giant mobile cider-maker towards Hollow Shades. “Sprites flying through the air, and not a single drop of sunlight to be seen.”

Flim removed his hat and flapped it, driving the glowing creature deep into the forest. “If we wish to make a profit in this dank and dark and dreary little town…”

“We’d better bring our A-game and spread our famous talent all around!” Flam finished for his brother.

“I hope you brew a better cider than you sing,” Flim said

“I sing better after a pint or two.” Flam threw the clutch, or some such vehicular nonsense, and rolled the vehicle into town. “That sugar really gets me rolling.”

Flim cocked an eyebrow. “Rolling right off the back of the wagon?”

Flam opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated mid-breath. He gave a snort of disregard. “Brother, you’re really somethin’ else.”

“It’s a gift,” Flim said with a bow.

Their mode of transportation, the much-lauded Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, entered town with a bang of its exhaust pipes. The apple-picking, quality-controlling, fruit-crushing, drink-mixing contraption was an odd combination of carriage and science laboratory. Powered by the brothers’ innate unicorn magic, it could mix a barrel of cider at the drop of a hat and the glow of a horn. The Flimflam siblings travelled from town-to-town in search of apples to harvest, and customers to entice.

Though, they weren’t adverse to other, more permanent, business opportunities.

“I still say we could have turned that situation around,” Flam grumbled. “We won the deed to the farm fair and square.”

“We also earned the ire of an entire small town,” Flim reminded him. “I don’t fancy going toe-to-toe with an angry mob.”

Flam’s moustache twitched. “What do the courts say about angry mobs?”

Flim shrugged. “‘Run like heck?’”

“Sounds about right,” Flam mused. “Though I remember reading about the case of Lulamoon vs. Fillydelphia, where it was ruled that defacing a public landmark with illusion spells was not sufficient cause for an angry mob to be formed.”

“Any rulings about cider-making or farm-winning?” They hit a pothole, causing Flim to fall out of his seat. He rubbed his rump ruefully and returned to his rest. “Maybe we can get that deed back if we play our cards right.”

“No such luck,” Flam sighed. “We won the deed to Sweet Apple Acres, sure, but then we promptly vacated the premises, leaving such legally binding documents behind!”

With their character arc properly recapped, the brothers parked their livelihood and disembarked. They walked up to the town hall and entered with smiles on their faces. Three pink-coated mares, a unicorn, a pegasus, and an earth pony, sat behind a desk. They looked up at the visitors with a mild surprise.

“Hello,” said the unicorn. “Welcome to the town of Hollow Shades—”

“Where every day is a struggle—” continued the pegasus.

“Enjoy your stay,” finished the earth pony. “Is there anything—”

“That we can assist you with—” the pegasus progressed.

“Before your untimely deaths?” the unicorn concluded.

Flim Flimflam and Flam Flimflam exchanged a glance, a glance filled with equal portions fear and resolve. As it was a glance between two twins, it carried the impact of an entire conversation.

“Flam, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Flim asked.

“I think I am, Flim,” Flam replied. “I left the engine running. We can be out of here in two—”

“We’d like a permit to sell food!” Flim exclaimed. “Cider, actually. We’ve got the rip-roaringest cider-maker in the business, and we’d be happy to set up shop in your little town.”  He leaned on the counter and grinned at the three mares. “May I ask your names?”

The mares looked at each other and nodded. The unicorn summoned a sheet of paper, which the pegasus stamped and the earth pony pushed up to Flim.

“Please fill out—”

“This form to—”

“Get your permit.”

The unicorn placed a hoof on her chest. “My name is Ribbon Wishes.”

The pegasus brushed her hair out of her face. “I’m Sky Wishes.”

The earth pony leaned on the counter. “I’m Flower Wishes.”

“Together we serve—”

“As the mayors, judges—”

“And police of Hollow Shades.”

Flim looked the form over; it seemed to be the usual indecipherable legal mumbo jumbo. “Pretty straightforward, actually. What do you say to setting up the SSCS 6000 outside, Flam?”

Flam brushed his expertly-waxed moustache. “I wouldn’t mind.” He looked to Flower Wishes. “Can you point me to the nearest apple orchard?”

The three mares blinked simultaneously. “I’m afraid—”

“There aren’t any orchards—”

“In Hollow Shades.”

It was the Flimflam Brothers’ turn to blink. “But,” Flam said, “But huh?”

Flim chewed his bottom lip. “Are there any apple trees at all?”

Ribbon Wishes shrugged. “Just wild ones—”

“Deep in the forest—” Sky Wishes added.

“Where nopony can survive for long,” Flower Wishes sighed.

Flam’s expertly-waxed moustache came unraveled. “W-what kind of… wild trees?”

Ribbon Wishes nodded towards the forest. “Zap Apple trees—”

“The type only found in the wild—”

“Except for in Ponyville.”

“Ah,” Flim muttered. “That crafty old coot of a granny tamed the wild Zap Apples, did she?”

“Yeah,” Flam grunted. “That would have been a spectacular farm.”

“Tell you what,” Flim said. “What if you tell us how to get to the Zap Apple trees, could you do that?”

Sky Wishes jumped back. “That’s a bad idea. You could get led astray by will-o’-the-wisps—”

“Or eaten by an orphiotaurus—”

“Or disemboweled by timberwolves.”

“Ha!” Flim removed his hat with a flourish. “We are Flim and Flam Flimflam, Travelling Sales-Ponies Nonpareil! I fully believe that we can do this. With your permission?”

The three Wishes looked at each other once again, conveying their consensus.

“You may—”

“But you might not—”

“Survive the night.”

“We recommend—”

“You get the local guide—”

“To show you the way.”

A quick walk down the street brought the brothers to a small house on the edge of town. Said house was darker than most, but compensated by having deadbolts on everything but the toilet seats.

There were time locks on those.

A small, slight earth pony mare, barely coming up to Flim’s shoulder, poked her head out of the door. She ran her eyes up and down Flim and Flam, as if sizing up a basket of apples. “Can I help you two?”

“We’d like to take a trip into the forest,” Flim said with a grin. “We’re told that you could lead the way.”

She squinted. “I can lead the way. Can you follow?”

Flim nodded, but his gesture was cut off by the diminutive mare shouting him down. “I don’t think so, Dobbin! You two skinny blokes don’t look like you could eat your way out of a three-layer cake!”

The brothers were taken aback by her vehemence. They shared a look, a look that was becoming more and more uncertain by the minute spent in Hollow Shades. “I think we can handle ourselves…”

“HA!” the mare laughed. “HA! HA! HA! You’d be dead before we met the first harpy!”

Flim coughed. “Listen, Miss—?”

“Gentle Showers,” she answered.

“Miss Gentle Showers,” Flim said. “We are fully capable of handling ourselves. You lead, we follow, you get your fee, and we get our tree.”

“You listen here, blokes,” she growled. “I spent three years in the service. Overseas, I seen things that would turn your stripy manes yellow. Nothin’, nothin’ compared to what I seen here.”

Flam tiptoed closer to his brother and whispered, “Are you sure we need to set up shop here? What’s Hollow Shades have that others don’t?”

Flim grinned, a predatory grin wholly foreign on an herbivore’s face. “Zap Apple cider, a brew never before attempted.” He flicked a bit in Gentle Shower's direction. “Here’s just a taste of what you’ll receive when we’ve returned.”

She caught the bit in midair. “‘If,’ you mean.”





The trek was fraught with peril. Flim and Flam barely escaped with their lives. They fought off will-o’-the-wisps by the thousands, they slayed orphiotauruses by the dozens, they ran from a harpy hungry for blood…

And that was before they left the town.

The trip through the forest was not quiet, in part because they drove their Cider-mobile, in part because of Gentle Shower’s shouted directions. They made good time to the Zap Apple grove.

Much to Flim and Flam’s delight, it was in the middle of Zap Apple Season, and the fruit was nearly ripe for harvest. A half-day’s wait was all that stood between them and Zap Apple cider.

That, plus the angry timberwolves that guarded the trees. They were pretty unhappy about the three ponies intruding on their life-source. A few rocks launched into strategic limbs kept them at bay.

At last, the apples appeared on the trees. They sprung to life in a rainbow of color, sending jolts of excitement down the spines of the ponies present. Flim reached for one with his hooves, not wishing his own unicorn magic to interfere with the magic of the tree. He really had no idea what such a mixture would do, and thus would not risk it.

He plucked the apple and took a bite. “Delicious, as I suspected! Flam, time to turn on the machine!”

Together, the two brothers launched a beam of magic into the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, bringing the apple-picker to life. A suction hose snaked its way out of the heart of the machine and began to take in apples.

“Sweet manna from Heaven!” Flam said, his moustache frizzing in surprise. “Every single Zap Apple is passing inspection! The entire tree is suitable for eating!”

“It’s the magic of the Zap Apple,” Flim explained. “The fruit is only good for one day, so it’s gotta count!”

The cider-squeezer sputtered as the first apple was crushed into juice. A flash came from the innards as the innate magic within the fruit released into the contraption. Unicorn magic and nature magic mixed and flowed as more apples were mashed. The SSCS 6000 rattled and lurched as the internal systems were clogged with snaking sparkles.

“Something’s wrong!” Flam shouted. “The magic build-up is overflowing our flux capacitor! She’s gonna blow!”

Flim narrowed his eyes. “Not today, it’s not.” He reached a hoof out to his brother. “Flam, give me the science goggles.”

Flam gasped. “Not the science goggles!”

“It’s the only way,” Flim said. “I’m not just gonna stand by and watch our livelihood burn itself to a crisp!”

He climbed his way up the buckling vehicle, searching for the apple masher. He found it smoking, letting loose the scent of apple pie baking. Since it was supposed to smell like apple cider, the Flimflam Brother took it as a sign of error. He opened the top of the crusher to get to the inner workings, only to be blasted away by a rainbow of magic.

“Great Scott!” he shouted as he sailed over the Cider Squeezy. He landed upside down in the driver seat, his feet near the controls. He scrambled upright and saw the bright rainbow of colors blasting out of the crusher, unimpeded by the casing.

He smiled as a thought came to him. “Flam, I think I’m brilliant!”

“I hope so,” Flam replied, “because our guide just ran off in fright.”

“To truly make Zap Apple cider,” Flim announced, “we’ve got to twist the magic right into the mixture itself!”

“What?” Flam cried out. “That would create magical cider! Who knows what kind of side-effects that might have!?”

“Time to find out!” Flim yelled.

He leaped into the stream of rainbow magic with a firm jaw and trembling lips. His horn glowed as he concentrated on the Zap Apples, sending the magic swirling deeper into the machine, where the drinks were being mixed. His feet tingled as the power flowed through him, and his mane stood on end. He grinned as the first barrel of cider leaped from the back of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, and the machine quieted.

Flim approached the barrel with a mixture of hesitance and enthusiasm. Hesi-thusiasm, if you will. He opened the top to be greeted by the shine of a barrel’s worth of rainbow drink.

“It’s beautiful!” he shouted. With that said, he disappeared in a flash of bright light.

“Flim?” Flam asked. He walked around and around the cider machine, finding no sign of his brother. As the sounds of the forest started to creep around him, he decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He quickly placed the cap on the barrel of cider and loaded it on the back of the vehicle. He started it up and set forth for town, moving as fast as the undergrowth would allow.

“Okay,” Flam muttered. “Okay, what just happened there?”





Flim awoke with a start, floating in a vast expanse of nothingness.  He would have said that he was in outer space, for lack of a better descriptor, but the void lacked even a single star.  He took a hesitant step into the limbo-like world, finding purchase for his fairly well-groomed hoof.  A few steps forwards brought no sensation of progress; the empty space had no landmarks, no sense of up or down, absolutely nothing.

The sales-pony nonpareil sat, unnerved by an intense sense of loneliness.  He looked around at the empty plane and was surprised to notice an entire crowd of ponies gathered behind him. Unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi all stood in a single-file line, trailing a good few pony-lengths into the void-ishness.

“Davenport, because you created the world’s first self-adjusting magic cushion…”

As he looked around, he noticed rectangles floating by, containing moving pictures very much like movies. They contained scenes from the lives of the ponies beside him, no doubt showing a few highlights. He caught himself in one or two, but nothing too substantial.

“Minuette, in honor of your ‘Always Correct Clock’ spell…”

To his right stood Luna, the alicorn Princess of the Night. She held up a clipboard with her magic and was scribbling a few words down. “Name, please.”

Flim blinked. “Can I ask what’s—”

“You’ll figure it out on a moment,” she cut him off. “Name, please.”

“Donut Joe, for crafting the most excellent donuts this side of the moon…”

“Uh, Flim Flimflam, Travelling Sales-Pony Nonpareil,” he said.

The line moved forwards inch by inch. Flim tried to catch a glimpse of what waited at the end, but he was unable to see over the shoulder of a particularly-excited blonde pegasus mare half-way down the line. She floated in the void, carried aloft on grey wings. She made for a much better door than a window.

“Cup Dazzle Cake, after crafting the magical Easy-Bake oven…” (*)(1)

The pony in front of him grunted in frustration. “The Great and Powerful Trixie does not have time for a mystical coffee-house line.”

Flim looked down at the blue unicorn mare, who wore a magician’s cape and hat. He might have described her as “captivating,” had he not been drooling over her inside his head. “Hello, there. Are you a street performer?” he asked.

“I was,” she said, “until I got a job in Applewood.” She produced a picture from beneath her cloak, hidden away for just such an opportunity to brag. “Here’s a picture of me with the director, Steven Spellbound.”

“Ooh, he’s a goody,” Flim grinned. “I especially liked his film about the dragon theme park. Are you an actress?”

“Hardly, one picture would be unable to contain my sheer awesome.” She chuckled at her own assertion. “I’m working with him on special effects for the new Daring Do movie.”

“Don’t those movies use practical special effects?” Flim asked, his mild familiarity with the filmmaking process fighting with his need to impress the mare.

“Most of the time,” she admitted. “But there are one or two things that need to be added to this film to fully get his vision across.”

Trixie adjusted her hat and smirked proudly. “In fact, before I was unceremoniously zapped here, I had invented a form of special effect that can be fully interacted with by the cast. I call it the “Corporeal Ghost Illusion,” or CGI for short.”

“Ooh…” Flim nodded appreciatively. “Care to show me how it works?”

“I already have,” she snickered. “You’ve been talking to an illusion for two minutes.”

He spun as the voice suddenly came from beside him. He laughed aloud as the mare’s horn glowed and the construct disappeared.

“I can see that being very fun,” he said with a chuckle.

She nodded. “Indeed, the Great and Powerful Trixie is pleased with her genius!” She gave his cutie mark a surreptitious glance. “Are you an apple farmer?”

“Cider-maker, actually,” Flim said. “Flim Flimflam at your service! My brother and I had just created the first batch of Zap Apple cider when I, too, was brought to this odd place.”

“Soarin, for your efforts to save an entire Cloudsdale orphanage from plummeting to its doom and fighting off the changeling swarm that attacked it…”

Trixie perked her head up. “Say, what do you suppose this line is for, anyhow?”

“I have absolutely no clue,” he mumbled. The line was shorter now, and he could see the end.

The Elder Diarch, the Princess of the Sun, the long-time ruler of Equestria, the Solar Sovereign, the Big Cheese herself was presiding over her little ponies. Princess Celestia sat in a large folding chair, a mug of coffee held in her grip. The list that sat beside her glowed each time a pony’s name was written on Luna’s list, adding the new name to both.

Flim looked behind himself and noted that two more ponies had appeared after him.

Celestia held back a yawn and rubbed at the bags under her eyes. “Ah, more of my little ponies have arrived. How unexpected.” Her normally serene mannerisms were falling apart as the hours dragged on. “Please come forth, Trixie Lulamoon.”

Trixie strode up to her and bowed. Celestia touched her horn to the blue unicorn’s forehead. “Trixie Lulamoon, for crafting an entire new branch of illusion magic, you are now the Princess of Illusions!”

“The Great and Powerful Princess Trixie!?” Trixie squealed. “Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes!”

She spun on the line behind her with a devilish grin, her cape flapping in the nonexistent wind. “Kneel before Trixie, my new peons! For the show… will last… FOREVER!”

Celestia ducked down to whisper in Trixie’s ear. “Dear, they are also becoming princes and princesses of Equestria.”

“Oh.” Trixie sat, mulling over the revelation. She had little time to wonder, however, because her eyes began to glow. The shine soon reached every corner of her body, morphing her into something greater. When the light faded, she stood tall as a new mare, an alicorn princess of Equestria.

“Oh yes,” she said, examining her wings. “That will do nicely.”

Celestia then looked to Flim. “Ah, Flim Flimflam, please step forwards.”

He did so, and Celestia touched her horn to his forehead. “In celebration of…” She blinked. “Zap Apple cider? That’s a thing now?”

He nodded vigorously. “Absolutely, your worshipfulness! My brother and I just squeezed our first batch this afternoon!”

“Please don’t call me that,” she said.

“Why, before you know it, we’ll have barrels and barrels to sell!” Flim practically bounced in place as his body glowed. “Barrels and barrels of magical, mystical, Zap Apple cider!”





Flam changed gears and revved the engine up to maximum RPM. He could see the pale lights of the town in the distance; not quite inviting, but moreso than the ghastly glimmer of will-o’the-wisps. His moustache flapped in the wind as he swerved twixt the trees, alert for any more monsters in his route.

He glanced back at the single barrel of Zap Apple cider they had produced before his brother disappeared. The top was secured, but a glow could still be seen seeping out. A trail of rainbows followed the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, attracting attention from all parts of the forest. A few colossal timberwolf golems in particular seemed attracted to its scent.

A shape leapt out of the woods and landed beside him in the cockpit thingy. Flam screeched a truly epic screech, one that he would later remember with pride. To his utter relief, the object was a fairly familiar pony: Gentle Showers.

She screamed at him to move his saggy rear end faster, and he replied that he was moving as fast as was pony-ly possible. The two watched the timber-hulks approach their rear bumper, and both gave an impressive scream.

Though the screams were hardly up to par with what was described previously.

“What if”—Gentle Showers gasped as the Squeezy hit a bump—“what if we used the magic cider as a fuel? It looks like it’s overflowing with power!”

“Like my horn isn’t?” Flam growled. He pulled the steering rod hard to the right, avoiding a pony-eating psychomore tree. “What good could a buncha apple juice do?”

He pulled the stick back to the left to avoid the jaws of death that belonged to a hungry timberwolfasaurus. The giant wooden creature snapped empty air with a growl, gazing hungrily after the fleeing vehicle.

“Got”—bump—“any”—bump—“better”—bumpitty—“ideas!?”—bumpitty bump.

“You pour it in, then!” he groused.

She stuck her tongue out and climbed over to the back of the contraption. Her gray mane blew in the wind as she grasped the barrel with her hooves. She lifted the container with a mighty roar and poured the liquid down the SSCS 6000’s magic receptor.

A sudden burst of speed was instantly felt. Flam gaped at his speedometer, his mind boggling as the numbers went up. Thirty-five miles per hour. Fifty. Seventy.

The yoke jerked in his grip, and the vehicle could be felt rattling under his hooves. It was as if the brothers’ livelihood was shaking itself apart even as it raced for the relative safety of Hollow Shades. Gentle Showers hollered as she held on for dear life, slipping bit-by-bit off of the back of the vehicle.

Once the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 reached eighty-eight miles per hour, the exhaust became a roaring flame. It rocketed forwards, leaving two rainbow trails of fire in the forest. The two ponies nearly topped the world record for screams, but there were no record-keepers present for verification.

They would have overshot the town had a nice, sturdy building not been in the way. The town hall slowed their acceleration to a halt, and reduced the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 to an immobile pile of junk.

Ribbon, Sky, and Flower Wishes looked on as Flam Flimflam clawed his way out of the wreckage, an impressive feat considering his lack of claws. Gentle Showers popped out behind him, her mane a frizzy mess of burnt hair.

“Next time, let me drive,” she said. She punched Flam in the shoulder, knocking the dizzy stallion off of his feet. While he was incapacitated, she dug around his shirt pocket for his bag of bits, which she then acquisitioned. “That’ll be payment in full. Have a nice day!”

She waved goodbye to the three Wishes, and then proceeded to walk out of the story. Said pink-coated ponies trotted up to the fallen Flimflam brother and picked him up.

“Are you alright?”

“You don’t look so good.”

“Do you have insurance?”

Flam blinked owlishly at the three mares. “No, shut up, and yes.”





Flim Flimflam and Trixie were teleported to Canterlot Castle, where the mass coronations were taking place. They faced a line as long as the walkway to the dais, a line comprised exclusively of alicorns. Discord stood at the end, conjuring up crowns and outfits for the newly-appointed royalty.

His mouth opened wide in a yawn. “Good griefer, how many of you alicorns are there? It’s like somepony uncorked a bottle!”

Soarin, Wonderbolt Co-Captain and Prince of the Storm, bowed to receive his royal accessories. Discord dropped the crown upon his crown with a complete and total lack of ceremony.

“Next!” the confusingly-multifaceted draconequus called. He snapped his fingers and Soarin disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Keep the line moving, ponies!”

Trixie was a bundle of joy, her eyes all but sparkling at the grandeur around her. “At long last! Is this to by my destiny? Surrounded on all sides by the rich and mighty? To count myself among them? To spread my wisdom throughout the ages at Princess Celestia’s side!?”

“To join your fellow ponies up on the anointment alter?” Discord snapped. “Hurry it up, we haven’t got all millennium.” He tapped his cheek thoughtfully. Flakes of flaming dandruff tumbled from his beard. “Then again, I suppose we do…”

“Hey!” Donut Joe said. “I’m not gonna sit here and wait for a thousand years when there’s bigger and better donuts to make, let’s get cooking!”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Discord chuckled. He snapped his fingers and the newly-crowned Prince of Pastry vanished.

Trixie Lulamoon stepped up to the dais beside Flim. She turned to him with a sudden thought. “Hey, you’re interested in making more Zap Apple cider, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” he answered. “It promises of great things to come!”

“I have this idea,” she said. “There’s a nice little town not far from here that has a few Zap Apple trees, you might be able to make a deal with the orchard owners. What if I took you there?”

“Let’s make a date of it!” Flim laughed. “Say, about two seconds from now?”

“Well, there is a coffee shop…” Trixie smiled and turned to Discord. “You know the town, right?”

“Indeed, Princess.” The draconequus bowed with some semblance of regality. “It is a place very near and dear to my heart.”

Crowns glowed and lowered themselves onto the two royals’ heads. Flim allowed himself a gigantic grin as he caught sight of his bedecked head in a mirror. Discord’s chaotic magic hoisted them like two sacks of potatoes and threw them out the window, off of Canterlot Mountain.

Trixie blinked as she soared. “I guess… I guess this is how they teach us to fly?”

Flim was unable to reply, his mouth being occupied with belting out the most colorful profanities the Equestrian language had to offer.

Trixie rolled her eyes and spread her wings, letting them catch the wind and slow her descent. Her inexperience with flight caused her a bit of pain as she stalled in midair and dropped like a rock. The ground rushed up to meet her like an enthusiastic quarterback clambering for a touchdown. (2)

Flim Flimflam was suddenly beside her, his horn glowing green. “Do as I do! We can teleport out of here!”

“I don’t know how to teleport!” she gasped. “I can’t teleport! I can’t!”

Flim chewed his lip. “Hold onto me, I’ll get us out if this!”

Trixie required no further prompting. She coiled her forelegs around his neck and squeezed tight. His airway constricted, Flim struggled to charge his horn enough to teleport. Within a moment they were gone, sparking out of existence.

They sparked back into existence a few feet above a convenient lake, cushioning their landing far more than solid stone was capable of. They swam out of the lake, gasping for each breath. Trixie reached land first and gave it a most enthusiastic kiss while Flim looked on jealously.

“Land!” she shouted. “Oh, how I love your sediment! Oh, how your grains of sand shine in the sunlight! You well and truly, that is, quite thoroughly and literally, rock!”

Flim coughed into his hoof. “Should I leave the two of you alone for a while?”

Trixie gave him a “Harrumph.” She pouted, her lips covered in sand. “I just got through a very stressful ordeal, thank you kindly. I think I have the right to pontificate a little bit on the virtues of solid ground.”

He walked past her, his eye catching on the damp impression of her lips in the sand. “You have won this round, dirt,” he mumbled. “But mark my words, there will be a reckoning.”

He raised his head and found himself not far from a small village. “Is this the place?”

“Certainly!” she announced. “Welcome to the little town of Ponyville!”

The name of the town made his blood run cold. “Ponyville, you say?”

“Indubitably!” she said. “Home of none other than Sweet Apple Acres! They’ll fulfill your Zap Apple needs!”

Flim’s mouth dropped open. He turned as if to bolt, but Trixie grabbed him.

“Hurry!” she said. “We can meet with the orchard’s caretakers and be in the coffee shop before dark!”

He was hoisted bodily into the air in a current of blue magic. Trixie trotted through town happily, waving to a few ponies. They responded with expressions ranging from surprise, to pleasant surprise, to unhappy surprise. One particular pair of unicorn colts gasped and hid themselves in a hay cart, shielding themselves from her presence.

They reached the dreaded farmland far sooner than Flim had anticipated. The apple trees ranged farther than the eye could see, a true testament to the family’s work ethic and physical strength. Flim was certain that even the youngest was capable of lifting twenty more pounds than he was.

His heart fell inside his chest as an orange mare with blonde hair trotted up to the fence to greet them. She smiled, her hat bobbing with each step she took. “Howdy there, how can ah help—”

She froze. Her glare was filled with surprise not entirely foreign in the eyes of the townsfolk. Her surprise turned to anger as she recognized Flim. “YOU!”

Trixie gasped as recognition reached her, also. “You!?”

The farmer gasped and turned to Trixie. “You, too!?”

Trixie shook her head. “You work here?”

“Well, the picture on mah butt isn’t a corncob, now, is it?” the farmer growled.

“Well, I just didn’t realize—” Trixie was cut off by the other mare.

“An’ now yer friends with him?” She pointed at Flim with a scowl. “Well ain’t you just a fine and dandy pony to know?”

Trixie sniffed. “I’ll have you know that he’s a perfect gentlepony.”

“Yeah, ’til he’s stealin’ yer farm out from under you!” the mare, who Flim now recognized as Applejack Apple, accused.

“I’d just like to mention,” Flim whispered, “that we won the farm fair and square.”

“Shut up, Huckster,” Applejack snapped. “Ah’ll deal with you in a minute.”

She whirled on Trixie. “Now what gave you the bright idea to mosey on over to mah farm an’ give ol’ Flimflammery here a grand tour?”

“Well…” Trixie shuffled her hooves. “I think he’s got a real nice business proposition for you…”

“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’.” Applejack grunted at the yellow-coated alicorn stallion, aka Flim Flimflam. “Yer bad news, the both of yah.”

Trixie worried her lower lip. “Well, we’re sorry for wasting your time.”

Applejack left without another word to them, though she did mumble something about “Hey, why isn’t Granny Smith an alicorn?” (3) Trixie and Flim watched her march away for a moment, before walking back into town.

“Well,” Trixie mumbled, “that didn’t go quite how I had planned.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” Flim said, “what happened between you two?”

Trixie sighed. “When I was a travelling performer, I spent most of my time belittling ponies in my show. Applejack hasn’t gotten over it, I think. What’s her beef with you?”

“Eaaaahhhh…” Flim rubbed his head, knocking his crown at a jaunty angle. “My brother and I won her farm in a cider-making contest that… may have been an unfair challenge.” At her odd look he shook his hooves explanatorily. “It was completely legal! I swear! I just sorta implied to her grandmother, the matriarch of the farm, that her cider-making skills were”—he shrugged—“old fashioned?”

“You called her lame, didn’t you?” Trixie asked pointedly.

“Not in so many words,” he said. He saw that they were approaching the coffee shop, the Keen Bean. The face of a particularly high-strung pony appeared in the window. Said pony leaped through said window and rearranged the letters on said shop’s sign.

The sign now read “Alicorns served: six.”

They entered the shop and took a seat at a small table. He shuffled his hooves, examining the floorboards with unhealthy interest. He chanced a glance at Trixie to see that she, too, was studying the floor with great intensity.

The shop’s proprietary, Doreen Bean, jumped into existence beside them. “H-hello, may I g-g-get you something to driiiink?” Flim could tell that the pony’s blood pressure was exceeding that of most oil reservoirs. “We have l-l-lots of coffeeee!”

“Caramel Mocha, please,” Trixie muttered. “A couple extra shots of coffee would do nicely.”

“Just a decaf, please,” Flim said. He prepared to assault his coffee with various packets of sugar and cream. “Thank you.”

Doreen pronked off to make the drinks, leaving the two alicorns alone in the shop. Trixie chanced a glance at Flim, who leaned upon his hooves dejectedly.

“We’re not exactly saints of Equestria, are we?” she asked.

“Not nearly,” he replied. “Though mine was not so much a sin of action as it was a sin of…” He circled a hoof in the air as he thought. “Jackamule-ishness?”

“I suppose we’re both jackamules,” she said. She laid her head on the table, her mane splaying out on its surface. “It’s a wonder Ponyville tolerates my presence.”

Flim was about to join her on the table when a thought sparkled in his brain. “But we are alicorns.” He turned to her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Heh, we must be doing something right.”

Her smile grew to match his as the coffee materialized on their table. “Something, for sure.” She lifted her cup in the air. “To innovation?”

He bumped his cup against hers. “To inspiration!”





Flam Flimflam dug through the wreckage of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He gave a cry of “Eureka!” as he unearthed the barrel of Zap Apple cider. He raised it over his head in a swath of green telekinesis. He gazed greedily inside the container, noting the roughly eight ounces of cider remaining.

He poured the leftover cider into a mug and marveled at its rainbow hue. He sniffed, his mouth watering at the tantalizing aroma of apple. His hair stood on end as the magical charge flowed through the air and tickled his horn. Without further ceremony, he tilted the cup to his lips and drank deeply.

He coughed. He sputtered. He gagged. The drink was not good. The drink was not apple. The drink was most certainly not cider.

It tasted like Everfree dirt and unicorn sweat. Nasty. (4)

He tossed the mug aside with a grunt. He glared as the last drops of liquid dissipated into the dirt, coloring it a muddy rainbow of browns. He sighed as he grumped at the wreckage of his vehicle, now nothing more than a pile of junk inside a place of justice.

His eyes lit up. “Huh,” he said. “Huh, now there’s an idea…”

And so, Flimflam Brothers’ Horseless Carriages (5) and Zap Apple Oil was open for business the following month.
> Backstory Ascension; or, Apple Alicorns are Anonymous
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applejack spun around, presenting her rear end to Trixie and Flim. She strutted off with her head held high, her tail swishing as if to say “Talk to the tail, sugarcube!” The farmer then snorted hot air through her nostrils, risking a subtle glance to see that her unwelcome visitors were, in fact, leaving.

Perhaps the movement reignited some suppressed synapses. Perhaps the fact that her visitors were both alicorns brought to her attention some inequity on the farm. Perhaps all the strangeness of Equestria’s nobility of late built up her curiosity to the breaking point. Regardless, the result was that Applejack had a sudden and perplexing thought.

She glanced up at the apple trees dotting the landscape; that is, totally engulfing the landscape. A good amount of trees were still bending with the weight of the fruit they bore, ripe for the bucking. She then turned her attention to the decently-sized farmhouse just a few hops and a skip away.

“Well,” she said to herself, “it’s about time tah head in fer supper, anyways.”

She trotted up to the old, rickety house, giving the familiar sight an once-over with her green eyes. Same old paint, same old shutters, same old Granny.

Granny Smith sat on the creaky old rocking chair, just like she always did on nice days like the one they were experiencing. She waved a friendly hello to Applejack. “Howdy, darlin’. How’s it buckin’?”

Applejack tipped her hat with a smile. “It’s buckin’ along just fine, Granny.” She sidled up beside the elder Apple and sat for a moment, just listening to the creek of Granny’s chair. After what felt like the proper amount of consideration, she leaned closer to her grandmother. “Hey, Gran? Can ah ask you a question?”

Granny allowed the backswing of her rocker to aid in her nod. “Shoot.”

“Granny…” Applejack swallowed a lump in her throat that she couldn’t quite reckon the source of. “Why ain’t you an alicorn?”

The creaking of Granny Smith’s rocker stopped. The creaking instead came from her neck as she turned her head. “Why d’you ask, sugarcube?”

“Cuz uh all this crazy alicorn stuff that’s been happenin’ all over Equestria,” Applejack said. “Ah mean, folks is gettin’ a horn an’ a pair of wings just fer sneezin’ pretty!”

A fairly strong case of hyperbole, be assured. Never in the history of Equestria had somepony ascended due to an aesthetically pleasing sneeze. Honest.

“An’ you’ve done way more’n that!” Applejack pushed her hat high up on her head. “Not only helpin’ found Ponyville, but tamin’ the wild Zap Apple? You shoulda been an alicorn princess a millyun times over!”

Granny Smith smiled. “Applejack, you’ve allus been a smart cookie.” She chuckled to herself. “Even b’fore the Hearthswarmin’ Eve pagent. Ah’m gonna let you in on a little secret…” She leaned in close beside Applejack’s ear and whispered, her voice light.

“Ah am an alicorn.”

Applejack let that thought sink in as Granny resumed her rocking. Her lower lip protruded from her mouth in bemusement, and her eyebrow quirked in a soft arch on her forehead. She glanced up at Granny Smith’s bare skull and barer, scrawny back.

“Pull the other one.”

“It’s true!” Granny declared. “Ah’ve been an alicorn for well over two-hunnert years! Y’might say it’s mah own dirty lil’ secret.”

Applejack silently began to doubt her grandmother’s lucidity. “Well gee, Granny, you sure don’t look it.”

Granny grinned and closed her eyes. A bright orange flash burst from her frail body, causing Applejack to shield her eyes. When the light dimmed, a completely new creature sat upon Granny Smith’s rocking chair.

Well, not completely new. She was still green-coated, with a crown of white hair upon her head. The familiar smile lines of the Apple matriarch wove their way around her face, and those gleeful crow’s feet around her eyes remained quite visible. Her orange eyes remained as sharp as ever.

What was different was that her muscles, usually so old and frail, now held a significant amount of power behind them. Her back was straighter, allowing her to sit more upright. Her joints no longer creaked and popped with every movement. She had grown a head taller, now finding herself eye-to-eye with Applejack.

Oh yes, she also had a horn and wings. Can’t forget those.

She smiled brightly at Applejack, who swayed back and forth with dizziness. Applejack’s mouth worked without sound, the smack of her lips echoing through the fields.

At last, Applejack found her voice. “Well this is some horseapples.”

Granny Smith’s smile dissipated into the ether. “What now?”

“Ah said, ‘this is some horseapples,’ Granny.” Applejack stood and took a step back, running an accusing eye over her granny’s newly revealed body. “I just… You’ve been livin’ a lie!”

Granny remained silent under her granddaughter’s oncoming rant. “You-you’ve been an alicorn all this time an’ never told us!? What gives, Gran? Why’ve you been hiding this?”

Applejack paced the porch, throwing her hooves up occasionally to accentuate a point. “Here we’ve been strugglin’ with the farm, just moving along slow as y’please, and there you are sittin’ on yer fanny like a right royal alicorn princess! All those times we coulda used yer help an’ all you’re doin’ is… is…”

Applejack sat opposite Granny, tears trickling slowly down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you do sommat, Gran? Why didn’t you help us?”

Silence descended upon the farm as the sun set. Granny got up from her rocking chair and nuzzled her granddaughter. “Ah did help you. Ah never stopped.”

She placed her hoof under Applejacks chin and lifted her eyes to her horn. “Mah special spell, it has sommat to do with the apple trees. Ah’ve been workin’ every day, feedin’ as much magic as ah could into the harvest. Ah’ve been workin’ hard to make sure we had enough. Ah’ve always been workin’ hard.”

Applejack’s eyes shifted from the trees to her granny. “Ah’ve been teachin’, too,” Granny said. “Ah’ve been passin’ down the knowledge of the Apple family to you kids. Yer gonna know all about the farm, an’ Zap Apples, an’ bein’ good friends…”

Applejack hugged Granny Smith and sniffed. “Ah’m sorry, Granny. I didn’t mean to be—”

“Hush up, you,” Granny said. “You didn’t know any better.”

They held each other as the sun sank below the horizon. Applejack chuckled and released her granny. “So, you’re really an alicorn princess, huh?”

“Can’t say as ah’m a princess, sugarcube,” Granny replied. “Those two-hunnert years ago, ah was just a filly. When ah made my first batch of Zap Apple jam, that was when ah got zapped up inter the sky!”

She eased herself back into her chair as the stars peeked out one by one. Applejack took up a familiar position in front of her, listening attentively to a new story from Granny Smith’s childhood.

“That were quite a day, let me tell you! Weren’t enough ah had tah outrun them durn timberwolves. Weren’t enough that them Zap Apples were actin’ all peculiar, like they do. Ah tasted that first batch of jam, had a little ol’ ‘party in mah mouth,’ like that Pinkie friend of yours says, and zap-bang-POW!” She thrust her hoof into the air, like a rocket out of a cannon. “Ah was suddenly somewhere else. Someplace strange an’ unnatural-like. It was like them science fiction books yer brother’s so fond of. It was all empty an’ desolate an’ lonely.”

Granny shook her head. “Not much of a place fer a filly that just got her cutie mark.

“Without warnin’, this big ol’ rush o pictures flies out of nowhere. They was pictures of me, an’ they were movin’ like a millyun tiny cinemas! An’ then princess Celestia was there, this look o uncertainty in her eyes. Next up comes quite a surprise, to both me an’ to her majesty.”

Granny chuckled at the memory. “Imagine the look on Princess Celestia’s face when that little filly she just sent to start an apple farm comes up an’ starts glowin’ like a Romane candle!

“Then ah was an alicorn! Just ‘poof’ an’ there ah was! Princess Celestia didn’t say much for a while, but ah didn’t really notice since ah was busy bein’ astonished by the new additions.”

Granny Smith grew quiet. “Then she tells me how proud she was of me. Told me ah was the first in a long, long time. You know what she told me then, Applejack?”

Applejack answered truthfully with a shake of her head.

“She told me that since ah was an alicorn, ah could join her in Canterlot. Canterlot, Applejack! She said that she would make me the Princess of the Night; that ah’d be in charge of raisin’ the moon and rulin’ over all the ponies that lived in this here country. She said ah dun earned it.”

Granny Smith smiled ruefully, shaking her head minutely. “She’s a mighty nice pony, but sometimes Princess Celestia can be a mite stupid.”

Yes, we love her, too. Please put down the torches and pitchforks.

“Ah wasn’t at all the right pony for bein’ a rulin’ princess of Equestria, an’ ah told her as such! Ah was just a filly that wanted to work on the farm an’ have a family. Ah could be in charge of a farm just fine and dandy, but weren’t no way ah’s gonna be ruler of a nation, no way a’tall.”

Granny sighed. “That’s when ah went an’ did sommat stupid, ah guess.

“Ah got home an went into researchin’ every illusion spell ah could find. Ah found one that actually transformed mah body into an earth pony, not just hidin’ the wings an’ horn, but completely makin’ ’em disappear. Ah hid myself, Applejack, cuz ah was so scared of bein’ a princess. B’fore long, it just became mah new face. Ah nearly forgot ah was an alicorn until yer papaw came inter mah life.”

Granny Smith wiggled her eyebrows. “He thought mah wings were right perdy, hehehe.”

Applejack blushed and looked off to the side. “Ah can imagine it just fine by mahself, Gran.”

“Spoilsport,” Granny said. “Ah didn’t let mah talents go to waste, like ah told yah. I put ev’ry ounce of mah magic inter helpin’ the farm prosper. Ah just didn’t let nopony know ‘bout it.”

Granny stood and made her way to the door, her body glowing with magic as she shrank herself down to her elderly proportions. “Now yah know the sordid, honest truth, Applejack. Whadda yah think?”

Applejack stood to follow her now-tiny little granny. “Ah think it’s a whole new flavor of horseapples.”

Granny Smith stopped and looked back at her granddaughter. “An’ why’s that, sugarcube?”

“You’re an alicorn and nopony knows it!” Applejack exclaimed. “You’re sommat special an’ everypony just think yer this nice, little old granny an’ nothing more.”

“Maybe cuz ah am?”

“Yeah, but…” Applejack doffed her hat. “You ain’t just that. You’re an alicorn!”

Granny shrugged. “Does that matter?”

Applejack watched as Granny entered the house, the smells of supper nearly tangible in the air. She followed soon after, huffing to herself.

“It does tah me.”





“An’ Sweetie Belle said there were alicorns everywhere in Canterlot! An’-an’ Miss Rarity thought that she should have been an alicorn princess by now, but she didn’t really know what was wrong, or somethin’. An’—could yah pass the gravy, Big Mac?—an’ then we had to go outside to play, cuz Sweetie Belle spilled pins all over the floor.”

Apple Bloom stuffed her mouth full of mashed potatoes and gravy, cutting off the extended description of her day. But only for a moment. “An’ Scootl’oo wus makin’ a ruckus in th’ tahwn sc’war an’—”

“Don’t talk which’yer mouth full, Apple Bloom,” Granny Smith said. “It’s unseemly.”

“Saureh.” Apple Bloom hastily swallowed her food, choking it down without more than a cursory chew. “Ah mean, sorry.”

“Awful funny, all this alicorn business,” Big Macintosh mumbled. “Ah wonder what started all the ascensions? What tipped the scales?”

“Ah know Blueblood thinks he had somethin’ to do with it.” Applejack munched on an apple as she considered. “He already thought he was Glory’s gift to Equestria, ah imagine he’s pretty high on the hog, now.”

She shook her head and spooned another helping of potatoes onto her plate. “Can’t say ah approve of the process, if ponies like Flim Flimflam and Trixie are gettin’ a boot upstairs.”

Big Mac furrowed his brow. “Trixie became an alicorn, huh? When’d that happen?”

“Ah think just today,” Applejack said. “She stopped by to talk to the farm’s owner about a business deal.” She rolled her eyes. “That changed real quick when she found out that was me!”

Big Mac licked a stray blob of potato off of his nose. “What was the deal about?”

Applejack leaned back, casting a glare at her brother. “Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “It might, if’n it was a good one.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes shifted from one of her siblings to the other. “May ah be excused?”

They turned towards her, but it was Granny Smith who answered. “Sure, hun. Make sure tah clean up yer plate.”

Apple Bloom bounced away happily, carrying her plate in her mouth. Applejack set her hat firmly on her head. “Ah don’t care what you or anypony says, ah ain’t gonna work with the Flimflam brothers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Big Mac stood and nodded. He gathered up the remaining dishes and carried them on his back. “Yeah, okay. Ah can understand why you’d be so darn set against it.”

Applejack watched Granny Smith teeter off on her thin legs. She licked her lips in preparation of another comment to Big Mac, when she was interrupted before she could get rolling.

“Still, that Trixie gal is pretty nice, once you get to know her.” Big Mac plodded out of the dining room with his burden of dishes. “Kinda funny that she’d fall in with those pains in the plot.”

Applejack squinted. “When’d you have time tah ‘get to know’ her?”

He stopped in the doorway and shot her a smile. “Weren’t that long ago she came back into town. We got a coffee at the Keen Bean.”

A raised eyebrow accentuated Applejack’s remark. “An’ then what?”

Big Mac stuck a long piece of hay in his mouth. He swished it back and forth before replying. “An’ then nothin’. Like ah said, she’s a nice gal, but…”

Applejack chuckled as she trotted past him into the kitchen. “Maybe yer just too picky.”

Big Mac said nothing, and instead followed his sister to the sink to begin the dishes.





Supper was cleaned up, Granny had gone to bed, and Applejack had just tucked Apple Bloom in for the night. She trotted down the staircase, heading for what was now the only source of light in the house.

Big Mac sat at the table, a lantern situated in the middle. In his mouth he held a pencil, with which he was rapidly jotting down notes. He rose with a grunt and pushed tiny spectacles up on his nose. “One o these days, ah’m just gonna give up an’ hire an accountant.”

Applejack smirked at the remark. “You’d hover all over the poor pony, correctin’ him an’ grumpin’ at him tah ‘do it right.’”

“Yer probably right.” Big Mac leaned back as Applejack took a seat beside him. “This here one’s fer the replacement plow.”

“Yuck,” Applejack sighed. “Maybe we can move some funds from the Winter Wrap-Up activities tah that?”

“Not likely,” he grumbled. “Not unless we’re willin’ tah plan around not havin’ any seeds for the new plants.”

“Eenope,” she said.

Big Mac leaned forward to return to his calculations. Applejack waited for him to lift his pencil before dropping the bombshell. “Did you know that Granny Smith is an alicorn?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Eeyup.”

Applejack nearly fell out of her chair. “Yeah? How long?”

The pencil dropped to the table. Big Macintosh rubbed his lips together to get rid of the numb feeling. “You want the honest truth?”

“Always.”

“Since you ran off tah Manehatten to stay with Aunt an’ Uncle Orange.” He scootched his seat around to faced her. “That was about the time Princess Cadenza ascended. When ah saw what she did, how she ascended, ah asked Granny why she didn’t when she tamed the Zap Apples.”

Applejack nodded as her eyes fell to the ground, figuratively. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Ah dunno,” Big Mac answered. “Ah thought it was sommat Granny didn’t really like talkin’ about. So ah kept it quiet.”

“You allus were good at keepin’ secrets,” Applejack said.

“Ah still haven’t told Granny about those fritters you pilfered at the reunion,” he chuckled.

Applejack punched him in the shoulder and hid a smile. “Ah was three! What’re you gonna do about it, anyhow?”

Applejack looked over the incomprehensible mess of bills and invoices. “So what are we gonna do ’bout it?”

Big Mac’s ear twitched. “’Bout what?”

“’Bout her bein’ an alicorn.” Applejack shifted her seat forward, bringing her more fully into the light. “It’s kinda a big deal, especially now.”

A deep sigh rumbled out of the big, red stallion. “What you wanna do ’bout it?”

“Ah don’t know.” Applejack planted her chin on the table. “It just seems like she ought tah get recognized, or sommat. An’ about bein’ a princess… Times are different now…”

Big Macintosh removed his spectacles and set them on the table. He rubbed his bleary eyes and exhaled through his nose. “Ah wonder what Princess Celestia would have tah say ’bout it?”

Applejack lifted her head and gazed out the window, towards the dimly lit streets of Ponyville. The library remained bright, as it always was when Twilight Sparkle was in the middle of a heavy study session. Applejack turned back to Big Mac with a crooked smile on her lips.

“Ah don’t think it’d hurt tah try.”





It was noon the following day when she arrived. The Matriarch of Equestria, the Princess of Ponies, the Mistress of the Morning, the Big Cheese arrived at Sweet Apple Acers with a soft flutter of her wings.

On her back she carried saddlebags full of thermoses. In each thermos sat sixteen ounces of Donut Joe’s best coffee. One such container was carried aloft in her magical grip, poised to refuel her.

She blinked as she turned her head, taking in the sights and smells of the farm. Because it was closer to harvest season than growing season, the smells were actually rather nice. She could hear the bucking of apple trees in the distance, a sure sign that Applejack and Big Macintosh were hard at work.

She was still keen on a hoof-wrestling rematch with Big Mac.

A short walk brought her to the farmhouse’s porch, where Granny Smith sat atop her rocking chair. When Granny noticed her, she began to rise out of her chair.

“Please,” Celestia said, “don’t stand on ceremony.”

Granny settled back into her chair with a grin. “Princess Celestia. Ah admit that ah half expected you after mah talk with AJ yesterday.” She tapped her chin. “Hrm. Shoulda made a pie.”

“That’s fine, old friend.” Celestia took a seat beside Granny Smith. “I really just have something quick to discuss with you.”

The smile dropped off of Granny’s face. “Not much for visitin’ these days, are yah?”

Celestia jangled her saddlebags, showing off the thermoses inside. “Not recently. There’s been so much happening lately that it feels like a dam burst.”

“Ah hear that.” Granny Smith resumed her rocking, the gentle creeks drifting between the trees. Almost unseen, tendrils of magic flowed out of her and into the ground. They seeped towards the trees, adding nutrients and earth pony magic. “Ah see Braeburn ascended, too.”

“Oh, that was quite the story,” Celestia chuckled. “I almost think alicorns run in the Apple family.”

She turned and lowered her head to Granny’s level. “Which brings me to my point.”

Granny Smith shook her head. “Uh, uh. You gotcher sister back, you got a fine an’ dandy Princess o the Night. You don’t need me.”

“You’re right about being Princess of the Night,” Celestia said. “That was… I almost made a mistake there. I thank you for the wisdom you showed in that situation, Granny.” She nuzzled the old mare, a smile crossing her lips. “But you’re wrong about my not needing you.”

Granny Smith’s brow knitted. Celestia’s serene smile beamed over her.

“Even then, you taught me a very valuable lesson. You reminded me that power and status should never be the basis on which a pony leads, but wisdom and love should. You also showed me that if a pony is good at something, I should let them be good at it.”

Celestia’s laughter danced around the farm. “If not for your lesson, I don’t think I’d have been ready for all of these new alicorns! I can put them where they fit, where they’d do the most good, where I can help them avoid temptations…”

She stood, towering over Granny. Her horn glowed in the sunlight, with the sunlight. “Granny Smith, would you do me the honor of allowing me to name you as Princess of the Apple Orchards?”

“Celestia, ah ain’t no princess.” Granny Smith got out of her rocker and shuffled back a step. “Ah’m a farmer, an’ that’s what ah love tah do.”

“Exactly,” Celestia said. “It’s be more of an honorary title than anything. Just a little recognition.” She winked. “It’d be an excuse to party…”

Granny Smith looked down at her wrinkled, skinny body. Her body glowed as she morphed her appearance to that of a wizened alicorn mare. She looked back up to Celestia with determination in her eyes. “Ah’ll do it, but only as a favor to an old friend. An’ only if’n it’s a small party!”

“So, no Canterlot ballroom.” Celestia giggled. “How about a Ponyville barn?”

Granny smirked. “Now that’s more mah speed.”





The cider flowed freely at Sweet Apple Acres that night. Pinkie Pie’s party cannon had made short work of the old barn, transforming it into a place of festivity. A small guest list of nearby Apple family members, and honorary Apple family members, had been contacted and transported for the short crowning ceremony.

While most coronations in the past had ended with a touch from Celestia’s horn, this one ended with a warm hug.

Celestia sat between Granny Smith and Big Macintosh, the latter having lost three straight hoof-wrestling contests in a row. The princess sipped at her cider, watching Pinkie Pie slow-dance with Braeburn off to the side.

“He must be an amazing stallion to get Pinkie to slow-dance,” she remarked. “Those two are going to be quite the couple.”

“Ah was just thinkin’ that she’s gotta be a pretty amazin’ mare to get Braeburn tah slow-dance,” Granny replied. “Those two together are like a couple of firecrackers waitin’ tah be set off.”

Applejack trotted past, carrying a tray of refills for the assembled party-goers. She glanced at the dancing couple and smiled at Big Mac. “See, Big Macintosh? That there’s what you should be doin’.”

Big Mac blinked. “Dancin’ with Pinkie Pie?”

She groaned. “No.”

Big Mac tilted his head. “Dancin’ with Cousin Braeburn?”

“No, yah big dummy!” Applejack fumed. “Gettin’ yerself a marefrie—”

She rolled her eyes as Big Mac dissolved into a series of chuckles. “Aw, gowan yah big pain in the cutie mark.” She trotted away, shaking her head.

Big Mac sat back, quite satisfied with himself. Celestia glanced down at him. “I see that this is a running thing?”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “It’s nothin’, yer majesty. Just a little joke ’tween us.”

Celestia’s eyes rose above him, and a twinkle entered them. “I think I just got the punch line.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Beggin’ yer—”

“Good evening, Ponyvillians!” a loud voice shouted from the barn doors. “We have come to join in the festivities! Where might we find ourselves cake?”

Big Mac spun around to find himself eye-to-eye with a midnight-blue alicorn princess. Luna, the Princess of the Night, smiled at him. “Sir Macintosh! It is a delight that we may meet again!”

“Uh”—Big Mac subconsciously smoothed out his fur a bit—“It’s right nice to see you again, too, Princess Luna.”

She lifted a hoof and grinned. “Have we not gone past such formalities? Please, address me as Luna, Sir Macintosh!”

With her raised hoof, she grasped his and dragged him bodily onto the dance floor. Celestia held back an unladylike snort as her sister practiced several out-of-date dance moves with her slightly-reluctant partner. She sipped at her cider and turned to Granny Smith. “How are you feeling?”

“Right fine, ah’d say.” Granny Smith reclined in her ever-present rocker. “I reckon that it doesn’t seem as odd to me now that alicorn’s ain’t as special as they used tah be.”

Celestia shook her head. “Oh, Granny Smith, alicorns will always be special.” She nuzzled her cheek. “Of course, all of my little ponies are special to me.”

She drew back and looked over the small collection of family and friends gathered. “I wonder, if alicorns really do run in your family, who’ll be next?”

Granny Smith allowed herself a snort. “Heck if ah know. Ah suppose all of ’em have a chance, but—”

“Granny?”

Granny Smith looked to the side to find Apple Bloom carrying a small, corked cask of fresh cider. She pried at the stopper with her teeth, making no progress. “Can yah help me open this thing?”

Celestia and Granny said nothing as they simply stared at the tiny filly. Apple Bloom sat and lifted an eyebrow inquisitively.

“What’re y’all lookin’ at me fer?”
> Beauty's Ascension; or, An Alicorn Love Story
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soarin pined for a love that could never be.

“No, no. That’s not right at all.”

Soarin pined for a love that he was sure could be eventually but not right now and only if she was also willing to partake in such a relationship as to—

Soarin blinked. “I can edit that down later.”

The first thing he noticed was her smile. She smiled brightly at everypony she met, during every event that entered her life. Her fair locks would dance as she laughed, seas of gold that flowed their way into his heart.

She floated aloft on delicate wings, hovering above the assembly. Her eyes darted to and fro as she took in the mystical sight, that vast expanse of emptiness filled with the shining memories of those ponies present. Her hair wafted side to side as she spun, and her coat of lightest—

“Cheese. It’s nothing but cheese.”

He shook his head, dusting the cobwebs from his brain. The pale light of the moon flitted through his window, reflecting off of the dusty collection of award and trophies on his shelves. A soft smile teased its way onto his face as he glanced at them.

He stood up from his writing desk and promptly bumped his newly-added horn on the ceiling.

“Ooowww…” He rubbed at his head ruefully, staring cross-eyed at the bony protrusion growing out of his forehead. It was only as he licked some moisture into his lips that he noticed that they still held the eraser end of his pencil. He spat the writing instrument into a drawer and slumped over on his bed.

He closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. A few moments passed before he realized that he had left the candle on his desk lit. He groaned as he stood. He trotted up to the desk and blew out the rogue candle with insistence. He glared at the smoldering wick, daring it to reignite.

Such rebellion extinguished, he turned back towards his bed. His wings, having gone through a spectacular growth spurt alongside his limbs and horn, bumped against the writing desk and knocked his journal to the ground. He stood there, his wings extended and his jaw clenched.

Slowly, carefully, he picked up the journal and placed it back on his writing desk. Slowly, carefully, he folded his wings in and turned back towards his bed. Slowly, carefully, he walked to his bed and laid down beneath the sweet, silky sheets.

“Heyyah, sup?”

Slowly, carefully, Soarin leapt out of bed and screamed like a little filly.

Spitfire leaned through his window, which was open to the night air. “You forgot to close this thing again,” she said.

Soarin stood and dusted himself off, shooting her a half-baked glare. “Maybe I like a breeze running through my quarters.”

“Maybe you’re preoccupied again.” She climbed through the window and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Or still.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled. He watched as she dusted off one of his trophies with an extended wing. “Is there… Is something up?”

She folded her wing up and took in a deep breath. “Soarin, I think you need a vacation.”

“Huh?” He shook his head, waving his hooves in front of his face like he was warding off damselflies. “A vac— No. No, no, no, no, no. I don’t—” He snapped his mouth shut and opened his eyes. “Why do you think I need a vacation?”

“Dude, you’re stressed out!” Spitfire rubbed her temples. “It’s the ascension, the coronation, the new body and stuff. You’re wigging out and it isn’t good for you.”

“I can’t take a vacation,” Soarin said. “I’ve got duties here, we’ve got that show tomorrow…”

“Duties? We aren’t the military, Soarin, we’re performers.” Spitfire placed a hoof on his shoulder, rearing up a bit in order to do so. “We can do one or two shows without you. But only one or two. It’ll be good for you.”

Soarin scratched at his horn. “Does this have anything to do with me almost setting the audience on fire yesterday?”

“Nothing and everything.” Spitfire shrugged. “You were preoccupied, you let a stray bolt of lightning hit the popcorn machine… We had it in hand. Hoof. Whatever.”

Soarin trotted over to his trophy wall and pulled a small, bronze medal from the top shelf. He turned it over in his hooves as he looked back at Spitfire. “So, Sarge, any opinions about where I need to spend my vacation?”

“Don’t call me that.” She pulled a map of Equestria out from under her wing and handed it to him. “You ever been to a little town called “Ponyville?”

“I try to forget about that little incident,” he said.

Spitfire blinked. “Ooh, yeah. Dragon.”

Soarin tied a ribbon onto his medal. “I don’t think the Wonderbolts are much of a rescue squad, either.”

“We have our moments,” Spitfire said. “So you going or not?”

“Do I have a choice?” he asked with a frown.  “It was sorta implied that you were making me go.”

“Good eye, Slick.” She grasped his shoulders and ushered him to his bed. “Now get some shut-eye, you’re officially on vacation as of tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred, sharp!”

Soarin found himself flopping face-first into bed. “Mff.”

Spitfire trotted towards the window, only casting half of a glance back at him. “What was that?”

“I said,” Soarin said, “Only you would have such a strict schedule on a vacation.”

What he said was actually much closer to “ouch,” but this author digresses…





Her eyes sparkled with delight as she approached her princess. Her smile, that amazing smile, was beatific as it shined its light around. She bowed with a stretch of her wings, kneeling before her sovereign.

“My little pony,” Celestia said, “You have ascended due to your—”

Soarin glanced up from his journal as the noises of the park reached his ears. He smiled at the sight of three fillies bouncing a ball back and forth. He adjusted the pencil held between his lips and turned back to his book.

He glanced to the side and did a double take at the small, lavender filly that now sat beside him. He didn’t quite remember her walking up to him, let alone sitting beside him, but he had been pretty engrossed in writing.

“You’re a Wonderbolt,” she said simply. “You look different now that you’re an alicorn.”

The pencil fell from his mouth and into a small pouch at his side. “Yeah, that’s right.” He smiled at her and slowly closed the journal, trying not to bring attention to it. “What’s your name?”

“Dinky,” she said. “And you’re Soarin, Co-Captain of the Wonderbolts and Prince of the Storm.”

Soarin’s lip twitched. “Feels like that title’s getting longer every day.”

Dinky tilted her head to the side. “What are you doing in Ponyville? The Wonderbolts have an air show today in Fillydelphia.”

“I… That is…” He brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “I’m on vacation until further notice.”

Dinky’s eyebrows shot up. “They fired you?”

“Vacation! I used that word for a reason.” He drew a hoof over his eyes. “They just want me somewhere peaceful until I settle down a bit.”

Dinky blinked. “So they sent you to Ponyville?”

Soarin froze mid-answer, his mouth open and his hoof held in the air. “You know, I gotta wonder what they were thinking when they picked the destination.”

As if to prove their point, a flock of parasprites flew by, carrying a hefty payload of baked goods. They were pursued by the airborne Alicorn Princess of Divine Cakes, Cup Cake.

“Give those back! By golly, I’ll give you a whupping if you don’t come back with those right this instant, don’chya know!”

She wobbled in the air as she disappeared over a distant hill in hot pursuit.

A smile tugged at Soarin’s lips. “Still, I think that the oddness… I think it makes this place feel like home.”

“Cloudsdale is weird?” Dinky asked.

“Not really. I was born in Manehatten.” He shuffled through his saddlebags, looking for some trinket he could sign. “That city’s the epicenter for weird.”

“Epicenter?” Dinky lidded her eyes. “Ponyville’s ten times as weird as any other city.”

Soarin grinned as he took the bait. “Try me. Giant mole-rat attacks the Statue of Liberty.”

She laid her head in her hooves. “Parasprites eat the town.”

“Mutant tortoises fight crime.”

“Nightmare Moon attacks… Twice.”

“A rip in the time-space continuum deposits a hairless ape in Times Mare. They proceed to marry somepony.”

“A million Pinkie Pies turn Ponyville into their personal playground.”

Soarin fished out a small postcard of the Wonderbolts with a laugh. “I think you’ve got me beat, there.”

He signed it with a flourish and handed… hoofed… whatever… gave it to the filly. A small smile tugged at her lips. “So, what have you been up to today, Dinky?”

She shrugged. “My mom said that I needed to get out more. She said that life was gonna pass me by, and I was missing so many things by just hanging around indoors.” She sent a smirk his way. “So the instant I step outside, I notice a Wonderbolt sitting on the park bench.”

“I’m happy to be around to help prove your mom’s point,” Soarin said.

The thin smirk dissolved. “Yeah.”

The fillies across the park switched from bouncing their ball around to jumping rope.

Dinky glanced down at Soarin’s neck. “Where’d you get that?”

He placed a hoof on the medal that hung around his neck. “This? It’s the first medal I ever earned.”

“Not the last though, right?” Dinky asked. She didn’t wait for his answer. “Um, thanks for the autograph. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat still as she stood up from the park bench. He pawed at his medal as she walked away slowly.

She didn’t get very far before a loud voice broke through the peace of the park. “Muffin!”

Dinky’s head turned to the voice. Her ears drooped slightly, and her eyes shifted back to Soarin. He lowered an eyebrow and looked at the source of the call.

Her feathers of lightest gray danced on the winds, as if they were extensions of the joy the mare always spread around her. Her mane formed a halo about her head as she deigned to descend upon the humble earth. He looked straight into her eyes of gold and knew, in his heart of hearts, that she—

She landed beside Dinky and hugged her. “How are you, Honey? Who’s your friend?”

“Hi, Mom,” Dinky said as she returned the hug, keeping wary eyes on Soarin. “This is Soarin, he’s one of the Wonderbolts.”

The mare smiled at Soarin. “Nice to meet you! I recognize you now; you look kinda different with the horn.”

Soarin swallowed hard. His throat seemed to crack with dryness. “I, well, so do you, Missus…?”

She giggled as she tapped the bony protrusion on her head. “I’m still getting used to it, myself. Derpy. My name is Derpy Hooves.”

“I’m, I’m Soarin,” he said.

“Well, I know that,” she said with a grin. She kept a foreleg around her daughter’s shoulders as she spoke. “Dinky already introduced you, remember?”

“Right,” Soarin coughed. “Um, it was very nice meeting you two.”

“Likewise!” Soarin couldn’t help but notice that Derpy’s eye appeared to be wandering around the park. She shut her eyes and shook her head, and when they opened once more, her eyes were in synch. “I hope we can meet again before you leave town.”

Soarin smiled until long after he had flown out of sight. He flopped to a cloud with a huff. “‘Mom,’” he muttered. “Of course she’s ‘mom.’ Of course she’s—” He sighed and buried his head in the fluff. “Taken.”





“Yer lookin’ a little down, pardner.”

Soarin looked up to find himself purchasing roundabout three-dozen apples. From the bunch, he hastily selected three of the shiniest and pushed them up to the vendor. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“Eeyup,” the red stallion across from him said. “That tends tah happen round these parts.”

Soarin raised a brow. “You don’t say?”

“Eeyup,” the stallion said again. There was a commotion behind them; a small, white filly screamed as she was pursued by an army of chipmunks. “Ponyville’s kinda the go-to town fer findin’ yerself.”

Soarin produced a few bits from his wallet as a small rainstorm broke out over a nearby market booth that had caught fire. “And where might I find the most… introspective spot?”

“If ah might suggest,” the stallion drawled as an explosion rocked the town, “somewhere besides the market square.”

“Eeyup.” Soarin nodded and sped on his way.





The golden glow of Celestia’s sun sank beneath the horizon. In its place was a palette of wondrous colors, varying hues that almost sang in the sky. He stared over the expanse of the Everfree, his perch on the hillside granting him full view of the forest and the mountains beyond. His heart sank with the sun as he allowed his feelings to enter the cold night.

Soarin looked down at his notebook and groaned. “Gosh, is this even cheese, or just mold?”

He flipped back through the pages until he came to the inside cover. A note sat between the pages, one addressed to him. Son, we are so proud of you for winning that medal. You mean the world to us, Soarin. We hope that this journal can hold your inspirations for years to come.

“Love, Mom and Dad,” he finished aloud. “I love you guys, too.”

He laid his head in the grass as the first stars came out. A twinkle caught his eye. His smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Love you.”

“Come on, Mom, we’re gonna miss the comet!”

He looked up to see Dinky and Derpy approaching the hillside. Derpy carried a box that looked a few sizes bigger than even an alicorn could carry safely. “I’m coming, Muffin! Just let me get this situated—”

She gasped as the box tumbled from her back. It fell towards the ground at something akin to escape velocity. Dinky’s cry of horror at the turn of events was cut short as it was caught by the capable hooves of Soarin the Wonderbolt.

“Um,” he said, “hi again.”

“Oh, my,” Derpy giggled. “It looks like chivalry is coming back in style!”

Soarin grinned dumbly, words failing to move from his brain to his mouth. Dinky stared at him with an odd intensity, studying his face. He looked back at Derpy and once again found her eyes pointing in different directions. His dumb grin promptly devolved into a stupid grin.

“Hap-happy to help.”

Dinky suddenly snapped to attention. “Mr. Soarin! Can you please carry the box over to the hill?”

“Sure!” His wings fluttered as he did just that.

Once it was situated, Derpy flew over and opened the box, revealing a telescope. She set it up facing the east, where the moon was soon to rise. She looked up at Soarin with her brilliant smile. “Hey, do you like stars?”

Soarin landed with a shrug. He stepped to the side as Dinky began to make fine adjustments to the telescope. “I suppose I do. I mean, it’s hard not to, right?”

Derpy nodded. “Well, why don’t you stick around a few minutes? Take a look through the telescope? It’s the least we could do.”

“Well…” Soarin looked from Derpy to Dinky, the little filly raised a hoof to allow him to look through the telescope. “I don’t see why not.”

He placed his eye beside the viewer, and gasped at what he saw. He saw not the bright dots of the usual view telescopes gave, but a bright, enhanced, clear image of a long-tailed comet. “This… This is a magic telescope!”

“Top of the line!” Derpy giggled. “Princess Celestia gave it to Dinky when I ascended. Isn’t it swell?”

“It’s wonderful,” Soarin breathed.

“Now you look, Mommy,” Dinky said. She watched her mom squint her eyes and peer into the mirrors and glasses that were magnifying the celestial image.

“It’s beautiful, Dinky.” She pulled away and smiled at her daughter. “What are you going to look at next?”

Dinky’s expression remained blank, but her voice rose a bit in pitch. “I’m gonna see Daddy’s star.”

Derpy’s smile faltered for an instant. “Okay, Honey.”

Soarin’s mouth dropped open and he turned to Derpy. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Soarin,” she said, waving a hoof. “It was a”—she chewed at her bottom lip—“It was a long time ago.”

Soarin looked up at the stars, at the twinkling lights that hung in the heavens. “I guess everypony has somepony up there, don’t they?”

With a gentle smile, Derpy slowly nodded her head. “Yeah, probably.”

“I found him,” Dinky said. “You wanna see, Mom?”

“That’s okay, Dinky,” Derpy whispered. “You go ahead.”

The hillside brightened as the moon appeared over the horizon. Dinky continued to gaze through the telescope, as Derpy settled herself down in the grass. “So, Soarin, what brings you to Ponyville?”

“An extended vacation,” he said. At her raised eyebrow, he clarified. “It seems like the ascension made me maybe a little stressed.”

“Oh, I hear you there.” Her smile brightened back to its normal luster. “Things were pretty crazy around here when I got promoted to princess, too.”

Soarin sat in the grass beside her, watching Dinky adjust the telescope further. “If it’s not too much to ask, what exactly are you the princess of?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. Her mouth sat in a flat line as she awaited his response. When he had sputtered for long enough, her grin returned. “That’s okay, it’s kinda intangible. I’m Derpy Hooves, Princess of Optimism.”

“Optimism,” he repeated. “It certainly suits you well.”

“Thank you.” One of her eyes drifted to the stars, while the other focused on him.

Soarin licked his lips as he searched for something, anything, to say. He was interrupted by Derpy’s sudden gasp of discovery. “Oh! Is this yours?”

He bit down hard on his lip as she brought his journal into view. The embossed image of a pegasus on the cover glowed dimly in the moonlight. He took it from her gently. “Yeah. It’s sort of a… an idea journal.”

“Ideas for Wonderbolt stunts and stuff?” Derpy asked.

“More like, um, story ideas.” Soarin flipped through the pages and stopped on a fairly early one, one from his younger years. “My parents gave me this journal after I won a medal in a creative writing competition.”

She pointed to his chest with a hoof. “That one around your neck?”

He nodded, and she smiled. Her teeth shone in the moonlight, sparkling alongside her eyes. “Can I read a little?”

Soarin quite nearly swallowed his tongue. “Well, well, um, I, that is, heh.”

It was with a small amount of trepidation that he noted that while Dinky’s eye was pressed to the telescope, her ears were swiveled towards him.

“I don’t see why not.”

Derpy took the book and read over the page he had it opened to. She squinted her roaming eye and focused on the moonlit manuscript. She soon broke out in titters. “This is so cute! How old were you when you wrote this?”

He looked the page over and grimaced. “Gosh, that had to be ten years ago. Give or take.”

She flipped a few pages forwards, her eyes tracking along the words. “Have you ever taken these ideas and made a book out of them?”

“A couple,” he said. “I haven’t published anything, really. I’ve never really had an idea I thought was…” He trailed off as she came to a full stop on one particular page. A page that had some very recent pencil marks upon it.

Very, very recent.

Her mouth became a flat line as her eyebrows leveled. She stared intently at the words on the page. Her breathing became slower. “Oh.”

She looked at him, both eyes able to train themselves on his face. “You… you were the stallion behind me in line, weren’t you?”

Soarin nodded, vaguely aware that Dinky had dropped all pretenses and was focused solely on the conversation.

“The one that I, heh,” Derpy giggled, “the one that I hugged when Princess Celestia said that I was going to become an alicorn.”

Soarin chuckled hollowly. “Funny coincidence, huh?”

Derpy’s smile grew soft. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Soarin.”

Soarin studied his hooves, planted as they were in the soft soil beneath the grass. He raised his head to Derpy and took in a deep breath. “Miss Derpy Hooves, now that the secret is out, would you accompany me to dinner tomorrow?”

Derpy’s blush stood out bright against her gray coat in the moonlight. Dinky trotted over and nuzzled her. “I… Well, that is…”

“She’d love to,” Dinky said. “Wouldn’t you, mom?”

Soarin and Derpy turned towards Dinky with surprise on their faces. Dinky shrugged. “Why not?”

Derpy kissed her daughter on the cheek. “You’re really adorable, you know that?” She stood and came eye-to-eye with Soarin. “Are you gonna write more lovey-dovey stories about some mare that just so happens to have the same coat, hair, and eye color as me?”

Soarin snorted, a smile growing on his lips. “Only if you say ‘yes.’”

Derpy smiled.





She stood there, arrayed in a variety of finery, her inner beauty utterly dwarfing the glamour of the dress she wore. Her smile lit up the street as they walked to their destination, their attention on each other rather than where they were going. He ran his hoof under the collar of his one-size-too-small dress shirt, blushing as she giggled.

He started as her daughter leapt onto his back, the filly’s serious expression tinged with a light happiness. She adjusted her daughter’s dress, arranging the delicate rose petals that ran along the hem. They exchanged a nuzzle as he watched, a smile breaking out across his visage.

Her eye wandered around the street, but her other eye remained focused on him. He remained focused on her as well. He opened the door to admit her and her daughter, presenting them access to the restaurant they had chosen for the evening.

The filly’s mouth did not so much as twitch, but her eyes lit up as she took in the finery of the Silver Spoon. The fancy restaurant drew her in, tempting her with savory salads and sweet dessert. They were led to a table, and sat around it with pleasure.

Soarin smiled at Derpy Hooves, and she at him. The waiter trotted up to them, asking if they would enjoy their usual, or if they wished to try something new. His eyes lit up as he noticed Dinky, and he asked her if she would like the children’s menu. She accepted.

Soarin and Derpy shared a light kiss, their lips touching for the briefest of moments. Dinky watched them with interest, paying only half of her attention to the tempting menu before her. She had already chosen her meal, and she had a feeling that food wasn’t quite the full reason for their outing that night.

It was after dessert was finished that Soarin stood from his chair and knelt before Derpy. She gasped as he held forth a small, but precious, gemstone. It was an earring, a traditional pegasus gift. He held it out to her and asked of her one simple, yet oh so serious, act.

“Will you marry me?”

She leapt upon him, wrapping her wings about his body and crying out that of course she would. Dinky’s eyes widened. She held that pose for a moment before a giant smile broke out across her face. Laughter from their three mouths filled the restaurant, and music began playing jovially across the dining room.

Soarin stopped writing. He looked at the wall of trophies on the wall, carefully arranged and polished to a sheen. In the middle sat a small, bronze medal. Beside it sat a picture of Derpy, Dinky, and him, all smiling at the camera.

A knock at his window drew his attention. Spitfire pointed at her wrist, signifying an imaginary watch. Her irritated expression ushered him on to all due speed. He zipped up his uniform and strode out of his old apartment, the full regalia of the Co-Captain of the Wonderbolts draped around him. He lowered his goggles and followed Spitfire through the air towards the stadium.

He glanced at the stands and saw his daughter and his wife among the watchers. He waved at Derpy and Dinky, then sped on to the starting line.

Back in his study, wind blew through a slightly-opened window, turning the journal a few pages forward. The last page had an intricately-detailed script spelling out two simple words: “A Beginning.”
> Bogus Ascension; or, Alicorns Don't Count for Much Nowadays
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear friends,

From this point forth, all tales shall follow in the wake of Blueblood's Ascension Part II, and the characters shall reflect that with occasional references to the aforementioned's plot.

Reading Part II is not required, merely recommended.





“Cuss!” Rainbow Dash snarled. She gripped a bandage in her teeth and wrapped it around the skinned knee on her right foreleg.

She pointed at the sky. “Cuss you!” She pointed at the ground. “Cuss you, too!” She spun around, pointing at rocks and trees indiscriminately. “Cuss aaalll of you!”

She turned her eyes downwards and fumed, neigh, smoldered at a tiny object on the ground. “And especially, especially, cuss you!”

She glared at the pebble, that miniscule collection of minerals that had scraped her knee. “Cuss you! Cuss your whole stupid rock family!”

The pebble chafed at being called a rock, as it had been smoothed into a pebble over eons of erosion at the bottom of a riverbed. Rainbow Dash disregarded its lengthy history and kicked it as far as she could. It sailed over the valley, into the unknown.

She stuck her tongue out after it and kicked another pebble into the aether for good measure. She spread her wings and took to the sky, her eyes narrowing. “Alright, let’s do this! For real this time!”

She noted the location of the river that was her target. She dived towards it and pulled up in a slow arc until she was flying parallel to it. She flapped her wings to pick up speed, her fur tingling in the whipping wind. Flying upstream, she reached a cautious hoof down to the river and dipped her hoof in.

She felt the Magic of the Pegasi flow into the river, into the very water itself. She watched closely as her hoof made a furrow on the surface, splashing water droplets to the side. She reached out further, deeper, and felt the droplets hit the water. She didn’t allow them to rejoin the current.

Droplets rose behind her, at first just a few, but it soon became a mass of water nearly the size of her own body. They followed after her, as if it were raining sideways. She let it build up until she felt as though half of the water downstream was in her wake, and then she started to meld the flying droplets together.

Her breathing became shallow of its own accord as she sought to hold her concentration. She forced her breath to slow, forced her lungs to take in longer and deeper breaths. The droplets behind her became blobs of water, then a whooshing deluge, and finally she was able to mold them into a wave.

“Yeah…” she mouthed to herself. “Yeah, that’s the ticket.”

The wave grew larger as she continued up the river and picked up more water. She flapped her wings harder, straining with the weight of pulling the water against the current. She kept her eyes open despite the spray, unwilling to repeat an early mistake from the previous day. She placed her other hoof in the water with a smirk, this time sending her weather magic flowing before her.

The river bunched up as she carried it along. Well, pushed it along. Now that she thought about it, it looked a little like somepony had decorated a cake with blue frosting and then drew a finger across it.

Um, that is, drew a hoof across it. She was having a little bit of difficulty adjusting after spending time in that… other world. The one where Blueblood had gotten himself lost. The one where she went with a few other ponies to rescue him. That world with the fingers.

She still couldn’t decide if fingers were awesome or creepy.

She cringed as the water being carried in her pegasus magic formed a wall. The force of her flying at extreme speeds with the fluid in toe came face-to-face with the force of a current that had run for several thousand years.

In previous attempts, she had been soaked with her wave, flung from the premises by the sheer force, or nearly drowned by a river suddenly reforming in midair. Not this time.

This time, she would succeed.

This time, she would do the impossible.

This time, she would reverse the flow of an entire river single-hoofedly.

This time, the wall of water bunched up over her head. This time, the force of a super-speedy pegasus pushing the river was nearly equal to the force pushing against it. This time, Rainbow Dash actually felt herself slow down as the water reached a critical point.

This time, an unstoppable force met an immovable object. Kinda.

“Oooh, cuss,” said Rainbow Dash.





A few miles away, in the floating city of Cloudsdale, Lightning Dust tapped her hoof against the soft, marshmallowy surface of the cloud-crafted floor. She deigned to lean against the wall, rather than take a seat on the chair mere feet away. Her lidded eyes roamed the room, but kept coming back to the doorway.

A loud WHUMP carried through the air, rattling the walls and drawing her wandering eyes to the window. In the distance, she saw an enormously-tall spout of water shoot into the air. At its apex, the small figure of a pegasus mare blasted out the top, tumbling as it flew. The water fell with a WOOSH, the pegasus mare trailing behind it.

The pegasus mare in question looked vaguely familiar.

“Lightning Dust?”

Her name’s utterance alerted her to the presence of another pony in the room. A mustachioed pegasus stallion gestured to the door, which was now lying open. “She’ll see you now.”

“Rad.” Lightning Dust grinned as she trotted through the door, throwing a mock salute to the stallion. The portal’s closure surprised her with its abruptness, impacting her rump as it shut. She stumbled the final few feet into the room and found herself face-to-face with the co-captain of the Wonderbolts.

“Captain Spitfire, ma’am! Thank you for seeing me, ma’am!” She stood at attention before the orangey pegasus captain. She couldn’t help the tiny, neigh, miniscule smirk that crept onto her visage.

Spitfire leaned on her desk with a sigh. “We aren’t in training, Lightning. Just call me ‘Spitfire.’”

“Oh,” Lightning said. “Well, um, hi.”

“Hi,” Spitfire replied. “So, what was so important that you needed to schedule an appointment with me to talk about it?”

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” Lightning Dust pointed to her forehead, which held a bony protrusion. Her smirk took full custody of her features. “I’m an alicorn princess now.”

“Yup.” Spitfire’s curt nod took a little bit of the wind out of Lightning’s sails. “That’s been going around for a while. What about it?”

Lightning resisted the very, very, very strong urge to roll her eyes right off of Cloudsdale. “It means that I’m ready to be a Wonderbolt now.”

The way Spitfire’s eyes closed slowly and firmly left Lightning fidgeting where she stood. The way the captain’s eyebrows lowered after them made Lightning’s heart dip down in her chest. The way a small, tired sigh left the Wonderbolt’s nostrils made Lightning want to leap right out the window and fly away.

“Lightning Dust, we can’t…” Spitfire rubbed her temples. She continued to rub her temples for a good long while. “That doesn’t work like… We can’t just…”

She stood and walked around her desk. She stood before Lightning with a frown. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve got a horn or not. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a princess or not. You’re gonna have to reapply next season and start from the bottom like every other pony.”

“But… But…” Lightning Dust placed a hoof over her chest. “But I… I’m the stinking Alicorn Princess of Flight! You know I’m Wonderbolts material. I’ve, gosh, I’ve done more than most Wonderbolts can even dream of doing!”

“It wouldn’t matter if you had been crowned Princess of the Wonderbolts!” Spitfire said. “You start in basic, you move your way up, that’s how it’s gotta be!”

“I’ve finished basic,” Lightning growled.

“You were drummed out for recklessness!” Spitfire countered. “A recklessness that I’m seeing displayed very clearly right this very second!”

The two mares stared at each other, deadlocked in their ire. Though she was shorter than the alicorn, Spitfire had no issue looking down at Lightning.

“That’s my final word,” the captain said. “You can reapply next season, and hope that I’m not one of the ponies selecting recruits from the pile.” She turned around and walked back to her desk. She sat down with a huff, refusing to look at the fuming mare across from her. “You’re excused.”

With nary a word, Lightning Dust left the office.

Spitfire laid her head on her desk. “I hate doing that. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.”

The pegasus stallion entered the room and removed his moustache. A horn materialized out of nowhere. “She didn’t look too happy. Think she’ll be alright?”

“Soarin, there’s thousands of cadets that get rejected every year.” Spitfire did not get up from her position on the desk. “She is, ironically enough, part of the average.”

Soarin sat down in the chair in front of her desk. “So…?”

Spitfire lifted her head. “So why am I nervous about rejecting her?”

“I personally think it’s got something to do with the horn,” he said.

“You don’t think she’s gonna do something stupid, do you?” Spitfire asked.

“Time will tell,” Soarin replied. “Let’s hope we’re outside the blast zone.”





“That was a… very impressive display, Rainbow Dash.”

Rarity spoke around a series of pins held in her mouth. Pinkie Pie stood nearly motionless on the dais, a dress being built around her body. At that moment, Rarity was focusing on the hem. “To think, you nearly flooded Whitetail Wood…”

“That part was an accident,” Rainbow Dash said weakly. She huddled in the middle of the floor with a warm blanket draped around her shoulders. Her hair was still damp and cold. “Do… Do you think Fluttershy’ll forgive me?”

“I suspect our friend will. Given time.” A thundering crash was heard as a herd of some unspecified animal upset a series of market stalls. “A lot of time.”

Rainbow Dash pulled the blanket tighter around her. “Whoa. I think I’ve only seen her this angry twice.”

Rarity blinked. She looked over her red reading glasses at Dash. “Twice? I’m afraid all I recall is the Grand Galloping Gala.”

“Well…”





Fluttershy looked up to see Tank the Tortoise flying towards her, his propeller spinning in the setting sun. Her eyes lit up at his approach. “Oh! Hello, Tank! How are you?”

As he drew near, his expression grew sharper against his green, scaly mug. “Oh dear! You don’t look so happy. Is something wrong? Is Rainbow Dash in danger? Oh, I should go help her right aw—”

The fast-moving tortoise collided with her head. She let out a “meep” and fell onto her back, her legs sticking into the air. Tank settled down beside her, carrying a note marked “urgent” in his mouth.

He prodded the prone pony with his nose and found her unresponsive.

He munched on a shred of lettuce.





“So it was a couple more hours before Fluttershy showed up with an army of critters.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “She was furious that I had been flying in Ghastly Gorge without a wingpony.”

“I have to admit, Rainbow Dash, I myself would have been livid, had I been informed of the event.” Rarity stuck a few pins into the dress to hold up a strip of fabric. “I would have thought you’d have learned your lesson the last time you found yourself injured—alone!—in that decidedly dangerous place.”

“Wasn’t alone,” Rainbow muttered. “Had Tank. Both times.”

“Mm-yes. And you have duly informed me as to how successful he was in rescuing you.” Rarity finished her stitch and nodded to Pinkie Pie. “Alright, then. You can step out of that dress and I can get down to the nitty-gritty.”

Pinkie complied, removing the dress carefully. She handed it back to Rarity and sighed in relief as her entire body was engulfed in green fire.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes bugged out of her head as Pinkie Pie morphed into what was unmistakably a shiny-carapaced changeling.

In a single movement, Rainbow Dash flew over, knocked the changeling to the ground with a karate chop, and gripped it in a full-nelson hold. “Run for it, Rarity! I’ve got this!”

“Put him down this instant!” Whether it was from a desire to comply with Rarity’s demand, or just shock that the demand had been issued in the first place, Rainbow Dash dropped the choking changeling to the ground.

“Good grief, lady! What’s gotten into you!?” the changeling asked.

“I was… uh…” Rainbow Dash gestured helplessly at the changeling while looking at Rarity with pleading eyes.

Rarity sighed. “Rainbow Dash, meet Mandible. Mandible, meet Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow Dash squinted at the changeling. “Heeey, I know you. You’re the skeevy guy that impersonated Blueblood, aren’t you?”

The changeling opened his mouth to protest, but Rarity filled the silence first. “Mandible is working for me as part of a… sort of ‘integration into society’ project for the changelings that surrendered.”

A slow grin spread across Rainbow Dash’s face. “So-so he’s basically working as a ponnequin!? Heh. Hahaha!” The laughter continued for a few moments, laughter that neither Rarity nor Mandible participated in.

“It warms the very depths of my heart that you’re so willing to overlook past differences.” Mandible trotted past her to the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be wallowing in the self-pity brought on by alternately being used as an inanimate object and thought of as King Sombra’s wretched slug-spawn.”

“He’s… really a pleasant fellow. Once you get used to— Once you get to know him,” Rarity spoke with a smile that held a restraining order against her eyes. Her ears twitched as the riot outside the boutique grew in proportions.

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take your word for it. Sorry ’bout jumping on him.”

“Oh, I’m certain he will get over it,” Rarity said. “In time.”

Curses in the changeling tongue rocketed forth from the kitchen, nicely accompanying the sound of china shattering.

“Lots and lots of time,” Rarity muttered. She hovered the dress over to her sewing machine, her brow furrowing as she did so. “Rainbow Dash, what brought you to seek the thrills that brought such spills? What do you seek to gain from… from reversing the flow of a river?”

Rainbow Dash stared at a wall. She found herself mesmerized by the lush purple curtains and soft drapes that decorated the rounded walls. At least, that’s what she told herself. She was, more truthfully, looking for a distraction. A way to avoid answering the question at all.

Rarity sidled up beside her and gave her a gentle nuzzle. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I…” Rainbow Dash’s soft answer died on her lips. Her mouth was level, and her eyes showed not a flicker of emotion as she turned to face Rarity. “I’m jealous.”

Rarity’s reaction was only slightly unexpected. “You?”

Rainbow gave a small nod. “I’m jealous. I’ve lived my entire life doing everything I can to be the most awesome pegasus to ever exist. I performed a sonic rainboom when I was eight! I’m the bearer of the Element of Loyalty! I saved the lives of three Wonderbolts! I’m a hero!”

She clenched her teeth together and gave her mane a shake. She looked back to the silent Rarity. “I know that sounds selfish, or something, but that’s kinda my whole point! That’s what being jealous is! Selfishness. Thinking about myself. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Most of the time I’m like ‘yeah, yeah, I know I’m awesome,’ then I leave to go do something even more awesome. But now…”

Rainbow Dash barely registered the moment when Rarity slipped a foreleg around her shoulders. “Now I find out that I’m not good enough. That none of what I’ve done has ever been good enough. Now I’m jealous of the pony that was good enough, and I know… I know that’s wrong.”

Rarity dared ask a simple question. “Good enough for what, Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow Dash sighed. She leaned slightly into her friend’s embrace, her eyebrows angling downward. “You remember the tornado accident at the Wonderbolts Academy? The one that almost—”

“Yes, yes I do,” Rarity interrupted. “You’ll forgive me for glossing over the event.”

“The pony that caused that?” Rainbow Dash pulled away from Rarity and stood to her feet. “She ascended last week.”

Rarity blinked. Quite rapidly. Her mouth moved as though she had suddenly become a fish out of water. Her hooves made unintelligible gestures this way and that as she tried to comprehend the idea she had just been presented.

“Well that’s… Her ascension… This is all…” Rarity stomped a hoof on the floor. “That, my dear, is totally bogus.”

“Yup,” Rainbow Dash replied. “Something about pulling clouds right out of a lake, instead of sending the water to Cloudsdale with a waterspout first. Poof! Alicorn.”

Rarity seemed to settle down, or tire herself out, as was more likely the case. “Now you are attempting to do something spectacular in order to ascend to alicornhood, am I correct?”

“Yup. Yep. Yes.” Rainbow Dash flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of self-betterment,” Rarity said. “But are you sure you’re doing it for the right reasons?”

“Well, duh I’m not doing it for the right reasons.” Rainbow Dash sat up with a decisive huff. “I’m doing it to satisfy my ego. Like always.” A spark of worry flashed across her face. “Do you think that’s why I haven’t ascended? Is it because I’m doing things for the wrong reasons?”

“My dear, if your heart had any bearing on whether or not you ascended, I have several names picked out who I believe would never, ever, ever had achieved their status.” Her mind flashed briefly to a former unicorn stallion that we all know and love. “I, too, have caught myself wallowing with the green-eyed monster.”

“Great, so we’re both horrible ponies.” Rainbow Dash grinned. “What? Should we start something like ‘Alicorn Envy Anonymous?’”

Rarity giggled. “Oh yes, darling. ‘Hello, my name is Rarity, and it has been thirteen weeks since I coveted wings!’”

She stepped back with a sigh. “But it still leaves the question of whether anypony can indeed become an alicorn, or if there is some strange, arbitrary selection process behind it all.”

Rarity returned to her dress, if only to work on something while she postulated aloud. “I would have supposed, had I not been witness to the negative, that your sonic rainboom alone would have led the way to your ascension. However, since that was seemingly not enough—nor was your participation in the liberation of Equestria three… four times over—perhaps it is unknowable what goes in to the ascension of an alicorn.”

“What about Twilight, ascending right after completing this super-freaky spell?” Rainbow Dash crossed her forelegs. “What about Mrs. Cake, ascending right after creating that awesome Easy-bake oven? It sure looks like they’ve all got something awesome in common!”

Rarity sighed and placed her dress to the side. “I can’t argue that there is no evidence.” Her eyes turned upwards for a moment. “That said, may I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” Rainbow Dash said.

“If you find that you cannot ascend under any circumstances…” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to do about it?”

For the first time since she had arrived, Rainbow Dash puffed her chest out. “I’m gonna keep being the most awesome pegasus in Equestria. No matter what.”

“That, I can at least offer my support to,” Rarity said. “Honestly, I’m still not sure what to think of all these alicorns and—”

The door to the boutique exploded inwards, revealing a sight few Equestrians had seen and lived: an angry Fluttershy. “Rainbow Dash! You flooded Whitetail Wood!”

“Gotta bolt!” Rainbow Dash took off, going from zero to sixty in point one-two-five seconds. She blazed past Mandible, the displaced wind knocking him off of his feet. He snarled in her general direction and shook a hoof.

Fluttershy was about to storm off (literally) after her, when the soothing scent of tea drifted to her nose. Rarity levitated a cup beneath her head, letting the gentle aromas drift up in a halo about Fluttershy’s head. Her facial expression softened within moments.

“Care for a drop of tea, my dear?”

“Oh. Oh, well, thank you.”





“‘Drummed out for recklessness!’”

Lightning Dust shouted to the world, to anypony who was in earshot. Considering she had chosen a particularly remote place to sulk, the number of ponies her words held under their influence was indisputably nil.

“Drummed out for awesomeness, they mean!” Lightning ran a hoof through her brushed-back mane. “Can’t handle an alicorn princess, that’s their problem! Yeah!”

She stood on the edge of a canyon, perhaps a couple hundred feet in depth. “It’s probably that Soarin guy. He’s probably afraid that an alicorn would outperform him! Ha! Yeah, he’s probably a wimp or something.”

Lightning Dust had evidently not read the previous story in this compilation.

She flapped her wings and hovered in midair. “I’ll show ‘em. I’ll start practicing right the heck now. I’m gonna blow their socks off when I go back to basic training next year. Yeah! Yeah…”

The gorge was long, narrow, and, as previously mentioned, quite deep. Deep enough that the afternoon sunlight did not quite reach the bottom. Rumbles of avalanches not yet fallen and monsters not yet fed rolled forth.

“Blow their socks off.”

Lightning Dust fell off the edge and spread her wings. She weaved around outcroppings. She dipped under an overhang. She flew with speed and grace, like any true Wonderbolt.

Unlike any true Wonderbolt, she lacked a wingpony.

So when the quarry eel struck from its hole in the canyon wall, its enormous jaws snapping shut around her, she had nopony to turn to.

She was not helpless, oh no, not helpless in the slightest. It was the work of a moment to raise the temperature of the beast’s mouth and turn the saliva to steam. Unfortunately for her, quarry eels only shriek when they’re about to feast on minotaur flesh.

Something to do with the fingers, it has been supposed. They tickle on the way down, you see.

So, since the creature refused to scream in pain, Lightning Dust attempted to live up to her name. Her horn glowed as she imbued the steam cloud with static. Lightning struck the roof of the eel’s mouth, finally eliciting a reaction. The quarry eel decided to swallow the uncooperative lump in its throat.

Lightning Dust’s thoughts are summarized below, edited for space and content.

“Oh, dear. It seems I have been gobbled up by an enormous quarry eel. I see that these noble creatures are made up of sterner stuff than I had surmised, based on my previous knowledge of their existence. Gosh! Gee Willikers! Such a predicament. May this eel never reproduce.”

Heavily edited.

So the Princess of Flight found herself dangling from the eel’s uvula. Do not ask whether or not eels have uvulas; this one does. She clung to the uvula, pondering her next step.

“Spit me out or so help me I’ll make it hurt to poop forever!”

Oops, looks like that one got past the censors.

Lightning Dust lit her horn once more and attempted to turn the steam into a tornado by sheer force of will. The whirlwind spun within the eel’s mouth, faster and faster. Its lips twitched.

“Just spit me out already!”

A moment passed before Lightning Dust realized that the beastly diner’s lips were twitching repeatedly. It had, in fact, begun to snuffle uproariously. It sniffed and snuffed and twitched and tingled.

More to the point, it sneezed.

Carried aloft on a spray of eel snot, Lightning Dust zoomed through the air. She splattered against the other side of the chasm. It was a slow slide down that followed, leading her to the tiny river at the bottom.

She lifted a weary head upwards and watched, amazed, as an angel descended from the heavens. The sunlight shone through its wings, and sparkling dust traveled in its wake. As it grew closer, Lightning Dust noted the inexplicable spectrum of color that made up the angel’s hair.

“What the heck were you doing!?” the angel asked. A bag landed beside her, clearly marked “sneezing powder.”

Lightning Dust’s eyelids fluttered with uncertainty. “Wha—”

The angel’s blue hoof impacted against her chest. “You! What the heck were you doing flying in Ghastly Gorge by yourself!?”

A smirk found its way to Lightning Dust’s snot-soaked face. “Practicing my totally-radical alicorn-only flying maneuvers.”

“Eeerrrnt! Wrong!” The hoof pushed harder, driving the princess to her bum. “You were getting eaten by a quarry eel because you didn’t have a wingpony to back you up!”

“But that— I was— You—” Lightning Dust groaned. “Yeah, I was flying alone. So sue me.”

“There wouldn’t have been anything left to sue!” The angel prodded Dust’s chest one more for good measure. “You really haven’t learned anything, have you?”

Lightning’s eyes narrowed. “Heeey… I remember you…” A sneer eked its way onto her face. “Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow Dash’s reply of “Well, duh” died a premature death on her lips as her chin came in contact with Lightning Dust’s forward-propelled hoof. She tumbled back with the force of the blow, splashing in the shallow water of the small river. She rose with a bitter frown, her rainbow mane plastered to her face.

“Yeah, I remember you,” Lightning chuckled. “You’re the dipstick that got me kicked out of the Wonderbolts Academy.”

Rainbow Dash snorted. “You’re darn right I did! It’s all you deserved after almost killing my friends!”

“Ooh, self righteous enough for yah?” Lightning Dust stood on her hind legs and whirled her front hooves in the air. “Put up yer dukes! I’m gonna enjoy this!”

Lightning Dust had the magic of a unicorn, the speed of a pegasus, and the strength of an earth pony. Rainbow Dash had black belts in two different martial arts. Plus lesser belts in a few others. Plus a metaphorical axe to grind.

Lightning Dust didn’t stand a chance.

Rainbow Dash gripped the alicorn princess in a half-nelson, shouting “Say ‘uncle!’ Say it!” in her ear. Lightning Dust complied almost immediately.

Dash towered over her fallen foe, her magenta eyes blazing. Metaphorically. “So… So what gives? What’s got a super-important princess like you flapping around Ghastly Gorge all by yourself?”

“What’s it to you?” Lightning grumbled. “Just fly on over to your million friends, join the stupid Wonderbolts, and leave me the heck alone!”

“What it is to me is that you almost died!” Rainbow shouted. “And… And if being eaten because you were alone isn’t the stupidest way to die I’ve ever seen, I don’t know what is!”

Rainbow Dash sat and shook her mane, flicking water everywhere. “Besides, why were you alone? You’re a princess now. You’re…” She sighed deeply. “You’re special or something, now.”

“Special!? Special!?” Lightning swatted a glob of goo off of her wings. “‘Special’ ain’t the word I’ve heard ponies use! Reckless? Hotheaded? That’s more my speed.” 

“Yeah? Well excuse the heck out of me, princess,” Rainbow Dash spat. “Pardon me for not feeling sorry for you, because every single one of those words is exactly what you are!”

“Like you’re one to talk, ‘Rainbow Crash!’” Lightning said. “Your reputation around Cloudsdale is legendary for all the wrong reasons!”

Rainbow Dash lifted a hoof, held it in the air, then slammed it down on the wet soil. “Yeah. Two peas in a pod. I’m outta here.”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Lightning Dust picked up a glob of snot and tossed it at the retreating Dash. “You just run on home, loser! Hide behind your stupid Ponyville buddies! Go play hero with the Elements of Harmony!”

Rainbow Dash slowed as Lightning continued. “Go and be a Wonderbolt! Go live your stupid dreams and… and just let me…”

Lightning slumped to the ground, holding back hot tears. “What in the name of Faust’s Fragrant Forehead do you have that I don’t!?”

Silence held the gorge in its grip, as even the earless quarry eels strained to listen. The pat, pat, pat of Rainbow Dash’s hooves drew closer to Lightning Dust, and the alicorn princess looked up.

“I think I know,” Rainbow Dash said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t have anything!” Lightning shouted. “Because I’ve totally wrecked any chance of becoming a Wonderbolt! Because nopony gives a darn about me!”

Her wings flexed. “Do you… Do you know what Princess Celestia did when I ascended?”

Rainbow Dash, of course, shook her head.

“She looked right at me and… and she looked like she stepped in something nasty.” Lightning shivered. “It only took a second for her to slip… to slip that darned mask over her face. You know, how she looks in every single picture ever taken of her? But I saw how she really felt.”

“You…” Rainbow Dash coughed. “You did almost kill her personal student.”

“Oh, is that all!?” Lightning gritted her teeth. Some slight gnashing occurred. “So tell me, oh most knowledgeable Rainbow Crash, what do you have that I don’t?” A tear rolled down her stony face. “Besides the princess’ favor.”

“You want the skinny?” Rainbow Dash asked. “It’s real simple. I’ve got friends.”

“Well, gosh golly gee whiz.” Lightning rolled her eyes. “I coulda told you that, ‘Ponyville.’”

“Shut up and listen a sec,” Rainbow Dash said. “I’ve got six friends who really care about me. I’ve hung out with them, shared my victories with them, and helped them work through their defeats.” She stuck her chest out as a small smile curled its way onto her face. “And, yeah, I’ve shared their victories and they’ve helped me through my many, many defeats. We’ve helped each other, Dust. We’ve helped each other grow!”

“I seriously doubt that the yellow chick helped you become a better flyer,” Lightning mumbled.

“You’d be surprised, but that’s not the point.” Rainbow Dash lifted herself a few feet into the air. “We’ve helped each other grow to be better ponies, which counts a whole lot more than just being a better athlete.”

Lightning sneered. “Great, ain’t we all just happy-wappy. What’s your point?”

“You still don’t get it,” Rainbow Dash sighed. “If I’m a better pony, I can make better decisions. If I can make better decisions, I can positively affect ponies around me. Ponies like me because of that positive effect.”

“It all ties into that stinking ‘Friendship is Magic’ horseapple pie, huh?” Dust said with a sneer.

“Look at yourself, Lightning!” Rainbow Dash growled. “Then look at me! I think my friend Twilight would say the results are self-evident, because you”—she chewed her lip—“you are who I would be if I didn’t have friends.”

Lightning Dust reared back with a snort. “I could have friends if I wanted.”

“I know.” Rainbow flew back, putting distance between herself and the alicorn. “That’s why you hurt my heart. That’s why you annoy me so darn much!”

Silence returned to the gorge, and Rainbow Dash took it as a sign to leave. She flew away, carefully avoiding the area that held the quarry eels.

Lightning Dust’s voice chased after her. “Hey! Then tell me, why were you here in the gorge all by yourself!?”

“I wasn’t,” Rainbow Dash said as a tiny tortoise zipped up to her on his beanie propeller. “Had Tank.”





“And that’s the whole sordid tale, hmm?” Rarity delicately sipped from her teacup. “Such a shame, I had hoped that she could find some measure of peace.”

“Maybe she will,” Rainbow Dash replied. She hung upside-down from the chandelier, wrapped from head-to-toe with yarn, twine, and whatever else Fluttershy had been able to find around the shop. “Just not around here. Not right now.”

Mandible chuckled as he rolled a large tube of fabric through the boutique. He stuck his tongue out at Rainbow Dash, who gave as good as she got right back at him.

“On the off chance, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said as she looked up, “did this in any way alter your feelings about being an alicorn?”

“Well, it’s not gonna stop me from trying…” Dash strained at her bonds, but they did not so much as loosen. “But I gotta say, I’m not jealous of her anymore.”





Lightning Dust stood on the edge of the gorge as the sun set over the horizon. She glared at the quarry eels’ area as it was shrouded in darkness. “Cuss you,” she snarled.

She looked over Ghastly Gorge as a whole. “Cuss you!”

She flew into the air until she could see the lights of the little town of Ponyville. She stuck her tongue out as part of a truly epic stink eye. “And cuss you, Rainbow Dash! Cuss you and all your stupid friends!”

She flew off towards Cloudsdale with her shoulders drooping. “Cuss you for making me jealous of you.”
> Badguy Ascension; or, An Alicorn's Crime of Fashion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

King Sombra found himself in a bewilderment.

It was only moments before that he had been plotting his final epic takeover of Equestria and its Crystal Empire protectorate. Now, he was standing in line behind a bevy of the very ponies he had plotted to enslave.

He mused upon life’s little foibles.

A glance to the side brought to his attention a variety of images flying past. They contained the very same faces that stood before and behind him, in a variety of actions and events. He squinted as a young, gray-coated colt came into view: his own self at a younger age. He sat upon his mother’s lap and giggled as he sucked on a crystal.

“Hmm, crystalsss…” he muttered.

“I say, that is a simply smashing ensemble!”

Sombra faced forwards. His glowing green eyes met eyes shrouded behind sunglasses. An incredibly-quaffed, silver mane sat atop a tediously-brushed, gray coat. The stallion that all these adjectives belonged to raised his hooves to frame Sombra in an imaginary box. “The crown! The fur coat! The iron-shod hooves! It just reeks of power and confidence!”

“Hrn,” said Sombra. He looked down at the steel breastplate that adorned his chest. “You really think so?”

“In-DEED, sir!” The stallion drew closer to Sombra and peered at him over his sunglasses. “Would you please tell me who designed your outfit? I would be indebted to you for eternity!”

Sombra could merely blink. “I did.”

“Splendid! Simply splendid!” the stallion yelped. He took Sombra’s hoof in his own and shook mightily. “I am Hoity Toity, a fashion magnate from Canterlot. With my immense influence, you could be the next great fashion designer of Equestria!”

A grin split Sombra’s face. “Really? Wait. What? No!” He raised a booted foot and prodded Hoity Toity in the chest. “I am King Sombra! I will rule this entire world, and nopony can stop me!”

“You shall certainly take the fashion scene by storm,” Hoity said. He glanced at the mare standing behind Sombra. “Madam, you seem the discerning sort. Would you not say that this stallion is simply magnificent?”

The mare turned away from the images floating past, her green curls bouncing as they took a moment to catch up with the rest of her face. Her eyes widened as she took in the imposing pony that was the former Crystal King. A bit of drool dribbled out of her mouth.

Within a moment, she was leaning against Sombra and grinning mischievously at him. “Name’s Peachbottom, stud. I looove a guy in armor.”

Sombra vomited inside his mouth a little.

Hoity Toity cleared his throat. “If I could steal your attention for just a moment, madam?”

Peachbottom gave Hoity a double take, as if she had only just registered his presence. “Oh, um, yeah?”

“Would you not say that this stallion’s taste in finery is most exquisite?” Hoity asked.

A slightly slack-jawed expression took hold of Peachbottom’s face as she returned her attention to Sombra. “Oooh, yeah…”

Sombra’s bile returned for an encore performance.

He brushed her aside with a powerful nudge of his hoof. “Do not touch me, peasant! I am a king!”

Her eyes widened. “A king?”

“A king!”

“A king!?”

“A king!!!”

She swayed back and forth as she gradually lost her balance. “E-even better than a prince! Oooh…”

Every stallion in proximity summarily failed to catch her as she tumbled to the invisible floor.

Hoity and Sombra regarded her prone form with mild disinterest. The fashionable earth pony turned to Sombra and to business. “Really, though, you’d turn fashion on its head! Please, please, please, please allow me to be your patron!”

Sombra allowed a growl to build up in his throat. “Don’t be a foal! I have much more important things to be concerned with!”

While he was speaking, Princess Luna sidled up beside them with a notepad. “Names, please,” she said without looking up.

Hoity Toity, though his head was hanging in defeat, was able to answer quietly. “Hoity Toity of Canterlot.”

Sombra, for his part, looked askance at the alicorn princess beside him. “Princess Luna!?”

Luna scribbled with a feather pen. “Either your parents were quite unoriginal, or they had an unhealthy obsession with the nigh—” Her eyes peeked up over the notepad. “Sombra. Huh.”

Silence reigned over the entire assembly. Sombra and his mortal nemesis stared each other down as only two neigh-immortal foes can.

Hoity missed the clue-by-four. By a mile. “I say, your highness, does he not look simply smashing in his daring ensemble?”

“Smashing,” Sombra chuckled. “Smashing indeed!”

With a roar, he transformed his body into a swirling mass of shadow and crystal. Two green-and-red eyes glared at the line of ponies. “Bow down to your new lord and master, my little ponies! Bow!”

Rather than bow, the ponies began to glow. First just one by one, then in droves did they sparkle and flash. In concert, they exploded into a variety of colors and emerged from the smoke changed.

Sombra suddenly found himself surrounded on all sides by a multitude of ticked-off alicorns. A dozen-odd horns glowed at once as lasers blasted forth, aimed right at his murky head.

“Well, drat,” he mumbled.

Then the explosions began.





It was some time later that Sombra awoke to a biting pain in his head. And his butt. And everywhere in between. He flexed his wings and—He had wings!

He looked at his back in alarm. Two feathery protrusions greeted him. “That’s new.”

“Yes, I was quite surprised to see that you had them, as well.”

Sombra looked up to the pony that had spoken. To his horror, it was none other than Princess Celestia of Equestria; Raiser of the Sun, Princess of the Morning, and Big Cheese. He scrambled backwards, only to find his legs and neck restrained by enchanted chains.

It was with no small amount of effort that he sought to reform his body into his trademark swirl of shadow and pure evil, but he found his efforts failing in their entirety. A prod to his stomach confirmed that he was, indeed, as fleshy as any other pony.

His ears fell as he considered the ramifications of no longer being a creature of shadows. Was he no longer immortal? No, he now had the wings and horn of an alicorn, of course he was still immortal. Was it his ascension that caused his body to return to its original state of meat-bagginess? It had to be.

“It brings to the fore a slight predicament, you see,” Celestia said. Sombra found her eyes to be as hard as sparkling diamonds. “Alicorns are, by law, automatically promoted to the status of royalty.”

Luna sat beside her sister, a tiny smirk on her face. “I wonder who thought that law was a good idea?”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Regardless of who is at fault, they have presented us with a pretty little puzzle with your ascension.”

“I’m still curious about how you did it,” Luna said, her smirk ever-present.

“Crystals,” Sombra mumbled.

“Keeping on topic”—Celestia shot her sister a glare—“it seems that you are now an alicorn, and a prince of Equestria.”

Sombra felt his mouth twisting upwards in a smile.

“Which, though a bit of applied common sense, dictates that you are now a citizen of Equestria.”

Sombra’s smile fell ill.

“Dear Sister,” Luna gasped, “it sounds as though he falls within the laws of the land!”

“Indeed he does, Sister,” Celestia replied.

“Do you know what the law says is the penalty for coups and treason?” Luna asked, her smirk evolving into a grin. “I certainly do!”

Sombra was unsure what was more unsettling; that she talked of such things with lightness, or that she was so eager to share the experience with him.

He yanked feebly at his chains.

“Banishment,” Celestia said, “and imprisonment in the place you were banished to.”

He gnawed at his chains with his sharpened fangs.

“Where shall we send him, Sister?” Luna asked. “The Far Equestrian Wastes? Back to the center of the planet? Or perhaps someplace nastier?”

He briefly considered gnawing his legs off and squirming away.

A knock reverberated around the room, prompting the Royal Pony Sisters’ heads to turn to the door. Before either could so much as ask who it was, said portal slammed open to reveal a frazzled, grey-coated alicorn. His colored sunglasses sat eschew on his nose, and his mane stuck out at several points. “Do not harm a hair on that stallion’s head, I beg of you!”

Sombra and the sisters fell speechless. Hoity Toity stood before them, his chest heaving with every breath.

“Pardon?” Luna asked.

“That stallion, that beautiful stallion, is the future of fashion in Equestria!” Hoity proclaimed.

Celestia and Sombra exchanged a disbelieving glance. The princess shook her head in an attempt to return to her senses. “Who the whatnow?”

“Do you not see it!?” Hoity asked. “His masterfully crafted chest plate! His flowing red cape! His oh-so-regal crown!”

Celestia coughed. “Yes, his clothes do contain a hint of fabulousness... But I hardly think—”

“Please, Princess Luna! Princess Celestia!” Hoity Toity fell to his knees and lifted his forelegs beseechingly. “Release him under my watch! We cannot let his genius fall into obscurity!”

Luna looked over his shoulder and out the door. “Who even let you in?”

Celestia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish outta water. “I’m, um, I’m afraid that we cannot allow Sombra to leave. He is a highly dangerous prisoner, who has already tried to take over—”

“There he is!”

Four alicorns turned their heads, but there was no pony to whom the voice could have belonged to. Hoity shook his head and turned back to his princesses to continue the argument.

But then, of course, the wall exploded.

Celestia and Luna found themselves buried under rubble. Sombra gaped at the carnage, unable to move even as his enchanted chains fell from his legs. Hoity Toity was similarly immobilized by astonishment.

From the other side of the pile of former wall loped a pale yellow alicorn princess with bright green hair, curled at the ends. Miss Peachbottom’s eyes twitched as she glanced at the other three walls and the low ceiling above them. “Heh… Heh, I told you I’d find him!”

Her twitch turned to minor vibration as she gestured to the two alicorn stallions to follow her. “C-come on! We can still get outta here before the guards come to!”

Sombra lifted an eyebrow. “You knocked out the guards?”

“I told you to give me a chance to explain it to the princesses!” Hoity exclaimed. He pointed at the dazed mares reposing beneath the rubble. “Now we’re all wanted ponies!”

“I could fix that,” Sombra chuckled. His horn glowed as he leaned closer, closer, closer to the helpless princesses.

“No time for that, now!” Hoity Toity grasped Sombra’s tail and dragged him through the dungeon’s new window. He spread his wings and clumsily leapt into the air.

“Let me go!” Sombra ordered as he dangled upside down from Hoity’s hooves. His legs waved uselessly in the air. “Let me go, now!”

Peachbottom clapped her hooves together and flew after the retreating stallions. “Hot diggity! I got me a maaan!”





The not nearly spooky town of Hollow Shades resided in darkness. Ponies huddled in their homes, afraid to set foot outside. It was Zap Apple Season, and the timberwolves were on the prowl.

It was, in other words, Flim Flimflam’s favorite time of the year.

“Here comes another one!” Trixie Lulamoon, Princess of Illusions, screamed. She ducked a swipe of an arboreal claw and fired off a magic firework. The attacking timberwolf splintered into pieces. “How long does it stinking take to harvest one of those trees, anyhow!?”

Flim Flimflam, Prince of Zap Apple Cider and Its Derivatives, rustled around in the branches, knocking zap apples to the ground indiscriminately. “Any moment now! It just takes a little longer to do this by hoof, is all!”

Trixie bucked another wolf into oblivion with a snort. “Alright, how long until that doofy brother of yours fixes the stupid Super Speedy Cider Squeezy Six-thousand?”

Flim’s eyes darted towards town, where his brother was ostensibly repairing the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 in their recently-purchased garage-slash-bunker-slash-storefront. “It depends…”

“On what!?” Trixie growled. A timberwolf whimpered at the fearsome sound.

“On how long it takes him to realize that not Ribbon, nor Sky, nor especially Flower Wishes are at all interested in him romantically!”

On that note, dear readers, let us look in on the life of the more gloriously-mustachioed of the Flimflam brothers. While ’tis true that he lacks wings, and is thus a simple unicorn, he still retains a good portion of that famous Flimflam wit. His mechanical mind leads to marvels of machinery (the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 being the culmination of them all). His strategic genius led him towards profitable business ventures (though some were slightly sleazy, all were completely legal). His vast intellect was fed from a variety of sources both academic and experienced (he was a well-read dude).

All of that fell apart in the presence of a female of the species.

He sat in his office chair with a goofy smile on his mustachioed face while Ribbon Wishes, a pink-coated unicorn mare, signed a lengthy legal document. “Your garage passed the safety inspection—”

Flower Wishes, a pink-coated earth pony mare, interjected. “Your magical appliances are up to code—”

Sky Wishes, a pink-coated pegasus mare, finished for the lot of them. “And your bills are paid. Everything looks—”

“To be in order—”

“From what we can see.”

Flam blinked as his distracted mind parsed a sentence delivered from three sources. “That’s… Good.”

Ribbon Wishes nodded. “So, you’ll be opening your business tomorrow?”

Flam’s mustache twitched as his smile grew. “Yup.”

Sky Wishes folded up the various sheets of legality and fluttered for the door. “Well, I think that covers everything.”

Flower Wishes trotted towards the door. “We wish you the best of luck in your business.”

“You’re going already?” Flam asked.

The three Wishes turned to him with raised eyebrows. “Yes,” Sky said. “Unless there was something else?”

“NO! No, no, no, actually, no,” Flam replied. His horn glowed as he opened the door with a flourish. “Farewell, and adieu, Madams Wishes.”

The officious mares shared a bemused glance and walked out single-file.

As sneakily as possible, Flam sauntered over to the door, ostensibly to close it.

Ostensible is the word of the day for Flam Flimflam, it seems.

In reality, he was peering after the mares as they headed to their next appointment. He cursed himself for his inaction. Surely with three of them, one would have agreed to some sort of dinner date!

While he was at it, he supposed that he could lift the bally moon single-hornedly.

Flam was mildly surprised to find that their next appointment landed them next door, a small shop whose previous owner had fallen ill to “the madness.” That is, he had gone stark raving bonkers. They say that he lived at the edge of the forest, surviving on tree bark tea and raw toadstools.

The three Wishes disappeared inside the shop for quite some time. Enough time for Flam’s addled mind to realize that his goodself just sitting on his doorstep looked a little skeevy. He decided to go for the lesser of two skeevies and trotted over to the previously-empty establishment. Just to see what was new. Honest.

“And you say you’ll be opening tomorrow?” That had to be Flower Wishes. Or Sky Wishes. Or maybe Ribbon Wishes…

“Absolutely, madam!” a high male voice with a distinct Canterlot accent replied. “We’re certain to add a taste of high class to your little town!”

Flam allowed his curiosity to overtake him, and he gave himself fully over to the skeevy side. He slithered and slunked up to the window and peeked in. He saw the three Wishes standing before a gray alicorn stallion whose mane was, to put it lightly, about fifty percent hairspray. A pale yellow alicorn mare sat off to the side with a completely-innocent-not-at-all-guilty-of-hiding-the-pony-personification-of-evil cringe on her face.

Flam Flimflam mused on how oddly-specific her expression was.

Ribbon Wishes smiled. Flam gasped; Ribbon Wishes never smiled. None of the Wishes ever smiled. They nodded, they sighed, and occasionally they shrugged, but they never ever never smiled. They had lived in Hollow Shades for their entire lives; they had the smile beaten out of them at an early age.

In the little town of Ponyville, a tear ran down Pinkie Pie’s cheek.

“May we see the clothing you will be selling, Hoity Toity?” Ribbon asked.

“You don’t have to,” Flower said, “but if you wouldn’t mind—”

“We haven’t had much exposure to finery since those Flimflam brothers popped into town,” Sky Wishes explained. “And they’re not exactly the height of fashion …”

Flam pulled back in astonishment. He gripped his red-and-white-striped shirt and glowered. He was perfectly fashionable! By golly, he was the talk of the town in Fillydelphia.

Ten years ago.

Eh.

“I’m afraid the master is unavailable to showcase his items at this time,” Hoity said. “We will, however, be revealing everything tomorrow.”

The three Wishes returned to their usual disposition with a nod.

Flam scrambled away from the window as the thrice-unique mares vacated the premises. He came back to the window in time to watch Hoity Toity rub his hooves gleefully. “Not even open and we already have customers! Truly, Peachbottom, this was meant to be!”

“Yeah,” she muttered as she gazed at the four walls and the ceiling that entrapped her. “Can I go outside? Just for forever?”

“We must remain inside! You know how dangerous it is out there!” Hoity shivered at the thought. “Will-o’-the-wisps, timberwolves… I shan’t think of it!”

“Says the guy who outmaneuvered, outsmarted, and out knocked the Royal Guards.”

“Knocked out, my dear,” Hoity said, “but that’s beside the point.”

Flam felt a tingle go down his spine as the exchange passed by his ears. He crept away from the window in a daze and attempted to distance himself from the ponies that had fought the Guard and won. A sound caught his ear, coming from the back of the soon-to-be clothing shop.

It sounded like singing.

Skeeviness gave way to bemusement. A quick glance around confirmed that he was still in Hollow Shades and not, say, Las Pegasus. Now, he mused, who would be singing in a dark and dank and dreary little town like this?

He tippy-tippy-tiptoed around the iron-wrought fence that separated the back yard from the front. Years of neglect had left it merely a collection of twisted stakes in the ground. The song became clearer as he neared the rear of the structure.


“Clang by clang, forging it together
Weld the plates, being sure the spark of power flows
Making sure the alloy melts nicely
And protects should it come to blows
Ignoring nary an iota
This boot could demolish a pagoda
I’m forging my clothes line!”


Flam balanced on a discarded wooden box to see through a high window. His jaw dropped at the appearance of a large, muscular, imposing alicorn that stood head and shoulders above Hoity Toity, and pretty much any other stallion Flam could think of. And he’d met Big Macintosh.


“Chip by chip, cutting up the metal
Family crest, carving out the details inch by inch
Making sure the fabric dyes three times
Add a drop of blood, oh, just a pinch
Always have to mind my feeds and speeds
Have to balance both the wants and needs
Machining Hoity’s clothes!”


A mighty forge filled with fire blazed on the far side of the room. The stallion grasped a chunk of metal and began to beat it into submission with a hefty hammer and a steadfast anvil.


“Fashion is easy!
For Sky Wishes something pink
Flower Wishes wants a daisy
Ribbon covers her horn,
Do you think she is crazy?”


Flam’s eyes narrowed as he took in the gray and black alicorn. Between his accomplices fighting the Royal Guard, and his own imposing appearance and manner, the brother could only conclude that he was evil, and this was his villain song.


“Develop a rash, beneath the meshing
Chain mail coat, will not all of your foes die?
Making sure it fits with all the rest
We’ll avoid the magical distress
I’ll make this one ride low on the flank
This one will be built just like a tank
I’ll fill my money chest!”


“Dastardly,” muttered Flam Flimflam.


“Peace? Pah-lease!
Chip by chip
Cleats, sheaths, brace
Barding, rip
Pound by pound
Rolled and gorged
Take a trip
To the morgue
And that’s the heart of the forge!”


It was then and there that Flam vowed to fight the stallion’s evil, and make the world safe one more. He would race to the princesses and get the help of the Elements of Harmony, the bravest, most powerful heroes in the land (whom he most certainly had never met before). He would lead the charge on the little fashion shop to abolish the tyrannical tyranny that lay inside.

He lifted his forelegs in the air and gave a mighty shout of victory!

The box wobbled beneath his rear hooves and threw him off balance. He tumbled to the ground and bumped his head on a stray iron fence post.

He promptly fell unconscious for the remainder of the story.





“Isn’t he a pip?” Hoity remarked with a grin. “Didn’t I tell you he was a pip?”

Trixie Lulamoon looked up at the humorless face of the owner of… what was the place called again? A glance at the sign returned its name to the forefront of her mind: “Branded Fashion.” Eech. She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Nice place you got here, um, sir?”

“Indeed,” Sombra said. He turned on his rear hooves and marched away, leaving a nervous Hoity Toity standing beside a befuddled Trixie.

“A real pip,” Hoity mumbled.

“Yeah,” Trixie chuckled weakly. “I’ll just be perusing the… stuff.”

Armored suits lined the walls on both sides, while red capes hung on racks in the middle of the shop. Hoity himself wore a breastplate molded to look like his usual business suit, and his glasses were bright green, rather than their normal pinkish hue.

Peachbottom wore a daring, sheer suit of armor that only seemed to cover the barest of minimums, and most certainly would not protect from any sort of serious attack. A crown bedecked her mane, which had become an unruly mess despite hours of care. It probably had something to do with being kept inside for so long. She glanced after Sombra and pouted her lip. “I wonder why my Sweet Baboo hasn’t given me any attention since we went steady?”

“I am not your Sweet Baboo!” Sombra roared, frightening all of his customers. “And we are not dating!”

Peachbottom tittered. “You’re cute when you’re stupid.”

Sombra gagged and double-timed it to the doorway. He looked over his fashionables with excruciating detail, nodding occasionally at his worksponyship. A dingle in the air alerted him to the fact that his door had opened, and a new customer had entered the shop.

A pristine white mare strode confidently through the entrance, her head held high. A small smile sat situated on her features as she perused the potential purchases. She spotted Sombra’s head bouncing above the cape racks and waved a hoof. “Hellooo there! Would you be a dear and point me in the direction of the shop's owner?”

Sombra trotted up to her, letting his eyes run from her shining face, to her purple locks, to the three-crystal cutie mark that sat on her rump. “I am the owner,” he said with a grin that may have shown too much fang.

“Splendid!” she exclaimed. “I’m looking for a business suit; I was wondering if you could assist me?”

“I believe I have just the thing,” Sombra chuckled, taking her hoof in his own. “If you would just step this way?”

Peachbottom poked her head out from behind a wall of capes. She let out a gasp. “That hussy’s musclin’ in on my man!”

Hoity rolled his eyes, but then took the occasion to note just who the mare was. “My stars! It’s Lady Rarity!”

Peachbottom frowned. “Who now?”

“She’s an up-and-coming fashion designer from Ponyville,” Hoity said. “Her designs are quite magnificent.”

“Now that you mention it, she does look sorta familiar…”

Rarity gave an appropriate “ooh” as Sombra presented a set of armor to her. “My, the shoulder spikes certainly give it an air of authority, Mister—?”

Sombra blinked. He hadn’t actually considered what he would call himself, now that he was in hiding. “Dark…” He glanced around, begging the universe for some sort of inspiration. “Shadow…” He turned back to the mare with an uneasy grin. “Lightning?”

She nodded. “Well, Mister Dark Shadow Lightning, would you mind terribly if I tried it on?”

“Of course not,” he said. “The changing rooms are right over there!”

The mare disappeared behind the curtain, disregarding the fact that she couldn’t get any more naked than she already was.

Peachbottom licked her lips and snuck up beside the changing room. She held aloft the anvil from Sombra’s workshop, ready to bring the rain upon the “woman” who would steal her “man.” She yelped in surprise as Hoity Toity grabbed the hefty tool from her with a glare.

“No! No crushing the fashionista!” he commanded. “We like Lady Rarity!”

Peachbottom lifted a hoof weakly. “But-but my man—!”

“Peachbottom,” Hoity sighed, “if you love something, set it free. If it loves you back, it shall return.”

The pale-yellow pony pouted profusely. “Oh, he’d better come back!”

With a swish of the curtain, Rarity revealed herself, bedecked in a strikingly frightening ensemble. She was correct in her belief that the shoulder spikes lent an air of authority, and Sombra briefly felt the urge to bow.

It passed quickly, of course. He bowed to nopony.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“It is quite… invigorating,” she replied. She giggled into her hoof and took a step closer to him. “Yes, I do think I could get used to this look.”

“Excellent!” He held his head high and placed a hoof on the small of her back, leading her to the cash register. “Would you like to purchase it now, or have a look around?”

Rarity gasped at his touch. “Ah, well, that is…”

Silence fell as she gazed into his glowing green eyes. They seemed so familiar, like something from a dream, she had to guess. It was as if she already knew this… Dark Shadow Lightning from somewhere.

Though she knew she’d never forget that his forelegs were the size of her torso.

“Oh, definitely, definitely have a look around.”

Sombra’s fangs glimmered in the light. “Crystals…” he chuckled.

He turned back to speak further with the mare, but she had disappeared in the time it took to blink. He twisted his head this way and that, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her. “Pretty mare or no, she’s not leaving without paying.”

Rarity had been dragged backwards into a nearby cape rack, and found her mouth clamped shut by the super-strong hooves of a ticked off alicorn mare. “Now you listen here, Dark Shadow Lightning is my man, see? You keep your shiny little hooves offa him, see?”

Rarity sighed as she pushed Peachbottom’s hoof aside. “Suddenly I’m in a mobster movie. You say that he’s your beau?”

“I don’t know what that means, but he’s my Sweet Baboo, not yours!”

“I’m not your Sweet Baboo!” Sombra shouted into the shop, nearly inciting his customers to stampede.

Peachbottom’s eyes became dangerous slits. “You better watch yourself.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I shan’t dream of standing in the way of true love, of course. I’m sure you make a lovely couple.”

“We are not a couple!” Sombra shouted as he stomped a hoof. The entire building rattled, and a bevy of customers headed expediently for the exit.

Rarity gave Peachbottom a tight smile. “The prosecution rests.”

What happened next was wholly unexpected on Rarity’s part. She found herself bucked right out of the cape rack, sent flying across the room and behind the changing curtain. Hoity Toity grasped his mane and screamed aloud in shock. “What did I tell you about the fashionista!?”

Peachbottom tore through the shop, charging right for Rarity. The white unicorn poked her head out of a pile of discarded garments and gave a tiny whimper of defeat. Hoity intercepted the galloping assailant midway, changing her trajectory to fly through the wall beside Rarity.

Sombra gazed at the destruction surrounding him with a frown. He offered Rarity a hoof, which she took gratefully. “Well, seeing as how my store has been utterly destroyed, would you care for brunch?”

Rarity nodded, and the two set forth for Hollow Shades’ only restaurant.

Neither of the newborn alicorns knew much about flying. Neither Hoity nor Peachbottom had taken the opportunity to practice beyond airlifting Sombra into Hollow Shades. So they weren’t the most graceful things in the air as they tumbled through the sky, fighting tooth and hoof. Their path was more parabolic arc than flight plan, and their combat was more slap fight than epic struggle for survival.

They didn’t stop until the collided with a rather sturdily-built wall, one that could hold up to even Peachbottom’s headlong charges. The wall was, ironically enough, located in Cloudsdale and constructed entirely from cloudcrete.

Hoity Toity stumbled to his feet and attempted to gain his bearings. He looked up at the cloud-built building in puzzlement. “Cloudsdale… Army… Barracks? Oh, dear.”

“Hey, check it out!” Peachbottom exclaimed, holding up an image of both of their faces. “We’re famous!”

Hoity’s eyes widened as he read the red letters below his visage. “Well, not so much famous…”

The clank of metal sounded from all sides. An entire flight of pegasi guards stood at the ready as they glared at the two ponies before them.

“As infamous.”





Peachbottom reclined on her cell’s bed, deep in Canterlot’s dungeon. She and Hoity had both pleaded temporarily insanity, though how effective it would be was up to the judge and the jury of their peers. “He woulda made for a pretty nasty boyfriend anyhow.”

“And an entire clothing line of armor may have been a bit much,” Hoity Toity agreed. He paced back and forth in their cell, his wings flapping agitatedly. “It’s only a matter of time before he turns back to evil.”

“Hindsight being twenty-twenty,” Peachbottom said, “I’m kinda sorry for bonking the princesses on the head.”

“And I’m sorry for socking that one soldier in the jaw,” Hoity sighed. “Dashed inconsiderate of me.”

They sat in silence, awaiting their fate, whatever it may be. Peachbottom lifted her head and smiled at Hoity. “Does this mean we’re going steady?”

Hoity bashed his head against the bars with a groan.





Rarity smiled at Sombra, and Sombra smiled back at her. The roar of timberwolves drifted softly in the background as they clinked their glasses of aged berry juice together.

“I must say, I’ve had a lot of fun today,” Rarity tittered.

The screams of Flim Flimflam and Trixie Lulamoon rose behind her as they raced for their garage with a payload of zap apples.

Sombra chuckled. “Perhaps we should do this again sometime?”

“Oh, indeed,” Rarity replied after taking a sip of her drink.

Slowly, creepingly, a wicked grin spread across King Sombra’s face.
> Blank Flank Ascension; or, A Very Alicorn Hearth's Warming Eve
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




TAGS: [Slice of Life] [Sad]




A storm howled through Canterlot on Hearth’s Warming Eve. It was the result of an unfortunate scheduling flub that would no doubt get some poor bureaucrat fired the following day. The gales were strong and the snow was heavy. Ponies were stranded with the relatives they were visiting. No trains moved, and any airships that took flight would be dashed against the side of the mountain.

All was cold. Except where it was not.

A light shined bright from a window in downtown Canterlot. The hearth inside was warm, as were the smiles on its caretakers’ faces. Cookies were eaten as stories of old were shared.

The sign outside said “Homely House,” and you were very welcome.





Luna flipped her clipboard end-over-end in midair, her face blank. It had been a good three hours since the last ascended pony had trotted through the ethereal, higher-plane-of-existence, who-exactly-cares-what-it-is alicorn welcome center. It had been a good three weeks since they had experienced a real boom of new royals.

She turned to Celestia, who was reposing on a nearby lawn chair with a cup of iced tea in hoof. “This is not how I imagined spending my Hearth’s Warming Eve."

Celestia pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead. “Give it a few more minutes, Luna. I’ll take an hour of relaxation over ten minutes of nothing but ascensions as far as the eye can see.”

“Verily, it hath been three.”

“Details.” Celestia waved a hoof and settled her sunglasses over her eyes. “You’ll have to excuse me for ignoring them for once in my life.”

“A dangerous pastime, that,” Luna mumbled. “Very well, a few minutes more.”

Her clipboard vanished into thin air, and a cup of fresh-brewed coffee appeared in its place. She blew the steam away and took a dainty sip. “We must award Donut Joe a medal one of these days.”

“Prince Donut Joe,” Celestia corrected. “He ascended a few months ago, you remember.”

“Aye.” Luna felt a tiny smirk arrest her features. “Mayhap you should just marry him and be done with it, then.”

Celestia sat up with a start. “Wha—?”

“Lo, he shall not propose with a wedding ring,” Luna chuckled, “but a glazed doughnut!”

“Delicious though his donuts may be…” Celestia refilled her tea and adjusted her seat. “I think you’re being a little silly.”

“Alas, a chocolate-frosted love that can never be!”

“Hmm.” Celestia made herself comfy once more. “Does this give me permission to tease you about a certain bright-red farmer?”

Luna’s cheeks heated. “Aha. Let us not be too hasty.”

“The flowing mane”—Celestia stuck out a hoof—“the strong legs, the tasteful cutie mark!”

Luna pouted. “You are enjoying this a might too much.”

“Eeyup,” Celestia said with a grin.

A flash of light stole their attentions. It was some distance away, at least as far as distance registered in the mystic realm. Coffee, tea, and lawn chair vanished as Luna’s clipboard reappeared. Moving pictures zipped by as Celestia spread her wings and raised a regal hoof. “My little pony, congratulations on your ahh… Huh?”

Luna hadn’t been watching the new arrival so much as she had been watching the moving images fly past. She wasn’t sure what, but something seemed just a wee bit off. As she turned to see what had surprised her sister, that particular something came clear. None of the pictures had shown their ascendee to be any older than a small foal.

The principal reason being that the new princess did not yet have a cutie mark.

“Well,” Luna muttered, “this is new.”

She was a small, purplish filly with a pink mane. Her horn was tiny, and her wingspan barely looked wide enough for her to fly. She looked up with wet, fearful, blue eyes. She gasped as the princesses registered in her memory, and she dipped into a hasty bow.

“There is no need for that, little one,” Celestia said in a small, hushed voice. She traded a quick glance with Luna and lowered her head to the filly. “What is your name?”

The alicorn filly looked up and mouthed something inaudible.

“It is alright,” Celestia said. “All will be well. What is your name?”

“Eh—Ember,” the filly squeaked. “Me name is Ember. Your Majesties”

“Ember…” Luna knelt down beside the filly and smiled as best she could. “Can you tell us how you came by these… how you came by your new additions?”

Ember buried her head in her hooves. Luna looked up at Celestia, who gave a slight shrug. “Ember,” Celestia said, “would you perhaps like something nice to eat?”

That got the filly’s attention. She poked one blue eye outside of the protective barrier of her hooves.

Celestia smiled. “We have a chef at the castle who can cook up anything you’d like to eat. Anything at all.”

Ember got to her feet and tilted her head. “Am I dead?”

Celestia couldn’t help the bark of laughter she had. “No, of course not! You have just ascended to the status of alicornhood! You are a new princess of Equestria!”

Ember’s eyes widened even further than Luna thought they were capable of. “Y-you mean et?” the filly gasped.

“Yes, my little pony,” Celestia chuckled. “I mean it.”

Ember grinned as she spun around, as if looking for somepony. Luna watched as her grin waned and fell. She looked back up at her two sovereigns with a furrowed brow. “Did… were there any oother princesses t’day?”

Luna shook her head. “Nay, not for a least three hours. Even then, thou art the only girl we have seen today.”

Ember’s ears drooped. Plummeted, really. Her shoulders sagged alongside her wings.

Celestia placed a hoof in the filly’s back. “Let us get a bite to eat, and then you can tell us about your story, hmm?”

Ember said nothing, but allowed herself to be led out of the alicorn welcome center.

Luna raised an eyebrow as they teleported away. “Shoo-be-doo, but this shall be interesting.”





Sue Chef hovered around the back of Ember’s chair as the filly picked at the food laid out before her. The chef prided herself in being able to guess a pony’s favorite food based on a mere few minutes of conversation. Sue found herself mildly frustrated at this customer, due to the fact that Ember hadn’t said a word since her arrival in the palace.

So Sue guessed.

And she guessed, and she guessed, and she guessed.

And still, Ember did not “dig in.”

“I don’t understand it!” Sue groaned. “She’s thin as a rail; she should be ravaging that table by now!”

Mounds of food lay before the child. Istallion food, potatoes in the style of Prance, green leaves from the highest of Joshua trees… She’d brought all her culinary guns to bear.

She stuck two spoons in Ember’s mouth and pulled it open. “Are you ill, child?” she asked as she took a gander.

“Sue…” Celestia gently removed the spoons from both mouth and hooves. “Please leave her be.”

Sue Chef gave her sovereign a nod. “Very well. But if she wastes away to nothing, on your own head be it!” She trotted away with a hiked tail and a raised snout.

Celestia leaned over Ember. “You know, this food is very, very good.” She levitated a spoon to her mouth and sucked on a dollop of pudding. “Mm. You should try some!”

“B-beggin’ yer pardon,” Ember whispered, “boot I cannae eat. I cannae—”

She fell silent. Celestia set down the spoon with a sigh. “Whatever is troubling you, Ember, I promise I will do everything I can to help you.”

When the filly said no more, Celestia stood. “You’ll be staying in the castle until we can contact your family.” She cocked her ear in hopes of catching a word or two. “We could find them a lot faster if you told us who they are.”

Ember didn’t look at her. Celestia pursed her lips. “You’re sure to have pleasant dreams tonight, with Luna guarding them.”

“May I go to bed?” Ember asked.

Celestia glanced out the window; the sun had sunk beneath the horizon some time before. “I don’t see why not.”

She nodded to a guard. “Stonewall, would you escort Princess Ember to a guest room?”

The royal guardspony raised her hoof in a salute. “Yes, Marm.”





Celestia walked down the hallways, alone. Her brow furrowed in thought. She heard hoofsteps racing up behind her and pointedly ignored them.

“Princess Celestia,” a stallion called out. “Oh, Princess Celestia! I must have a word with you!”

Celestia sighed. “Must you?” she asked without turning around.

Kibitz, the elderly Royal Scheduling Advisor, gasped as he pulled up alongside her. “Your Majesty, your schedules are piling up! Fancy Pants is filing a restraining order against Discord, Fillydelphia is requesting your presence for a theater’s grand opening, and Bluemane wishes to speak with you about the budget!”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Kibitz, take a note, please.”

Kibitz produced a scroll. He levitated it before his face. “At your word, Your Majesty.”

“Fancy Pants,” she said, “I’m afraid that we cannot restrain a force of nature. We can, however, explain to him that he should leave you alone. If we get Fluttershy to deliver the message, I’m sure the draconequus will restrict himself to covering your house with toilet paper on Nightmare Night.”

Kibitz wrote swiftly and franticly as Her Royal Highness continued. “To the Ponies of Fillydelphia, I am sorry that I will be unable to attend the opening ceremony. I will, however, be delighted to attend a show at some point in the near future.”

Celestia pursed her lips. “Leave the note on my desk so that I may sign and date it.”

Kibitz’s moustache bounced as he nodded. “And the matter of Prince Bluemane?”

“I’ll deal with my nephew.” Celestia stretched her wings. “Where is he now?”

“I believe he is supping on the west balcony, Your Majesty,” Kibitz said.

“Thank you, Kibitz,” Celestia said. She flew away, leaving the Royal Scheduling Advisor to enjoy his much-more structured day.

She hovered before one of the castle’s larger windows. She could see the west balcony in the distance, with its lovingly-carved railing and its myriad tables, looming large against the side of the mountain. The snow fell and the wind howled, but a protective barrier shielded the actual balcony from the cold. With a flash of her horn, she teleported herself into a sea of astonished admirers and hopeful politicians.

“I’m here to see Bluemane,” she said. Most of the crowd dispersed, only a few remaining to ask her just one favor or, more politely, to point the way. She ignored the former and thanked the latter as she moved around tables and ponies.

She took a seat across from an older stallion. His silvery-bluish mane swished around his shoulders as he looked up from a corncob. “Aunt Celestia. It is an honor to meet with you.”

“It doesn’t happen as often as it used to, does it?” Celestia looked up as a nervous waitress skittered into view. “Just a glass of orange juice, please.”

Bluemane swallowed a bite. “Trying something besides coffee?”

“It’s not that, so much.” Celestia ruffled her wings. “I would just like to actually get a hint of sleep tonight.” Her eyebrows lowered. “And I would like to get a hint about why the budget sits so heavy on your mind.”

Prince Bluemane looked to the left and right. He leaned conspiratorially across the table. “There’ve been rumors of a new ascension.”

“Hardly surprising in this day and age,” Celestia said. “Your point?”

“A special ascension,” Bluemane whispered. “A blank-flank ascension.”

Celestia resisted her lip’s urge to scowl. Instead, she pressed her lips together. Firmly. “Who blabbed?”

“I overheard Sue Chef talking with one of the maids.” Bluemane looked off to the side as he thought. “Lacy, I think. I would have asked her directly if Stonewall hadn’t walked into the room.” He shrugged. “You know how she is with rumors.”

“I know how I am with rumors,” Celestia said. She narrowed her glare. “And this one stops immediately, do you understand?”

Bluemane’s gray face paled a shade. “Um, yes, Your Majesty. Auntie.”

Celestia leaned back as the waitress nearly dropped her orange juice in her lap. “Easy, my little pony. Thank you.” She sipped at her glass. “What does the new ascension have to do with the budget?”

Prince Bluemane tapped his hooves together. “I’m sure you’ve heard the other rumors.”

“About how I’m raising an army of alicorns to take over the world?” Celestia took a gulp of juice. “I like the political cartoons about that one. Very silly.”

“N-no.” Bluemane shook his head, images of little alicorn warriors scattering from his mind. “The one about how you’re going to place the country into a depression paying for all these coronations.”

Celestia blinked. She leaned back. “Explain.”

“Well, all these coronations can’t be cheap.” Bluemane took a bite of his corn. “Not even when we did the whole assembly-line thing a while back. And believe me, there were complaints from the nobility before, but… Now it seems like anypony can ascend. Even blank-flanks! How many will ascend? We’ll be drained dry by immortals!”

Celestia leaned to the side as the waitress dribbled orange juice on her seat amidst efforts to refill her glass. She sighed as a couple of very-nervous hooves clutched very-damp napkins. “Bluemane, are my personal accounts at all tied with the royal coffers?”

“Um…” Bluemane’s ear tipped down. “Not at all, no.”

“Right.” Celestia downed her orange juice in a single gulp. “Now, how rich am I?”

Bluemane sucked on his lower lip. “The adjectives ‘filthy’ and ‘stinking’ come to mind.”

Celestia nodded. “It comes from centuries of buying land, selling it, gathering a princess’ salary, and frugal saving.” She waved away the waitress’ attempted third refill. “Plus a really, really nice interest rate from the bank. And a thousand years of birthday presents.”

Celestia leaned forward. “Now, how much of that do you suppose it takes to purchase a crown?”

“Um—”

“A fraction of a percent.” Celestia tapped the table. “I’ve paid for every single coronation out of my own pocket. Has this fact escaped the nobilities’ collective brains?”

“Well…” Bluemane shrugged, his hooves held akimbo. “Not every coronation. Blueblood’s—”

“Your son paid for his coronation out of his pocket.” Celestia’s eye twitched. “Though I did help clean up the robot parts.”

Bluemane inhaled slowly. “And the blank-flank?”

“I’ll speak to her parents about it.” Celestia stood and extended her wings. “Until then, she’ll be staying with me.”

Bluemane hugged his forelegs around himself. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell the nobles?”

“I want you to do it this time,” Celestia said. “All you need to do is say that I’m paying out of pocket.”

Bluemane sighed. “I don’t—”

“Please, Nephew.” Celestia placed a hoof on his shoulder. “Stretch yourself. Just this once.”

Bluemane turned his eyes to the ground. “Yes, Aunt Celestia. I’ll try.”

Celestia smiled and placed a kiss on her nephew’s forehead. She was about to take off when Bluemane hailed her. “Be careful out there! The pegasi have gone all out with their winter storm!”

She turned, winked, and then disappeared in a blink.





Luna sat beneath the bell in her observatory. Mirrors lined the walls, in each of which was reflected a dream. Though the dreams seemed randomly selected, they were sorted by level of activity. And anxiety. The most frantic flashed into view long enough for Luna to decide whether she was needed to interfere.

The Nightmares tended to be the most violent dreams. They always held a firm spot in the queue.

Luna stared at the mirrors. The light of her moon shone through her small balcony’s doorway, giving her a cool sense of peace.

Her coat stood on end as she sensed fear. Her ears stood straight up as she caught sight of an anguished, wailing filly in one mirror. “I know that face. Ember!”

She shut her eyes and focused. When she opened them, she found herself in the Unencumbered Unconscious; “Dreamland” in layman’s terms. It was a blank plane, much like the alicorn welcome center. Unlike that endless expanse of emptiness, this realm was filled to the brim with stars.

Each star was a dream.

Most twinkled brightly as the ponies within dreamed pleasant dreams, or at least dreams that wouldn’t lead to a few years of therapy. There was one, on the other hoof, that flashed a violent red. Luna made a beeline for this dream, her mouth a grim line.

She touched the dream with her hoof. She was immediately overcome with a sense of cold. Chill. Ice. Frostbite. It combined with the fear to form an intense cocktail of unpleasantness.

She lowered the hoof, squared her stance, and then touched the tip of her horn to the dream.





Luna shook her wings, breaking the layer of ice that coated them. Shards flew from her feathers as she flapped. She sniffed back the snot that threatened to freeze on the end of her nose. She blinked bits of frost out of her eyes and looked around.

Her world was ice. Giant icicles, stretching for the sky. Stalactites, reaching for the ground. Snow everywhere. No sun, no moon, just black and white.

And then there was the small, purple filly who lay in a snowdrift.

Ember stared at a block of ice sitting a few feet away. Sobs wracked the girl’s body, and her tears froze on her cheeks. She didn’t look up as Luna approached, nor as the princess took a seat beside her.

Luna put a hoof on the filly’s back. “It will be alright, my little pony. I am here to help.”

“Y-ye cannae help. Ye cannae help.” Ember wiped her eyes on her foreleg. “Et’s all gone wrong.”

“I know…” Luna bit her lip. “I can feel that you’re angry. I can feel that you’re afraid. But you don’t have to be afraid alone.”

“But ye dinnae un’erstand why!” Ember gasped. “There’s nae fixin’ this! There’s nae makin’ it better!”

“I promise,” Luna said, “that my sister and I shall do anything and everything in our power to help you.”

“Sh-she’s dead!” Ember choked out. She pointed at the block of ice as more of her tears froze. “She’s dead an’ et’s all my fault an’ I got to be an alicorn an’ she dinnae an’ et’s not fair!”

Luna looked close. A shade of something other than white could be seen deep within the cube. It was sort of a lighter orange.

Ember buried her face in her hooves. Her horn glowed. “And ye cannae fix et.”





Luna blinked as she came awake. She looked about her in a daze for a moment, before ringing the bell with a tug of her magic. Several Royal Guards entered her observatory and saluted. “Your Majesty?”

“To the guest room,” Luna said. “Number five. I fear for the filly inside.”

She turned to one guard. “I need you to get Celestia. She’ll want to be there for this.”

They galloped through the castle, passing through hallways and galleries. After nearly trampling some poor servant or another, Luna took to the air. They met Celestia at the room in less than five minutes.

“Is something wrong with Ember?” Celestia asked.

Luna walked up to the door. “She had a bad dream. I tried to help her, but she kicked me out.”

Celestia gave her sister a double-take. “She kicked you out? Ponies can do that?”

“Ember can.” Luna paused with her hoof on the door handle. “Celestia, she is far more distraught than we had thought.” She looked Celestia in the eye. “You know what can happen when an alicorn gets upset.”

Celestia’s mouth made tiny, mute movements. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Luna nodded, and then pushed the door open.

The bed sat unmade in the middle of the room. The cute little vanity, with its simple brushes and glistening mirror, lay untouched. The window had been thrown open, letting in the howling gale.

There was an utter lack of little filly in the room.

Snow had collected beneath the window sill. Celestia’s hoof crunched against it as she stared out into the night. Luna came up beside her, her eyes wide. “Wh-what should we do?”

“We find her.” Celestia gritted her teeth. “We can’t stop the storm, but we sure as hay can brave it.”





Lightning Dust was already sick of snow. She shouldered aside a cumulonimbus as she cleared a pathway through the dark Canterlot skies. She then punted it all the way to Ponyville for good measure. “’Cuz cuss Ponyville, that’s why.”

She shivered as she touched down on a nearby rooftop. She snorted and pushed a heap of snow off of the roof. She watched it fall, noting with mild annoyance that there was nopony passing by below to get buried by the airborne snowdrift. “Stupid Rainbow Dash and her stupid friendship stupidness.”

She opened a nearby skylight and slipped in. The air inside the building was only slightly warmer than outside, but it was still something. She snorted as she approached a hearth, where a few dim embers glowed within. The sound of contended snores came from a nearby busted couch.

She tilted the couch forward, sending its payload tumbling onto the hardwood floor. That payload rose to its feet, revealing a colt covered in a heavy, stallion-sized coat. “Oy!? Who’s there!?”

Lightning Dust leaped nimbly over the back of the couch and made herself comfortable. “It’s just me, Artful. Go stir the coals, will yah?”

“Fine way to say ‘hullo,’” Artful mumbled. He grasped a poker in his teeth and set about sticking it in the remains of the fire. “Hardly expected you to come back.”

“Can’t stay away,” Lightning said. “I’m too afraid that you’re gonna get everypony killed.”

Artful tossed a small log into the hearth. “Well, imagine moi delight to have a visit from a highfaluting alicorn princess. Thankee, Majesty.”

“You’re gonna be eating that poker, Dodger.” Lightning Dust stretched out, careful not to poke her horn into the couch’s armrest. “Besides, shouldn’t Ember be working the fire? I thought that was kinda her thing.”

“Ain’t heard a peep,” Artful Dodger said. “But then, oi’ve been asleep.”

He set a hat upon his head. It used to be a stovepipe hat, before years of wear and tear turned it into something of an accordion. The top of the hat flapped open as he turned his head. “Ember! Where’ve you got to? Amber? Either of you?”

Lightning Dust stood and unfurled her wings. “Stay here, I’ll get them.”

It was a very small house. It had two rooms, an upper and lower. The walls were thin. It was sparsely furnished.

It didn’t take long to realize that it was empty.

Lightning Dust zipped back to Artful Dodger and grasped his oversized collar. “Where in the cuss are they, Artful!? You were supposed to watch them!”

“Oi dunno! Oi dunno!” Artful Dodger’s eyes jumped around the room. “Th-they said somethin’ about goin’ to the Homely House for Hearth’s Warming, but oi told ’em the storm was too dangerous!”

“Cuss right it’s too dangerous!” She rose into the air with Artful tucked under her foreleg. “That’s why we’re going out to find them!”

She opened the skylight and was met with a blast of winter wind. She tossed Artful Dodger onto the roof, and then followed him up with a snort. “How long have they been gone!?” she shouted over the wind.

“Oi dunno!” Artful adjusted his hat and buttoned his coat. “Maybe three hours?”

“That’s too long!” She put her hooves on his shoulders and shook. “You—you start walking towards the Homely House. I’ll take a look from the sky!”

“Can oi at least get a lift to the ground?” he asked.

There was a scream as Artful Dodger tumbled off of the roof. He landed in the snow bank Lightning Dust had shoveled onto the ground. He rose and shook himself free of flakes. “Fat lot of help you are!”

“Shut up and find the girls!” Lightning Dust screeched. She soared off into the distance, her wings battling against the elements.

Artful raised his collar, pulled his hat down, and began a long trudge through the snow. “Stupid Hearth’s Warming.”

Lightning Dust’s sweeping search pattern over the city was met with buffeting wind, blistering hail, and many, many cusses. Her eyes stung, and she wished for the foresight to have worn goggles from Cloudsdale. Above her, the sky was bitter gray. Beneath her, the land was nothing but black and white.

Except for that little dash of purple on that little rooftop.

She dove at the colored dot, bringing her wings tight against her body. She weaved as the wind threatened to grip her, but she was going too far too fast for it to do any more than bug her. She opened her wings at just the right moment to pull her up in an arc, and she settled down beside the small filly in a flurry of snow. “Okay, how’d a unicorn get all the way… up… here?”

Lightning Dust looked down as Ember looked up. She blinked as the girl unfurled two petite wings. “When did that happen?”

Ember buried her face in Lightning Dust’s chest. “I dunno! I dunno why!”

Lightning wrapped her forelegs around Ember. “Whoa, hay, hay. I, uh…”

“She’s gone!” Ember cried. “Amber’s gone!”

Lightning Dust blinked at the filly in her embrace. Her mouth hung open as she hesitantly patted the girl’s back. “Em, what happened?”

Tears froze to Ember’s cheeks as she spoke.





“Cam on, Amber!” Ember pulled her ratty scarf tighter around her neck. Her legs grew numb as she cantered through the snow. “W-we gorra keep moving.”

Two fillies walked through the dark side streets of Canterlot. Snow fell in blankets, chilling them to their bones. The taller, purplish filly wrapped a foreleg around the smaller, light-orange one’s shoulders. “Dinnae worry Amber, the Homely House’ll be oopen. I’m sure of et!”

“W-will they have Hearthswarming Eve cookies?” Amber asked. She shivered as she pulled a wet leg out of a snow bank.

“Oodles,” Ember said. She tugged Amber’s coat back, though it still refused to cover the smaller girl’s rear. “Why, I heard that the Lady Rarity brought up a whole box of ’em. All the way froom Ponyville!”

Amber stumbled. Ember caught her and held her steady.

“I like the Lady Rarity,” Amber mumbled. Her eyelids drooped. “She’s nice.”

“N-now you stay with me.” Ember grasped the smaller filly’s face in her hooves. “Et’s oonly a bit more, see? Joost need to stay awake.”

Snow crunched underfoot as they made their ponderous way through the snow. Amber rubbed a foreleg over her runny nose. “We should have stayed.”

“No!” Ember nudged the other filly onward. “Um, Artful disnae like Hearth’s Warming. We dinnae want to be a boother.”

Amber stared blankly ahead. She shook her head and blinked. “Why doesn’t Artful like Hearth’s Warming?”

“Noone of oour business,” Ember said.

“Oh.” Amber looked down at her hooves. “I don’t feel as cold as before.”

Ember’s ears stood straight up. “Amber…” She swiveled her head. Their destination was maybe twenty steps away. “Et… Et’s joost a little farther.”

“But I’m sleepy.” Amber tilted on her right hooves. “Wanna…”

She flopped over into the snow.

Ember screeched. She pulled Amber’s legs, dragging her closer to the Homely House. She lost feeling in her lips. She looked up, and saw movement on the other side of the house’s window. She stumbled up to the door and tripped on a loose stone. She knocked.

There was no answer.

She knocked harder, faster. She pounded against the door with all her might. She sobbed as she leaned against the door, her strength spent.

She heard footsteps trotting up to the door. A voice said, “Who would be out in this awful row?”

Ember’s eyes dimmed. She couldn’t speak. She looked back and saw that Amber lay ten steps away, out of the sightline of anypony who opened the door.

She was, however, right in line with the window.

Ember concentrated on her horn, picked up the loose stone in her telekinesis, and chucked it at the window. She tumbled off of the stoop into a snow bank, and fell asleep to the sound of glass shattering.





“Why did I get to be an alicorn and she died!?” Ember wailed. “Et isnae fair!”

Frost collected on Lightning Dust’s mane. She licked her lips. “Wh-what in the heck were you two doing out!? Artful told you it was dangerous!”

Ember pushed away from Lightning Dust. “I, I joost wanted to be brave like you! An’, an’ nae afraid!”

“Nae smart, either!” Lightning Dust extended her wings as her ears lay flat against her head. “I don’t do something I know will get me killed!”

“Y-ye do, too!” Ember’s horn flared. “Ye say so all the time!”

A bolt of magic shot from Ember’s horn. It hit Lightning Dust’s chest with kinetic force, blowing her back into a chimney. Ember threw her hooves over her mouth and screamed. “Lightning! I dinnae mean to! I dinnae mean to!”

“I’m okay!” Lightning Dust shouted. She teetered to her feet. “I’m fine. It’s okay. It was an accident.”

She bit her lip, then held her forelegs out to Ember. “Just an accident.”

Ember ran into her embrace. They shivered together on the rooftop. Lightning Dust sighed. “This… this is all just a big, dumb, stupid accident.”

“No it’s not, my little ponies.”

Princess Celestia’s white body blended in with the howling snow. Only her eyes and her pastel mane stood out against it. “I have to believe that this happened with a purpose.”

Lightning Dust shifted her body around so that she was between Celestia and Ember. “Wh-what do you want?”

Celestia pressed her lips together. “I want to make sure that Ember is safe.”

“W-well good for you.” Lightning Dust hugged the filly tighter. “She’s safe. You can go now.”

“Lightning Dust, I’m so sorry for the way I treated you,” Celestia said. The corners of her mouth turned down, and her eyes strained. “I just want to help.”

“Y-you wanna help?” Lightning Dust asked. “D-don’t applaud, just throw money.”

“Fine,” Celestia said, breathless. “I’ll throw money. I’ll throw in my time, too. She is a very special filly, Lightning Dust.”

“I know!” Lightning said. “I’ve known all along!” She shook some of the snow out of her mane. “But—but with you it takes some cataclysmic crud to bring you down out of your shiny little castle with the normal ponies!”

Celestia’s wings flared. “I do what I can!”

“You do what you want!” Lightning Dust screamed.

“Shut up!” Ember howled. She glared at the two princesses in turn. She sniffed. “Et disnae matter.”

She slumped on the rooftop. “I dinnae matter.”

Lightning Dust stood. “You—You cut that kinda talk out, do you hear me? You’re important, Ember! You’re important to me, and Artful, and… and…” She stole a glance at the sovereign beside her. “And Celestia.”

Celestia looked at Lightning Dust. She tilted her head to the small filly, her eyes pleading. Lightning sucked in a breath, shut her eyes, and nodded.

Celestia lay down next to Ember and wrapped a wing around her. “Ember, you’ve done something nopony has ever done before. Several somethings, now. You have the makings of greatness in you. I’ll help you find that greatness.”

“But…” Ember shook her head. “But ye cannae bring Amber back.”

Celestia stared into the storm. Hot tears burned behind her eyes. “No, I can—”

“Sister!” a voice called out. “Sister! Have you found Ember?”

Celestia sighed. “Yes, Luna! I’ve found her.”

Luna landed on the rooftop, a small smile on her face. Artful Dodger jumped off of her back, his eyes spinning. “The ragamuffin and I have found something, Ember,” Luna said. “Something wonderful. Would you like to see?”

Ember sniffed. “Found what?”

Luna’s eyes twinkled. “A lighthouse in the storm.”





Rarity tucked the quilt tighter around the little orange filly. She placed a small kiss on her forehead. “Wake up, Amber. You have visitors.”

Amber opened her eyes. She was met with the fairly frightening sight of three alicorn princesses hovering over her bed. “Hi,” she squeaked.

“Amber!” Ember said. She crawled up on the bed beside Amber. “You’re okay!”

She looked up at Rarity. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Oh, of course, dear.” Rarity smiled, her eyes turning to the princesses. “She’ll be fine. She just needs a bit of rest and recuperation.”

She stood and walked around the bed. She bowed to Celestia. “It’s a bit of a miracle, Your Majesties. If somepony hadn’t thrown a rock through the window, we’d have never found the poor filly.”

Ember lay beside Amber and nuzzled her mane. “I’m sorry, Amber.”

“I… It’s like you said,” Amber muttered. “We’re spending Hearth’s Warming at the Homely House.”

Rarity walked towards the door. “Your Majesties”—she looked at Lightning Dust with a raised brow—“Your Highness, would you like to join in the festivities? I can’t imagine you’d like to fly back to the castle in this muck.”

Luna looked up to her sister. Celestia smiled. “We would love to.”

Lightning Dust sat and stared at the two fillies on the bed. “Thanks. I’m just gonna sit here with them for a while.”

“Of course,” Rarity said.

The three of them entered a larger room than the bedroom. A cloth covered the window, which billowed occasionally in the wind. The sound of accordion music drowned out the buffeting winds, and the smell of warm cookies brought smiles to a myriad of faces. Ponies old and young gathered around the hearth, either talking amongst themselves, or listening to Cheese Sandwich play the night away.

Rarity gasped and spun on Artful Dodger. “Excuse me, young ruffian! Put my necklace back this instant! Honestly!”

Luna leaned over the colt with a grin on her muzzle. “You’d best do as she says, Ragamuffin. One does not tangle with the Bearer of the Element of Generosity.”

Artful Dodger raised an eyebrow. “Ragamuffin?” He tipped his hat, produced the necklace, and slunk away.

Rarity slid the fire ruby necklace around her neck and sniffed. “Some ponies. Honestly.”

Rarity smiled at Celestia. “While we’re on the subject of generosity, Cheese and I are very grateful for your latest donation. I think the Homely House is an unmitigated success.” She looked over the room as ponies danced and leaned on her hoof. “I just wish I could be here more often.”

“You do what you can, Rarity.” Celestia nuzzled the unicorn. “Thank you.”

Rarity trotted off, perhaps to greet another pony, perhaps to prevent her sister from eating a twentieth cookie. Celestia sat at the back of the small crowd and bounced to the beat of the song. “So, Luna, what have we learned today?”

“I suspect is has something to do with Hearth’s Warming?” Luna chugged a cup of hot cocoa. She blew steam out of her nose. “And miracles?”

“Play us another one, Mr. Sandwich!” one filly called out. The pony with the accordion laughed as he started up an upbeat song. It was rather silly, something about stomping weasels or daring stupidity or something like that.

“Most likely,” Celestia said. “But also that sacrificing yourself for another is powerful, powerful magic.”

Luna tilted her head towards her sister. “You believe that is what triggered Ember’s ascension?”

“It could be little else.” Celestia shrugged. “Unless there’s call for a Princess of Busted Windows.”

“Well, give it a few years,” Luna said. “There’s bound to be somepony down the line.”

“Ha.” Celestia levitated a mug from across the room. “Maybe one day, if the world grows silly enough.”

She raised her mug to Luna. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Sister.”

Luna clinked their mugs together. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Celestia.”





Lightning Dust walked up to the bed and laid her chin on top of it, her cheeks damp. Ember laid her chin on Amber’s back. The alicorn filly looked up at the alicorn mare. “Lightning?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks for being my sister.”

“Sure thing,” Lightning choked.

Ember drifted off to sleep, and Lightning Dust wept.