> Through A Glass Darkly
>  by SpaceCommie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Night Is Always Darkest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Dragon, take dictation,” Nightmare Moon commanded.

Spike shot Twilight a resentful look, his hands having grown too large to comfortably hold a pen. Twilight met his gaze, but didn’t respond. She couldn’t be expected to cover for him. Not tonight. Spike suppressed a sigh and retrieved paper and pen.

Nightmare Moon began. “I, Princess Luna, decree that the unicorn Twilight Sparkle shall take on a new mission for Equestria. She must continue to study the power of magic. She shall report to me her findings from her new home in Ponyville.”

Twilight resolved to stay calm. “Thank you, Princess.”

Nightmare nodded. “Dragon, you are dismissed.” Spike left the room, stomping a bit theatrically.

“Now that we have concluded with the formalities, my loyal student, let us talk about your mission here. I trust you have read the documents I supplied you with?”

“Of course.”

“Then you are already aware of the situation here in Ponyville. This city is the nerve center of solar terrorist cells across Equestria. Their leader hides here, somewhere. You must find him.” There was a cruel gleam in Nightmare's eye. “I do not expect to have to assist you.”

Twilight gulped nervously. “I won’t fail you, Princess.”

“Nor do I expect you to. You have proven yourself more than capable. I would, however, advise caution. This is not a safe position that I have appointed you to.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“In that case, you should have nothing to worry about. Goodbye, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight had few illusions about the seriousness of what she was here to do. She just hoped that she’d be able to see her Princess again. Twilight owed her everything. “Goodbye, Princess Luna.”

Nightmare Moon walked out into the smog and noise of the city. Smoke rose from a hundred factories, obscuring the eternal stars above.





It was remarkable that Twilight was even having this conversation. At one point, she had been nothing but just another camp rat. That she had risen so far, so fast, was a result of nothing but utter dedication. Not that it had gotten her respect from anypony but the Princess, anyways.

“My apologies,” Filthy Rich said, completely unapologetically, “but I can’t be expected to roll over for every personal student that comes here asking for resources. I have responsibilities that supersede your petty mission.”

“There’s nothing petty about bringing sols to justice,” Twilight fumed.

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like them any more than you do. I’ve already devoted resources to constraining their activities—”

“Constraining? Governor, that’s not good enough. They have to be wiped out, before they—”

Filthy Rich leaned forward. “Twilight Sparkle, don’t think that your personal neuroses give you the right to dictate my office’s actions, royal commission or not. You are not the first personal student that I’ve had to say no to. Frankly, you won’t last long enough to get anything done. I know how this works.”

“Governor,” Twilight said stiffly, and walked out.

Damn him. He had never sacrificed anything, never worked relentlessly for years, never… He only had his position because of his connections, more than likely. And if it weren’t for her parents—

Get a hold of yourself, Twilight. If you can do this, nopony will ever be able to humiliate you again. She could be the Princess’s right-hoof mare, her one indispensable servant. And when that happened… Twilight Sparkle smiled.





Applejack, my dear. Come, sit down, let me get you a drink. It’s so rare that you come here—you never were interested in the stallions, were you? Or the mares, come to think of it…

The Princess’s new personal student? Yes, I’ve heard of her. Really, Applejack. You know me better than that. Not a lot of things happen in this town that I don’t hear about.

She came from the camps. You’d be surprised how many of them do. Yes, her parents were sols. Hence, Twilight Sparkle— oh, I’m quite serious. That’s her name. It refers to the time just before the sun begins to come above the horizon, or something like that. They believed that the sun’s going to come back sometime around the millennium. She’s gone to some significant lengths to prevent that name from becoming common knowledge, as you might imagine.

She reported her family to the camp administration eventually, for some particularly egregious bit of heterodoxy. I’m told she was positively vehement in asserting that they must be hanged. Those camps do something to a pony, I declare. But in any case, she got out because of that. She was brought to Luna’s School for Gifted Unicorns, and threw herself into the work. I’m told she’s one of the most magical ponies since Starswirl.

So of course the Princess took an interest in her.

Why? She’s a valuable asset, that’s why. Besides, it helps the Princess keep an eye on her. Oh, and did I mention that she has the most remarkable guard dragon? Oh, I’m sure you’ve seen it around.

Eight feet tall? I should think so. I’ll make an effort to meet her at some point, I believe, and hope that she’ll introduce me to that magnificent specimen.





Twilight had never really gotten used to comfortable surroundings: doors that didn’t squeal incessantly, roofs that didn’t leak, floors that were anything more than the dusty earth. There was always the suspicion that she didn’t belong there, that she would never belong there, and if she screwed up just once, she’d be back where she came from. The thought terrified her.

The mare on the other side of the desk had no such misgivings. At least none that were obvious. She adjusted a worn stetson—it clashed strangely with the clean, well-lit office—and leaned back expansively. “So, Miss Sparkle. What can I do for ya?”

Twilight forced her doubts away and began her planned introduction. “I have to admit, when I started to ask around about who I should contact in the business community and your name came up so often, I was surprised. You don’t appear to own any major companies or—”

“Appearances,” Applejack assured with a smile, “can be decievin’. Mind If I start in on some personal history?”

Twilight nodded, a bit confused.

“I reckon it was darn near inevitable, considerin’ my name, but my special talent is in makin’ alcohol. Not necessarily with apples, but that’s how I got started out. But I’m a bit past helpin’ my daddy moonshine these days. This here’s the largest distillery in Equestria,” Applejack said, a confident smile on her face.

Twilight sensed an opportunity. “How is that when you’ve only reported about a million-bit revenue for the last six years?”

“Your suspicion wounds me, sugarcube.” Her smile remained untouched, but there was danger in her eyes.

Twilight looked impassively at the businessmare.

“Alright, now look here. I am in a tough business. There’s a lot of competition, not much room for error, and I got mouths to feed. So I reckon you can imagine it’s come in useful to work out certain arrangements with the government. In particular, I work with our beloved princess's representatives such as yourself, and they look the other way when my accountin’ ain’t exactly perfect. Everypony wins,” Applejack explained, with that same smile.

Twilight was aghast. “That’s—”

“Oh, save it. Point is, ya can trust me—I like workin’ with y’all. So, what brings ya here?”

The unicorn sighed. “Alright, Miss Apple. I need Night Guard if I’m going to carry out my mission. And the governor isn’t allowing me so much as access to the city police.”

“Ain’t that a darn shame. Explain how it’s a problem for me or mine, and we’ll talk.”

Twilight grinned the smile of a shark spotting legs in the water. “Well, Applejack, it might be a problem for you if somepony were to start asking questions about what happened to Governor Mare. She was poisoned, wasn’t she? And so soon after giving that contract to one of your competitors, too…”

“Before my very eyes,” Applejack said solemnly. “A great loss to us all.”

“I’m sure,” Twilight said, unable to suppress an eye-roll. “I want my Guards. Talk to the governor. I don’t care what you need to offer him. Do we understand each other? If I get them, we don’t have a problem. If I don’t…”

Applejack’s smile was, for once, genuine. “You got it.”

Twilight felt played, but she couldn’t really complain. Could she?





Twilight was feeling good. There was a pleasure to the spectacle, to watching the Night Guard carry out their duties like a well-oiled machine. The abandoned warehouse was glowing with light at this point, and periodically brightened as a spell was cast inside of it. There were occasional screams, but she didn’t mind. She’d heard worse.

A cyan pegasus alit next to her. “All clear, ma’am. Do you want to go in?”

“I think so,” Twilight said, and walked towards the warehouse. “How good did our intel prove?” she asked, a bit awkwardly. The jargon took some getting used to.

“We don’t think there was any solar activity here, but they’ll be taken in for questioning anyways. You won’t want to stick around for that. It’s kind of—”

Twilight interrupted her curtly. “No, I want to see this.”

It was a pitiful, dingy building. Ancient paint peeled from the walls, and it stank of urine. There were bottles strewn everywhere—Applejack’s Applejack, she noted, amused. Seems appropriate for a bunch of sols. She turned a corner and came to a line of ponies watched closely by Night Guards.

A glazed recognition flashed across the face of one of the derelicts. He got up, clutching a bottle aggressively. “I know you,” he shouted, a bit slurred. “You’re that little bitch that got her—”

He charged, and the pegasus from before moved to intercept him, but Twilight waved her off. She enveloped the pony in her magic, and raised him off the ground. He flailed wildly. She regarded him with a sort of vague distaste, as if he were some sort of insect that had wandered too close for comfort. Twilight’s horn flashed momentarily, and he crumpled, his eyes suddenly blank. He fell with a fleshy thump. Twilight kicked his body desultorily.

They all cowered—all, except one. A yellow pegasus, her coat matted and dirty, looked at Twilight with an expression she couldn’t place. It wasn’t fear, or even defiance. It was a wariness; the pegasus was sizing Twilight up.

“Alright, Dash. Take them… wherever,” Twilight said.

Another bust. Twilight hadn’t tracked down so much as one definite sol since she had been given control of this Night Guard platoon. It wasn’t their fault, she was sure. They were thorough to a fault. Everypony left the target hoofcuffed or in a body bag. The latter concerned Twilight. Valuable intelligence could be missed, and they might never know about it. Dash, for instance. Good officer, fanatical about the job—killed suspects left and right. It was infuriating.

Twilight was sure that there were solar terrorists hiding somewhere in the city. Finding them was another matter entirely. Brute force wasn’t working—as good as the Night Guard had been at carrying out raids, that wasn’t doing a thing to tell them where to raid, or when. Twilight briefly debated whether this was a weakness of the Guard in general, or whether the governor had been holding out on her. Either way, the situation required…finesse, as Twilight was beginning to realize.

Her carriage clunked its way towards the library. Twilight wasn’t enthusiastic about hiding behind a half inch of iron everywhere she went, but taking chances on that kind of thing was a good way to end up Dead Personal Student #11. She rubbed the soot off a window and looked out on the dark streets of Ponyville. She thought, idly, that it was a shame it was so polluted. It was scarcely possible to see the night sky.





Usually, Fluttershy was able to remain unnoticed. It was a good thing when you did what she did. At times, though, her aura of naivety, even innocence, attracted unwelcome attention. And any attention was unwelcome in a Night Guard holding room. A Guard sauntered into the room—a captain, judging by the epaulettes on his armor. He looked around, his gaze finally resting on Fluttershy, who was crouched on the floor, her face wearing an expression that seemed to say ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

The captain leaned in towards her, eyes flickering across her body. He leered for a split second, then called the guard by the door.

“I’m takin’ this one over for some questioning,” he said with a faint southern accent, pointing towards the pegasus still cowering by the wall. The guard nodded. The two dragged an inert Fluttershy towards the door. The captain looked annoyed. “I had enough of this, sugarcube. Get up,” he said, kicking her savagely. She slowly acquiesced, rising to her hooves.

“Remember,” he said from behind her, “I will shoot you if you try anythin’.” He gestured towards a gun.

They walked along in silence until they reached a nicer, carpeted section of the building. Another left turn, and they reached a well-lit, clean room. It held a table, a few chairs, and a bed.

“Sit down.”

She did, of course.

“So,” he continued, in a suddenly friendly voice, “how does a pretty little mare like you end up in my jail cell? You haven’t done anythin’ naughty, have you?”

“I don’t think so,” Fluttershy murmured.
        
“What was that, hon?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, barely louder than the last time.

“Oh. Well, that’s a darn shame,” he said, running a hoof along Fluttershy’s flank.

“Is there anypony who knows where we are?” Fluttershy asked.

The captain leered again. “Nopony. It’s just you and me.” He didn’t remove his hoof.

“Well, in that case,” Fluttershy said, raising her voice subtly, “How dare you! Just look at you, abusing a poor little mare just because you can! You may be a captain in the princess’s beloved Night Guard, but you are still a terrible pony.”

The captain was transfixed by those blue eyes. It was true. He was a terrible pony. How had he never realized it? He looked into those eyes, searching for any hint of forgiveness that might come, anything to mitigate that terrible truth. Tears came, despite himself, more and more, until he finally collapsed, curling up into a ball. Maybe if he made himself small enough, pitiful enough, judgment might overlook him. Fluttershy smirked.

“There, there,” Fluttershy said, stroking a shoulder reluctantly. “You can make up for it. Just take that gun and shoot the window.”

He could make up for it? A pang of joy raced through his heart, and he stood up and shot the window. It shattered, the glass falling into the street below.

“Good. So, Captain,” Fluttershy said softly, dangerously, “How many ponies have you raped?”

Her eyes were judging again. It seemed as if they looked into his very soul, and found it wanting. And he knew then that there was not, and would never be, any forgiveness for him. “I- I- I don’t know!” he sobbed.

“I’m sure,” Fluttershy said, stepping towards the window. “Now, I want you to know something. You are a terrible pony, and nothing you can do will ever change that. You should just take that gun and kill yourself.”

He sobbed, and pulled the gun from its holster. He looked at it for some time, then paused. “Why?” he asked hoarsely.

Fluttershy looked into his eyes and whispered, “Do it.”

He whimpered, and raised the gun to his head. She flew out the window, not even bothering to look behind when she heard the gunshot. It wasn’t aimed at her.

Did it scare her, doing what she did? Maybe. But she was always scared, really. Maybe when Celestia came back, she wouldn’t need to be scared. It was something worth fighting for, anyways. Worth killing for.





“My condolences on your loss,” Twilight said stiffly. She tried for a little bit of warmth, but it didn’t exactly come naturally. “I’m, uh, sure you’ll miss him.”

Applejack sighed, and slumped into her chair. “I hardly knew Golden, and from what I do know, he was a damn fool. Given the circumstances, I reckon he was plannin’ on some idiocy with that prisoner. You tracked her down yet?”

Twilight was confused. “You seem to be inter—”

“Miss Sparkle,” Applejack said with heavy emphasis, “he may have been a damn fool, but he’s still family. And nopony so much as touches an Apple without hearin’ from me. Ya understand?”

Twilight Sparkle knew an opportunity when she saw one. “Well, Applejack, now that you mention it…” She scooted her chair closer to the desk. “Arrest records show that we picked her up at a building believed to be harboring solar terrorists.”

It wasn’t a lie, not technically. That raid had basically been a bust, but before that, the warehouse had definitely been believed to be harboring sols. Good enough for government work.

Applejack stamped on the desk. “You’re tellin’ me that a damn sol murdered an Apple?”

"It's a possibility."

“I’m gonna kill her. I am goin’ to kill her, and—”

Twilight raised a hoof. “Not a chance. I need her alive for intel. Leave this to the professionals, Applejack. On the other hoof,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially, “if you were to help me find her… I might have some leeway in what happens to her after I’m done. Understand?”

“Rarity,” Applejack said.

"What?"

“Go talk to Rarity. Unicorn that runs a, uh, high class joint downtown. She’s a prissy little prima donna, but in her business, ya hear things,” Applejack explained. “Tell her Applejack sent ya.”





Sparkle says that we’re upping ops tempo. I don’t think I’ll be able to give you warning anymore

What? No, I don’t think she knows about me. She might suspect that somepony is letting you know, but not me. Yes, that’s why. Screw you. It’s not even close to being worth it and you know it.

No, I can’t delay the raids. Are you stupid?





She led Twilight along the edge of the club, the bass thumping in the background. Occasionally, she looked back at Twilight with the intention of breaking the ice. After a few glances with utterly no reaction, Rarity had decided to give it up. In any case, she opened a door and gestured towards it. “Right this way, darling.”

The door closed, and the sound of the club was reduced to a distant roar.

“I help ponies find what they’re looking for,” Rarity said, turning to show her cutie mark. “Precious things, whether it’s a good time or some good company.” She winked ostentatiously at those last words. “I am not surprised in the least that you might come to visit. I’m sure yours is a terribly stressful occupation.

“Now, how might I be of assistance, Miss Sparkle?” Rarity asked, comfortably settling onto a couch. “I could introduce you to any number of charming young stallions, or mares, if—”

“I need information,” Twilight said.

Rarity affected a look of confusion. “Information? I’m afraid that this is decidedly not  a library, Miss Sparkle. You'll have to look elsewhere."

Twilight raised an eyebrow skeptically. This debutante better be able to deliver. “Applejack sent me,” she said.

Rarity looked slightly surprised, but recovered gracefully. “Naturally, then. What might I be able to do for you?”

“Sols. What do you know about them?”

“Miss Sparkle, I can assure you that if any such information came my way, I would, as a responsible Equestrian citizen—”

“Keep it to yourself until it was useful. I do have some idea of how this works,” Twilight interrupted calmly. “And right now, you’re going to tell me everything you know. Because that’s how this works now.”

Rarity leaned back. “Certainly, on one condition.”

“No conditions.”

“Now, now, Twilight. You haven’t even heard me out yet.”

Twilight froze. “How do you know my name?”

Rarity smiled. “As I said, I find things. And knowing all about you is a precious commodity indeed. You want information, I want something else. Let’s make a deal.”

“Shoot,” Twilight said, feeling sick. This conversation wasn’t supposed to play out like this.

“I will tell you everything I know, but you’ll owe me a favor, and an introduction to that dragon of yours. Does that sound like a fair arrangement?” Rarity’s smiling face was unreadable.

“I guess,” Twilight mumbled. This conversation didn’t have to be a complete mistake.

“Thank you, my dear. Now, while I would obviously have nothing to do with any of these ponies, in my occupation, you do tend to hear things from others. I’m told that…”

Twilight was shaking her head.

“Is there a problem?” Rarity asked archly.

“You’re holding out on me, Rarity,” Twilight said. “It doesn’t matter to me. Not yet, anyways, but when it does, you’re going to wish you hadn’t. Go on.”

“Well, in the River District, there are a number of…”





Did sleep count as a vice? Probably not, but if it was, it was Fluttershy’s only one, knocking off Night Guards notwithstanding. In any case, Fluttershy loved to indulge in it. The safe house’s bedroom wasn’t luxurious by many standards, but it had a mattress and sheets. That was good enough for her, and she slept in as long as she felt like it.

        As such, Fluttershy was already fairly unhappy when the front door of the safe house was loudly torn off its hinges, waking her up. The voice that yelled “Night Guard! Stay where you are!” didn’t put her in much of a better mood.

        This, of course, was a raid. “Oh well,” Fluttershy thought aloud. For weeks, they’d been getting tipped off when this was about to happen. It looks like they wouldn’t have that advantage anymore.

        This was bad. Fluttershy was deadly in the right circumstances, but these were really not the right circumstances. The Stare required eye contact and time, and neither of those things were likely to be forthcoming. Running would be a good option.

She eyed the window. It was actually more of a boarded-up hole in the wall that had maybe been a window at some point, which was, so far, the only good news. Bucking through glass hurt. The bad news was that there were certainly Guards outside the safe house, and they would have guns. You can’t stare down a bullet.

        “Oh, sugar,” Fluttershy swore. There were heavy hoofsteps coming up the staircase. She had seconds, and—she briefly recalled the building’s layout—no way out. Buying time was possible, but…

        Fluttershy moved to a corner and sat there, looking terrified. Five, four, three, two…

        The Guards kicked open the door and rushed inside, pointing their guns around the room. “Oh, thank Luna!” Fluttershy said as loudly as she could manage. “I’m so glad you’re here. You wouldn’t believe what they were doing to me.”

        A Guard’s eyes softened behind his mask. “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”

        Fluttershy sprang up and ran to him. “Thank you thank you thank you,” she said, hugging the Guard. She stared into his eyes. “Your gun,” she hissed. “Give it to me.”

        Confused, he reached into his holster with one hoof and held it out. “Thank you,” Fluttershy said politely, and took it. She fumbled around with it for a second—she didn’t usually use these things herself—before managing to hold it properly.

        “Wait,” some Guard called out, “Why the hell does—”

        He didn’t finish his sentence, mostly because Fluttershy had just shot him. She flinched a bit at the recoil. These things hurt. The other guards began to turn, but checking a narrow hallway like they were, it took a while. She emptied the revolver in that general direction. These things are really hard to use with hooves… The Guards dropped, though. Fluttershy turned her attention to the Guard she had taken her gun from.

       “How many downstairs?” she asked. At this point, the Stare probably wasn’t necessary.

       “Um, I think twenty,” he said, shaking.

"And the alleyway?”

“I- I- I don’t know.”

        Fluttershy looked into his eyes. “Stay exactly where you are and don’t do anything.”

        He didn’t nod, didn’t even breathe, and his gaze locked into position, onto where those soft blue eyes had been. Those eyes looked for an entrance to the alley. She spotted one, and dropped softly into it. There was a Guard at the entrance, and Fluttershy tensed, expecting a shot.

        Instead, the Guard frantically gestured upwards, towards a fire escape.

        Fluttershy flew.





 I don’t even know what most of this stuff is for. Medical supplies, some sort of magical equipment… what are we doing here? You know that we’re short on basically everything. This can’t be more important.

Faith? My faith is damn near gone, and it even if I had it, it doesn’t get us guns! It doesn’t get us our ponies back. We need more than that.

Don’t give me that “Trust me, Dash, she’s coming.” You don’t know that! You can’t be sure. 

How can you possibly be sure?





Utter darkness, punctuated by crackles of light. That’s all that was visible from a distance, if you were to look across the endless rows of crops towards the ruined castle. This wouldn’t have been remarkable, except for the fact that the castle was surrounded by a small army standing about a mile away from it in all directions, headed by the Princess of the Night herself. They were utterly quiet: not the quiet of peace, but the silence of a predator before it makes the kill.

Nightmare Moon stalked back and forth, her eyes scanning the circle surrounded by her army. A pony stepped towards her, dressed in fancier regalia than the rest. The general, she vaguely remembered. “Yes, General?”

“Princess!” he said, bowing deeply. It was a pretentious exercise, but Nightmare Moon could hardly curb every bit of idiotic preening among her subjects. “I request permission to send a battalion into the castle in order to defend it against…” He stopped, unsure of what exactly they were there for.

“Denied,” Nightmare Moon intoned.

“Princess, the castle would—”

“I can readily assure you that they would not be helpful in the slightest,” Nightmare snapped. “Continue making the preparations I have ordered.”

He grimaced, but didn’t say anything.

They grow far too used to power, Nightmare mused. It was a habit she might have to break them of.

She continued pacing. It wasn’t exactly befitting the stature of a princess, but she barely gave a damn at this point. Nightmare Moon was nervous. During her last confrontation with Celestia, the Sun Princess had been restrained by her pathetic sentimentality. Nightmare couldn’t expect any such mercy this time.

On the other hoof, she had honed her skills since then. It was very possible that she was the most magical being to have ever existed, which was an appealing thought to her. She had reached deep into the Earth to pull the currents of magic that surged underneath Everfree to the surface, where they sparked across the crops that grew where thick stands of trees once did. She had stilled the great tides of magma that the dragons depended on to warm their nests. She had redirected the hot winds of the dayside to flow into Equestria, wiping the—

“Princess?”

Nightmare Moon briefly toyed with the idea of utterly destroying whoever had interrupted her reverie, but that apparently caused various issues in terms of "personnel management". Oh. It was Twilight Sparkle.

“Watch, my loyal student. You should realize what you have been working towards, after all,” Nightmare Moon said, glancing upwards.

She steeled herself, drawing lines of magic from the Earth up from the ground towards her horn, which glowed brightly.

A second later, the castle disappeared.

It was a relatively common misconception that Celestia embodies the sun. It was also a fairly understandable one, especially as the castle and everything within a hundred yards was vaporized by solar energy. It was an intimidating spectacle, but Nightmare Moon could not allow herself the luxury of fear. She waited for the dust to clear.

She could have recognized her from much further than the mile she stood away. Celestia stood up within the new crater, shakily, shining like the sun. Nightmare felt an incandescent surge of rage, and she added it to the magic that built up within her body.

And fired.

Alicorns are not purely physical creatures, and the blast that knocked Celestia to the ground pierced her in ways that defied understanding. It hurt, a lot. She stood up, her horn flashing, and teleported away.

It wasn’t unexpected, of course. This plan had been centuries in the making, and Nightmare Moon was well aware of Celestia’s capabilities. “General,” she called softly. There was no point to raising her voice. “Begin searching for her.”
> Just Before The Dawn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Princess,” Twilight asked, “what just happened?” She kept her voice steady, but not easily. 

Nightmare Moon did something Twilight had never heard her do before. She sighed. "The myths your parents ascribed to were… reflections of the truth. I did have a sister, ever so long ago. I banished her to the sun when her arrogance and lust for power grew too obvious for me to ignore any longer. Tonight, she returned. I showed this to you because I… I need you to realize what we will be fighting for in the nights to come. You have seen what she is capable of. She could…”

Two slitted pupils focused on Twilight, and they softened. Or maybe Twilight just hoped that they would. “You understand, do you not? She could…”

Twilight looked at her, eyes wide.

“Everything I have worked for, Twilight. Everything,” the Empress of the Night, the most powerful being in the darkened world, whispered, and blinked back tears. “Twilight—” she started, but couldn’t finish.

Twilight reached out to touch her mentor, to give her whatever small comfort she could, but of course she could never do that. She put her hoof on the ground and waited, always the dutiful student.

“Return to Ponyville. Continue with your mission.”

Twilight nodded, and turned towards Ponyville. Off in the distance, a flare arced into the air.





It was wet all around her. The mind, even an alicorn mind, has nothing that satisfactorily prepares one to experience such a sudden shift in surroundings, and Celestia thrashed about in confusion before fixing her gaze upwards. She panicked, seeing nothing but darkness above, then came to her senses. Of course it’s dark.

Her wings beat slowly, propelling her upwards. She surfaced, and gasped. Celestia allowed herself a moment to recover, breathing hard on the muddy shore of the pond. She raised herself up and flew.

Somewhere behind her, a light sparked.

Something cracked behind Celestia. She turned her head, wings still pumping feverishly, and could make out the shapes of ponies running across the darkling plain. Somewhere behind her, the blasted remnants of the forest burned, casting a sickly red glow that reflected off… What is that? Another crack, close now, and incredibly loud. Something struck Celestia’s wing. She glanced over, assessing the damage.

Nothing had hit after all—no, that wasn’t true, there was blood gushing out. Maybe it was just a glancing blow—but no, the pain came and came strong. The projectile had found bone, and Celestia’s wing seized up. She flapped harder with her other wing, legs flailing uselessly, but of course, it was helpless.

She fell, and the ground flew up to catch her. Celestia reached towards it with her magic, and managed to slow her descent. A quick glance to the left, and to the right, and she caught sight of another cluster of lights to the south. She commanded her hooves to run, and they obeyed.

They were all around her, eyes peering through the darkness. Something whizzed by, but Celestia suspected that Nightmare's ponies didn’t know where she was, not exactly. Her pace slackened as she realized just how tired she was. Shots cracked all around her, and she flinched again and again. Nothing hit her, though, and she looked around in confusion. Somepony stepped towards her.

“Princess, you have to trust me. I’m going to teleport us out.” The pony walked to her side, and pulled her arm across his back.

Celestia disappeared, and reappeared… where was she? Curious faces crowded around her. Safe enough, she thought, and collapsed, and slept.





They’re all dead now. You don’t have to be, though, as long as you listen very carefully to me. What’s your name?

Hard Knocks. That’s a lovely name. Now, remember what I’m going to say to you. The alicorn is gone. You saw her flying west, towards Canterlot. She killed everypony except you, and told you…

What do I tell him?

The alicorn told you to tell Nightmare Moon that she’s not afraid of her, that she’s going to kill her. Now go back to your princess. No, wrong way. Go north. There we go.





“Ma’am, we don’t have the area secured. Stay in the carriage. We have this handled.”

Twilight frowned. “Dash, I’m sure that it’ll be fine. I have done this before.”

So be it, Rainbow Dash thought, and sighed. It’d be a problem if Sparkle died at an inopportune moment. “Yes ma’am. Right this way.”

Another night, another set of raids. Dash had doubted whether they could increase ops tempo anymore than she already had, but since Sparkle had gotten back from Everfree, they’d been working faster than ever before. She was driven.

Dash could recognize that feeling easily enough. It had been hers, at one point, watching Night Guards swagger across Cloudsdale streets, matte black uniforms exuding coolness. It had been hers when she trained obsessively to meet and exceed the Night Guard’s physical standards. She had even studied—studied—at the Guard school.

What happened?

Dash asked herself that question so often, but she knew what had happened. She saw that face whenever she closed her eyes, heard that voice.

“Lieutenant? Care to fill me in on what happened here?”

“Huh?” Dash said, startled out of her reverie. Sparkle pointed at a splatter of blood on the wall.

“One of the prisoners got violent, and I was forced to take action.”

It wasn’t exactly true. She’d been careful to make it look like that was what happened. It was Dash’s responsibility to make sure that nopony who could tell the Guard anything would be allowed to go to the interrogators.

It was hard to do. Dash knew a lot of them. They were good ponies.

She looked around suddenly. There was something off about the situation. Something, something... Her eyes searched the crowd. Where was it? What was it? There, a gun held by one of the prisoners.

Two thoughts ran through her mind simultaneously.

What the hell? Don’t they know that they could blow this whole op?
A Night Guard’s first duty is the protection of her superiors.

It seemed to her that things moved very slowly. She yelled “Gun!”, Twilight turned her head towards her in surprise, and the prisoner raised the gun. She moved quickly, tackling Twilight to the ground. Shots rang out.

“Are you okay?” Dash asked, lifting off Twilight.

“As far as I can tell. The assassin?”

He was lying on the ground, glassy-eyed and barely breathing. He’d been shot several times for good measure.

“Oh,” Twilight said abstractedly. “You’re bleeding.”

And so Dash was. Quite a bit of blood flowed out of her back leg. She was suddenly, painfully aware that it hurt like hell.





Rarity flopped rather gracelessly onto the couch. It wasn’t exactly an action fit for company, but she didn’t have any at the moment. Oh, this is simply heavenly, and after such a trying day… She vaguely considered turning on the lights. I suppose I could, but it’s rather restful just—

Something squeaked, over by her desk. Rarity’s horn lit up, scarcely illuminating anything past her frightened face. It could be a hitpony, or worse, a former employee. Granted, after the last incident, Rarity had been more careful about access to her office, but still…

She peered into the darkness. There was a face there, behind her desk, and a pair of wings.

“How did you get in here?” Rarity asked, trying to place that face. Probably not one of mine. Pretty, though. “I do have security.”

“These stallions were nice enough to show me my way in,” Fluttershy said casually. She looked at the bulky ponies dimly silhouetted against the window. “Wait outside no matter what you hear, and don’t let anypony inside.”

“But those are my…” Rarity said as they shuffled out of the room. Fluttershy looked at her expectantly. “Bouncers,” she finished lamely.

Fluttershy walked over to sit next to Rarity. She retrieved a revolver from her pack, and pushed it gingerly into Rarity’s side.

“Now,” she said quietly, “what did you tell the personal student?”

“Personal student?” Rarity asked innocently. “You’ll have to be much more specific, darling. I see a lot of personal students.”

Fluttershy mumbled something, and dug the gun into Rarity’s side. “You know who I’m talking about. Sparkle.”

Rarity smiled. “Oh, very well. You’ve caught me. Now, what exactly might be in it for me, should I choose to div—”

Fluttershy's pistol moved fast, and the grip slammed into Rarity's face, knocking her onto the floor. Fluttershy stood over her, a hoof pressed against Rarity’s throat. Her eyes, gleaming dimly in the dark, peered into Rarity’s own.

“Tell me what you told her,” Fluttershy said.

The unicorn chuckled. “Not likely.” Amulets are so underappreciated, she mused. And they make such charming accessories…

Fluttershy looked confused, but recovered quickly and gazed into Rarity’s eyes again. 

“Tell me.”

“You have lovely eyes, my dear, but I’m afraid it’s not going to work.”

“Tell me,” Fluttershy said, pressing down harder. “I still have the gun here.”

She fired to the right of Rarity’s head. Her ear rang, and Rarity hoped that it would be heard outside. Not that it will make a difference…

“Tell me!” Fluttershy said, pulling back the hammer.

“I’ll uh,” Rarity wheezed out, before deciding that a whisper would be more suited to the circumstances. “I will, I will. But I’ll want something in return, naturally.”

“Your life.”

“Now, now,” Rarity said. “You need to know what I, ah, informed her of, is that correct? Now, correct me if I am wrong, but I don’t believe that I’ll be able to do that if you kill me. So let’s just dispense with that little pretense and get down to business.”

Fluttershy lifted off Rarity and sat on her haunches, breathing hard. “What do you want?”

Rarity smiled. “I’ll settle for knowing what you have planned for the next few nights.”

“No.”

“You do need what I know, I’m sure. You wouldn’t have been sent, otherwise. Just a hint will do, I promise.” She all but batted her eyelashes at Fluttershy.

“She’s here,” Fluttershy murmured. “The lights up to the north, they were—” She stopped suddenly.

“Oh,” Rarity said slowly, savoring the moment. “That’s very interesting indeed.”

Fluttershy pointed the gun at Rarity. “So?”

Rarity smiled nervously. “Now, in the interests of you not killing me immediately after I tell you what I told Miss Sparkle, how about we add a little something to the deal?”

Fluttershy stared at her for a few seconds, then nodded reluctantly.

“A favor, from me,” Rarity said. “I can assure you that they’re quite useful.”

"Done. But if you're lying to me—"

"Naturally. Now, as you might have guessed, Miss Sparkle is aware of your, ah, various haunts in the River District, as well as the south side. On the other hoof, I don't have the faintest idea what you've been up to west of the river—I think you can imagine just how many of my clients come from there. Now, in terms of specifics...”





Rainbow Dash tossed restlessly in her hospital bed. To all appearances, she was experiencing a nightmare. But this was no figment of her imagination, and she couldn’t sleep. 

It had been three years ago. The mare stood before her, fear and resentment and defiance fighting for control of her face.

“I’m not going back. You can’t—”

And Dash drew her gun.

“Nopony leaves the camp. You know that.”

The mare did know that, and offered a hopeless smile.

“Please. At least let them—can’t you see they’re starving? Let them go. That’s all I’m asking for. Please!”

“Back in the fence! Now!” Dash had yelled, and drew her gun. The mare ran. Dash had... Oh, sweet stars... Dash had shot her, clean in the back of the head, hoof steady from years of practice.

The foals perched on the mare’s back started to cry weakly. Dash had walked over to them, helplessly hoping that there was anything she could do besides...

        “Dash!” somepony called out. “Miss Sparkle wants to see you as soon as you’re able to walk.”

        She rolled out of bed, hooves touching the floor, one painfully. “Able and willing.”





Oh, Dash, you're here. Good. I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Personally.

I've been thinking, and I decided. You should be heading up this, um, task force. You'll receive a promotion to lieutenant colonel. I think. Which comes with a, um, significant pay raise and some other perks.

No need to thank me, Dash. Do your job. That's all.





Celestia blinked, her vision blurry from sleep. Inevitably, the memories came back: a sudden pain in her wing, a fall, a terrible brightness, smoke billowing up from what had once been her city. Somehow it was all one, part of the same nightmare. Oh, Luna. What hast thou become? She rested her head on the pillow again. Maybe she could just stay here, and sleep forever. Or not.

Motivation comes and goes, she reminded herself, but duty remains. Figuring out where she was would be a good start. Bare walls, a concrete floor. Not terribly encouraging. But there was nothing of the prison about the room's door. On the contrary, it seemed of rather cheap construction, and wasn't even within line of sight of her bed. Celestia peered at it curiously, sitting upright. Her muscles screamed softly in protest. She mentally shouted them down and carefully placed a hoof on the floor.

The door opened. The unicorn from earlier walked in, and seeing Celestia, bowed almost to the ground. “Princess. It’s good to see you awake. We were worried.”

Her mouth opened, laboring to form the words. “How long did we sleep?”

“You’ve been out for a couple nights.” He stared at Celestia as if he couldn’t quite believe that she was really there.

Celestia nodded uncertainly. “Who art thou?”

The unicorn mouthed the sentence, then shook his head. “Of course that’s how you speak.  I’m sorry. I would have told you about us earlier. but—”

“The apology is… unnecessary. Knowing whose care we are in is.”

“I’m the leader of this movement,” the unicorn said, and smiled self-deprecatingly. “Such as it is, anyways. We protect ponies from the Night Guard and all the rest of Nightmare Moon’s tools of terror when we can. And we’ve been waiting for you, preparing for the day when you—”

Celestia had allowed some measure of worry to creep onto her normally stoic face.

“This is probably too much for you right now. We can pick this up later,” he said.

“NO!” Celestia cried, in the voice of royalty. The unicorn looked more than a little awed. “We would not waste the least minute while our little ponies suffer,” she finished more quietly. “Tell us everything.”

The unicorn grinned uncertainly. “We’re going to help you take back Equestria. But for right now, we’re just trying to let you rest and heal. Eventually…” That nervous grin solidified into a beatific smile.

“Eventually?”

“You’ll raise the sun.”

“What is thy name?” Celestia asked curiously.

The smile stayed on his face. It wasn’t one of elation at the prospect of power—Celestia was familiar enough with that—but of faith rewarded.

“Shining Armor.”
> Sufficient Unto The Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m not interested in making enemies. I told this mare I owed her a favor and an introduction to you. She’s getting both, whether you like it or not.

That hurt? I’ll do it again if you don’t behave.





Spike’s claws dragged along the floor, cutting shallow scratches into it. His face slumped into a sullen scowl. Rarity grimaced momentarily, but soon resumed her practiced smile. “Well, well,” she said, “I’m not disappointed, Miss Sparkle. You have quite the dragon.”

Twilight smiled thinly. “Thanks. You wanted to call in a favor?”

“As it so happens, I do. But first, would you mind if I took a look at—what is its name?”

“Spike,” the dragon rumbled. “My name is Spike.”

Rarity inhaled sharply. “Oh! It talks! Well, isn’t that darling?” she said, walking around him slowly, examining the dragon with a professional eye. “Fascinating,” she murmured, and stroked his abdomen. He flinched, but Rarity didn’t seem to notice. She turned to Twilight.

“And can he breathe fire?” she asked, a bit breathlessly.

Spike smirked, and belched flame at a couch. It erupted in flames. Twilight seemed about ready to do the same thing, but Rarity was entranced. “Oh, my,” she said softly. “Miss Sparkle, how would you feel about allowing me to put Spike on retainer? I can pay quite generously, and let’s just say that my favor would have been more than called in.”

Spike looked nervously at Twilight. “No deal," Twilight said. "I have bits. I still need information.”

“Information?” Rarity asked, absent-mindedly. “Oh, of course! Yes, I think we can come to some sort of reasonable exchange.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, I realize why you might be skeptical. I can assure you that you’ll want to hear this, however. Let’s say you give me one night with Spike—”

Spike looked slightly terrified, and backed towards Twilight.

Rarity's mouth opened briefly in surprise. “Not like that, although I can imagine that some of my clients with a taste for the exotic—never mind. In any case, one night with access to Spike, and I inform you what I heard. If you want to know anything else—who said it, or why—and I want Spike on retainer.”

“Not a chance,” Twilight said.

“You want to hear this, Twilight. This is my final offer.”

“If I like what I hear, you can have Spike. Otherwise, no.”

Rarity sighed theatrically. “Oh, very well.”

“Go ahead.”

“I could go into all of the little minutiae of how and when and why I know this, but let's just cut to the chase, shall we, darling? She's back. I think we both know who.”

Twilight’s mouth opened in surprise. “Who told you that?”

“Ah ah ah,” Rarity chided. “All things in good time, my dear. Do I get Spike tonight?”

Twilight nodded.





Prince Blueblood didn’t know it yet, but he was having a very bad night. He slammed down the last of his applejack and tossed the bottle to the side, where it mingled with various other refuse strewn across the suite. He looked around distrustfully. “Goddamn plebs,” he said to nopony in particular. “They didn’t even clean my—” He looked up at the ceiling, which had some sort of mysterious stain on it, and tried to come up with the right word. Having just finished a bottle of applejack by himself, it wasn’t easy. “Room. Suite. Thing.”

At that point, the door to his suite slammed open. Being thoroughly drunk, Blueblood didn’t see anything particularly off about this. “About time!” he yelled, slurring the words. “You goddamned plebs don’t even... things.”

Rarity’s nostrils flared as the stench of the room wafted towards her. She grimaced. “Spike, would you be a dear and clean up this room? Do try not to set the hotel on fire, though.”

He grinned and sent a flame careening across the floor, consuming the garbage before it and missing the intoxicated unicorn by a few inches. The severity of Blueblood’s position was beginning to seep its way into his sloshed brain. “Oh, hello...” What was her name? “Rarity! Rarity! It’s so nice to see you again!”

Rarity eschewed her usual smile. “If I recall correctly, Mister Blueblood, you owe me somewhere around fifty thousand bits. I’d appreciate it if you could pay that now.”

“Pay you for what?”

        Rarity frowned. “You know perfectly well what you owe me money for, Blueblood. That was a business transaction, not whatever else your addled mind construed it to be, and I am collecting on my debts.”

“Oh,” Blueblood slurred. “Don’t even pretend with me, Rary. You know you loved every minute of it.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “Spike, would you kindly pick up Mister Blueblood up and bring him over here?”

        Spike nodded, and stomped towards the prone Blueblood, who was vaguely remembering that you could do something with a bottle to make it into a serviceable weapon. Unfortunately for Blueblood, he really was very drunk, and ended up smashing the bottle and stuffing his handkerchief into it. “Stay back, you monster thing!”

“Really?” Spike said, and reached for Blueblood’s hind legs. He held the wriggling Blueblood aloft and upside down. “This good?”

        “That’ll do quite nicely, Spike. Bring him over here.”

        Blueblood came face to face with Rarity, although considering that was by dint of dangling from Spike’s hand, he was at a distinct disadvantage.

        Rarity leaned in towards him. “I want my money.”

Blueblood laughed drunkenly in her face. "We all want things."

        “Drop him," Rarity said tersely.

        Spike did, and Blueblood fell to the floor. He tried to get up, gave up, and decided that groaning would be a better course of action. Rarity sat down on her haunches next to him. “I’ll be leaving now, Mister Blueblood. If I find that fifty thousand bits have been wired to my account within the next four hours, then I will not be coming back, and nor will Spike. If that doesn’t occur—well, let’s just say that a few broken bones will be the least of your worries.”

“Come, Spike,” she called. “We’ve quite a few more places to visit tonight.”





I’d call it a propaganda coup, but that’d be understating it, if anything. Imagine it, Princess! The sun rising above the horizon for the first time in a thousand years, exposing the depths Nightmare Moon’s brought our country to. The decay, the filth—all out there for everypony to see.

That too, yes. It shows Nightmare that you’re still out there, and she hasn’t found you yet. She’ll be infuriated. Infuriated ponies make mistakes.

We told her you flew towards the Badlands. We figured that’d keep her away from ponies.





Pinkie had felt a doozy coming. She wasn’t sure what it was—not yet, anyways—but the mere fact that it was on its way gave an extra spring to her step.

She grinned absentmindedly at random faces in the crowd. She had a feeling—not Pinkie Sense, but something altogether more nebulous—that whatever was coming, it was going to be fun.

Pinkie bounced down the avenue. She bounded to a fountain in the middle of the street, and waited patiently. Well, patient by her own standards, which meant that she blinked after fifteen seconds and began bouncing around, looking for fun to be had.

Fire was fun, but Pinkie hadn’t been able to reacquire any matches since her last run-in with the police, and she didn’t have any sticks to rub together, assuming that worked. Did it? Pinkie assumed a thoughtful expression, and started in on a nigh-incomprehensible train of thought.

She almost didn’t notice as the sun rose above the horizon. The screams tipped her off, though.

One could call Pinkie what they liked—arsonist and psychopath were fairly frequent epithets—but she wasn’t afraid of much. She bounded towards the sun. On all sides, ponies stampeded away from it. Some of them were crushing into a subway tunnel. She heard muffled screams from inside there. Pinkie ignored them. She knew an opportunity, and this was one.

Pinkie was in a world of her own. She vaguely remembered smashing some windows, starting some fires, and ingesting some questionable substances, and chocolate. It was exciting, this sun business. She darted towards a trash can, knocked it over, and giggled. This is fun! She bounced through the sunshine, casting a long shadow through the empty street.

She heard a tired voice, one she recognized. “Don’t hurt the kids. We don’t know anything. Please, don’t hurt them.” It was Mr. Cake. 

Pinkie ran towards Sugarcube Corner as fast as she could. The name was a bit of a misnomer—just a little shop among many, and it wasn’t even on a corner. Still, it had been home once.

She peeked in through a window. There was a Night Guard there, a unicorn, grinning smugly as he pointed his gun towards the Cakes, who were cowering in a corner. Mr Cake stood in front of his family in a futile effort to shield them. I gotta do something, Pinkie thought. An idea came to her, perfect in its simplicity. Of course, that was by Pinkie’s standard.

“So, a pegasus and a unicorn?” the Night Guard said. “Looks like somepony likes to have some fun on the—” His taunt was interrupted by a shaky, but determined blow to the throat from Mr. Cake. The Guard knocked him back easily, and held the baker in place with his magic. “That was a bad decision,” he rasped, and raised his gun.

“Carrot!” Mrs. Cake squeaked.

The door opened. “Happy birthday, Mister Meanie Guard Pony!” Pinkie cried, walking in with a cupcake. It held a single candle. “I made a cupcake for you!”

She looked curiously around the room. “Oh, I guess you’re busy right now. I’ll just have to blow out your candle for you!” Pinkie puckered her lips, inhaled deeply, and exhaled.

A jet of flame erupted from the candle, reaching out to lick the Night Guard. He caught on fire easily enough, and screamed and screamed. He tried to turn around, fell, and rolled on the hard concrete floor until he finally went still. His body smoked quietly. The acrid stench of burnt fur and flesh filled the room.

Mrs. Cake muttered “Oh, Luna,” over and over again, holding her foals. Mr. Cake stared blankly at the corpse smoking in his shop. “Pinkie, “ he said, not looking up, “what the hell did you just do?”

“That Guard pony was being a mean meanie-pants, so I stopped him!” Pinkie cheerfully explained, a wide smile on her face.

Mr. Cake turned his blank stare on Pinkie. “T-t-hank you. For saving my family.”

“You’re welcome! So does that mean I get to come back?”

His eyes focused a little, and he smiled weakly at her. “I’m so sorry, Pinkie.”

“I don’t, do I?” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “Why not?”

Mr. Cake sighed. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I think you can work it out from there. How’d you do that?”

“Kerosene in my cheeks! I have stashes of it all around Ponyville in case of... fire-related... emergencies...”

“Kerosene in your cheeks.” Mr. Cake sighed. “Mrs. Cake and I care about you, Pinkie. You know that. But you’re scaring the hell out of us, because you just don’t stop. There’s nothing you won’t do if you think it sounds fun. And we just can’t...”

“Bye,” she said, and turned to the door.

“Please, Pinkie. Don’t hurt anypony.”

There was no response but a sad chuckle, and she vanished into the sunlight.





Thou expected this?

Damnation, Shining. WE WERE NOT EVEN TOLD THIS WAS A POSSIBILITY!

It certainly sent a message. It sent a message that we are dangerous, that we are not to be trusted, and that she is all that stands between them and utter madness and destruction.

We are unconvinced. The sun will stay down, Shining, until we have had the opportunity to assure my little ponies that it shall not harm them. 





“I have three questions,” Shining Armor said. “First, why are you on my ceiling? Second, why shouldn’t I shoot you? Third, who are you?”

Pinkie giggled. “Well, first of all, I’m on your ceiling because rooms look super-duper cool like this. And you shouldn’t shoot me because I want to help her. I’m Pinkie Pie,” she said, dropping off the ceiling with a series of pops and landing gracefully on the floor with an improbable midair flip.

Shining looked wary, but holstered his gun. “Help who?”

“The mare that raised the sun, silly! I know she’s somewhere around here.”

Shining’s eyes narrowed. This mare was dangerous, plungers on her hooves notwithstanding. “You’re going to have to get very specific about how you know what you know, very soon.”

        Pinkie smiled. “So she is here! Wow, even I didn’t expect that to work.”

        Shining facehoofed. “So you—I—”

        Pinkie grinned even more widely.

“You said you wanted to help her?”

“Yupperdoodles! Well, not me, really. I want you to help me help somepony—or would that be somebody—help her. Ooh, that sunrise was fun fun fun!”

        Shining smiled. “We’ll talk about this. Pinkie.”





        Rainbow Dash was unconvinced. "Shining, she's crazy. This isn't even your ordinary crazy. This is 'burn everything and giggle through the ashes' crazy. This is not somepony you can use, which is, by the way, a subject I'm way too familiar with."

Shining sighed. "Dash, we need you to help out with this."

"We don't. You do. Just because you screwed up with the sunrise—and I could have told you ponies were going to go crazy, if you asked. That's on you, Shining, not me! Solve your own problems!" Dash stared at Shining, daring him silently to contradict her.

"You'll do it," he said.

“I can’t. You’re not thinking straight, Shining. I have to stay here with Sparkle.” 

“Sparkle.” Shining said the name as if it were a curse. “How do you like your promotion, Dashie?” He chuckled humorlessly.

“It’s funny,” Dash intoned. “I’m going to kill her eventually, and I still like her better than I like you.”

“Really?” Shining asked.

“I’ll do my job, Shining. You want uniforms to get into Canterlot? Fine. But I’m not blowing my op so you can get back onto Sunbutt’s good side. I stay here. You send Fluttershy. She’s quiet and obedient. I bet you like that.”

“Fine,” he spat.

“Wonderful,” Dash said sardonically. “Now, who the hell are you breaking out of Canterlot?”

“Somepony named Discord, apparently.”

> The Evil Thereof
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Applejack placed a smile on her face, a stetson on her head, and walked into the library. She eyed the Night Guard in front. “Miss Sparkle in?”

The guard nodded. “Do you have an appointment?”

“What are ya, a receptionist? I reckon she’ll want to see me. Let her know I’m here?”

“Yeah.” The guard walked into the back. Applejack kicked the floor nervously, her smile dropping off her face. What if she knows? she thought. She ain’t gonna know, Applejack rebuked herself. You know this mare. She ain’t good at reading ponies. Besides, Mac needs ya to do this. He could get 25 years of hard labor for smugglin’ ponies outta them camps.

She forced a smirk at the sound of hoofsteps. “So, do I get to see Twi—Miss Sparkle—tonight?”

“Looks like it,” Twilight said.

Applejack straightened up and turned to face Twilight. “Miss Sparkle, thanks for meetin’ me on such short notice.”

Twilight waved distractedly. “It’s not a problem. Come into my office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Applejack said with a smirk, and followed her in. Keep your calm, and don’t let on that anything’s strange about this.

“So,” Twilight said, “to what do I owe the visit?”

Applejack smiled expertly. “I was hopin’ I could talk to ya about some of the details of your work.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “My work?”

“Now, you’re aware of the, ah, nature of my business interests, right?”

“Vaguely. At least for the ones you pretend are legal. Why?”

“I do some work in the North Side. Got a map? Eh, doesn’t matter.” You’re talking awful quick. “Anyways, the area between Polaris Street and the river? I’m gonna have to ask ya not to raid any of the buildings there.” Applejack didn’t trust herself to break eye contact with Sparkle, or stop smiling. Or start breathing. Her eyes flickered nervously across the room. Scratch that, breathing was good. Look calm, damn it!

Twilight was looking intently at her. “That’s quite the request to make. Why?”

“I’m worryin’ that your Night Guards are gonna spook my contacts.”

“Your... contacts?”

Applejack leaned in and let some of her very real nervousness show. “I got some trade secrets I’d prefer didn’t get out. Namely, I can keep the prices on my applejack pretty damn low ‘cause I cut it with vodka. I’ve been distillin’ it there, and I’m nervous about the secret gettin’ out. You hear me?”

“You could just give me the address,” Twilight said. “I’d make sure not to hit the place. I do have some discretion.”

Why in the hell am I doin’ this for Mac? He got himself into this damn business. “Humor me, Miss Sparkle. I reckon you owe me for them Night Guards. I got you ‘em, and I can get ‘em taken just as easy.”

Twilight sighed. “And this was going so well until you threatened me. You think you can get away with playing me, don’t you? You don’t care if I know what you make your terrible applejack with. You admitted to tax fraud the first time I met you. It doesn’t add up.”

Applejack breathed in sharply. Twilight stared intensely at her. “I’d appreciate ya doin’ this for me, Miss Sparkle,” the businessmare said at last. 

“You’re hiding something from me,” Twilight stated. Applejack didn’t trust herself to respond. The unicorn sighed. “You’re not exactly the first pony. What do I get for not hitting the area?”

“What do ya want?”

“A million bits and a promise from you to police the area yourself,” Twilight said unblinkingly.

“Half a million if you want to keep your bullyboys, Sparkle. Final offer.”

“Done,” Twilight agreed. “Oh, and Miss Apple?”

“Eeyup?”

“If you ever try to play me again—or screw me over—I’ll  end you.”

Applejack smirked nervously, and walked out the door.





        Yeah, it’s done, but dammit, Mac, you wouldn’t be in this spot if ya’d done what I told ya to! Damn it, Mac! This business with the sun an’ everythin’—it ain’t worth your life. Come on back. We miss ya.

You wanna do this with me, Mac? After all I’ve done for ya? Hell, I been helpin’ you get ponies outta them camps for years, an’ all because you asked me to.

Oh, sure, I made ‘em work for their keep, but there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. What, would ya rather have them in the camps?

I didn’t think so. Come back. Get outta this nonsense while you still can. I ain’t interested in coverin’ for ya again.





        Rainbow Dash tapped the map. “We’ve got pretty solid intel for the River District. Assuming we keep up current ops tempo, we could hit all the targets there in the next week. I’d recommend keeping our focus there for now.”

        Twilight peered curiously at the map. “Sounds good. What about here?”

        “Polaris and Fifth?” Dash hesitated. Shit. That’s not even ours. Mac would kill me if I let them raid there. “What do you think you’re gonna find there, ma’am?”

“I’m not really sure,” Twilight said. “Something’s going on there, though. I want to check it out. How soon can we be ready?”

        “Uh...” Can I stall? “I kinda wanted to talk to you about that,” Dash said. “I was hoping to run some exercises over the next few nights. We’re getting sloppy.”

        “We are?”

        Dash shrugged. “I think so. It hasn’t been a huge problem yet, as far I know, but...”

        “I get it. How many nights do you need, Colonel?”

        “Two should be enough, ma’am.”

        “We resume normal operations by the end of the week?”

        “Yes, ma’am!” Dash saluted snappily, and walked out the door. Shit. Gotta talk to Mac. 





        “And you’re going to have to keep them out of sight until we can get you some forged documents, okay?” Cheerilee said, and smiled. The couple across from her nodded. “Anything else, Mac?” she asked.

        “Nope. Keep ‘em fed, keep ‘em safe,” Big Mac intoned.

        Cheerilee turned back to the couple and beamed. “You’re very brave for doing this. Not a lot of ponies are willing to take on this kind of risk for the kids.”

        “Y’all are good ponies,” Mac added. “You’ll do just fine.”

        Cheerilee walked to the back of the room, where a couple foals huddled in the corner. “Hey guys. Those two over there are gonna take care of you from now on. Come over here, you two.”

        The couple walked over. One, a grey pegasus with somewhat wonky orange eyes, knelt down to get closer to them. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Ditzy Doo—or Derpy Hooves—and I guess I’m gonna be kinda like your mom from now on.”

        The other, a brown earth pony, extended a hoof to the foals. “Time Turner. By the same token, I’ll be taking care of you.” He smiled.

        There were the usual nervous smiles, the hurried goodbyes, and the new family left.

        “That was nice,” Cheerilee observed.

        “Eeyup.”

        “We don’t see ponies like that enough.”

        “Nope.”

        “Hey.” Cheerilee gently put a hoof to Mac’s face. “You seem out of it.”

        “Ee—” Mac caught a look from her, and paused. “Maybe.”

        “Anything I should be worried about?”

        Big Mac shrugged. “I had my sister try and help us stay outta trouble with the Night Guard.”

        “Yes... we’re okay now, aren’t we?”

        He sighed. “Dash came by the other night.”

        “Dash...” Cheerilee thought for a second, eyes flickering towards the ceiling. “The pegasus who came in with the foals a couple years ago?”

        “Eeyup. She’s a, uh, lieutenant colonel now.” Mac gave a low whistle. “Says that we have till the end of the week. Seems like that personal student ain’t one to keep promises.”

        Cheerilee gasped softly, but the gears were already turning in her head. “If Shining cooperates, we can probably move most of the refugees to another location before then. But the injured ones could be tricky to move...”

        “We’ll figure it out, I promise ya.”

        Cheerilee sighed. “I hope so. Things are just crazy lately. You ever get the feeling the world’s crashing down around you?” she asked.

        “Eeyup.”





Fluttershy sized up the pony bouncing in front of her. She’s not particularly scary. Not very well-built, or—

       “You’re Fluttershy, right?” Ohmigosh it’s so nice to meet you!”

Fluttershy cringed. Loud. That’s not good. “That’s me,” she responded, shrinking behind her mane.

“Coolio! So what’s the plan?”

Fluttershy sighed. “That’s what we’re going to talk about. Um, who are you?”

“Pinkie Pie! Didn’t Shiny tell you?”

“Shiny”? Fluttershy looked oddly at her. “No. He’s been, um, cagey about this whole thing."

“Huh. That's weird. Silly Shiny! So really, what’s the plan?”

Fluttershy face-hoofed. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking... you came up with this op and, um, don’t know what to do?”

Pinkie nodded enthusiastically. “I dunno, I just work better that way.”

“Could you, uh, please come over here?” Fluttershy said, spreading out a paper across the table. “We’ve had this copy of the blueprints to the castle for a while. Assuming nothing has changed in the layout, we can, uh, climb up the base of the mountain to get to the entrance here. It usually only has a couple of guards. We take care of them, go along here, and make it to the dungeons there. We get this guy out and run.”

“Sounds super-duper! Just the teeny tiniest little problem. He’s not in the dungeons. He’s in the sculpture garden.”

“The sculpture garden,” Fluttershy said. Fluttershy looked nervously at her. She’s crazy. “We’d have to go up through the entire castle, nearly and then get out through the main hall. Uh, how are we going to do that?”

“These might help,” Shining Armor said, tossing a couple matte black uniforms onto the table.

“Shiny!” Pinkie said, hugging him tightly. He pushed her away briskly.

“Shining,” Fluttershy said, raising an eyebrow. “What are these?”

“Night Guard uniforms," Shining said matter-of-factly. "They should give you a leg up.”

Night Guard uniforms? But that must mean that Dash—

Pinkie made what Fluttershy considered to be some sort of ungodly high-pitched noise. “If we get inside with these things on, then we can just walk up through it with no problem! It’s a perfect plan!”

Famous last words, Fluttershy thought.

“Shining Armor, why hath thou not introduced me to our guests?” Celestia said, and smiled as she entered the room.

Shining took a second to bow, but his horn glowed briefly as he draped the uniforms across the blueprints. “I was just about to. This is Fluttershy, one of our best ponies—” Fluttershy nodded her head towards the princess. “—and Pinkie Pie, who we’ve just brought in.”

“Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie, thank you,” Celestia said. “Shining Armor, we would have a word with you.”

Shining smiled nervously.”Of course.”

“Will thine office suffice as a confidential place?”

He nodded, and they walked through the building. He looked up expectantly at her, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Shining Armor settled behind his desk, looking a bit like a schoolcolt who had been caught cheating.

“Thou hath deceived us, Shining Armor.”

Shining smiled weakly. “Could you explain that to me, princess?”

“Thou told us that you protect ponies from the Night Guard when thou have the capacity,” Celestia said. “And yet, thou hath rejected a request to shelter those who have been freed from the Nightmare’s prison camps. Do we err in asserting this?”

“No, it’s just that—”

“Do we have the capability to grant haven to these ponies?"

“I suppose, but—"

“Then thou shalt grant that request on my behalf, Shining Armor.”

“That’ll put a serious dent in our capabilities to carry out certain operations from—”

“Thou art not irreplaceable, Shining Armor! Do not test our resolve in this matter!

Shining attempted to shrug nonchalantly, although it was more like a nervous spasm. “If it means so much to you, we’ll do it.”

“Thou hath our gratitude," Celestia said.





        It was dark as always, and Big Mac pulled a cart down Fifth Street. “Cheery, they okay back there?”

        There were whispers from the contents of the cart. Cheerilee’s tired voice came back: “They’re a little cramped, but they’ll be fine. Keep going.”

        “Eeyup.”

        There was a succession of loud crashes from behind, and Mac looked behind him. Guess they got there. Not a minute too early, either. His pace increased, and he turned the corner into an alley. “I don’t think we oughta stay with the cart. Take ‘em to the Cakes for tonight. Okay?”

        “You’re not staying here,” Cheerilee said. “I know what you’re thinking, Mac, and I’m not letting you do it.”

        “Damn it, Cheery... go already.”

        Cheerilee slapped him. “This is just like you, but it’s stupid. I’m not going without you.”

        “Sugarcube...” Mac stroked Cheerilee’s face. “I want to keep y’all safe. Best way for me to do that now is to slow ‘em down. Now go. They ain’t gonna shoot me with Dash in command.”

        “You better not die,” Cheerilee said, and laughed weakly. “Come out of the cart, everypony! If you can walk, support someone who can’t.”

        “Thanks,” Mac said. 

She slapped him again. “I hate you for this.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Mac intoned, staring intently at the alleyway entrance.

Cheerilee walked around him, looking in his face. At last, his eyes softened and dropped to her. “I don’t, not really,” she said, and wrapped her forelegs around his neck. “Come back to me, Mac.” She kissed him, and after a few seconds, pulled away.

“Eeyup,” Mac said. “I love ya.”

Cheerilee smiled, and walked away.





Those refugees ain’t family, Mac! You don’t put your neck on the line for strangers! You coulda walked right out and been out nothin’. But no, you had to play the hero.

You’re damn right I don’t understand.

I’m half-tempted to leave ya to your own damn devices. If ya love them camp rats so much, go live an’ die with them.

No... I ain’t gonna leave ya here. But Mac, how the buck could you do this to us?





Twilight Sparkle was quietly seething. She’d been doing a lot of that lately. Governor Rich was saying something. Twilight gritted her teeth and listened. “You seem to be forgetting that I know a hell of a lot more about this than you do, Sparkle. I liked your predecessor a lot: Sunset Shimmer. She wasn’t too different from you. Similar background, just as much of a true believer in the night as you are. Just as unwilling to accept the fact that there were limits to what she could do. You know where that got her?”

“Is there a point to this, governor?” Twilight asked, slumped in her chair.

“I’m sorry, Miss Sparkle, but considering the situation in Canterlot, as well as your continued failure to locate any solar leadership... I heard you raided an empty building earlier this week, even. Considering that, it’d be irresponsible of me to give you special privileges like the ones you’ve been enjoying. Your Night Guards are going to be reassigned within the week. I hope you understand.”

“Within the week?” Her voice pitched upwards suddenly, and her eyes widened.

“Effective immediately if they’re being transferred to another Ponyville division. The rest leave pending orders from Canterlot.”

“I have a personal commission from the princess!” Twilight said. “You really think she wants my Night Guards gone?”

“You really think your royal commission is going to get you anywhere with me? It doesn’t mean anything so long as the princess is occupied in Canterlot. Her office hasn’t responded to so much as a postcard from anywhere outside the capital since the excitement up in Everfree. Anyways, the princess expects you to solve your own problems, doesn’t she? You wouldn’t want to... disappoint her, would you?

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “No. I’ll do my mission. Take your Night Guards. I’ll make sure the ones who stay loyal to me get rewarded. Oh, and enjoy whatever your little windfall from the Apple family was while you can. Once the princess gets back, I’ll make sure you’re the first one up against the wall. I’m sick of the entire town. Understand?”

“You have fun with that.”





        Twilight paced across the library floor, mumbling quietly under her breath. “How am I gonna get it done? No Night Guard. No Dash. She’s gonna... gonna send me back. She’s gonna send me back and I’m gonna go back and never leave ever again.”

        Spike wandered by, popping an emerald into his mouth. “Mmm. These are really good. How come you never get me these? Oh, sorry, I forgot. It’s because you care so much.”

        Twilight’s horn flared, and a bolt of energy struck Spike’s tail. He jumped, coming down with a heavy thump. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelped. She did it again, this time straight to the center of his chest. Spike groaned and sank to his knees.

        “Try your damn sarcasm one more time and I hit your spine."

“You’d be out a personal postbox, dear.”

“Dear? Dear?” Twilight said, and laughed. “I think Rarity’s been getting to you. It’s adorable. You probably think she actually likes you.”

        Spike shrugged. “Maybe not. I’d still rather help her shake down deadbeats than whatever the hell you’ve been doing. Killed a lot of ponies lately?”

        “I’m considering adding a dragon to that list.”

        “You’re bitchy today,” Spike noted. Twilight blasted a hole in the floor in front of his feet. It smoked faintly, and Spike’s eyes widened.

        “Any more smartflank remarks? Because I could really use a distraction from waiting for the princess to get back to me.” Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not hiding a letter from me, are you?” He shook his head rapidly. “Good boy,” Twilight said. Spike's fist clenched. “Damn it, why hasn’t she gotten back to me?” Twilight muttered.

“The princess might be busy,” Spike offered nervously. “Rarity was saying something about her being preoccupied.”

She’s here, Twilight thought. She smiled, and stamped her hooves in a mockery of good cheer. “Thanks for mentioning that, Spikey! Why don’t we go see your girlfriend?”





        Rarity was not in control. This was a problem, and one she didn’t currently have any readily available way of fixing. She frowned from her position on the floor of her inspiration room. There were lots of, ah, prurient rumors about this room, most of them lurid fantasies of a distinctly unsavory nature. The truth was much more mundane. Rarity just liked to design clothing. She didn’t do it professionally—life had turned out differently—but at the end of the night, she would come here and imagine.

        Right now, she was imagining Twilight Sparkle was somewhere very, very far away from her. That would be nice, she thought glumly. Unfortunately, that particular unicorn happened to be right in her face, doing what could be inadequately described as ruining Rarity’s evening. “Who told you she’s here?”

        Rarity frowned. “I have to seriously question the wisdom of your approach here, darling. I was quite ready to tell you my source. Storming into my private rooms with your pathetic little skeleton crew of Night Guards, then knocking me to the floor, seems rather—”

        “Uncouth?” Twilight said, rolling her eyes. “Save it. Tell me what you know. And not just about that sol that told you she’s here. I want everything.”

        “Very well,” Rarity sighed. “She appeared in my office, threatened me for information—perfectly barbaric behavior, I’m sure you’ll agree—and then told me she's here in exchange for a rundown on what I told you about the solar safehouses.”

        Twilight kicked Rarity. “You told her?!”

        “I like you, Miss Sparkle,” Rarity said, and smiled sardonically. “But as I prefer living to staying in your good graces, I elected to give her such information as I assumed would prevent her from killing me. Especially considering your current—” Rarity smirked— “predicament in terms of resources, I still think it was the logical option. You simply don’t have what it takes to play this game anymore, darling.”

        Twilight glared at her. “Just because I can’t contact the princess right now doesn’t mean I can’t end you if I don’t get what I want.”

        Rarity sighed. “I don’t know anything more than what I’ve already told you. Somepony is in Ponyville. The sols are aware that you know the locations of some of their safehouses. That is all I know. Could you go, and let me—”

        “Open this—what is this called, anyways? I’m pretty sure brothel might work, but it doesn’t quite—”

        “I operate an escort service from a nightclub, in case you happen to be interested,” Rarity snapped.

        “Whatever. Tell me what I want to know and I’m gone.”

        “I can’t. I don’t know anything, I swear.”

        Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “No!” she yelled. “I’m tired of this! Ever since I got to this crazy town, everypony has been holding out on me! It stops here. Now. You’re going to tell me what I want to know or regret it!”

        “Fine, fine!” Rarity said. “I heard—and don’t you dare quote me on this—I heard that the solar leader here is named Shining.” Twilight’s eyes widened. “Don’t ask me anything else about him, I swear I don’t know anything else,” Rarity finished tiredly.

        “Sure you do,” Twilight said, a manic energy in her eyes. “And you’re going to tell me everything about him. Or I’m going to treat you as the traitor to the princess you are.”

        Rarity looked to Spike desperately. His eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically. My word. He’s terrified of her. “I don’t know what you want to know,” she said to Twilight.

        Twilight nodded slowly. “Sure you don’t. Fair enough. Spike, hold her down while I work.”

        “Twi—”

        “Do it.”

        Spike walked slowly, defeatedly towards Rarity and put a scaled arm around her neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

        “That’s cute, Spike,” Twilight said, then kicked the floor distractedly. “You got pretty defensive about your nightclub, didn’t you, Rares?” Twilight asked, getting into her face again. “I wonder...”

        Twilght’s brow furrowed in concentration, and her horn lit up. Rarity felt a tingling sensation in her limbs, and they momentarily spasmed. Twilight’s face relaxed. “All done,” she said cheerfully. “You’ll like this one, Rarity, as much as you like to play ponies. Princess Luna taught me it. It basically hijacks your nervous system so that I can direct electrical impulses to your muscles.”

"Not likely, darling," Rarity said. "I happen to have certain precautions against that, and—" I can't move. Why isn't the amulet working? Why can't I move?!

        Twilight chuckled humorlessly, and her horn glowed again. Rarity’s right hoof rose shakily and knocked into her head, where it stayed. “Oh, I can’t possibly inform Twilight Sparkle of what I know!” Twilight said in a high-pitched, mocking voice. “That’d be positively awful. Almost as awful as this simply dreadful, tacky nightclub. Come, Spikey-Wikey, let’s deal with it.”

She’s insane, Rarity thought. Twilight’s horn glowed, and Rarity’s legs moved uncertainly. She walked a couple steps forward, then fell down. “Oops!” Twilight said, giggling. “I’m not used to this—” She giggled again— “Kind of body!”

        “And what exactly do you mean by—” Rarity started indignantly from the floor. Twilight ran to her and knelt down, cutting her off by placing a hoof over her mouth.

        “No no no, Rarity. You don’t get to talk. You had your chance for that. Now shush, or I’ll be closing that mouth permanently. Spike, get her up.”

Spike lifted her up gently and set her on her hooves. Twilight smiled thinly. “Come on, Rarity. Why don’t you take me on a tour?”

She walked unsteadily through her club, Twilight and Spike following behind. “Where are we going?” she asked.

        Twilight smiled. “You’ll find out! And seriously, shut the hell up.”

        They continued towards the few Night Guards left in Twilight’s command. Rainbow Dash spun around and saluted immediately. “Miss Sparkle, ma’am!”

        Twilight gave a genuine smile. “Snappy as always, Dash. Could you bring some fuel and a lighter for us?”

        “Yes, ma’am.” Dash trotted off.

        Spike eyed Rarity nervously. Twilight’s horn flashed, and he bent over in pain. “Knock it off, Casanova. Before I get the wrong idea.”

        Rarity’s head turned back towards Spike, her eyes cautiously hopeful.

        “Not gonna happen,” Twilight said casually. “You think you had him whipped? You don’t even know what that means, Rarity.”

        Spike’s fists clenched, and they stood there in silence for a while. Dash walked in, carrying a red can in her mouth. Its contents sloshed as she placed it in front of Twilight. “There you go, ma’am.”

        “Thank you, Dash,” Twilight said politely. “Let’s go, Rarity.”

        They returned to the inspiration room. “Hold still, darling,” Twilight said as her horn glowed. Rarity’s neck and head tingled, and she found herself unable to move... anything. “Much better. Now you won’t be nearly as annoying.” She floated the kerosene can over towards Rarity’s mouth. There was fear in the white unicorn’s eyes. Her jaw opened, and the can’s handle floated into it. Her mouth closed.

        “Let’s start with your little designs, shall we?” Twilight asked conversationally. She poked a white dress experimentally. “Ouch. Kind of tacky, don’t you think? It’ll have to go.”

        Rarity’s legs walked her towards it, and her head tilted, pouring the fuel on the dress.

        Twilight smiled. “Great. Come to think of it, all these dresses are appalling.”

        Rarity’s head jerked from side to side, drizzling kerosene everywhere. “Alright, that’s good. Now, do you want to do the honors?” Twilight said, tossing over a lighter. It bounced off Rarity’s hoof and onto the floor. “Butterhooves.”

        Rarity’s hoof felt awkwardly around the floor for the lighter, before grabbing it and holding it up to the dress. “Time to destroy this simply atrocious crime against fashion!” Twilight mocked, and the lighter sparked. The dress burst into flame. “Huh,” Twilight said. “You know, seeing as nopony’s here, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire nightclub burned down. How terrible. Well, I’m a busy mare,” she said with a theatrical yawn. “I’ve spent enough time on this.”

        Rarity’s body walked her over to the work table, and grabbed a length of ribbon. It leaned against the table, and perfectly done hooves pulled it around the white unicorn’s neck. Twilight smiled, her face illuminated by the flickering glow of the fire. Rarity’s hooves pulled in opposite directions, tightening the ribbon around that white throat. She lost her balance, and fell onto the floor. Her hooves kept pulling, and Rarity gagged involuntarily. Spike stared at this.

        After a few moments, Rarity’s eyes closed, and her hooves went limp. The dragon couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His fist clenched again.

        And slammed into Twilight’s head, years of hatred and four hundred pounds of muscle behind it. She went down, from the force of the blow if nothing else, and groaned on the floor.

        Spike ran to Rarity and crouched down. His fingers went to Rarity’s neck, frantically trying to loosen the ribbon. He pawed at it ineffectually, his hands far too big for precise work. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a scale caught on it, and he ripped the ribbon away from her neck. Rarity gasped weakly, but her eyes didn’t open. He gathered Rarity’s body from the floor and stood up, looking towards the door. A line of fire separated them from it—not a problem for Spike, but Rarity...

        He covered as much of her body as he could with his arms, and ran through the fire. A weak voice came from behind him. “I’ll kill you. Both of you,” Twilight said.

        Spike shrugged, and ran into the hallway and out. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the cluster of guards.

        “Hey, ain’t that Sparkle’s dragon?” one said.

        “Where’s Sparkle?”

        “Shit shit shit shit shit,” Dash responded. “Shoot the dragon or something. I’m going back for Sparkle.” She rose into the air and flew past Spike, wings buzzing frantically.

        Spike brought Rarity as close to his body as he could, and charged into the guards. They scattered. He heard the crack of gunfire, but it seemed distant, somehow, and he ran out the doors and into the eternal night.


---


        Dash flew into the flames. Smoke billowed out of the inspiration room, and she darted in, coughing. “Sparkle!” she called out raggedly. “You in here?”

        “Rainbow...” a voice from the floor said. Dash dropped down. Sparkle was on the floor, singed and breathing shallowly. 

        “Hey,” Dash said with a tenderness that surprised herself. “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’m gonna get you out of here.” She pulled. Twilight off the floor, wings straining to lift the extra weight. “Don’t worry, don’t worry.”

        Twilight mumbled something hoarsely. “What was that, ma’am?” Dash panted.

        “...friend...”

Shit.
> Those Who Dream By Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Fluttershy cautiously raised her head above the ledge, looking around quickly and popping back down. She turned to Pinkie and spoke calmly and quietly. “There’s, uh, ten guards here. That’s a lot more than I expected.”

Pinkie pulled a handgun from her pack. “Does this mean I get to shoot somepony?” she said, far too loudly.

Fluttershy waved frantically at her. “Be quiet, please,” she hissed. “We’re not shooting anypony unless we have to. It’s way too loud... but I don’t know what to do here, anyways. I don’t want to get too close.”

“Okie—” Pinkie said loudly, and earned a glare from Fluttershy. “Dokie. Sorry,” she finished. “So what are we going to do? Wait, no! I have an idea!”

“Shut up,” Fluttershy whispered. “Um. If you don’t mind, that is. What’s your idea?”

Pinkie leaned over towards her and whispered in Fluttershy’s ear. Fluttershy’s eyes widened, but she nodded reluctantly.

“Um, wait here please,” Fluttershy said. “I’ll let you know when.” She flew to the side, and lifted quietly into the air. She assumed a look of wide-eyed, fidgety confusion and flew gingerly towards the entrance. 

“Private, you’re not allowed to be up here!” one of the Night Guards called out.

Fluttershy’s mouth opened in what was apparently complete surprise and terror. “Eep!” she cried softly, and dropped to the ground. “Oh, um, I’m really sorry about this. I just got really lost, and... could you please help me?” she asked, her voice fading into a near-silent whisper. She looked up at the guards with a faintly sheepish smile.

“What, do you think you signed up for the Filly Scouts? Get the hell outta here.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, and turned around. “Now, please.”

Pinkie bounced over the ledge and launched into a musical number.

“The enemies on your list—
They get hit with arsonists.
As the flames lick at their house,
No one blames the little mouse.
Fireponies fight the blaze
In the smoky summer haze.
While their cities all get razed.
There are other better ways to... go!


Go for miles, away from here.
No one wants to be in there
When the smoke is in the air.
First you take some gasoline,
Then you grab some kerosene.
And when you hear their screams,
You... know!”

Pinkie finished, one arm lifted into the air, mouth wide, and looking triumphantly towards the Guards. They stood there, jaws hanging slack. “What,” one said. It wasn’t really a question. Fluttershy alit in front of Pinkie, and looked into their eyes.

“Put down your guns and kick them over to me,” she said, unblinking. “Thank you. Now, let us in and forget we were ever here. Okay?”

“Here we go, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said to Pinkie, who was grabbing their rifles and strapping them to her back. “And stop that, please. We’re not fighting our way there.”





Rarity coughed weakly and opened her eyes. She looked around, getting her bearings. Pavement. She was lying on a relatively clean section of pavement. But it was still pavement, and why was she on pavement? And what was that thing looming over her, the enormous thing turning its head? She screamed, and knocked her head on the pavement.

The shape leaned in closer, and Rarity whimpered. “Please don’t—don’t...”

“Rarity. Rarity. You’re fine. It’s me. It’s Spike.”

“What did Twilight have you do to me? Where am I?” she demanded.

“Whoa, whoa.” Spike put his hands in the air. “I didn’t do anything to you. Well, I mean, sort of, but I’ll explain. And you’re in... oh, heck, I have no idea. But you’re safe now, I swear.”

“Safe,” Rarity said. “What happened?”

“Um.” Spike rubbed the back of his head. “You remember what Twilight was doing to you?”

An involuntary shudder ran through Rarity’s body, and she nodded shallowly.

“Okay. So she made you, uh, choke yourself, and you did until you went out, and I uh...” Spike paused. “I punched out Twilight and got you out.”

Rarity’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well, thank you very much.” She looked down the alley for a second, her gaze distant. “I remember fire. The nightclub, did it—”

Spike shook his head.

“Is it alright?” she yelled.

“I don’t know.”

“How could you possibly not know?”

“I don’t know, okay? I was—”

“You were what?” Rarity screamed, her throat aching. “Do you have even the slightest idea of how much I worked to build that? How I worked? And now it’s gone?”

“Worried about you,” Spike finished. “I was worried about you. And what the heck did you expect me to do about it, anyways?”

“You could have at least—” Rarity started, pointing a hoof accusingly at him. “You could have...” She sighed. “I suppose there was nothing you could have done. But I still...”

She sighed. “You said that you punched Miss Sparkle out?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d rather not be overly blunt about this, but how hard?”

“Um. Probably not hard enough.”

“Oh well. We wouldn’t want to make things too easy, would we?”

“Guess not. She’ll never stop looking for us now. Not unless it’s a problem for her mission.”

“Delightful.” Rarity sighed, and looked into the distance for a telltale glow. “Spikey?” she asked. “I’m rather cold. Would you mind...”

“Lighting something on fire? Normally, no. But you’ve probably had enough smoke for the night.”

Rarity coughed, and laughed weakly. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s a shame you’re coldblooded.”

“I’m not, actually,” Spike murmured.

“Oh. Then could I just—I mean, it wouldn’t happen to be a problem if I—”

“Go ahead.” Rarity walked to Spike, and gingerly leaned into him.

“Mmm. You are warm.”

Spike puffed a flame into the night sky.

“Oh. Right.”

“So it really is all gone?” Rarity asked after some time.

“Um. Yeah, probably. Sorry.”

Rarity’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sounds came out. She breathed unevenly, gasping for breath.

“Rarity? Are you okay?”

She broke down crying, and threw her arms around Spike. Rarity sobbed quietly, and slowly, cautiously, he put his hands around her and let her cry until the tears stopped coming.

Finally, Spike spoke. “So...”

Rarity looked up at him, makeup smearing her face. “Yes, Spike?” she said, voice shaking a bit.

“I don’t want you to think that I mind this, but I think we might want to figure out some way to get slightly less screwed.”

Rarity wiped her face. “Hmm. Well, um. If I’ve read Miss Sparkle’s position correctly, she will at least have to plausibly claim that I’ve been involved in anything illegal before my accounts are frozen. You said that she will most likely continue to pursue us?”

Spike nodded.

“Well, in that case...” Rarity smirked, although it didn’t stay on her face long. “It may not be a bad idea to prevent her from doing so. I think we may want to contact some of the ponies she’s managed to alienate during her stay here.”

“Like who?”

Rarity squirmed her way out of Spike’s arms and began to pace. “I would say Applejack, but as much as she likes me, I’m not part of the family. We’ll talk to her, but I don’t expect much. Actually... I think we should try to talk to the sols, given the reasonably good odds that we’re about to be deemed enemies of the state. But going back to the frozen accounts, we really ought to go to the bank first. And I have quite a few favors that need to be called in while I still can.”

“Sounds good to me,” Spike said. “Ready to go?”

Rarity nodded, and they walked out into the city lights.

“So, sols?” Spike asked.

Rarity grinned. “It makes sense to talk to the only pony in this city that hates Sparkle more than we do.”





Fluttershy and Pinkie moved down the corridor quickly and calmly, not giving any of the Guards more than a casual glance. The pegasus had learned that the best way to evade attention was to look like you belonged and were too busy to be engaged with. Unfortunately, she’d picked up a shadow at some point. He’d made some attempts to get the drop on her in these twisting, dim corridors, but Fluttershy was a lot better at this. She knew he was waiting. She’d figure out where, soon. They rounded a corner.

“Don’t move! I’ll shoot!” a Night Guard shouted, pointing his gun shakily at the two of them.

Fluttershy peered curiously at him. “Hard Knocks, is that you?”

“Y-yeah. What’s it to you?”

“Don’t you remember me?” Fluttershy asked quietly.

“M-m-maybe. Doesn’t mean I won’t, uh, shoot you if you try anything!”

“Oh, Hard Knocks. You’re not that kind of pony. Put the gun down.”

He put the gun down slowly, gazing raptly into her eyes.

“Thank you. Now, don’t tell anypony we’re here. You’re going to...” Fluttershy looked up briefly in thought. “Is there anyone waiting for you when you get done with your shift?”

“Uh, Roseluck, my marefriend. Please don’t hurt her, I really—”

“Nopony’s going to hurt either of you. Listen to me. You’re going to resign from the Night Guard, then go ask her to marry you. Then you’re going to open a flower shop. Okay?”

He nodded rapidly.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Go.”

“That was nice of you,” Pinkie said.

Fluttershy shrugged.

        “So can you, like, make ponies do whatever you want?”

“Um. Not whatever I want, not really, not easily. What I want them to do matters. Loyalty, self-preservation, love... they all, um, take time to break. If I want them to...” Fluttershy paused. “If I want them to just, I don’t know, give me something, it’s not so hard. But killing... killing is different. Killing is hard.”

Pinkie looked thoughtful for a second. “If you can get ponies to do stuff, why do you do it yourself?”

“I have rules. Nopony gets hurt if they didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Huh. Do they help? The rules?"

“I hope so, anyways. Come on, let’s go.”





The slot on the door slid back rustily. A pair of distrustful eyes narrowed. “What do you want?” If he gave any indication of being surprised by the appearance of a rather disheveled white unicorn and a dragon, it wasn't apparent.

“I was hoping I could talk to somepony here,” Rarity said.

“Really? And here I was, thinking you wanted to sell Filly Scout cookies.”

“I’m afraid not, Mister...?”

“You got a reason to be here, kid?”

“Well, yes. As I said earlier, I’d like to talk to somepony—” The slot slammed shut. Rarity sighed, and nodded to Spike. He strode towards the door and tapped it carefully with a claw. The slot slid reluctantly open.

“What do you want?”

“Hey. I’m Spike. I’m a dragon.”

"I would never have guessed! I took you for a chicken at first!”

Spike leaned in conspiratorially. “Hey. That’s a nice door.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’d be a shame if something happened. Go to hell.” The slot closed.

Rarity sighed. “This is almost painfully cliched.”

Spike nodded. “I sorta do like this door. It’s solid, you know?”

“Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the cause, mon ami,” Rarity said.

Spike slid a hand onto either side of the door, claws fumbling for purchase. Finally, finding a crack between the metal and brick, he pulled. The door crumpled slightly, but finally tore away from the wall. Cranky Doodle Donkey stood there, alternately trying to look bored and not entirely terrified. Neither was particularly successful. “Ah, damn it. Who do you want to see?”

Rarity stepped into the door. “I was going to be coy and say that we’ll settle for whoever’s in charge here, but why waste time? I want to see Shining Armor. Does that seem reasonable to you, Spike?”

“Absolutely, Rarity.”

Cranky’s eyes lit up for a second, before subsiding. He sighed theatrically. “In that case, come on in. As if you weren’t going to anyways,” he grumbled.

Rarity smiled benignly at him. Spike leered. “Take us to your leader.”

“You two think you’re cute, don’t you?”

Spike beamed. “We are cute.”





Fluttershy looked cautiously into the main hall. The vast structure was empty, but obsidian pillars soared menacingly into the far reaches of the ceiling, and the low level of light was...

“Spooky,” Pinkie said with uncharacteristic quietness.

“Yeah. Come on, please,” Fluttershy said, stepping gingerly into the hall. “The garden is this way, if I remember the plans right.”

“You do. So, what’s the plan here?”

“I’m a little nervous about setting off some kind of alarm on the floor, but I can’t fly well enough to carry you,” Fluttershy murmured. “So I guess there’s only one way to do this.”

Pinkie nodded. “Alrighty.”

They walked some distance into the room. Pinkie looked uncomfortably around. She eyed the darker corners with a special nervousness. Fluttershy paused suddenly and looked around, her ears perking up. “Did you hear something?”

Pinkie put a hoof to her ear and listened intently. “I dunno, maybe. Why?”

Fluttershy pointed at the floor, which glowed faintly. “I’m, um, a little worried about that.”

“Makes sense.”

Shouts came from the hallway. “We’ve got an unauthorized entry of the main hall! Shoot on sight!”

“I think we should be running,” Fluttershy said quietly, picking up speed.

“Right behind you!”

They ran, weaving between the immense columns as bullets whizzed by. Fluttershy breathed hard, eyes searching for the door. Pinkie looked at her, easily keeping up and smiling. “What?” the pegasus panted.

“Finally, something is happening!”

Fluttershy managed to roll her eyes. “Pinkie, door,” she said. Pinkie nodded enthusiastically, and they ran through. Fluttershy ducked to the side, and motioned for Pinkie to do the same. They both breathed heavily for a moment.

“Okay, so this really isn’t very good,” Fluttershy said. “Um, Pinkie, do you have any idea how to buy us some time while we get into the maze?”

“Yupperdoodles!” Pinkie said, tossing her pack to the ground. She dug around in it. “Rubber chicken... no, water balloons—well, sorta—no, black powder... meh. Oh, here we go!” She pulled out a nondescript gunmetal cannister with a small tube on the top. She fumbled around with it before latching onto a ring at the bottom, which pulled out to reveal a length of wire. “Flutters, put this on the other side of the door. It’s a tripwire.”

Fluttershy raised an eyebrow, but nodded and flew across the doorway. “There anything to put it on?” Pinkie asked.

“Yes.”

“Alrighty!” Pinkie said, quickly securing the canister to the ground. “Do you think they know where we went?”

A handful of bullets struck the edge of the door. More whizzed through.

Fluttershy shrugged. “Probably. We should get to the garden.”

“That’d be...” Pinkie took a second to orient herself. The main hall was to her back, the imperial palace to the right, and the garden.... “Oh. That’s neat,” she said quietly. Dingy hedges towered above the ground, only visible by dint of blocking out the stars. The interior of the maze was utterly black.

It’s kind of... scary... Pinkie thought, eyes widening.

Fluttershy waved her hoof frantically in front of her face. “Pinkie! We have to go.”

“Oh, sorry, I just—”

“We don’t have time for this. Let’s go.”

They walked to the entrance of the labyrinth. Not a single photon of light left that entrance, like a night without the moon or stars. “It’s really dark,” Fluttershy said.

“Yeah...” Pinkie agreed, looking around uncomfortably.

“Um, Pinkie?”

“Yeah?”

“You seem a little bit...” Fluttershy said, searching for the right word. “Out of it.”

“I don’t,” Pinkie said, the words coming out oddly clipped, “like the dark. It’s just really.”

“Mmm. I think I have a light somewhere in here. Give me a second to get it...”

There was a muffled roar, and a light glowed somewhere behind them. “I didn’t do that,” Fluttershy said, and then the screams came. “Ouch. What did you do, Pinkie?”

Pinkie smiled invisibly in the dark. “Tripwire flamethrower.”

“Figures.”

“Never leave home without one,” Pinkie said, and fidgeted. “I really, really, really don’t like this. I didn’t expect it to be so... dark.”

“You’re afraid of the dark?” Fluttershy asked quietly.

“Maybe,” Pinkie said.

Fluttershy made a noncommittal noise and looked both ways around a corner. “This way, I think. Um, if you’re okay with me picking.”

“It was a super dry year,” Pinkie said wistfully, ignoring Fluttershy. “When I got my cutie mark. It hadn’t rained in months. The sparks from the fire were really pretty, drifting up at the leaves of the trees. Oh, and then the whole thing caught! I mean...” She giggled. “I ran—I mean, duh, but the entire stand of trees started burning! Oh, that was fun, fun, fun! Flames just jetting a hundred feet into the air... you could feel the heat on your skin, watch the embers dance their way into the air. Oh my gosh, it was just amazing. I’d never felt joy like that before! It felt so good I just wanted to keep smiling forever!”

“Hmm,” Fluttershy said.

“What about you? What is that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Fluttershy said, looking away.

“Okie dokie! Ooh. I think we’re close.”

They were, and they walked into a clearing in the labyrinth. The sky was more visible from here. Something standing in the center, though, blocked out the stars above. Fluttershy fumbled with the light and pointed it at the thing.

And gasped. “Pinkie... what is that?”

Pinkie bounced happily. “It’s Discord! Just like my Nana Pinkie told me. Ooh, doesn’t he look supercool?”

“Pinkie,” Fluttershy said, a bit more loudly. There was an edge to her voice now. “What is he?”

“A draconequus, silly!”

“Uh. Isn’t this a statue?”

“Nope, that’s him. He’s just stuck inside of it.”

“Okay...” Fluttershy said skeptically. “A what? I’ve never seen a draconequus before.”

“Draconequus. He’s like a supercool manifestation of chaos and stuff. And I don’t think he likes the princess very much, because he’s been stuck here for pretty much forever,” Pinkie said impatiently. “Now, are we gonna get him out or not?”

“Wait,” Fluttershy said. “We don’t know anything about him. What if he—”

“Wow!” Pinkie said. “I didn’t think you were so scared!”

“I am not—”

“Are too!”

“If I was scared, why would I—”

There was a loud crack. Fluttershy paused. “What was that?”

Pinkie shrugged, and spun around. “Ooh, good, it’s started!” she squealed.

“What started?” Fluttershy hissed, looking behind her. The statue had begun to crack, lines radiating out from its chest. They expanded and met, fragmenting the stone skin of the statue further and further into a spiderweb of cracks. There was a flash of light and a scattering of rock, and the statue disintegrated.

Discord threw his arms back and yawned. “My word, that was boring! It’s good to be back!” He grinned wolfishly.
> Those Who Dream By Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Discord’s eyes drifted down towards the two ponies below him. Pinkie bounded up. “Hi there! My name’s Pinkie Pie!” She looked up at him expectantly.

“Of course it is,” he said, patting her on the head. His gaze locked on Fluttershy briefly, and he grinned. “Well, well, well. So these are my liberators. An assassin and a firebug. Not exactly what I expected, but I’ll take it.”

Fluttershy spoke. “We need your help.”

Discord, craning his neck to look at the black sky above, nodded. “Hmm? Help?”

“We need your help to fight Nightmare Moon!” Pinkie said.

Discord frowned, and looked back down. “Sorry, who? I’m rather behind the times.”

“Luna,” Fluttershy said quietly.

Discord’s mouth opened in an O of surprise. “You’re asking for my help to fight Luna?” He tilted his head up, cackling. “You two are an absolute scream. Here,” he said, extending a paw, “have my card.”

Fluttershy raised an eyebrow, but took it. It was styled after a playing card, with a grinning Discord as the joker.

“Ah, my apologies,” Discord said, pirouetting theatrically as a clawed hand swooped in to grab the card. “Wrong card. But don’t worry, I’ll call you. Or something.” He strutted away, muttering something about needing to stretch his chaos muscles.

Pinkie Pie ran after him. “Wait!”

He spun around. “What do you want?”

“We kinda need your help getting out, so if you’d be totally superawesome and stuff, you know... that’d be really great.”

He waved her off. “Oh, very well. Where is it that you call home, you misguided little creature?”

“Ponyville!”

“It’s about thirty-five miles southeast,” Fluttershy noted.

“Never let it be said that I don’t repay my debts,” Discord said, walking away. He snapped his fingers, and Pinkie and Fluttershy disappeared.

And reappeared, in a damp, windy darkness. Fluttershy spun for a moment, trying to get her bearings. Up and down were obvious, but the lack of anything in the down direction was... disconcerting. She raised her wings experimentally, and the shock of air that brought them to their full length stung painfully. So she was falling. Cloudsdale, she thought, and was interrupted by a high-pitched cry. The speed and wind blurred it, but it sounded like....

“Wheeeeee!” Pinkie Pie shouted, falling through the air thousands of feet above Ponyville.

Fluttershy shook her head, and folded into a dive. She had never been any good at this sort of thing. I wish Rainbow Dash were here, she thought.





Dash stared into the sleeping face of Twilight Sparkle. It was almost disturbing, she thought, to see that face peaceful for once, not alive with her usual cold hatred, or—more frighteningly—hot rage. Dash’s hoof went to her gun, idly circling the grip. I could kill her now, she thought. I could have done it for weeks. She’d never see it coming. A faint smile appeared on her face, and disappeared just as quickly.

She’d certainly played the part of the loyal lieutenant well. She was indispensable—although admittedly, making sure any competent officers got transferred out helped with that. And it seemed like Sparkle liked her. Saving somepony’s life a couple of times probably did that.

Shit. Dash couldn’t say that she liked Sparkle—of course not—but there was something about the way that unicorn looked at her... Get yourself together, Dash, she reprimanded herself. You’re going to kill her, not ask her out.

Respect, Dash thought. That was it. Respect. They weren’t so different after all. Twilight craved respect, at least as much as Dash did. And if that was tied up with a bunch of other stuff... well, who could blame Sparkle? As far as excuses went, “I grew up in a shitty prison camp” was a pretty good one. And I’m going to kill her. I’m going to kill this damaged, messed-up mare, and she’ll never even see it coming.

Dash sighed, and looked out the window. It was nearly pitch black. She didn’t know what she had expected.

Twilight coughed weakly, and turned her head towards her. “Dash?” she asked.

The pegasus froze for a second, unable to respond. Twilight looked around. “A hospital,” she said hoarsely. “I’m in a hospital.”

“Yeah,” Dash said quietly.

“Shit,” Twilight intoned. “What happened?”

“You got punched by a four hundred pound dragon. Something happened with your brain. I tried to keep up, but it’s not like I’m a doctor. They say you’re stable now, but—”

Twilight was trying to pull her IVs out.

“Sparkle! Calm yourself down!”

“I can’t,” Twilight hissed. “If I don’t get results, significant results, and soon, I lose everything. I lose my resources, I lose my mission...” Her eyes fixed on Dash. “I lose you.” She shuddered. “And I’ll go back. I know it, Dash. She’ll send me back.”

Dash was at the side of the bed now, and she stroked Twilight’s head reassuringly. “Hey. Nopony’s going anywhere. They cancelled all the transfer orders. Everypony’s staying right where they are for now.”

Relief smoothed Twilight’s face for a moment. “Why?”

“I don’t know. There’s something going on. Something big.”

Twilight sighed. “There’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”

“Guess not, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Dash recoiled a little bit. “Uh, alright, Miss Sparkle.”

The unicorn smiled, a genuine smile for once. “Twilight. You can call me Twilight.”

“Twilight. Okay.”

Neither of them knew where to go from there. Twilight looked at Dash expectantly. Dash avoided her gaze.

Twilight winced suddenly. “Dash, I can’t see out of my left eye.”

        “You—right. I’m gonna get you a doctor.”

        Dash ran out the door, wings instinctively opening for flight. She pulled them back in. There was nothing flying away would accomplish, nothing to get away from other than the realization that once again, she might be saving Twilight Sparkle’s life. She flagged down a doctor. “Night Guard,” she said, gesturing towards her black jacket. “Drop whatever you’re doing and get in here.”

        The doctor followed her into Twilight’s room. “What’s the problem?” he asked with poorly disguised annoyance.

        “I can’t see out of my left eye,” Sparkle announced weakly. “I haven’t read much about the subject, but considering that I've experienced serious head trauma in the last few hours, I’m guessing that’s not a good sign. I want a doctor. Now.”

“I think the specialists are tied up in surgery. You can wait until they’re done.”

“I’m the princess’s personal student, and while I’m in Ponyville, I act as her plenipotentiary,” Twilight said. “Get me a doctor.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can. Get me a doctor. Now.”

The doctor scowled, but walked off. Twilight fell back onto the bed. Dash stayed where she was. What a mess, she thought. A complete fucking mess.





        Rarity and Spike walked into the building, and down into the basement. There was nothing there—just brick walls and a rough concrete floor.

        The unicorn glared intently at Cranky. “If this is your attempt at an ambush, it’s not a very good one.”

        “Don’t be stupid. This isn’t an ambush,” Cranky said, feeling the wall. He pressed a brick, and the wall swung back a few inches. He pushed, and revealed a tunnel. “After you.”

        “Um, no,” Spike said. “You first.”

        “Fine.”

        They walked in, lights strung at long intervals providing only just enough to see. Spike leaned in towards Rarity and whispered, “Um, not that I don’t trust you, but why do we think they won’t kill us?”

        “They won’t,” she whispered back. “I imagine we have nothing to worry about. They should have somepony keeping tabs on Sparkle. They know we’re not interested in betraying them.”

        Spike raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

        They continued on for some distance. Rarity yelped, feeling water beneath her hooves. Cranky looked back, but didn’t say anything. Spike picked her up gently.

        “A true gentledragon,” she cooed.

        Cranky groaned.

        They turned, and came to a staircase. “We’re here,” Cranky announced.

“Cool,” Spike said, looking upwards. “Go up.”

Cranky sighed, a bit too loudly, and led the way up the staircase. At reaching the top, he gave a low whistle. Rarity and Spike followed, and were greeted by a number of unsmiling faces behind gun barrels.

“This? This is an ambush. Our own little welcome mat.” The donkey cackled.

        Rarity sighed. “That’s a simply awful metaphor.”

        Spike raised a hand. “Um, hi. I love guns in my face as much as the next guy, but could we maybe...”

        “Talk to somepony who has more sense than to threaten two extremely valuable assets?” Rarity finished, a grin flashing from her mouth.

        “Two spies is more like it,” one of the sols said.

        “Do you really think we’re that stupid?” Spike asked.

        “I haven’t seen too much indication otherwise,” Cranky said. Rarity glared, and the dragon’s fists clenched.

        “You really don’t want to push us,” Spike said.

        “Sure, sure. Well, until you give us a reason to trust ya...” The guns pointed towards their frightened faces.

        “Okay, stop.”

        The sols lowered their weapons. Rarity peered towards the source of the voice. There was a mare standing at the doorway: tall, elegant, but tired-looking. She stood a little shakily, leaning on the doorframe for support, but there was a fire in her eyes.

“Cranky, they’re not spies,” she said. “Let them in. You can always kill them later.” At this last sentence, she chuckled just cheerfully enough to let the visitors know she was kidding.

        Or, Rarity thought uncomfortably, maybe not.

        “Come on in,” the pink mare said. Rarity gasped a little as she turned. It was dark, but it was hard to miss the presence of both a horn and a pair of wings folded at her side.





        The electric lights in the room flicked on, and Rainbow Dash roused. “Sir,” a voice called out. Dash’s eyes opened blearily, and she raised her head. A twinge of pain in her neck reminded her why falling asleep in hospital chairs was a bad idea, and she was briefly irritated.

        “What do you want?” she snapped, voice still slurred from sleep.

        “Dash,” Lightning Dust said, “you have to get out of here. Sparkle has a visitor.”

        “Lieutenant, what are—a visitor?”

        “Yes! Now get your flank out of here before—”

        The door opened, and Nightmare Moon stepped in, bowing her head to get through the door. She glared at the Night Guards with a disinterested malevolence, and spoke. “Leave us.”

        They stood up, saluted, and hurried out of the door. Dash gave a final glance back, then shut the door quietly. Nightmare locked the door, and sat down on a chair, her bulk barely fitting. She reached out to touch Twilight, then pulled back.

        “Twilight,” she started cautiously, “Can you hear me?”

        There was a soft snap behind her, and she craned her neck around to look. “Discord,” she said coolly. He stood there, a nonchalant grin on his face, and mismatched arms crossed.

        “Miss me?” he asked.

        “Where did you come from?” she snapped.

        “Going to and fro on the earth, things like that.” Discord waved off Nightmare’s baffled expression. “More recently, as I’m sure you’re aware of by now, I’m out of the... clink. And it looks like you have had a very interesting time in my absence, haven’t you? I just love the...” He gestured vaguely at her appearance. “New look. But where, pray tell, is darling Celly?”

        Nightmare ground her teeth. “She is gone.”

        Discord wound his way behind her, and leaned in towards her ear. “Figures,” he said, in a sibilant near-whisper.

        She spun around and tried to land a smack on Discord’s face. He narrowly sidestepped it and withdrew. “Careful now. We wouldn’t want to wake up little... What’s her name?”

        “Twilight Sparkle,” she said, stepping towards him.

        Discord glanced at the window. “Ah. Interesting. It doesn’t quite fit your... diurnal changes, does it?”

        Nightmare glared at him.

        “Alright, alright. I won’t pry. But I do have this nasty habit of curiosity. What’s she to you?”

        “That sounds unpleasantly like prying to me, Discord.”

        Discord put his hands up in mock surrender. “Me? Never.”

        Nightmare stamped her hoof. “Discord...” she menaced.

        “Loony...” he said, mocking, pacing around her.
        
She reached out with her magic and flung the chair towards him, knocking him into the wall. He groaned softly, then snapped his fingers. The chair scurried away. “So, I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Right about what?” Nightmare hissed.

        Discord’s head bobbed from side to side for a moment. “Oh, my apologies.” He bowed. “I got...” His head popped off, grinning wildly, and fell into his arms. “Ahead of myself.”

        Nightmare Moon groaned. “Make your point and be gone, Discord.”

        Discord put his head back into place, and pointed a claw at her. “And that right there is what I’m talking about. You can’t do a thing to me, can you?”

        Nightmare was silent.

        “I didn’t think so. So, allow me to guess. You’re here instead of your dear sister because of some... shenanigans... with the Elements. Aren’t you?”

        No reaction. Discord sighed. “Very well. If you’re not going to be considerate enough to play along... Where are the Elements, Luna?”

        “Gone,” she hissed.

“Testy, testy,” Discord noted. “Gone like Celestia?”

        “Yes.”

        “Oh...” Discord stroked his beard thoughtfully. “You have been a busy mare since I saw you last.”

        Silence.

        “Oh, come now, little Luna, don’t be shy. You can tell good old Uncle Discord everything.”

        “If you think I have anything to say to you, you are badly mistaken. I have neither the inclination nor—”

There was a flash of light, and Discord stood by Twilight’s bed, one claw caressing her throat. “It’s funny that you should mention inclination.”

“Leave her,” Nightmare growled, baring her teeth.

        “Such ferocity over her? You haven’t changed as much as I thought, have you?” Discord said, continuing to stroke Twilight’s neck. “I have to say, I expected more from you, Luna. Maybe even a little spine.”

        “I am not Luna! I am Nightmare Moon!” she shouted in the voice of royalty. Her hooves slammed to the floor, and magical energy crackled around them. There was the sharp scent of ozone as her horn glowed, and she stepped towards the bed.

        Discord looked bored, and faintly disappointed. “I thought we’d been over this. There is nothing you can do to me without the Elements.”

        Her horn sparked, and a bolt of energy arced its way to Discord. He winced as a tenth-bit sized area of his chest burned and blackened. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was whole again. “Well, I know when I’m not wanted.” He bowed theatrically, and was gone.

        Twilight Sparkle stirred.





So, Dash. How’s things?

What am I talking about? You’ve been with Sparkle for the last two nights. You could let somepony else take watch, you know. Come on, you can’t even function like this.

Hey. Talk to me. What’s with you and Sparkle?

Forget it. You’re acting weird, that’s all.
> Nightfall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Filthy Rich tapped his desk idly. Of course he wasn't nervous about meeting the Princess for the first time--why would he be? He'd done well, hadn't he? His administration had overseen massive growth in Ponyville's economy: that was something worth applauding, wasn't it? And Princess Luna was a smart mare, surely, smart enough to realiźe how absolutely indispensible he was. Absolutely indispensible. He chuckled softly. Even if his predecessors had occasionally been... removed from power.... by the princess, he had nothing to worry about. Filthy Rich could handle a visiting monarch without too much problem.

The door opened, and he flinched. He stood up suddenly as Nightmare Moon entered the room, flanked by a pair of stern Night Guards. Her eyes turned towards Filthy, and he bowed politely and sat back down.

Nightmare Moon scanned the room, her gaze lingering on the window behind Filthy. He couldn't blame her--it was an impressive view, hundreds of feet above Ponyville, its lights shining below. Just one of the perks of being the most powerful stallion in the region. Still, she took a while. He coughed subtly. "Hello, Your Majesty. Can I help you in any way?" Not bad, Rich, he thought. Not bad at all.

Her eyes locked on him,  and he shuddered. There was a presence behind those reptilian pupils, one that...  it reminded him, before he dismissed the thought as absurd, of a snake just before it strikes its prey. There was that same dreadful, almost contemptuous intensity...

But of course he was imagining things.

"Yes, Governor Rich, I believe you can," she said. There was a pause. Nightmare Moon did not blink, and Filthy decided with the utmost of rational politeness that it would be best to let her explain. The fact that his throat was being very uncooperative as far as making words went also played into it a bit. "I have been told that you have denied Twilight Sparkle, my personal student and representative in Ponyville, resources essential to her completion of the mission I assigned her."



Ah. Only natural that she'd want to take stock of her student's progress. I'm sure she'll be disappointed in Sparkle's lack of finesse when it comes to dealing with me... "I've been very understanding with Miss Sparkle," he said in the voice he usually used to placate his nominal superiors. It was all part of the game, he thought. All part of the game. I act obsequious, they realize they need me far too much to interfere. Simple. "In fact, I granted her a battalion of Night Guard."



"Which, as I understand, has been reassigned," Nightmare Moon said.



"Yes," the governor admitted easily, "it has. Twilight was disrupting a wholly unacceptable amount of legitimate activity in her unhinged sol-hunting."



Those eyes flashed. "There are no unacceptable disruptions when it comes to prosecuting criminals, terrorists, and other threats to our society."



Filthy gestured expansively. "Well, of course, in theory, that's absolutely correct, but working at—well, not 'ground level', but you get what I mean. Things are different here."

Nightmare sighed. "Disloyalty comes in many different... guises." She strode towards the desk, long legs crossing the distance easily. She looked out the window, and continued. "It can come openly, defiantly, as I am sure we are both well aware. But there is also a more... subtle form. It comes quietly, deferentially. It trades in defiance for casual, easy disobedience and doubt. But make no mistake." 

She nodded, glancing back at the Night Guards. They walked to the other side of the desk. One pulled out his pistol, shooting the window out. The wind rushed past, and there was a distant tinkling of glass on concrete as the other black-jacketed pony dragged Filthy out of his chair. He stiffened involuntarily, but didn't say anything. Neither did Nightmare Moon, who regarded Filthy for a moment.



Her mouth opened, and all Filthy noticed were the predatory fangs. "Make no mistake, Filthy Rich. I do not tolerate disloyalty in any form, no matter how quiet and unobtrusive." She gestured impatiently, and the guards dragged him to the edge of the shattered window. "And in case you were wondering, nopony is indispensable."



He fell, and the room was quiet, except for the rushing wind. There was a thump, barely audible. Nightmare Moon turned to leave.

> Seize The Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rain rattled on the iron roof of Twilight’s carriage as it clanked its way through the streets of Ponyville. Twilight leaned against the side and stared out the narrow window into the perpetual darkness.

“You should still be in the hospital,” Dash said quietly, looking at Twilight. She looks pale. Tired. Should I be worried? she thought.

Of course not. She’ll make mistakes if she’s out of it. But...

“I don’t see why I should be,” Twilight said. “They discharged me, after all.”

“You didn’t give them much choice.”

Twilight turned towards Dash and smiled—an awkward, uneven grin. “Get used to it, Dash! Things are going to change around here. Especially now that the princess is in town."

“Change?” Dash asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. “How’s that, ma’am?”

Twilight raised a hoof and gestured around vaguely. “If I understand the princess correctly, she’s...” The personal student giggled a little, a short, sharp noise. “Ahem. The princess has rejected Governor Rich’s... approach to dealing with the sols. We’re not doing things halfway anymore.”

Spooky. “Oh?”

“Oh, yes. We’re going to take a more active role. Isn’t this exciting?” Twilight’s eyes were wide.

She can’t wait for whatever this is, Dash thought. There’s no way that’s a good thing. “Active, huh?”

“Active,” Twilight said, nodding her head repeatedly. “We’re going to smoke them out of their little, um, little hidey holes. Have you heard about what the princess has been doing in Canterlot?”

She can’t be serious. She can’t be. “Not really,” Dash said, not trusting herself to respond. Her face was a mask of polite interest.

“That’s good,” Twilight said. “Princess Luna said that most ponies wouldn’t understand why she has to do what she’s doing. Ooh, but it’s so cool!”

Dash cocked an eyebrow.

“You really don’t know anything about it, do you?” Twilight said, with a look of condescension. “Her sis—” Twilight paused. “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she said softly, with a conspiratorial glance towards the window.

“Alright, ma’am,” Dash said.

Twilight smiled. “Loyal as always, Lieutenant. I think I can trust you with things like this.”

Right... “If you say so.”

“Can’t I trust you?”

“Of course,” Dash said, her tone a bit curt—‘Of course you can trust me. Why wouldn’t you?’

“That’s right!” Twilight said, clapping her hooves together. “We’re friends after all, aren’t we?”

“I’m not really sure—”

“Come on, Dash,” Twilight said, with a genuine, soft smile. “No need for pretense here.”

Dash tried to smile back. She couldn’t really manage it. “Pretense? Me?”

Twilight laughed. “I guess not. Oh, are we there already?”

“Looks like it,” Dash said, looking out her window. “Behind me please, ma’am.”

“You’re worried about an attempt on me twenty feet away from city hall?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Right.”

Dash dropped out of the carriage, taking care not to make contact with her injured leg. She looked left and right, and then found her eyes drawn upwards to the stolid mass of the city hall building. It was a imposing, blocky structure, built of ostentatious white marble that seemed to glow dimly in the night. The governor’s office rose up almost arrogantly from the rest of the building, hundreds of feet above street level. Governor Rich had it specially added, Dash recalled dimly. It didn’t look like it fit, in any case.

“Area’s clear, ma’am,” Dash said, glancing back towards the carriage. Twilight shifted herself towards the door, wincing and rubbing her head. “You alright, Twilight?” Dash asked.

Twilight? she thought. Idiot.

But Twilight didn’t seem to mind after all. “I’m fine,” she said, lowering her legs out of the carriage. She touched the ground gingerly, watching it as if it was a threat. She stood up on the wet pavement, as straight as possible.

Twilight gritted her teeth, and put a hoof to her head. “Dash,” she hissed. “Come over here.”

Dash trotted over to her side. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I need you to support me. My head—” Twilight winced, and hesitated to speak again. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Dash said, pulling Twilight’s foreleg over her shoulders. “This is what I do for a living, remember?”

“Were there a lot of classes about hauling your invalid commanders from place to place?” Twilight asked, smirking slightly.

I don’t—was that a joke? Dash chuckled politely. “You’d be surprised, ma’am.”

“Twilight.”

“Sorry?”

Twilight glared. “I told you to call me Twilight. Remember?”

Why would she...   “Yes, m—Twilight.”

“Good,” Twilight said, with a lopsided grin. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I guess not.”

“There we go! Anyways, you will never guess what happened to the governor...”





Dash didn’t look at the yellow pegasus that walked next to her. It was still raining: a warm, languid storm from the dayside that lashed the cracked pavement in slow, steady bursts, like the beating of a heart, and the air was so thick with moisture that Dash sweared she could feel it drag past her as she walked through the empty streets of the East District.

There was a small shop ahead, its windows shattered. Glass shards were still scattered over the pavement. Inside, the cheap tiled floor was smeared black—a fire, or maybe some kind of bomb.

“Everypony’s still gone from here,” Fluttershy said quietly, “ever since the sunrise.”

Dash didn’t say anything, picking her way through the glass.

“Were you followed?” Fluttershy asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“You didn’t check?”

“Of course I checked,” Dash snapped. “I can make mistakes.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy said. “You said you needed to talk to me as soon as you could?”

“Yeah,” Dash said, glancing behind her. “Twilight says that things are going to change a lot. Like, with a, uh, active approach to us.”

“What does that mean?”

Dash didn’t say anything for a few seconds. The rain fell softly around them. “Canterlot was mentioned.”

Fluttershy gasped—a quick, subtle sound. But it still scared the hell out of Dash. 

“So... the rumors are true,” Dash said.

Fluttershy nodded.

“It as bad as they say?”

The assassin looked away, and shook her head. “It’s probably worse.”

“Shit. Why would it be worse?”

“Um. The ponies telling those stories are still alive,” Fluttershy said without any particular emphasis, like she was talking about the weather. “Everything I do hear scares me, Dash.”

“What have you been hearing?” Dash said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, they say everything below 42nd is just gone,” Fluttershy said. “Nightmare sent in multiple regiments to clear out everypony.”

“And by clear out...”

“Yes.”

Dash exhaled slowly. “This is bad.”

Fluttershy placed a hoof on her shoulder, carefully, keeping a wary eye on Dash. “It might be time to do it, Rainbow.”

“You don’t know that would help,” Dash said, just a bit too quickly. “She’s barely settled into her new role as the princess’s representative plenipotentiary.”

Fluttershy raised an eyebrow—although it was hard to tell behind those innocent bangs. “What is she now?”

“Representative, uh... imperial plenipotentiary...” Dash said, sounding out the last word. “If she says something, it’s basically like the princess said it.”

Fluttershy stared at her.

“Shy, I know how this sounds, but killing her now won’t do anything. The princess isn’t relying on her for anything. She just got out of the hospital.”

Fluttershy raised her pace, leaving the lieutenant behind.

“What are you doing? Shy... Fluttershy! Come on!” Dash said, running to catch up with her.

The assassin turned around. “If you haven’t done it the next time I see you, I’ll report you to the Night Guard and then kill her myself.”

Dash’s mouth opened and closed, but she found herself unable to form words.

“I mean it, Dashie,” Fluttershy said, hiding behind her mane.

“We shouldn’t have to act like this,” Dash said hoarsely. “This is wrong.”

Fluttershy didn’t say anything, just stood there and watched the rain fall onto Dash. “I know,” she said, and walked away.





Rarity and Spike followed the alicorn through the halls of the solar headquarters. They were crowded, busy—a electricity in the atmosphere, with dozens of ponies rubbing past the bare concrete walls. The lighting was dim and uneven, with only the occasional electric light illuminating the halls.

“So,” the alicorn said, looking back at the pair, “you’re ‘extremely valuable assets’? And why exactly is that?”

“If we didn’t have anything to offer—” Spike started.

“Spike, darling,” Rarity interrupted, “if you’ll let me do the talking? Thank you. Now, to answer your question...”

Rarity paused in the hall, her eyes wide. “It is Princess Cadence, isn’t it?”

Cadence smiled wanly. “Just Cadence now, I’m afraid.”

“But...” Rarity said, trotting quickly to catch up with Cadence, “I had thought you were dead. I adored you as a filly! You always had such a poise, a elegance, a... a je ne sais quoi to you. It was quite...”

Cadence didn’t respond.

“Forgive me,” Rarity said, “I do have a habit of rambling. But I would have never expected to find you somewhere like here! I thought...”

“That I was Nightmare’s shill?” Cadence asked.

“Not as such...” Rarity said quietly.

“No, that’s fair,” Cadence said. “I was when you had heard of me. I didn’t have much of a choice about it, though.”

Rarity nodded. “I take it, then, that the official story about your disappearance was...”

“Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Cadence said, smirking. “Solar terrorists, right? I was supposedly abducted and killed?”

Rarity blinked. “Well, yes.”

“Abducted, I guess,” Cadence said, rounding a corner. “But usually that’s a bad thing. It wasn’t for me. Oh, we’re at Shining’s office.” She opened the door casually. “Hi, honey.”

Rarity’s eyes barely glanced at the unicorn, but locked on the other pony in the room. “You!” she hissed.

Fluttershy looked bored. “Hello, Cadence. What’s the escort doing here?”

Cadence said, “I’m not actually sure.”

“I...” Rarity started. “I want to help you. We’ll talk about my motives later, but in the meantime... Spike, would you be a dear?”

Spike reached behind him, grabbing something out of the pack he carried on his back. Blink and you’d miss it—Fluttershy already had her gun out and pointed at Rarity. “What are you doing?”

He put his hands up in the air, one carrying a suitcase. 

“This suitcase,” Rarity said, “has been filled with thousand-bit bills. Spike is carrying two more just like it.” She smiled. “And as far as I’m concerned, it’s yours.” It was a practiced smile, an expert one. “But as much as I’m sure that will be helpful, my real wealth is in... well.”

She smirked, and tapped the side of her head. “I have a vast network of connections—favors owed, secrets kept.“ She winked. "Or not kept. In short, I have a great deal of influence which you have never heard about before, but is, however, very real. You may confirm this with whomever you like."

"She wants something,” Fluttershy said. “She always does. It’s how she operates.”

Rarity leveled her smile, and an ice-cold glare, at Fluttershy. “Be that as it may, I am only looking for two simple little things, which I’m sure you’ll agree are well worth the benefit of my services.”

Cadence mouthed the word “services,” and chuckled.

Rarity cringed, but recovered her composure quickly. “Well, Mr Armor? I was hoping we could come to an agreement tonight.”

Shining Armor watched her for a few seconds, eyes flickering away from her face. “What do you want?”

Rarity smiled. “First, I want to leave to Manehatten. I know that you have ways of getting ponies places. Second, I would dearly appreciate it if the princess’s... what is she now? Twilight Sparkle, in any case, needs to die.”

Shining sighed. “I think we can make that happen. Cadence, get that information from her. Fluttershy... I’m putting you on the Sparkle thing. Ask the dragon how you can make that happen.”





“I’ve never seen a dragon before,” Fluttershy said, walking through the halls of the solar headquarters.

“Well then,” Spike said.

“I didn’t know you could talk.”

“And how,” Spike intoned.

“Um. It doesn’t seem like you talk much, though.”

Spike shrugged.

“Oh. If you could come in here, please,” she said, gesturing towards a door. It lead to a bare concrete room, with a plain wood table and two cheap metal chairs. “Um, maybe you could take a seat, but...”

“Yeah.”

“So,” Fluttershy mumbled, pulling out a pad and pencil, “how long have you known Twilight Sparkle?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Why would knowing that help you?”

Fluttershy sighed. “Um, well... I operate in sort of a different way than most ponies who do what I do. Please, just trust me and answer the questions.”

“Most my life, I guess,” Spike said, scratching his head. “So... eight years?”

“You’re eight years old?”

“I don’t look like I am, do I?” Spike said, scratching the ceiling lazily with a barely raised arm. “They do a bunch of different stuff to dragons like me. Chemicals. Magic. I don’t know, stuff like that.” He swung his arm down. His hand hung nearly down to his knee. “I should be what, like this tall right now? It’s weird.”

“And your relation to Sparkle?”

“Uh. I don’t know. Former employee, mailbox, pet, slave, maybe br... I don’t know.”

“What’s she like?”

“I thought you’d be asking me stuff like where can I find Twilight Sparkle? and how many ponies are in her personal guard?”

“Where can I find Twilight Sparkle?”

“Beats me.”

“How many ponies are in her personal guard?”

“It’s probably changed—I don’t know anything about that.”

“So...” Fluttershy said quietly.

“It isn’t going to help you to ask me those questions,” Spike rumbled. “Got it. What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about her.”

“Shit,” Spike said, rubbing his face, “where do I begin?”

“Oh, the beginning is usually a good place, I guess,” Fluttershy said.

“Uh, okay. I got assigned to Twilight as a baby. She was... I guess a new student at that point.”

Fluttershy scribbled in something in her notepad, then, past the pencil: “Student where?”

“Luna’s School for Gifted Unicorns. It’s in Canterlot.”

“Right. Does every student there have a dragon?”

“Definitely not. I think it was just Twilight.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy said. “Alright. Why is that?”

“The princess likes her.”

“Why is that?”

“Lots of reasons,” Spike said. “You know how she was born in a prison camp?”

Fluttershy nodded.

“She didn’t talk a lot about it, but she’s terrified of getting sent back there if she fails. It’s... it’s pretty much impossible, but that’s how she is.”

Fluttershy sighed. “She certainly does seem capable.”

“I guess.”

“Oh, you don’t think so?”

Spike shrugged. “She has really powerful magic. She’s very smart. But...”

“Yes?”

“She’s crazy. I mean it. There’s something wrong with that mare.”

Fluttershy leaned in, some intensity burning behind her eyes. “Like what?”

Spike closed his eyes and sighed, breathing deeply a couple of times. “The competition in that school is insane. And Twilight was at the top of it. She had to be the best at everything. Everything.”

Fluttershy didn’t write anything down, just looked blankly at Spike. “And?”

“She made me do a lot of stuff so that she could keep her place. Bad stuff. You can probably guess.”

“Rats,” Fluttershy said.

“What?”

“Oh, I was just, um, thinking about rats. They’ll eat pretty much anything if they’re hungry enough. So if you get a bunch of them in a small space...”

“They’ll eat each other,” Spike finished. “Cute comparison.”

“Oh, but that’s terrible,” Fluttershy said. “Those poor little rats.”

“You don’t really care about the unicorns, then.”

“Not really,” Fluttershy said. “So Sparkle grew up in a camp and then a really nasty elite magic school... what were her parents in the camp for?”

Spike whistled low. “I think I know what you’re trying to get at.”

“Just answer the questions, please.”

“They were sols. Not like you, though. They just thought things would get better once the sun came up.”

“How do you know about this?”

“She says things, sometimes. She’s gotten used to me being around, so I hear a lot of stuff.”

“That makes sense,” she said mildly. “What does she think about her parents?”

“Oh, she thinks they were naive idiots who deserved what they got.”

“Were,” Fluttershy repeated. “They’re dead.”

“Oh, well yeah. That’s how Twilight got the princess’s attention in the first place.”

“How’s that work?”

“Her parents kept up some solar... stuff... in the camp. They tried to celebrate the summer solstice, stuff like that. Lowkey, of course, so the guards wouldn’t catch them.”

“But Twilight did.”

“She reported them to the guards when she was like nine.”

“Wow,” Fluttershy said softly.

“Yeah.”

“The princess talked about what she had heard from the camp administrator a lot. Apparently Twilight stormed into his office, this little nine year old filly, and demanded that all three of them be hanged. The way the princess always told it, the camp administrator was so terrified of Twilight that he had it scheduled for next night.”

“That doesn’t sound very likely.”

Spike shrugged. “Maybe not.”

“Alright, well... wait, you said three of them?”

“Yeah. Her mom, dad, and brother. Why?”

“I didn’t know that she had a brother,” Fluttershy said.

Spike shrugged. “She doesn’t talk about him. Like, ever. He would have been, I don’t know, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. He’s dead, though. Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know yet,” Fluttershy said, “but... I think it might be important.” She smiled at him, a sweet and real smile. “Thank you for your time, Spike. I should know everything I need to know.”

“No problem.”





Discord didn’t announce his presence, but just smirked and stood in front of Shining Armor’s desk. Shining didn’t look up for some time, scribbling out instructions onto anonymous sheets of paper.

Discord sighed. “All work and no play makes Shiny a singularly dull colt,” he intoned. “And I don’t just mean boring.”

Shining’s head snapped upwards, and he drew his firearm instinctively. “Who the hell are you?” And then he took a double-take, staring at Discord, who spread out his arms expansively.

“Like what you see?” Discord asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Shining said. “Again, who the hell are you?”

Discord looked disappointed. “I’m Discord!” he said. “Surely you’re familiar: avatar of chaos extraordinaire, professional shananigan-maker, a being of strange and powerful... powers.” He frowned. “No? Not the slightest glimmer of recognition?”

“You’re the person Pie went after in Canterlot,” Shining said.

“The little pink firebug?” Discord asked. “A mare after my own heart, that one, more or less. But, anyhow, speak of—well, me—and I shall appear!”

Discord snapped his fingers, and was replaced by a plain cardboard box. “Give a few days for shipping and handling,” he said, muffled by the box.

“Days,” Shining said. “So you sympathize with our cause already. That’s good.”

Discord sprung out of the box, and leaned in towards Shining. “What an incorrigible nincompoop,” he said. “I like that about you, Mr Shining Armor.”

“Pinkie never mentioned that you were a jackass,” Shining said.

“Oh, but I’m a delightful jackass,” Discord said. “And more to the point, I’m an extraordinarily useful one to ponies who can... amuse me. And from what I’ve heard, I like your style, such as it is.”

“I assume you have a point to this.”

Discord pouted. “Not everything has to have a point, you know. But in this particular instance you’re mostly right.”

“Alright.”

Discord was suddenly wearing a trim black suit, and sat down in front of Shining’s desk, mismatched limbs resting on it. “So let’s talk business, shall we? Darling Luna has set up this sordid little system.” He almost spat that last word. “You don’t like it. I don’t like it. We don’t like it. Our interests therefore coincide for the time being. And so, I think I might just help you.”

Shining nodded. “What can you do?”

“What can’t I do?” Discord shot back. “But I suppose I’d have to have a sense for what you want to accomplish.”

“The complete and utter destruction of Nightmare Moon and all of her minions!” Shining cried.

Discord looked bored, and dismissed the thought with a wave of his paw. “Yes, yes. I had already surmised as much. What next?”

Shining took a second to respond. “We’ll bring the sun back.”

Discord yawned.

“Is there a problem?” Shining snapped.

“Hmm? What’s that?” Discord asked. “I seem to have fallen asleep for a moment. You have the opportunity to shape an entire world and you settle for some diurnal rejiggering. I had expected, I don’t know, some modicum of ambition.”

“You have a funny way of making friends.”

“I'm a funny draconequus,” Discord said. “But you have been badly mislead if you think I have the slightest intention of making any friends in this process. Still, I do have something of a... quid pro quo for you in exchange for such assistance as I feel inclined to offer.”

“Like what?” Shining asked.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. I can guarantee you won’t be disappointed. But!” he said, “I do require you to get this through your unimaginative little brain.”

Discord gestured towards a large sheet of paper floating in midair, with a set of pieces of jewelry drawn on it. “Do you know what these are? No, of course you don’t. No matter. You don’t need to know what they are or what they do. They’re called the Elements of Harmony, and in the event of your... victory... I’m going to need you to find them and give them to me.”

“I’m not sure I can guarantee that,” Shining said.

“Oh, nonsense. Aren’t you the leader of this Solar Liberation Army or whatever silly thing you’ve decided to name it?”

Shining’s head bobbed from side to side. “Sort of.”

“Oh, you mean Celestia is? Honestly, Shining Armor, I’m disappointed in you.”

“I am an incorrigible nincompoop.”

“Indubitably! But let me let you in on a little secret of mine.”

Shining raised an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“She’s just a pony,” Discord said. “Well, perhaps not just. But those prophecies you pore over like they’re your wife’s private diary—” Discord waggled a finger at Shining. “Quite a nasty, clingy habit. Cadie should be quite upset. In any case, those prophecies could apply to any... white-coated, magical pony. One wonders where a stallion of your stature and color and magical capacity might be able to find such a creature.”

“Keep talking,” Shining said.

“And feed into your already disturbing sense of self-importance any further?” Discord asked. “No, I do believe I’ll pass. Consider my offer, though. Look for a... show of good faith, on my part. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

And Discord was gone.
> Dawn's Early Light
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I should be asleep, Twilight thought. The doctors had told her to rest. Which was absurd; there was far too much to do, after all.

But there is only so much a pony can do without sleep, sketchy stimulant-laced chocolate or no. (Twilight had been offered some vile black liquid called coffee by the retinue of servants that swirled around her whenever she didn't make it thoroughly clear that she wanted to be left alone. Even by Twilight’s standards, it was wretched, bitter stuff, and she could barely feel the pickup.)

So yes, sleep...

But sleep wasn't coming. So she stared up at the ceiling and into the dark.

Her bed was disgustingly soft—probably a down mattress, worth its weight in gold.

Rich was an idiot, Twilight thought. Coffee, servants, this damn squishy bed.

She sat up, flank sinking into the bed. Levitating her pillow—just as soft and appalling as the mattress, but at least she could put her forelegs under it to compensate--she dropped down to the floor and laid down.

The carpet was nice. Rich had no doubt bought it for its luxuriousness, a surface for his heavy, privileged hooves to step on.

I would have killed to sleep on this ten years ago, Twilight thought, closing her eyes.

Something was still... off.

She put aside her pillow. Maybe I'm not used to it. I should send somepony to buy me one just like I had when I got here.

She shrugged, or would have if she wasn't laying down. 

What if...

Spike. That's what she was missing. Not that she missed the dragon.

That must be it, she thought. I don't think I'm safe without him—it. Stupid. What would the princess think?

She was, after all, safer than she had ever been, wasn't she?

Surely it hadn't been this bright earlier. It didn’t seem fair. Twilight opened her eyes. Yes, it was brighter. Maybe one of the servants had come into the room and turned on a light. She would have to fire them.

And maybe have them shot. Just because they were a security risk. I'm not a... psychopath. No matter what anypony says.

Dash would probably approve. She's as paranoid as I am about security risks. I could have her do it.

But would she?

Screw it. Twilight would have to investigate, deal with whatever was making that damn light, and then...

Sleep.

Yes. Sleep.

The light wasn't coming from the doorway to her bedroom,  and it wasn't the hot glow of an electric bulb, anyways. A pale, thin light was streaming in through her window.

Possibilities, she thought.

1. It's moonlight.

This was unlikely. The sky had been thoroughly overcast when she had last seen it—the pegasi were still hoping to corral the rain clouds northwest, into Canterlot. Something had to stop those fires.

2. I'm hallucinating. 

Twilight took a instant to be disappointed by this hypothesis. Even if sleep deprivation or whatever was in those chocolate bars had been causing hallucinations, this would be a boring hallucination, and she was sure her subconscious could do better. In any case, it wasn't terribly useful. She couldn’t trust herself to think clearly if she was hallucinating.

3. Magic.

Well, now, this was plausible. Twilight subdivided this hypothesis in her head.

3a. It's a solar assassin.

Dash should be proud of me, Twilight thought. Jumping to the most paranoid explanation. Yes.

Well, she was outside the line of sight from the window. This didn't preclude an explosive device from killing her before she could project a shield, but it meant that they couldn't get to her without drawing attention. 

3b...

This took some thought. 

Princess Luna. Outside my window. She needs a place to sleep—does she sleep? And of course she’d drop in on her most loyal student.

I bet she doesn't like soft beds either, so she'll lay next to me on the carpet and—

Get a hold of yourself, Sparkle.

She walked to the window, solar assassins be damned. And if she paused a second looking for a pair of teal eyes, she soon forgot about it.

Because the sky was grey. A flat grey, but it shone a bit, like a cheap newspaper held up to the light.

She walked out to her balcony and stared up into the strange sky, her eyes wide. She gasped, and at that second, a raindrop fell into her mouth.

It tasted like chocolate.





The art of the nap is a subtle one, and Dash had mastered it. Any spare moment in any safe corner of the world was an opportunity to catch up on sleep. 

But it didn’t help that lately, she didn’t have that many spare moments, and safe corners were in short supply. Oh well. At least she could use all of these papers as a makeshift pillow. It was surprisingly comfortable.

The mare standing at the door to Dash’s office—which was strewn with papers Dash was probably supposed to address at some point—was slightly built and pale, wearing an unpretentious black jacket, and consulted a clipboard, glancing occasionally at Dash.

Dash focused her bleary eyes on the jacket. Not a Night Guard uniform. Huh.

“Lieutenant Colonel Dash?” the mare asked, her voice carrying just the slightest twinge of country.

Dash groaned. “That’s me.”

A forced smile. “Oh, good. I hoped I could track you down—”

What?

“—after all, Ms Sparkle seems to mention you quite a bit.”

“Uh, okay,” Dash said, standing up. “Who are you?”

The mare walked into Dash’s office, stepping distastefully over the papers that had somehow managed to find their way onto the floor. 

Dash smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. “Yeah, uh... I sorta just moved into here, so it’s kind of a mess.”

A blank stare. “I see. In any case—” A hoof extended to Dash in a smooth, professional motion. “I’m Moonshine Luster, personal aide to the princess. She’s... preoccupied... but wanted to check in on her personal student. And so here I am.”

Dash met Moonshine’s hoof with her own. “Pleased to meet you, I guess. Twi—um, Ms Sparkle—is upstairs right now. I think she’s sleeping.”

Moonshine glanced at the makeshift paper pillow. “Yes, well, there seems to be a fair bit of that going around. But actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

“Twilight Sparkle trusts you a great deal, you know,” Moonshine said, looking seriously up at Dash. “I handle some of the princess’s personal correspondence. You’re mentioned.”

Great. “Huh,” Dash said.

Moonshine raised an eyebrow. “Yes. And it seems that trust is earned. You’ve, ah, saved her life on multiple occasions, haven’t you?”

Dash shrugged. “Doing my duty as a Night Guard.”

“She considers you a friend.”

“Huh. I didn’t know Twilight wrote that kind of stuff to the princess.”

“Not infrequently, either.”

Dash said, “So what do you want to talk about?”

“The princess has... concerns,” Moonshine said, speaking slowly and carefully. “I’m here to evaluate whether you’re a threat to Twilight.”

Shit. How do they know? 

“The princess fears that Twilight may have been... emotionally compromised by you.”

Oh. Well, that’s weird. “Doesn’t sound like Twilight to me.”

“I see,” Moonshine said, flipping to another sheet in her clipboard and retrieving an pencil from her jacket. “Could you characterize your relationship to Twilight Sparkle?”

“I... what?”

“The princess suspects that there is more going on than simple loyalty.”

And she’s right, Dash thought. Shit. “Nothing wrong with simple loyalty, is there?”

That eyebrow raised again. “It’s rare.”

Dash shrugged. “If you say so.”

“So you don’t consider Twilight a friend?”

Dash couldn’t even think of an honest answer. “I don’t know.”

The aide’s eyes didn’t leave the clipboard, and she scribbled something down. “I see.”

“I mean—” Damn it. I could have just left it there. “I don’t know,” she repeated, lamely. “I respect her?”

“That’s good,” Moonshine said. She still didn’t look at Dash, still scribbled onto her clipboard. “Respect is important.”

“So you’re the princess’s personal aide?”

A stare that held enough contempt to kill a rat at ten paces. “Yes.”

Dash offered a weak smile. “That’s... cool?”

“I suppose it is.”

“So, uh... any more questions?”

“I think I’ve learned enough,” Moonshine said. “You said that Twilight Sparkle is sleeping, correct?”

Dash glanced at the clock. “At least for the next hour. I’ll kill her—uh, sorry...”

Well. That could have gone better, Dash thought, and raised her eyebrows, smiling at the mare. Nothing going on here, Ms Personal Aide.

“I’ll be—disappointed—if she tries to start working, you know, before she gets enough sleep,” Dash offered.

A raised eyebrow. “I see. Well, in any case, Colonel Dash, the princess has written a set of instructions for the way Twilight Sparkle is to proceed in her—” The aide looked up at the ceiling for a second. “—mission tonight.”

“Can I look at them?” Dash asked. Maybe I can tip some ponies off before we get started.

Moonshine shrugged. “I can’t imagine you’d be foolish enough to interfere with the prosecution of this war by any means necessary.”

“I didn’t know there was a war.”

“As of now.”

“Any means necessary, huh?”

Moonshine hesitated for a second. “The princess was very clear on that point.”





Don’t be ridiculous—no, not you, Pinkie, I know you’re very good at it. Shining Armor, you could at least pretend to have the barest semblance of imagination. Why on earth would I want to raise the sun? So that you can get your giggles in the noontime glare?

If I recall, you have access to an alicorn who is quite capable of doing it for you.

Oh, you did already? Why, that comes as a complete shock. I can only assume that it went as brilliantly as the majority of your plans seem to.

If you’ll cast your memory back to the deep, distant abyss of a whole five seconds ago, you might remember that I mocked only the majority of your plans. Freeing me was an absolute master stroke, even if Pinkie here gave you the idea.

Uniforms schuniforms. Fluttershy sch...utterfly? Whatever. In any case, shut up and let me work.

The great solar leader demands an explanation! Well, isn’t that just utterly impressive of him? Here’s your explanation. You might remember that there’s a certain length of time before the sun is visible. It’s called twilight.

You managed quite a grimace there, Shiny. But no matter. What I’ve done will drive little loony Luna to distraction. She’s used to dealing with you solar nutcases, so of course she’s told all of her little ponies that the sun is dangerous—

That will never, ever, be the point.

She doesn’t know what’s going on now. She’s... in the dark... about what the angle is or who happens to be playing it.

The chocolate rain is just a little personal touch of mine.

> Kiss The Night Air
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“This is weird, right?” Twilight said, nudging Dash’s side.

“Sort of above my paygrade, ma’am. I’m just here to shoot stuff and now, apparently, file paperwork. There’s too much weird stuff going on for me to worry about it that much.”

“I could get you a secretary. Less time filing, more time contemplating weirdness.”

“Thanks for the offer, but, uh, I think I’ll manage.”

Twilight smiled. “Okay. But seriously, who owes favors to the princess? How does that even work?”

“Maybe you can ask them when we get there.”

“Maybe.”

The carriage rolled on through the street, with hardly a bounce. This was the city center—fresh tarmac pavement, tall buildings, bright lights everywhere. There was even a real park sitting at one end of the avenue, with real trees and flowers growing under an elaborate array of arc lights—sickly, but there, green leaves and all.

Ordinarily, they probably wouldn’t even have needed the carriage. It seemed clean, safe. The riots that had surged into the area hadn’t lasted long. Everything had been cleaned up, unless you counted the shadow of a dark stain on the sidewalk.

The carriage stopped in front of a tall building—looks like thirteen stories, Dash thought. New construction, then. Concrete, steel. “Looks like we’re here,” she said, unlocking the door and pushing it slowly open.

It was a short walk inside. The lobby seemed pointlessly extravagant to Dash, with enormous oak columns—of course they were real wood, what better way to blow a quarter-million bits apiece—that couldn’t possibly serve any structural purpose, with gold accents, and hanging from the ceiling, an elaborate chandelier with more lights than she could count. It had the feel of somepony trying desperately to impress.

Twilight scowled, and pulled out the paper that aide had given Dash. “Top floor,” she said.

“Classy,” Dash intoned.

“Whatever.”

They didn’t talk in the elevator. Dash guessed she should be happy about that. No good reason to look forward to small talk with Twilight, after all. So Dash stared out the door and watched the floors go by.

A faint ding, and the elevator doors rattled open. Dash got out first, peered past the corners. Nothing, just a carpeted hallway rolling out in both directions. She wondered, idly, if she would have been able to spot Fluttershy in time to do anything about it.

Like what? It’s not like she would have stopped Shy, right?

She waved Twilight out. The unicorn stalked out, looked warily around.

“We’re safe,” Dash said, a bit peevishly. 

“There is such a thing as double-checking.”

Dash shrugged. “Where are we going?”

Twilight shrugged, and pulled the notes from her pack. “Top floor.”

“Which door?”

“It doesn’t say.”

Dash walked over to the nearest one, and rapped on it. “Night Guard. Open up.”

Hooves shuffled behind the door, fumbled with the knob, and then dropped back to the floor. The door swung open, revealing a unicorn. She was emaciated—not exactly unusual these days, but not what you’d expect to find on the top floor of an expensive apartment building either, and her eyes seemed glazed over.

“Um, hi,” the unicorn mumbled. “Do you... um... I didn’t...”

“We’re looking for C,” Twilight said.

The unicorn’s gaze locked on Twilight, and it lost its glassiness instantly. For a second it looked like her eyes glowed green—a trick of the light, obviously, Dash decided. “She’s not here,” the mare said, in a flat monotone that seemed to cling to every syllable as if it didn’t want to let it go.

The unicorn started to shut the door, stepping back into the room, but Dash reached out and stopped it. “Where is she?” Dash asked.

“She’s not here,” the unicorn said, her voice still in that strange monotone.

“Do you know where she is?” Dash asked, her voice more insistent.

“She’s not here.”

Twilight approached her, mouth set in a scowl. “Tell us where we can find C.”

“She’s not he—”

Twilight smacked her across the face, and the mare’s legs buckled.

Dash frowned. Twilight’s not strong enough to do that. Twilight pulled a gun from her pack—one of the blocky, nondescript objects designed for unicorns, with no external trigger—and leveled it at the mare’s face. “We don’t have time for this,” she said, voice a little uneven. “Where is she?”

“She’s not here,” the mare said, voice still flat, expression still blank. But her whole body was shaking.

There was the subtle click of the components within the gun moving to their proper spots. “Tell me where she is. Last chance.”

“Twilight, stop,” Dash said. She fiddled with a badge, and showed it to the mare. “We’re with the Night Guard. We need to talk to C.”

The mare nodded, mechanically, and paused for a few seconds. “Go to the end of the hall,” she said, finally, still odd, flat, unemphatic.

Dash turned to leave. “I think she means this way, ma’am. Come on.”

Twilight didn’t move from where she was, still kept the gun pointed at the mare. “Twilight?”

“Nopony answers my questions around here,” Twilight said softly. “Nopony in this crazy town has done anything but lie to me and try to get me to give up on my mission! I can’t even get five words out of this...” She breathed more heavily, and faster. “This little junkie bitch won’t even—”

“Twilight, calm down,” Dash said, trying to keep her voice level. “It’s gonna be fine. We’re going to head over and talk to C, remember?” Her voice cracked on the last word. Twilight didn’t seem to notice.

After a few seconds, her gun floated back into her pack, trembling a little bit. Twilight turned around slowly, and walked out into the hall.

“I think that went well,” she said to Dash, a crooked, unsteady smile on her face.

“I’m, uh, not sure we needed to bring out the gun.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Twilight said brightly.

Dash hesitated. “If you say so, ma’am.”





This was a definite downgrade, Rarity decided. She had demanded, and after no small amount of dedicated, if artificial, drama, received, her own room for the duration. Perhaps it hadn’t quite been worth the effort. There were all sorts of dark, cramped rooms that didn’t require nearly as much petulance to get to herself.

Still, she could lay on the bed (if it deserved to be called that) and stare at the ceiling, which was hardly the worst thing to do after what felt like an eternity of being questioned about the sordid ins-and-outs of the Night Guard. Rarity suspected that blackmail would no longer be a practicable option in most of those cases, but, of course, she had kept those objections to herself.

After all, it was still possible that the sols could arrange for her to leave Ponyville for Manehatten. Less likely, of course. Perhaps she should have anticipated this quite a bit earlier. It would have made things easier.

It really was too bad about Spike. If he were less conspicuous, it might be worth taking him along. There were definite advantages to having the dragon around, after all. And for what it was worth, she did like him.

Do I like him enough? 

The answer was obvious, surely. She just didn’t know what it was.

A knock came from the door. Rarity groaned. “Unless somepony has finally uncovered a proper pillow or somewhere to take a hot shower, I don’t—”

“I guess I can go back and look for the pillow if you want.”

Rarity gasped. “Prin—” She coughed. “Ahem. Cadence! I do apologize; please come in.”

The alicorn stooped under the doorframe, glancing around. “Hello.”

“I really cannot apologize enough,” Rarity insisted. “Is there—”

Cadence rolled her eyes and laughed. “You’re fine. I felt the same way when I first got here. Slightly more terrified than annoyed, but still, I get it.”

Rarity thought that over for a moment. “You weren’t put into a better room?”

“Sol, no. I’m still not.”

Rarity was aghast. “You sleep in...”

Cadence laughed good-naturedly. “Shiny insists on it. He’s with me, which is an improvement—” She paused. “Well, for me, anyways, you wouldn’t like it as much. But it’s cozy.”

“I suppose that does make sense,” Rarity said, in a tone that made it abundantly clear that as far as she was concerned, it didn’t. “I don’t suppose your, ah—husband, yes?—has sorted things out with my request yet, has he?”

“Yes, we’re married. No, he hasn’t sorted out your little trip to Manehatten.” Cadence didn’t bother to hide her contempt.

“I can hardly be blamed for wanting to get out of this city,” Rarity snapped, “and—”

She stopped talking.

“You know the dragon won’t be able to come with you,” Cadence said. “It makes sense, don’t get me wrong, but don’t expect me to think better of you for it.”

“I’m sure...” Rarity started, but ran out of material as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

“He’ll be fine as long as the rest of us are. Heck, he’s having fun right now, or was when I saw him in the mess—I think some ponies convinced him to settle some bets about whether he could really—well, anyways, he’ll be okay for a while.”

“And so?”

“You might regret it,” Cadence said.

Rarity sighed. “I’d rather regret it in Talacon than have my capacity to regret suddenly and unpleasantly curtailed, which does seem to be the way affairs are headed here.”

“You do like him. I don’t mean romantically, although don’t tell me there’s nothing there—”

“He’s ten years old,” Rarity said. “Reciprocating his affections would be in decidedly bad taste.”

Cadence sighed. “Well, then, definitely leave the only creature you’ve ever enjoyed just being around because you can’t—”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Rarity snapped. “Nor, would it seem, was my earlier opinion of you correct. How anypony could aspire to grace without even having tact is beyond me.”

“I know enough,” Cadence said, her voice steely. “I have an eye for this kind of thing, and I wanted to help you.”

Rarity sighed. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Whatever.” The alicorn walked out the door. Rarity slumped back onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling.





“So you’re looking for Mr C.?”

A pegasus mare stood behind the doorframe: tan, with an athletic frame, although her deep magenta eyes seemed tired.

Dash glanced back at Twilight, and mouthed, “Mister?” Twilight shrugged.

“Uh, sure,” Dash said. “Is he in?”

“One second.” The mare walked back into the apartment.

“This does seem kinda weird,” Dash said.
> A Night of Dark Intent
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A stallion stepped into the doorframe. Twilight peered at him—middle-aged, sweaty and stubbled, looking somewhat disheveled in a tan shirt and a bandana that poked up around the collar. “Mr. C, I presume,” she said. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, personal student to the princess and—”

“Yes, yes,” he said, and stepped forward a bit—the tired pegasus shrank back—and gave Twilight an unpleasantly lengthy once-over. Twilight pursed her lips. “I myself am actually Doctor C, for Caballeron. I must say I’m surprised we haven’t met before. So good of you to drop in. You will introduce me to your lovely, ah... partner?”

Dash nodded curtly at him. Twilight didn’t react. “So,” she said, “you owe the princess a favor. She’s calling it in.”

Caballeron blinked. “I owe the princess a favor.”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” he said, and didn’t speak for a moment. “You are not looking for me.”

Twilight stared at him, her hoof tracing some shape on the carpet. “Who am I looking for, Doctor Caballeron? Don’t think too long.”

“I do not think that my, ah, employer would—”

Twilight’s gun slid an inch out of her holster. She tilted the edges of her mouth upward—to call it a smile would be pushing it.

Caballeron raised his eyebrows. “Considering the circumstances, I doubt she would mind. Miss Sparkle, I act as a liaison to a... a very old friend of your princess. Dee, do you mind?”

The pegasus inclined her head slightly, and with a glimmer of green light, was replaced by a—well, what was it? Twilight looked more closely. It was a jet black creature of roughly the same build as the pegasus, with thin translucent wings and a mouth filled with sharp teeth.

“Is this your employer?” Dash asked.

“Only a minor example of her kind,” Caballeron said. “Dee keeps me... entertained in exchange for various services I render to our mutual employer, and now she will put us in touch with her. So to speak. Dee?”

The creature closed its empty teal eyes, and began to shudder terribly. Dash looked up towards the ceiling. Twilight watched it intently. The shuddering ceased, and the creature’s eyes opened. “Ah. So this is the personal student,” it said.

“I assume I’m talking to C now,” Twilight said.

The creature stalked around the hallway, circling around Twilight. “I think we can dispense with this cloak-and-dagger nonsense and call me by my real name.”

“Which would be helpful if I knew it.”

“Hmph. Chrysalis, queen of the changelings.” She paused. “Or what are left of the changelings, anyways.”

“There are others like you?” Twilight asked. “I thought most non-pony species had been extirpated in the First War of—”

Chrysalis pulled a face, or at least attempted it. “Hmm. Not this one, my dear.”

Twilight’s mind lit up with questions for a moment, and then she shut them down. “The princess is... calling in her favors. All of them. You’re to present yourself and your...”

“Followers,” Dash supplied.

“Followers to her at once.”

Chrysalis hissed. “Favors! For allowing a tiny remnant of my subjects to survive in this benighted wasteland... every moment, we grow weaker. And now she expects me to save her? Tell your princess she’s too late. She will get nothing from me.”

“Fair enough,” Twilight said. She closed her eyes, took a deliberate breath, and then shot Caballeron in the head.

“Ah ah ah,” Chrysalis chided. “The doctor was a useful intermediary, but with a considerable emphasis on the was. You’ll have to do better than that, and it’s simply—”

Twilight shot her too. She sighed, and turned around. “Let’s go.”

Dash glanced at her. “Ma’am?”

Twilight grinned. “We’ve got a busy night ahead of us, Dash!”





Celestia still attracted more than her share of stares, even after weeks spent inside the winding corridors of the solar headquarters. Most of it seemed to be underground, with low ceilings made even lower by messes of pipes. There were only a few windows to the outside, and most of them looked out onto some filthy alleyway. She was almost glad of the dark.

But of course it was no longer dark outside, but rather the sort of dim expectant grayness of an early morning, or of a day obscured by storm. If the former, day must have broken on the eastern coast many hours ago. It was not her doing; Shining Armor insisted that it was not his either. She had doubted him, but kept her counsel.

So now she wandered, with some hope of finding Cadence. The other alicorn, she had been given to understand, had been co-opted by Luna as soon as she was discovered. It was obvious why she had been chosen to speak for Luna. Even before Luna had been tempted by the Nightmare, the sort of easy good humor that came naturally to Cadence had rarely visited her.

A sudden yelp brought Celestia out of her reverie, and she looked down at its source. “Are you alright?” she asked.

A lanky stallion pulled himself off the floor, and tried to compose himself. “Oh, hello, Princess. I wasn’t... sorry, I’m fine.”

“No apology is needed, Mister...”

“Blue, uh... Blue Bonnet, ma’am. Very pleased to meet you,” he said, extending a hoof.

“And I you,” Celestia responded.

“I heard I have you to thank for me being here,” Blue said. “This is all pretty hard to believe. I always thought you were a silly legend. Not that you’re silly! No, I mean, I just...”

“Your lack of faith is surprising,” Celestia said. “And, I hasten to add, somewhat welcome.”

“Ah, well. Guess I was wrong. Not that Moonie and her gang care. I got pulled off the street in Canterlot just a few months ago and sent off to one of the Everfree camps. Just the wrong place at the wrong time. Just my luck, I thought.” He looked a bit meditative.  “Turns out that wasn’t such bad luck after all. I guess I got out of there just in time.”

Celestia raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, well, I mean, it’s gone now, the old place is, basically, from what I hear. Moonie tore it apart.” He gave a low whistle. “Hate to think how many ponies must have... well, you know.”

“To what end has she done this?” Celestia breathed.

Blue stared at her. “I thought you knew. They were looking for you.”





There was smoke in the air, staining the sky a deeper shade of grey. It was rumored that Canterlot was still smoldering, although thunderclouds blocked the city from view. The storm drains exhaled a rancid, cloying stench—the result of the mysterious shower of chocolate milk that still made every inch of the pavement stick to Twilight’s hooves as she walked back to the carriage. The stallions pulling it—vetted ex-cons from the camps, only murderers and thieves, not political dissidents or worse, sols—glanced at her nervously. Twilight didn’t pay it any mind.

She was in a good mood, really—rested for the first time in what felt like forever. The encounter with Chrysalis had maybe gone sideways, a bit, but the changeling would probably be feeling more cooperative the next time Twilight ran into her.

Twilight smirked. There’s going to be a lot of that if I have anything to say about it.

Dash was hanging back towards the building. Probably keeping an eye out for threats, Twilight thought absently, and glanced back at Dash as she slid into the seat with a groan.

"Shut the door.”

Twilight complied, almost without thinking. It seemed like a reasonable enough request. She looked over at its source, and her eyes widened. “Da—”

The carriage lurched into motion as the stallions began to gallop.

“Oh, hello. Be quiet, don’t use any magic, and stay where you are,” Fluttershy said, and smiled wanly. “I’ve been looking forward to talking to you.”

Twilight glared at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You can reply to that, of course. Dashie has already figured out what’s going on.”

Dashie?

“I knew I should have killed you the first time I saw you,” Twilight hissed.

Fluttershy considered that for a moment. “Okay. Spike sends his regards.”

“Don’t tell me you’re working for the whore.”

Fluttershy shrugged, and turned towards Twilight. “She wants the same thing as I do. Well, I care a little bit more about the details. It’s your fault, you know. What you are. Everything you’ve done. All of it. Not your parents. It’s your fault. You made yourself into a monster. It wasn’t the camps, it wasn’t the academy. It wasn’t even the princess you’re trying so hard to become.”

Twilight’s face worked, but she didn’t say anything.

“Everyone knows what you are. They’re afraid to say it. You’re afraid to think it, Twilight. I’m not.” She leaned in, and dabbed at Twilight’s face. She held up a hoof to show a few thin streaks of red. “Killing more ponies, Twilight Sparkle? Or did you make Dash do that for you too?”

“Ponies tell me to go with my strengths.”

Fluttershy sat back down. “I wonder if you see them. Every last innocent pony you’ve killed. Your parents. Your rivals in Canterlot. All the ponies in this city. You know they were innocent. Deep down I think you do. Blood calls out for blood. And when you yourself walk into the shadowlands they’ll be waiting for you.”

“Spooky,” Twilight deadpanned.

Fluttershy reached out and tilted Twilight’s head towards her. “You’re a monster by choice, Twilight. You deserve to die.”

“I... You’re not...”

Something slammed into the side of the carriage. 

“Sparkle!” Dash’s face appeared, pressed up against the window. “Sparkle!”

Fluttershy went for her gun. “Stay out of this, Dash!”

Dash disappeared.

Twilight shivered violently, and inched away from the pegasus still looking intently out the window. Fluttershy turned back towards her. “I said don’t move.”

Twilight went dead still. “She’ll...”

Fluttershy looked bored. “Dash isn’t going to do anything. That wouldn’t have worked if she actually cared about you, you know. Of course she doesn’t. No one does.”

Twilight blinked back tears.

“Oh no,” Fluttershy said. “So you do have a soul.” She scooted herself closer. “Listen, Sparkle, it’s only this one little thing you have to do, and then everything will be just fine.”

She held out the gun. 
> Not Only A Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight stared at the gun as if she had never seen anything like it in her life. Of course, she had – it was a standard-issue sidearm for pegasi, an unromantic lump of steel. Not at all accurate past a few tens of yards, but that wouldn’t matter here.

Fluttershy put it into her hooves. Twilight held onto it, albeit loosely, and didn’t seem to look at the gun at all.

“So,” Fluttershy said, quietly. “I want you to put this to your head and pull the trigger. Can you do that?"

"I'll die.” It was a dull, prosaic fact, almost without any particular relevance to Twilight. But perhaps it hadn’t occurred to the pegasus?

I’m not thinking clearly, Twilight thought, as she raised the gun to her head, her hoof tracing the trigger block. Another irrelevancy. Of course she would die. That was the point. 
“Yes, you will,” Fluttershy said.

“I...”

“Do it.”

Twilight’s hoof pressed down just a little bit harder. Just a touch more pressure and it would be over.

“One less monster in the—”

There was an almighty thud from one side of the carriage. Everything tilted—there was a moment of flight, the tiny slot window, now showing nothing but gray pavement, rising up towards Twilight, and then darkness.





Shining Armor didn’t believe in paperwork, although it did have a way of condensing around him while he was in his office, and tended to stay there until Cadence or somepony else actually sorted it out. Administration was for other people. Shining’s job was to have the strategy, the plan, the vision for the future. He tapped the desk absently. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Celestia said, voice level. “I have been lied to, Shining Armor. By you.”

Shining looked nonplussed. “That doesn’t—”

“Spare me. You told me that my sister believed me to be in the Badlands.”

Shining shrugged. “Well, of course that’s no longer the case, but—”

“It was never the case. Canterlot has been torn apart because of you, Shining Armor.”

“Because of the Nightmare!” Shining shouted. “I am not the bad guy here! She killed those ponies. Not me!”

“Those deaths could have been prevented.”

“This is a war! Casualties happen.”

“Of tens of thousands of innocents?”

“Nobody living in Canterlot is innocent.”
> Mine Is The Sunlight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The strategy, the vision, the plan for the future!” Cadence muttered underneath her breath, shuffling through a stack of memoranda while neatly sidestepping one Ms Accounts Receivable. “Oh, hello, Reesy.”

Cadence had gotten enough of pomp and circumstance in her old job. No need for formality now. And it made her feel better to have everyone stop looking at her with such awe.

“Oh, good morning, Cadence!” the mare said.

The clocks had already struck sixteen, and Celestia only — come to think of it, not even her — knew what time it was supposed to be based on the position of the sun, but that wasn’t the point of the greeting. It was one of the little changes Cadence had suggested since ending up here, a reminder of what they were fighting for. Coming up with that sort of thing was a welcome relief from juggling the hundred different things that came across her desk — well, Shiny’s desk, for all that counted — every night.

They were running low on kerosene with no apparent explanation; lamps had, if anything, been less in demand as the sols tried to make as much use of the thin sunlight as they could.

The Diamond Dogs who had smuggled in the last shipment of guns were still refusing to leave on account of the lockdown, and there had been a few altercations between them and some of the more traditionalist among the sols over the meat the dogs had carried with them from the dayside.

The physical embodiment of the sun (a subject of myth and prophecy for untold centuries) and her husband were shouting at each other.

“I am not the bad guy here! She killed those ponies. Not me!”

“Those deaths could have been prevented.”

“This is a war! Casualties happen.” 

“Of tens of thousands of innocents?”

“Nobody living in Canterlot is innocent,” Shining said, his voice dangerously low. “They’re a lot of collaborators and traitors selling out their own people for apartments and better food.”

Cadence poked her head into the room. “Oh, hello there, honey. Anything your favorite collaborationist can do for you while you’re busy?”

Shining scowled. “That was different for you, and you know it.”

“They didn’t make the system, Shiny — “

“They just keep the machinery of oppression running. They’re complicit as anyone else.”

“Maybe they don’t see themselves that way. I didn’t.”

Celestia coughed. “Now is perhaps not the time for philosophy. The fact remains that you lied to me, Shining Armor.”

Shining glanced at his wife, and shrugged. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Ah,” Cadence said. “A classic.”

“Sun in the sky, I thought one alicorn was bad enough,” Shining Armor says.

“Aren’t you a charmer.”

“As for myself,” Celestia said, “I would go to contest my sister, come what may, if it were not for your insistence that I stay.”

“Then go! We were doing fine without you!” Shining shouted, pointing at the door. “If you don’t want to help, then you can leave.”

Silence hung in the air.

“Shining Armor,” Cadence said, “I hope you don’t take it too personally when I tell you that this is absolutely insane.”

“No, why would I?” Shining asked. “Oh. You think you can do my job better than me. Right.”

‘What job?’ Cadence almost said. Almost.

But Celestia spoke first. “Shining Armor, you are relieved.”

Shining gawped. “What?”

“You are relieved,” Celestia repeated. “I discharge you from your duties to me and to this cause.”

“You can’t do that!” Shining objected, then paused and turned to Cadence. “Can she?”

Cadence bobbed her head in a noncommittal sort of way. “Technically, she has always been the true leader of this organization. You were the regent, remember? We drafted a constitution a couple of years ago.”

“I said it was a bad idea then, too.”

“But agreed to abide by it.”

“I didn’t expect that the Sun would have such a profound misunderstanding of the conflict we’re engaged in,” Shining said.

“None has said that you cannot speak prettily about it,” Celestia said. “I hereby remove you from your post. A new regent will be appointed forthwith.”

“You’re making a mistake, princess,” Shining said. “I should have consulted you about Canterlot, I’ll admit, but — “

“Honey, can I stop you there for a minute?” Cadence asked. “Celestia, who did you have in mind as his replacement?”

Celestia smiled beatifically — a hard trick to learn, Cadence knew. She said, “I hope you would serve.”

Shining Armor slammed a hoof on his desk, his face working, and he was breathing heavily. But when he spoke, it was quiet. “I can’t believe this,” he said, and walked out of the room without even bothering to slam the door.





“Ouch!” Discord said. “My goodness, that was positively painful to watch."

Shining sat sullenly on his bed, staring at the wall. Discord waved a paw in front of him. “You are listening, aren't you? You know, I've always thought the most important thing in any relationship is communication. Why don’t we talk anymore?”

“I don’t like you very much,” Shining said.

“Whatever. Listen, I know a way to fix this, but you have to listen to me very carefully.”

> Mine Is The Morning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Dash were a good officer, never mind a good friend, she would have taken Twilight to a hospital a while ago. It couldn’t possibly be healthy to stay unconscious this long after a crash. If she were a good sol, she would have killed Twilight herself days or weeks ago.

If she were a good anything, she would have at least made a damn decision by now, and have been done with it. But she wasn’t. I’m not even a good traitor, Dash thought, and stood up. She had dragged Twilight away from the carriage, felt for a pulse, found one, and then left her lying there.

No obvious wounds, at least nothing bleeding. The bruises looked nasty, but Twilight was purple anyways, so who cared?

Dash had cut the convicts loose from the carriage. Not the best solution — but a half-dozen criminals on the lam was about right for Ponyville on any night, never mind this one. Then (and this took real — pointless, stupid, but real — dedication) she had ascended to a couple hundred feet, dived after the carriage, hit it like a ton of bricks, and knocked it to its side.

A hell of a thing. She still couldn’t feel her hooves. The usual druggies, drunks, and other derelicts had been off the street for once — the only upside of the curfew — and so nobody had seen Dash pulling the assassin and her target from the wreck.

It was a perfect moment for betrayal. Dash took another suspicious glance of her surroundings, and sighed.





Shining Armor didn’t go in for creature comforts. His room was as austere as anyone else’s in the complex: bare concrete walls and floor, a pallet for what sleep he managed these nights. More austere, probably. Most of the personal effects were Cadence’s. She’d insisted on them.

He picked up a well-worn book, flipped through it, tossed it aside without even looking.

It smacked into something and fell to the ground. “Ouch!”

Shining raised his head. “Discord.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Discord said, “but I’m quite alright despite the—”

Shining didn’t look like he was in the mood.

Discord nodded. “As I was saying: Ouch! My goodness, that was positively painful to watch."

Shining sat sullenly on his bed, staring at the wall. Discord waved a paw in front of him. “You are listening, aren't you? Why don’t we talk anymore?”

“I don’t like you very much,” Shining said.

“Whatever. Listen, I know a way to fix this, but you have to listen to me very carefully,” Discord said, dangling the book from a paw. “I take it these are your little prophecies.”

“Yes.”

Discord flipped through it, then tossed it behind him. “Forget them. Well, no, scratch that. Forget her.”

“She’s a disappointment.”

“Oh, I know,” Discord said. “Believe me how I know. But let’s talk about you, Shiny.”

A paternal arm snaked around Shining’s shoulders. Shining pushed it away.

“Okay,” Discord said. “So this whole Celestia business hasn’t worked out the way you wanted it to. Is this what you do? Go to your room like a foal? I thought you were a man.”

Shining stared.

“Okay, stallion. Not the point! The truth is, I’ve been holding out on you.”

“Surprise,” Shining said dully.

“It was for your own good.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

Discord seemed to fill the room, to expand past its modest bounds, leaning over like a tidal wave about to break, and Shining shuddered.

“I expect you,” Discord said, “to believe it.” And then he was as unthreatening as ever. “Now, of course Celestia isn’t measuring up to your expectations. That doesn’t mean you can’t measure up to them.”

“I’m not an alicorn,” Shining pointed out.

“No,” Discord said. “You’re not. But we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

“You mean...” Shining started, and then thought better of it. “What you’re telling me, it’s not possible. I can’t be the one to bring back the sun. I’m not worthy.”

“Because you’re not an alicorn. Well, Shining Armor, I believe in you, for what it’s worth.”

Shining didn’t react. Didn’t look like he could react. “I just...” he managed, after a long time.

Discord shushed him. “That’s enough for now. Go to sleep. What is it your silly book says? ‘The night is always darkest right before the dawn’? Trust me on this one, Shiny.”





Something was shaking Fluttershy.

Reality faded back into focus: the rotten, sickly sweet smell rising from the sewer drains, the dull ache of her limbs, the worried face of the pegasus trying to get her to wake up. “Shy! Shy! You gotta get the hell out of here!”

“Dash...” Fluttershy started. “How long—”

Dash let her go, and waved the question aside. “Not long. Please, you gotta go, I don’t know when Sparkle’s going to wake up but with our luck—”

“Our?” Fluttershy asked.

Dash sighed. “Look, I know you don’t understand what I’m doing—”

“I hope I don’t,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“Right. I get that. I deserve that. But you have to trust me. Please.”

Fluttershy didn’t say anything. She picked herself up off the ground, made a few hesitant, limping steps, and then lifted off the ground and flew away.

> The Night Shall Be Filled With Music
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dash had never taken a lot of time to think about Bulk Biceps. Who would? Certainly now wasn’t the time. Twilight was, by now, back in her office, fuming and leafing absently through memos and reports while cradling her head in her hooves. She had refused to go back to the hospital. There wasn’t time for it, evidently.

No one had ever really been able to figure out why Bulk had joined the Night Guard in the first place. He wasn’t a Cloudsdale native (and grounders weren’t particularly popular with the swaggering pegasus types that tended to sign up), a moonie fanatic, or a sadist, which wiped out nearly every possibility. He didn’t get a kick out of any of it, just the opposite: that’s why he was stuck pushing paper and handling requisitions. Well, besides the fact that he just had to be terrible at it, and Dash prized incompetence.

Bulk must have been in the Guard academy at the same time as Dash, but she couldn’t remember ever seeing him. Surely she would have run into him in the gym? Well, there he was, standing at the door to Sparkle’s office, gingerly holding a clipboard in his mouth.

“Yes?” Dash said. “Uh, not really a good time, Bulk.”

“Mmhmhmm,” he said through the clipboard.

“It’s fine, Dash.” Twilight twirled a pen idly then set it down on the desk, and didn’t seem to look at Bulk. “Put the clipboard down. You need to talk to us?”

“Yeah. Uh...” Bulk fidgeted—it was a weird gesture coming from the small mountain of muscle. “Uh, just you though. Alone. Miss Sparkle, sir. Ma’am.”

This was unusual. Even besides the fact that the Night Guard took the chain of command seriously and that Bulk had roughly as much chance of securing another promotion as he did of flapping his ridiculous little wings and flying to the Moon, Dash had made it a matter of absolute policy that Twilight wasn’t to be bothered by anyone besides her. It was part of her plan to make sure no one who actually knew what they were doing would be able to raise doubts about Dash’s decisions.

Dash glanced at Twilight.

“Anything you want to say to me, you can say to her,” Twilight said.

Bulk stopped in his tracks for a second, then started again just as suddenly. “Uh. Okay. So...”

He retrieved the clipboard and set it down on her desk. Dash peered at it. “Is this from the, uh...”

“Yeah.”

Twilight stared at it distastefully, then wiped it off and flipped through it. “You have twenty seconds to explain why this is worth wasting my time on.”

 Bulk mouthed the words “twenty seconds” and glanced fearfully at Dash. She shrugged.

“So... we’re, uh, missing a couple of uniforms. New ones, for mares, you know?”

Shit. 

“We go through uniforms pretty quickly,” Dash said.

“Yeah. Uh, I mean, yes, sir,” Bulk said. “But...” He pointed at some numbers on the clipboard.  Twilight’s eyes tracked it.

“What am I looking at?” the unicorn asked.

“They’re measurements,” Dash said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “For the missing uniforms, right?”

“Yeah,” Bulk said. “I checked. They don’t fit anypony.” He fidgeted for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other. “I mean, anypony here.”

Dash pointed at a line. “This one looks pretty close to, um... maybe Flitter’s...”

Bulk shook his head.

“Lightning?”

He shook his head again.

“Okay, so somepony took them,” Dash said. “So?”

“I heard there were some mares who got into the palace with fake uniforms.” Bulk fidgeted. “In Canterlot. What if they weren’t fake?”

Twilight finally looked up at him. “So you’re saying,” she said, “that somepony broke into the most secure building in all of Equestria using uniforms that were under your watch?”

Bulk’s eyes widened. “No. No ma’am. No. I’m care...” He swallowed. “I’m very careful, Miss Sparkle, ma’am. Nopony gets to those without me knowing.”

“So...” Twilight’s voice was flat.

Bulk was talking fast now, in that slurred, growling baritone. “I try to do good records but I don’t, uh, always check them against each other, so I only noticed this now, I’m sorry, and the, uh, total count went from eighteen to sixteen just two days before the thing in Canterlot. And there was only one pony in there then.” His hoof went for the clipboard. “Besides me, I mean. That was you, Colonel Dash.”

Dash leveled a stare at him. “Are you accusing me of something, Corporal?”

Bulk breathed in deeply, and met her gaze. His jaw worked for a few seconds. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, slowly and deliberately. “I think you took those uniforms.”

Dash froze, and sneaked a glance at Twilight, whose face was as blank as it could get.

“I wonder,” Twilight said, and paused. “This is just the sort of thing that they would try to do. To turn me against the ponies I can trust. Doesn’t that make sense to you?” She didn’t look at either of them.

“I’m sure uh — Corporal Biceps just made a mistake,” Dash said.

Bulk shook his head.

“The princess... she put a lot of trust in me here. And now it’s all going wrong. And now you’re calling Dash a traitor. She’s saved my life a bunch of times. That doesn’t even make sense!” Twilight looked around now. “It doesn’t.”

She set her gun on the table, a faint purple glow surrounding it. “Who told you to do this? Who told you to try to... drive me crazy... with this obvious lie?”

Bulk gulped. “Nobody.”

“I don’t believe you,” Twilight said, evenly, and raised the gun level to his face. “Who told you to do this?”

“Nobody, I swear.”

There was a click from somewhere in the hidden machinery of the gun. “Last chance.”

“I didn’t—”

There was a knock from the door. “Uh, Miss Twilight?”  a voice called. 

“I’m busy,” Twilight snapped.

Somebody whispered from behind the door. The first voice continued, hesitantly. “But you’re going to—”

A strained and high-pitched voice hissed, “Gonna!” 

A pause. “You’re... gonna miss out on a fun...”

More whispering.

“A super... funnerific time if you don’t open the door... right now.”

Twilight caught Dash’s gaze, gestured at the door. Dash nodded curtly, walked carefully to the door, and put a hoof on the handle.

Twilight said, “This had better be good,” and nodded to Dash, who swung open the door and reached for her gun.

There was a guard there — just newly assigned to the city hall building. He looked young, and scared. There was a flare gun pointed at his head. Pinkie Pie was holding it, looking just a little bit crazier than usual.

“Hi!” Pinkie said, and looked around. “What a buncha sourpusses!” She peered at them more closely. “Whatcha doin’?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the mare who broke into the palace.”

Pinkie grinned.

“Why shouldn’t I just shoot you right now?” Twilight asked.

“Weeelllllll...” Pinkie took a deep breath. “I’d probably shoot him first because I have superfast reflexes and it would be really messy and also you might feel bad about it although maybe not since you don’t really seem like that kind of pony but still you might anyways and also I want to tell you where you can find Shiny.”

Shit, Dash thought.

Twilight considered that for a moment, and then set her gun down on the desk. “I’m listening.”